He winks at me, then turns slightly for effect as I lift my card out to the shadowed faces before me. The orbs of light above them highlight their foreheads and cheeks, leaving their eyes darkened and hollow—a crowd of skeletons. My hand shakes only a little as I pull the card back toward me.

The magician turns to me again, the cards in one fan now, held facedown in front of him.

I slip my card back into the deck without being told.

He laughs toward the audience. “She’s a natural.” He slides the deck together and places it in my hand. “Mix them,” he commands.

I do as I’m told, shifting the cold cards until I don’t know where my queen has gone.

I hand them back to him, and our fingers touch. I jolt. My pulse throbs in my fingertips, and he smiles at me, eyes laughing now. What the hell is wrong with me? My face flushes, and I hope nobody notices in the bright lights.

Taking the smallest step away from me, he fans the cards out and flicks them back together in the same breath. And then they’re just gone. He holds out his empty hands for the audience and gets a few claps in return.

He sighs. “You’re a tough crowd.”

Rolling up the sleeves of his jacket, he takes another quick step back. The spotlight on him shifts to a greenish hue as he raises both arms out into the air, palms facing the audience. He snaps, and the nine of diamonds blinks to life in his fingers. He raises his eyebrows. “Is this your card?”

I shake my head, and he frowns. The audience cackles.

He snaps the fingers of his other hand as the nine disappears, and a jack of spades takes its place.

He glances at the card and then at me. “Not it,” he says without even asking. “Shoot.” The card disappears, and he flips his hands back and forth in front of him, then pulls at his sleeves and glances up them. “I think I lost it.”

The audience murmurs. Some laugh, unsure if they’re in on a joke or not.

I shuffle my feet.

He lifts his arms again, palms forward, and the cards begin pouring from the cracks between his fingers.

The crowd gasps and applauds, and the cards just keep coming. An impossible number—more than the single deck he held in his hand at the start. Just as they begin to pile around his feet, he drops his hands to his sides, staring down at his mess.

He closes his eyes for a moment, stepping back slightly from the pile. Only his chest moves up and down.

Someone coughs.

My muscles tense with something like anticipation, and I take the smallest step back.