She’s still got sleep on her: matted hair, long white nightgown. “Did Gunn finally let you out last night? I stayed around here as long as I could, but it was too depressing.”
“Yeah, I got some time off, it was good.” Like a reflex, I turn inward, erect a mental wall to keep Grace from reaching in and pulling out the truth. “But I’ve got some better news—we’re reopening.”
She shakes her head. “Are you serious? How?”
“Gunn found us a replacement sorcerer. Get ready, meet me downstairs in a few minutes.” This morning actually seems more like my Christmas—getting back on the stage, performing. “We’ve got to train the boy,” I tell her as I cross the hall, “work him in, get him up to speed!”
I round up the rest of the troupe, tell them the same, then double back to my room and quickly throw on a splash of rouge and a wipe of lipstick. I’m nervous about seeing Alex again, with no McEvoy or Gunn breathing down our necks. It kind of feels like a first date. A date five other sorcerers happen to be attending.
I head downstairs to the show space, my excitement about performing—about sharing something I love with Alex—flooding me with a warm anxiety. Soon the troupe files in and settles on the benches around my stage.
“When do we open?” Ral asks, as he sits down wearily.
I steal a longer look at him. Not sure how he spent his first Christmas away from his family, but if I had to guess from his gray face and dull eyes, I’d bet it was on an all-night shine bender with Billy. Losing Stock probably made the holiday even worse.
“Tomorrow night, and then we perform straight through the week.” Then I add, “Should be enough time to get our heads on straight again,” hoping Ral catches my message.
“Gunn’s not worried about the patrons?” Grace asks. “About . . . about what happened keeping people away?”
Tommy and Rose exchange a loaded look at the veiled reference to Stock. None of us have been able to really talk about it. Was it Tommy and Rose’s sporadic lightning that killed him? Was it me running away?
“Gunn thinks the show must go on,” I say simply.
“Who’s the replacement?” Ral asks.
“He used to be Boss McEvoy’s right-hand sorcerer, on the street side of the Shaws’ operation. He comes highly recommended.”
“A street sorcerer?” Billy snaps. “Has he ever performed?”
There’s no use lying. “I don’t think so.”
Ral and Billy start mumbling to each other on the far bench. I knew they’d be the most resistant to this. They’re the biggest believers in the magic of seven, and two days to train and insert a new guy into our troupe, for our first reopening after a freak—and public—accident, is not a lot of time.
“And Gunn didn’t think we should have any say in the matter?” Billy says to me.
“It came as an order, not a suggestion. You know Gunn.”
“Not as well as you.”
Billy’s words sting—especially since I don’t think I’ve ever felt more distant from him. Gunn’s been pulling me in one direction, and Billy’s loud, shine-laced lifestyle has sent him spinning in another. But the sting must be evident from my face, because Billy softens his tone. “You know this is ludicrous, Joan. How’s this new boy going to keep up? I don’t think this is the way the magic of seven works—if you’re down a man, you can’t just find some schmo and insert him as a standin. We’ve been working for months, months of magic ties and connections. You can’t replicate that in two days. And if the show doesn’t come together, there’ll be hell to pay from Gunn.”
I shake my head, because for some reason, I’m not worried. I’ve seen what Alex can do. And as crazy as it sounds, somehow I know I’ve only scratched the surface. “We’ll make it work. Gunn knows what he’s doing. And the new boy’s talented, Billy,” I answer. “He’s a manipulations expert, has a great eye for detail, works hard—”
Grace interrupts with, “Wait, so you’ve met him?”
At that, the group falls silent.
I swallow audibly. “Just around here. But I can vouch for him.”
Tommy sits up straight. “So there’s a big accident with Stock, and then poof, one of your gentlemen callers is on the roster.”
Rose whispers to him, “Man, our girl gets around.”
I feel my face flush as Grace cuts in, “This isn’t the time to be eating our own.”
“It’s the truth, Mama Bear,” Rose cuts back. “Stock would still be alive if he hadn’t been working with Joan that night.”
“You mean Stock would still be alive if you and Tommy hadn’t been shined to the moon that night,” I say. “It was your lightning.”
And then Tommy stands brusquely, whether to confront me with magic or with his fists, I’ll never be sure, because Alex picks that exact time to burst through the double doors. The six of us stop and turn.
“Sorry if I’m late,” Alex apologizes, as we all stare him down.