Aristelle’s Victorian-style lace-up boots click against the pavers as she circles me, slowly looking me up and down. “I guess we can fix your attire after we fix your lack of skill.”

I sigh. “I thought Xander was in charge of my training.”

“This is my troupe and my…” She stops. “It’s my reputation on the line.”

Xander shifts on his feet like he’s uneasy with her intrusion. He can get in line. But I shrug. I’ll learn from anyone I can.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Aristelle says.

I feel for my magic. It feels faint—muffled even. “I think I used the magic all up.”

“Impossible,” Xander says. “You would have gotten more from your performance last night.”

I pull my quarters from my pocket, fanning them between my fingers. I can do a few tricks to get it flowing.

Aristelle slaps my hands and sends my coins rolling across the ground.

“Hey!” I spin on her.

“Coin tricks aren’t good enough.”

“People love them.”

“Children love them.”

Xander bends to pick up the quarters. I ignore the brush of his fingers as he places them back in my hand. “She’s right,” he says. “You need another skill. One that will impress a crowd full of badass magician vampire hunters. Last night was… interesting, but you need something more versatile.”

“No pressure,” Aristelle says. “But I’m here to help you.”

“Aristelle…” Xander’s giving her a look that says he doesn’t like what’s coming but is totally resigned to it.

“I want to have first crack,” she says.

I don’t like the sound of that.

“Fine.” Xander crosses his arms over his chest and takes five steps back.

I’m not sure why he needs that much distance between us or why Aristelle’s smile is brighter than I’ve ever seen it, but it can’t be good for me.

Aristelle claps her hands to get my attention. “I’m going to ask you to do things, and I want you to try it. Don’t question. Just believe you can do it and try.”

I nod.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she holds out a hand and unfurls a crimson piece of lace long enough to touch the ground. She thrusts the lace toward me, and I grip the coarse material without thinking.

“Put it up your sleeve,” she commands.

I hesitate. Xander waits ten feet away from us, watching blankly. I try to shake away the foolishness I feel as I pull out the cuff of my jacket and begin stuffing the lace inside. Believe. The piece is long. Too long to comfortably fit. I open my jacket, reaching in and shoving my other arm down my sleeve until I touch the end of the lace and pull it up toward my armpit, finally making the last of it disappear inside my cuff.