We bypassed the line and received more than one jealous glance from the crowd. The line moved through one of the sets of doors, and the other set was guarded by a burly man with a surly expression. His large arms were crossed over his broad chest, and a long, dark mustache hid much of his face. A scar marred his cheek, and the rest of his face was pocked by some long-ago disease.
His sharp, beady eyes watched us as we approached him. Marc was all smiles as he strolled up to the guard. “Good evening. We have some tickets-”
The man held out his hand to us. Marc set the tickets in the guard’s palm. The silent man flicked his wrist, and the tickets exploded in a puff of smoke.
My mouth dropped open. “Why’d he do that? How’d he do that?”
Marc squeezed my hand. “No need to worry. It’s an old trick to see how well the tickets burn. See?”
The smoke cleared, revealing the tickets, or what was left of them. There were only stubs left, and part that had the numbers.
The man held them out to us. “Enjoy the show.”
“I’m sure we will,” Marc replied as he took the tickets and led me inside.
The foyer was a massive affair, with carpeted floors, paneled walls, and columns evenly spaced to keep up the roof above our heads. Stairs on either side revealed that the ceiling was the floor of a large balcony. Another two pairs of doors were open on either side of a long desk, and people streamed through into a dim interior.
Murmurs filled the air, as did the excitement from the crowd. It made my arms tingle and my heart flutter. I couldn’t wait for the show.
Chapter 33
But first, I had to satiate my curiosity. I leaned close to Marc and lowered my voice to a whisper. “What just happened back there with that guy and the tickets?”
“A very easy way to tell if a ticket is fake,” he explained as we strolled toward one of the doors. “The sellers make only part of it flammable, and the rest couldn’t catch on fire if you threw it into the hottest pits. The doorman has a knack for fire magic and burns every ticket to see if the remaining part matches.”
My eyebrows shot up. “That’s incredible!”
Marc studied the stubs. “Let’s hope these tickets are as impressive as the entrance magic.”
I squinted at the smudged tickets. “Is that a one, or a seven?”
“We’ll try one,” he suggested as he guided me through the doorways.
I jerked to a stop and gaped at the hall. The majestic theater occupied several thousand square feet. Dozens of rows of cushioned chairs lined the floor up to the half-circle stage. The large balcony hung over a quarter of the lower seats, and personal balconies dotted the upper floor walls on our left and right.
I stepped up to the first row, and my eyes widened. “This says it’s row one hundred. That must mean we’re at the front.”
“Then let’s get walking,” Marc mused as he strode down the gentle incline.
Many of the seats were already occupied. I could tell there wasn’t going to be enough seating for all the people outside.
“What do you think will happen if those people don’t get in?”
He grinned. “We could have an interesting evening after all.”
We reached the front row, and the nameplate featured our number. Another set of numbers on the ticket told us to scoot to the center, where we took our seats. I wiggled my butt, and the cushion moved with my derriere.
I swept my eyes over the vast amphitheater. “These are really nice seats.”
A voice floated over from behind us. “Glad you like them, Miss Larkin!”
I knew that voice, and so did Marc. He looked as surprised as I as we both whipped our upper bodies around. Henry sat behind us, his arms folded over the top of our seats and a huge grin on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“We thought we’d keep you company.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “‘We?’”
