Next to her, looking half-puzzled and half-amused, is Héloïse. As Santi watches her, standing meters from a doom she can’t even see, lifetimes of love turn to a rush of cold fear inside him.

He vaults the fence and strides across the grass to Héloïse, taking her arm. “What are you doing here?”

“She said she was your friend. Thora, right? She’s doing a magic show, but she was scared no one would come.” She laughs, a warm Héloïse chuckle that penetrates to his bones. “Carnival. Anything can happen.”

Thora gives her a courtly bow. “You are absolutely right, my lady. Prepare to be amazed.” She opens the carrier and lifts Félicette out.

“Stop.” Santi hears the desperation in his own voice. “Thora, please.”

She gives him a wicked grin. “Don’t worry. Cats always land on their feet.” Félicette wriggles in her arms, yowling. Thora tightens her grip. “Come on. We’re going on an adventure.” She carries Félicette toward the portal. The cat screams, spits, struggles to get free, but Thora holds fast until, at the threshold, she lets her go. Félicette bounds out of her arms and vanishes.

Héloïse jumps. She stares at Thora, then laughs and claps, looking sideways at Santi. “Mirrors?” she says in an undertone.

Santi can only stare at the empty grass, the void where something beloved once was. He doesn’t understand why it feels like such a violation: worse, somehow, than if Thora had drowned Félicette before his eyes.

“Why are you upset?” Thora looks at him, head cocked in fake confusion. “She wasn’t real. This proves it.”

“Thora.” He steps forward, takes her arm. “I know this is about Jules. I know it hurt you, seeing her again. But you have to see how that proves you shouldn’t be doing this.”

Héloïse touches his shoulder. He reads her frown. Why are you being so weird? “Santi, calm down. It’s a magic trick.” She turns a smile on Thora. “A very good one.”

Thora blows Héloïse a kiss. “I’m glad someone appreciates my art.” She offers her hand. “And now, madame, it’s your turn! Are you ready to brave the annihilation portal?”

Héloïse laughs. “I thought you’d never ask.” With a conspiratorial glance at Santi, she takes Thora’s hand.

Thora leads her forward. “Don’t worry,” she says. “If you’re real, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Santi watches Thora lead his laughing wife across the grass. He wants to reach out, to pull her back, but that would mean admitting in his heart that Thora might really do this. He doesn’t believe she will. She’s just trying to scare him. Any moment now, she will stop and turn back.

Héloïse looks over her shoulder with a warm smile. “Santi, what if—”