He holds up his hands and wiggles his fingers. “Maybe it’s a Flame-finger superpower.”

We move on to a velocipede carousel where, instead of horses, bikes are positioned around the edge of a merry-go-round. “In the late nineteenth century, these carousels were the only way many people could afford to try a bicycle,” Siaka explains. “As a publicity stunt, the fairground manager had a team of firemen test how fast it would go. They got up to thirty-seven miles per hour—faster than most people had ever gone other than on horseback.”

After climbing aboard my own bike and beginning to pedal, I discover just how fast it goes. At one point, I lift my feet. The pedals are moving so fast I can’t put them back down.

After the bike carousel, we pass displays of mechanical player pianos, costumes from the Moulin Rouge, and a whole battalion of terrifying mechanized mannequins and figurines. It sounds like a dozen possessed music boxes are playing carnival tunes.

The last attraction is a “gondola” merry-go-round, a circular platform set with a couple dozen colorful wooden swans, ducks and two-seated booths. Siaka and I wedge ourselves side-by-side into a booth so small that we’re practically crushed together, which I don’t mind one bit.

Siaka turns to me. “This ride seems more your speed. You’re looking less green.”

I elbow him playfully, instigating a shoving battle, ending only when I grab his hands to stop him from pushing me out of the booth. Which results in us sitting there, my hands on his and our faces an inch apart.

For one charged moment, I seriously consider kissing him. His lips are right there. His eyes tease me. It takes all of my will-power to disengage. I let go of his hands and lean back.

“So...” he says, pursing his lips. “How about that C2C database?”

We both burst into laughter, and when the gondola ride comes to a stop we climb out and leave the museum with smiles that won’t go away.

Chapter Seventeen

It’s my turn to choose an activity for the next week, but a few hours after dropping me off from the Museum of Fairground Arts, Siaka calls. He explains that Liv needs to take the database offline to fix some bugs.

“She says sooner rather than later. If we tell her to do it tomorrow, that gives us the day off, but it means two dates in a row.”

“Dates?” I ask pointedly.

“Platonic get-togethers,” he corrects.

“Well, I’ve already decided what to do for my...platonic get-together,” I say. “I’ll see if I can make it happen tomorrow.”

After checking in with Ambrose, I call Siaka back.

“Okay, but it has to be before sunrise,” I say. “Which doesn’t bother me since I don’t sleep. Think you can make it?”

“That sounds like an immortal-to-mortal challenge,” Siaka says. “How can I say no?”