She opens her perfect mouth, but no words come out.
The ravens in the bamboo cages mimic her, screaming, “C-c-ruck! C-c-ruck! C-c-ruuuck!”
My heart thuds, the pull of her presence overwhelming. I’m split between being impressed that she came back here alone and wanting to toss her to the lion beside me to be pulled limb from limb. What’s happening to me? Where are these brutal compulsions coming from? Is this part of the Tether?
I send the lion away so she isn’t tempted to make Emma a snack. But Iknow that rebellious cat well enough to know she’ll stay close in case I call her back to protect me.
Emma, clearly stunned at her loss of voice, grips her throat. Scratches at it, like it’ll put words back in her mouth.
“Only in Philadelphia…” I laugh. “This is the only place an intruder would be arrogant enough to think we’d let them invade our space. And lie to us.” I decide to reassure her. “Don’t trip. You can talk. But the birds are spelled. They won’t let you say anything untrue.”
Her hair bounces around her face. “W-we…” She exhales; her brown eyes are now wide with—relief? Fear? A ghost of a smile touches her lips, and her shoulders relax. But her fists stay balled. Like she’s a moment from swinging at my head.
“I didn’t come to start trouble,” she says. “Can you please unfreeze my brother?”
She can talk, so her words are sincere… and her voice sends a chill through me. But that balled fist tells me she got an unspoken threat coming along with the favor she’s asking.
My music didn’t affect her. How? That makes me uneasy. But I’m not about to let her know that. Besides, I was always going to release the crowd after I grabbed a drink and took a break. But I gotta admit, Emma’s boldness is impressive. She’s back here all by herself. That’s brave. Since she wants to go all hunter and prey, chasing me backstage, I guess I should make the catch fun.
I lean on the table. “I hear your grandma makes illusions,” I say with an exaggerated effort and cross my ankles, so she can see the Tether around my ankle, too. It takes her a moment to notice, but her eyes go even wider. Not the cool kind of wide, the scared kind.
She raises her palms like she’s going to cast a spell on me. I can’t have that. “Like I said, the birds are spelled. Your power won’t work. Sorry, Star, that dust thing is useless here.”
“And what do you know about my stardust?” she spits.
The challenge in her tone makes me fight to suppress a smirk. Even when she’s at a disadvantage, she doesn’t cower. Luckily, Emma believes mylie. She must think the ravens work on us, too. And I like the way her nose crinkles with irritation.
Her eyes dart around like flames in her perfect face. She’s still squinting like she’s thinking hard, trying to figure out her next move.
The glare on her face says that if I took a bullet, she’d be the one pulling the trigger.
But I guess I’ll know the truth of that soon enough.
“Yes,” Emma says. “My grandmère uses illusions. Because my family has the good sense to mask their magic from nonmagical folks and enemies. Y’all have your power displayed on the front door like a mural.”
Emma’s fearless. Insulting us when she’s alone on our turf. Not giving a dang about the risk. That makes me fight another smile.
“So you think an eagle should pretend to be a pigeon?” I chuckle. “Nah, we ain’t pretending. We don’t have to. Folks here are our camouflage. They love our show, our music, and protect it, because we return the favor. My family gives jobs to the neighborhoods we perform in. We invest in after-school programs, job-skills programs, and we give free classes on getting out of debt, wealth building, and empowerment. What do y’all do?”
Her head tilts like she doesn’t know.
“I heard y’all do most of your shows for rich white folks.”
That hits a nerve. She bites her bottom lip, making me notice how perfect her mouth is. “You don’t know anything about us… about me—”
I interrupt her. “The Davenports help people crawl out of poverty. Help them grow. See, some travelers might choose not to change history. We choose to make it. To undo generational wrongs while you prance around and look pretty.”
My compliment disarms her, and her eyebrows lift, like what she’s hearing surprises her. “So,” Emma says. “If your family’s changed so much, why are things still messed up?”
If Big-Mama was here, she’d tell me to focus on getting information. Why is she here? What is she planning—and is it what Imani saw in her vision? I need intel to use against them. Her. In the Tether. Or now.
I need to figure out if the Baldwins are here planning an attack—andif I should sound the alarm to the rest of the family. But I feel strange. I’m supposed to hate her. I’m supposed to be overcome with rage, with bloodlust. But despite the bad urges that I had to push away, I can’t stop looking at her. I wanna do the exact opposite of harm her.
“I’ve been really big on changing history. It’s my thing. But no matter how we try, we can’t undo hundreds of years of slavery. We couldn’t save Martin Luther King Jr., either. We tried—hundreds of times—but it’s almost like someone is playing a game against us. Undoing all our work for laughs. But if we stay outside the mainstream, avoiding big events, we’ve been able to save some smaller groups. I hear your fam likes a flashy expensive life.”
Emma sighs and rubs her forehead, looking like she’s rethinking things. “You don’t know my family,” she says softly.
Emma moves near the caged ravens. “How did you know about my power? The stardust? Have you been spying on me?” She gives me a look thick with disgust. Give her a dagger, and my heart would be bloody ribbons on the floor.
