Page 85 of Magic for Nothing

“How do you not cut yourself?”

“Practice.” I leaned back, trusting the tether of his tail to keep me upright. “What are we doing?”

“Making out.”

“I thought you were mad at me.”

“I am, and I’m not, and it’s confusing, and maybe if we had more time I’d be all sulking and broody and trying to work through my feelings about the situation, but we don’t,” said Sam. “You’re going to burn down the world and then you’re going to disappear and I’m never going to see you again. I’m not ready to never see you again.”

“Hey, I have to be punished for my hubris somehow,” I said, and leaned in, and kissed him.

We only had a little time left, he and I and the shadow of the big tent, where we’d learned to fly with each other, instead of only always flying alone. What we did there, in that quiet, shadowy space, would have to be enough to balance out everything that we weren’t going to have. And by God, we tried. No matter what else we may have done, we tried.

When we rolled away from each other, straw and sawdust stuck to our backs and—in Sam’s case—to the thin line of fur that ran from the base of his tail up to the nape of his neck, outlining his spine in bristling brown. I rolled further, reaching for my phone, abandoned in the welter of knives and clothing that I had shed.

According to the readout, it was 10:25 PM.

“I missed my check-in,” I said, putting down the phone and reaching for my bra. “You need to go. You need to make sure everyone else is already gone. They’re coming.”

“You can’t be sure—”

“My handler as much as told me they were getting ready to move. They’re coming. They’ll either think it’s a rescue mission—that I screwed up and got myself caught—or that I’ve gone over to the wrong side and think I can save you all. Either way, it’s to my advantage, because they don’t know how much training I actually have. Now go. Make sure everyone else is out of the line of fire. Please.”

Sam looked at me gravely. “I want to stay.”

“I know. Doesn’t change things.”

“It never does.” He kissed me, so quickly that I didn’t have time to react, and then he was gone. He took his clothes with him. I hoped he had some practice at dressing while he ran, or else the members of the carnival who hadn’t managed to evacuate yet were going to get one hell of a surprise. I know a naked monkey man would catch my attention.

I dressed slowly, taking the time to secure every knife and dart in its proper position. Margaret and Robert were staying in town. If they’d left the second I failed to check in, they’d be here within the next ten minutes. Assuming their backup was already here, they’d need to rally the troops; I probably had until eleven or so before things got really ugly.

“Stay quiet,” I said to my backpack as I slipped it on. It didn’t respond, but I knew the mice would hear me, and obey. Obedience in the face of dire danger is an Aeslin survival trait.

Calmly, forcing my steps to remain even and my shoulders to remain loose, I walked to the tent door and stepped out onto the moonlit midway. The rain had stopped. The sky was clear, dominated by a vast, gleaming Minnesota moon. I looked up at it and kept walking.

The highest point in the carnival was the Ferris wheel. With no one to tell me it was dangerous or ask me to get down, it was an easy thing to climb the outside of the structure, using the struts and counterbalances to give me the traction I needed. I kept climbing until I reached the topmost swing, and stopped there, removing my backpack and tucking it under the seat. The mice would be safe. No one would find them unless they turned on the ride, and the Ferris wheel itself was basically fireproof. The controls might melt. The wheel would remain.

Gripping the safety bar, I straightened and turned in a slow circle, getting an idea of the landscape. The bone yard was dark. There were still a few RVs, trucks and vehicles deserted by their owners to create the impression that the show was normal, but the lights were off for the first time I could remember. The carnival sat in a field of nothingness, moonlight flooding the wide boulevards formed by rides and games and concessions. This was where I would stand. This was where I would fight. For the carnival, for the people who’d never asked to be a part of this, and yes, for my family, because every fight against the Covenant on American soil is a fight for my family. We chose freedom when we walked away. It was up to me to show that the choice had been the right one.

Nothing moved. I stood there, waiting for something to change, and when the change came, I nearly fell off the Ferris wheel—which would have been a swift, ignominious end to my adventure. I caught myself at the last moment, watching as the midway lights finished coming on, casting everything in a hundred candy-colored shades. The wheel began to turn, my swing descending toward the ground. There was no one at the controls. Whoever threw the switch must have shorted something out, because the Ferris wheel wasn’t the only ride running under its own steam.

A dozen conflicting songs drifted from various rides, ranging from the spooky soundtrack of the haunted house to the tinkling fairy chimes of the carousel. I watched for people, but didn’t see any, until the Ferris wheel was close enough to the ground for me to hop off. Drawing a knife from inside my shirt, I began walking, slowly and carefully, toward the front gate.

I was almost there when someone grabbed me from behind.

Twenty-three

“When the time comes, shoot to kill. Anything less is beneath you.”

—Frances Brown

The midway of the Spenser and Smith Family Carnival, about to break somebody’s nose

I WHIPPED AROUND, hand already raised, knife primed to release, and froze as I found myself looking at Leo Cunningham. Seeing him here was a shock. Seeing the relief in his eyes was somehow an even greater shock, like he’d been dropped in from an entirely different story.

“Leo?” I managed to squeak, voice cracking.

“Annie, thank God,” he said, ignoring the knife as he threw his arms around me and squeezed me tight. “When you didn’t check in, well. I won’t pretend I wasn’t concerned.”