Petty though that might be, it had seemed brilliant when she’d thought of it. Now, though, she was beginning to wonder if she’d made a terrible mistake. Her fingers twitched as she pictured the slight silver mask, lying on the dresser back in her hotel room, where it was little use to her.

She lifted her chin, trying to regain her confidence. The overhead lights were bright, almost blinding, and she felt rather than saw the crowd of people surrounding her. Watching her.

All those eyes were making her fidgety. Even before she became Quinn Fox, Dorothy had never liked standing before a crowd. Con artists tended to avoid being the center of attention, as a rule. It was too easy to be spotted, for one person to point and say things like, “Hey, I think that’s the girl who stole my wallet,” which, generally, led to more people pointing and realizing and . . .

All in all it was better to stay out of the spotlight. And yet here she was now, standing beneath a very literal spotlight. She wanted to pull her hood low over her face, but, of course, her hood wasn’t there. She felt exposed. Vulnerable.

Smile, she told herself.

Even she had to admit that the display they’d put together was impressive. It’d been her idea to decorate their masquerade with all the amazing things throughout history that no longer existed. All this time she and Roman had been looting the past so that they might dazzle the people of this city with what they’d managed to bring back.

“It’s important to open a con with a show of strength,” she’d explained to Roman, in the beginning. “People naturally trust the rich and powerful. If we want to bring them over to our side, we’ll need to do something impressive.”

“But this isn’t a con,” Roman had told her in return. “We really do want to fix the city.”

It might not have been a con in the strictest sense of the word but, structurally, it was similar enough. First, they created a need, and then they made it clear that they were the only ones who could fill it.

It had taken the better part of a year to plant the seeds. And, now, everything was finally ready.

The sound of applause crashed over her, and then Roman was taking her hand, beaming. She snapped back to attention just in time to hear him finish the speech they’d prepared together.

“Those of you who’ve lived here long enough will remember that Seattle was broken long before the mega-quake flooded the city. The 2073 earthquake had already wiped out our power, ruined our homes, and killed thousands. Some of us lost everything.”

The crowd fell silent, their attention rapt.

Roman went on. “I was just a child when the earthquake of 2073 destroyed my family’s home and killed my parents. Like many of you, I was forced to take refuge in an emergency pop-up tent on the grounds of the old university while the people in power promised me that they had things under control.”