“Hold it.”
I do.
“Now picture someone annoying in their underwear.”
My mind naturally goes to an image of him. I’m so startled by this command and mortified at my own thoughts that I let out of bark of nervous laughter.
“Feel better?” he asks. “It’s what I do before my shows.”
“Um, yes,” I say, my cheeks growing warm. “Let’s just get this over with.”
We step inside the tent to the Show of Mysteries. It’s overly decorated, in my opinion. Chairs painted with purple glitter. The stage torches each burn a different color—the result of the same fire-work that keeps the Downhill’s torches green and the Uphill’s white. Black-and-red-striped tape lines the stage.
Narayan sits on the stage, his skinny legs dangling off it. He has deep brown skin and wears his hair in one long braid that reaches his tailbone, and his pointed eyebrows are dyed silver. He looks to be in his midtwenties, maybe older. The intensity of his eyebrows overshadows any further impression of his other facial features.
“Hello,” Luca says cheerfully, as if we’ve come around for tea. “I hope we haven’t inconvenienced you by meeting so soon.”
“Not at all,” he says. “I needed a break, you know? My girl back home is ready to pop—” he makes an exaggerated circular motion over his stomach “—and you know how they get. Driving me mad. All she does is order me around while she sits back, complaining about her mother or her sister. I need a breather.” He reaches behind him and pulls out a beer bottle.
“Well, he’s a talker,” Luca mutters beside me.
As we walk closer, Narayan gets a clearer view of us. He studies Luca’s expensive clothes and walking stick briefly, but his eyes rest on me. “How do you see out of that thing on your face?” he asks. I’m surprised he doesn’t immediately know who I am, and Luca’s words from a few nights ago enter my mind:You’re not that important.
“I manage,” I say coolly.
“That’s a woman for you. Eyes on the back of their heads.”
“You remember why we’re here, don’t you?” Luca asks.
“You’re going to ask me questions.” He sets his beer bottle down, leaps off the stage and staggers for a moment before collapsing in an audience seat. “Ask away.”
Luca doesn’t make eye contact while asking his questions. He examines the bottom of his walking stick and then taps it against the toe of his shoe. “We were curious about your ghost-work. It’s not very common, is it?”
He jabs his thumb at his chest. “You’re looking at the only one.”
“I’ve seen your act before,” Luca says. “I imagine you simply use your ghost-work to fall right from the coffin through the floor, right?”
“Yep. There’s space under the stage. I keep snacks down there.”
Luca smirks. “What kind of snacks?”
“Beer.”
This man doesn’t seem like he could have killed Gill and Blister. Not only does he lack a motive, I doubt he’s smart enough to have committed two murders and thrown suspicion off himself each time. And his ghost-work doesn’t seem to be the kind that would make illusions killable. Not that I know what that jynx-work might be, but this one doesn’t feel right.
“Have you been busy lately?” Luca asks. “The show performs every night, does it not?”
“Every night. I usually get one night off a week, but lately I’ve been staying on. Babies are expensive. So my girl keeps telling me.”
“So were you working two nights ago?”
“Yep. Working every night except when we were traveling.” He finishes off his beer. “Gets me away from my woman.”
“Uh-huh,” I say with disgust, thinking of Venera’s troubles. People like him are the reason I have trust issues. “So do we get to see your ghost-work?”
“Sure, if you want.” He holds out his hand. “Shake it.”
I reach for it but swipe only at air. I wiggle my fingers in the empty space that appears to be Narayan’s wrist.
