“And now I found her, darling.” Xander’s voice is practically a purr, like he’s talking to a wildcat.

I’m not here for him, but my stomach drops a little at the way he calls her darling.

“No. She found us.” Her expression could set him on fire. Maybe they just have history. Turning back to me, she gives me a once-over. “Come on in. I’m Aristelle. We have a lot to talk about.” She propels me toward the table.

“I…” My mouth opens and closes. I glance around the room. It’s nothing much—just as dingy and chaotic as you’d expect backstage to be, with clothes piled on the floor and boxes with props overflowing. The long, worn wooden table sits in the center, surrounded by an array of mismatched folding chairs. It’s the kind of room I’d be comfortable in—if not for the people.

My stare settles on the twins. Their clothes drip even though their hair is bone-dry. Their breath falls and rises like any other human, except for the fact that they never seem to breathe out of sync with each other.

In and out, in and out. They turn their heads toward me and stare back.

I grab a full cup of water that’s definitely not mine from the table and lift it to my lips, eyeing them over the rim. Holding their breath that long isn’t even the weird part. David Blaine held his breath for seventeen minutes. No illusions either. He explained the lengths he went to, to be able to do it. The first time he tried to break the record on television, he ended up convulsing underwater as the overwhelming urge to breathe took over. He was pulled out, but he kept trying. The only strings behind his trick were sheer determination and will.

The twins weren’t under that long.

I’m still struggling to find another explanation—one that’s easier, one that lets me go back to just wanting impressive illusions.

But their clothes changed right in front of me.

I can’t remember if I blinked. I didn’t. But I was trying so hard not to, maybe I did, like when you’re playing the blinking game as a kid and knowing you can’t blink makes the urge almost impossible to fight.

I blinked. I must have.

But no. I didn’t.

I place the cup back on the table. My hand trembles, sloshing water over the side.

“She already knows,” Aristelle says.

“She must have snuck onto the stage,” the bird girl says.

“I suppose that gets rid of the awkward bit,” Aristelle says.

“Ava.” I don’t like the soft, slow way Xander says my name. He sounds like a predator trying to keep me from running. “Why don’t you sit down, and we’ll talk about what you just saw.”