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Both men launch into motion. Their bikes defy gravity, spiraling around me in impossibly complex patterns that leave trails of light in their wake. The cage becomes a blur of motion and magic as they circle me, coming closer with each pass.

Tobias conjures illusions that dance between the speeding motorcycles — wispy phantoms and shadowy beasts that reach toward the audience, pulling screams and gasps from them. The illusions brush against my skin as they pass, cold as winter air.

I begin my performance, just as we practiced, releasing my grip on the stationary ring to slide into a more precarious position. The audience gasps as I hang by one knee, spinning slowly as my body extends in a graceful arc that brings me dangerously close to the paths of the motorcycles. The wind from their passing caresses my skin, and the roar of engines fills my ears until I can’t even hear my own thoughts.

Tobias guides his bike in a tight spiral, coming within inches of my suspended form. Our eyes lock in a silent conversation, and something in his gaze shifts. A warning ... a promise ... I’m not sure. I feel The Carnival’s power surge through our connection, flooding my senses with dark electricity that makes my nerves sing.

“Now!” Kenan yells.

I release the ring entirely, falling through the air in a controlled drop that has the audience screaming in terror. The timing has to be perfect. Too soon, and I’ll collide with Kenan’s bike. Too late, well ... I’ll be at the bottom of the cage – a pancake.

Time seems to slow as I fall, the audience’s emotions feeding my magic as I trust my body and my men. I feel my skin start to gain that glow I’ve seen before in Tobias. I can feel everyone watching’s fear and excitement, the morbid fascination ... all of it fuels me.

Kenan’s bike passes beneath me with a hairsbreadth to spare, the heat from the engine scorching my skin. I catch the aerial silk that unfurls from the ceiling of the cage when Kenan touches the hidden lever, wrapping it around my wrists and using my momentum to swing wide around the cage.

The silk burns against my palm as I spin faster, pulled higher, until I’m level with the top of the cage. Below me, Tobias and Kenan circle each other in a deadly dance, their bikes weaving patterns.

I release my hand from the silk, reaching toward the top of the tent, and without realizing what I’m doing, golden light spills from my fingertips, cascading down in shimmering waves that transform into a flock of ravens. The wings beat heavily as they fly from the cage, swooping and mingling with the crowd and returning. The illusion is more solid than I expected, and I know it’s because of whatever Tobias did earlier.

“Beautiful,” I hear Tobias whisper in that way he projects it, his voice filled with pride.

The ravens dive toward the motorcycles, dissolving into smoke as they pass through the metal frames. The smoke coalesces around me as I drop back to my aerial ring and I release the silk, forming wings on my back that span the width of the cage. I sit like an angel in the ring, presiding over the judgement of men ... and then I start to spin again.

At the performance’s climax, both men circle me at impossible speeds while I execute another death-defying drop, stopping mere inches from collision with Tobias’s front wheel. The timing is perfect, the three of us moving as one entity rather than separate performers.

The audience erupts in thunderous applause as we complete our final positions — me suspended in the center of the cage, Tobias and Kenan flanking me on their now-stationary bikes. Sweat drips down my spine, mixing with the body paint to create rivulets of midnight blue that trace the contours of my back.

“You were magnificent,” Kenan says as the cage is lowered and the lights dim. His eyes are bright with exhilaration, his chest heaving with exertion.

Tobias dismounts his bike with fluid grace, reaching up to help me down from the ring. His fingers leave imprints in the paint on my waist, marking me as his. “So it’s true ... the magic ... it’s pulling towards you.” he murmurs against my ear. “I’ve never seen illusions manifest so solidly before.”

I’m about to respond when a familiar voice cuts through our moment of triumph.

“Well, wasn’t that just the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen?” Rosie appears at the edge of the performance area, her pink hair gleaming like cotton candy under the fading lights. Her smile is sweet, but her eyes are cold as she eyes the three of us with jealous malice. “The Ringmaster requires your presence, Little Kitten.” She purrs the combination of my nicknames like it’s something dirty. “It’s time to prepare our star for her sacrifice.”

My blood turns to ice despite the heat of the tent. Kenan’s hand finds mine, squeezing so tightly it almost hurts.

“We knew this was coming,” Tobias says quietly, his face a careful mask that reveals nothing to Rosie but speaks volumes to me.

“Come along now,” Rosie trills, bouncing on her toes like an excited child. “Mustn’t keep him waiting. You know how he gets."

Chapter 35

We follow Rosie through the back of the tent, past other performers who watch us with a mixture of pity and hunger. I see it now, golden threads pulsing around each of them. Some shadowy figures appear at the edges of my vision as we walk, like shadows haunting an abandoned mansion. They are some of the Patrons who hope to feel me when I’m in the In-Between. Layla catches my eye as we pass, her hair pulled back from her face revealing the tears that track down her cheeks at my expense.

“Be strong,” she mouths.

Rosie drags me into a room that’s bare and cold. People wait with bowls of water and jars of paint different from what I already have on.

“Strip her,” Rosie commands, clapping her hands with ghoulish delight.

I look around, confused by what is happening. Tobias and Kenan said a ritual would occur but ... not this. They didn’t give me specifics. Tobias and Kenan step into the room.

“Nuh uh, boys. No interfering,” Rosie says. “You can stand over there ... can’t be having the two of you getting in any more trouble, can we?”

They stand against the wall, their eyes never leaving where I stand as the attendant approaches me. One of them, a woman with eyes as empty as The Ringmaster’s, reaches for the straps of my costume.

“I can do it myself,” I snap, slapping her hands away.