In a swift motion, Shane Speer grabbed Lara’s wrist and slapped it down. The cheap table shook and nearly toppled. The boy leaned in so close that Lara could tell he’d been chewing cinnamon gum. She was worried he was trying to kiss her and the thought of it repulsed her. The prospect seemed to repulse Mr. Tisdale as well, because the monkey slid off Shane’s knee and scurried out of the room chirping.

“I see the dark magic… the Dark Circus in you, girl. It is your destiny.” His voice wasn’t a boy’s anymore; it was deep like an opera baritone. And was that a Russian accent? “You’re part of the Devil’s Circus. You’re the key—the one. But you must beware. She knows and she is coming for you. She wants you dead.”

Shane shook his head and peered up at her through greasy bangs. “What did I say?”

“You don’t know?” Lara cradled her sore hand in the other one, studying it to see if anything had been bruised.

“It comes on that way. It’s why I prefer the hands.”

“Well, you were gibbering on about a Dark Circus. And you sounded Russian, too.”

“The Secret Circus?” The boy’s eyes widened. “I was?” The boy looked off, sick almost. “I bet Madame Fonseca is channeling me again. I hate it when she does that. I can do this on my own without her meddling in all my fucking sessions.”

“You called it the Dark Circus, not the Secret Circus,” said Lara, looking up at the ceiling and expecting the ghost of Madame Fonseca to be hanging up there.

“Same thing.” Shane shrugged. “Some call it the Secret Circus, others the Dark Circus.”

“So how does this circus relate to me?”

“Dunno. Depends on what I said.” The boy looked around, distracted, like he needed a cigarette. “Hey, what happened to Mr. Tisdale?”

“He fled when your voice got weird.”

“Oh fuck, really? He ran out?” Shane dipped his head and raised it, looking for the little monkey. “Oh no, I gotta find him. He gets into mischief when he’s loose.”

“That’s just great,” said Lara, rolling her eyes. She could see he was sweating. “You also said that I was in danger and that she wants me dead. Who wants me dead?”

The boy was still distracted, but he swallowed hard. Lara could see his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “Ma’am. If I said that, then you are in very grave danger. I’m sorry to tell you I’m never wrong about these matters. Madame Fonseca said I had the gift and I do.” He reached under the table and pulled out a gray cashbox, thunking it between them. “That’ll be twenty dollars.”