24th of June, 1920. D+P: Age 17
Dovie. If I died, what would be the hardest thing to forget about me?
What sort of morbid question is that?
I was thinking about my mother. I can’t remember much about her anymore and it makes me sick. I remember how pretty she was. I remember how warm and safe she made me feel. And I remember the sound of her voice when she told me stories. But that is all.
That sounds like plenty to me.
Here’s my answer for you:
When you die, I’ll always remember how handsome you were. I’ll remember how warm and safe you made me feel. And I’ll remember the sound of your voice when you told me about your day on nights we lay on the rooftop.
That’s almost exactly what I just said about my mother.
Yes. Because it’s plenty.
I see what you did there. You must think you’re so clever.
That is a fact, not a thought.
But now you must promise me I’ll die before you (once we’re very old and very gray) because I couldn’t stand to endure a world where you aren’t in it.
Chapter 53
Esmeralda
The barrel of the pistol dug into her back.
She glared at the infamous goat mask. “Not so hard,” she hissed through her teeth.
When she turned to face Ángel, she gasped.
If he hadn’t still been dressed in his signature purple coat, she might have mistaken the ringmaster for Comandante Olivera. Like Camila, the ringmaster had aged. He had grown a bit thicker around the waist. His hair had gone completely white. And his eyes. Those crystal-blue eyes, wrinkled at the edges, were an identical match to the comandante’s.
The youth he’d stolen from the previous lead acts, it was clearly drying up. Tezcán’s magic would be gone if he didn’t feed someone to Tezcán soon. Someone like her.
The ropes around her wrists felt suddenly too tight, and her mouth ran dry.
“Thank you for bringing my lovely dove back to me,” he said to Jorge. Only, the real Jorge had been left tied up inside theweather-changing tent. Hidden beneath the goat mask and shawl was Camila. The timepiece Gabriel always wore clicked away frantically from her hip. They had only moments to get Ignacio out and run for their lives.
Camila moved the pistol, pointing it at the ringmaster. “Untie Ignacio,” she said, her voice steely.
The ringmaster’s smile dropped. “What is this?”
“This is your opportunity to let him go before we make you,” Esmeralda yelled.
The ringmaster laughed heartily. “You are threatening me?”
He twirled his fingers, and a glittering jar appeared in his palm.
Many things happened at once. So fast that they felt slow.
The first thing that happened was Ignacio yelling: “Duck!”
Esmeralda dove out of the way, but Camila was not so lucky. The jar broke open when it crashed into her chest. Sparkling dust danced in the air around her. Her brown eyes went wide. Then she crumpled into a small heap on the ground. Camila’s finger must have closed around the trigger of the pistol because a shot went off. Esmeralda balked. She thought they had emptied the bullets, but there must have already been one in the chamber.
The next thing that happened was the comandante breaking free from his bindings and pummeling into the ringmaster.
