The minutes flew by in the usual preparations. Both performers got into costume, Charlie with a bright red dress she claimed was discarded by her older sister and Maxwell with his three-piece, striped with shadows in the dim dressing room light.
Instinctively, he reached for the Codex Umbra, only to find in a sharp twinge of panic that the book was missing. Had he dropped it outside somehow? The guards pickpocketed it? Without the Codex, there was no doubt that any show that night would be a miserable-
"Honestly. Don't have kittens, Maxy," Charlie said, face to the mirror as she applied a thin layer of eyeliner. "It's over by your coat. I swear- it's like you're dating that book instead of me."
Carter's face burned as he grabbed the Codex. The package in his pocket clinked dangerously. "Of course not," he replied, then after a few minutes flipping through the pages to calm his nerves, "Do you mind if I borrow some of that?"
"Mmmm. No problemo. Give me another moment and…" Charlie tossed him the cosmetic. He fumbled once, twice, but then grasped the eyeliner firmly in hand. "Seriously though. We have to talk about that thing."
"What about?"
"Well..." the shorter woman glanced over her shoulder to the magician's face. "I don't know if you've noticed or not, but that book is kind of, uh, creepy."
"Oh." Carter shrugged, etching a heavy line of black in the corner of his left eye. "Well, it is shadow magic. I think it's supposed to be creepy."
He raised his eyebrows teasingly and grinned at Charlie. This was usually the part in which she'd roll her eyes and tell him to hush up, that she was in on the act too. After all, who believes in such a thing as shadow magic? Not a modern, sensible American woman. Or even a moderately superstitious Englishman. Except that, of course, Carter did. And if Charlie had seen the things that he had, he was fairly sure that she would believe in it too.
A darkened sky, the moon at midday.
Wounds knit together in seconds.
A rumble that was not a train engine or a circus wagon, not, in fact, entirely of this world.
But Carter had never been able to think of a way to show her. At least a way that wouldn't, by the end of it, make her think he was a freak. So he'd watch and wait, for some opportunity, any, to convince her that the magic he worked was real.
Charlie bit her lip, leaving a slight smear of lipstick on her teeth. "Listen Maxy...I know it's a magician's secret and all, but, really, how do you make those things onstage? The shadows?"
"I…" Carter forced a laugh. "I...honestly don't think you would believe me if I told you."
"Try me." The stagehand put her hands on her hips in a way that was both intimidating and, well, rather attractive, "When you hired me, Maxwell, it was because I had, and I quote, 'a keen interest in the mysteries of the universe.' Whatever the hell you do onstage, that's got to be one of them. And, no big surprise, I'm interested."
"I know." Carter sighed as he sank into one of the dressing room's flimsy folding chairs. "And I want to tell you too, Charlie. I mean, of course!"
He wasn't lying.
"-but I...need a bit more time. To make sure it's not too strange. Or shocking. And that I don't, uh...scare you away?"
The woman snorted. "Believe me, it'd take more than a boatload of crazy to scare Charlotte Esther Rosenstein. But if you don't want to tell me now, I won't make you." She sighed. "As long as you're okay, I mean. Though that's a hell of a word to use where we are now."
It was, though he didn't fault Charlie for using it. To be entirely honest, Carter was beginning to wonder if he had gone too far, pressed his luck just an inch beyond the breaking point-
The door flew open with a loud creak.
"Hey you two goops!" It was the shorter man, knife still glittering at the side of his pantleg. "Time to get the show on the road- Boss Nihlson's waiting!"
The performers exchanged uneasy glances and the reality of the situation seemed to seep between the fractures in their confidence. If the two of them didn't do well tonight, there wouldn't be any opportunity for Carter to tell Charlie about the wondrous things things he'd see with the Codex Umbra. No opportunity to give her what was in the package in his pocket. In fact, there wouldn't be any opportunity for anything at all.
For a moment, the magician's tongue was frozen, caught by fear.
Then with as much dignity as possible, he cleared his throat. "Tell Boss Nihlson that it'll be a couple more minutes. Well-" he paused to give what would hopefully pass for an arrogant sniff, "if he wants the act to be perfect, anyhow."
It was an uncertain gambit, threading the line between impudence and artistic flakiness, but for a few more minutes with Charlie, Carter would make that bet.
The shorter gangster glared at the two of them for a minute, seeming to sense the magician's gamble, but at he last stormed off, grumbling something about "idiot divas."
Carter heaved a sigh of relief as Charlie let out a nervous giggle. "God, these people are scary." she muttered "I guess I take back anything I said about your boatload of crazy if it has to do with gangsters."
"It doesn't- don't worry," the other performer reassured, though he had seen something in the Codex Umbra referring to the shadow beasts as "mobs." Probably not the same thing though. Right?
The stagehand gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Phew. For a moment there you had me convinced you were secretly a magician mob boss."
"A what?"
"You know. You'd give a bunch of orders to all the other illusionists and bam! Shadow puppets!"
"That doesn't explain anything at all." Carter arched an eyebrow, struggle to hide his half-grin. "Besides, can you really imagine me being a gangster?"
"Heh. Not really." Charlie shook her head, a similar smile etched upon her lips. "You've got too much class." As the magician turned the same scarlet as her dress, his stagehand's face turned more serious. "Honestly though Max, we should take a break. My sister's got a cabin up at BC that she said we could use if the performance circuit ever got slow. I think we should take her up on the offer."
For a moment, Carter could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Out of all the wonderful, perfect lips in the world, hers were the last he'd thought would ever say such a thing. "But...what about Los Angeles? The films? Didn't you say you wanted to-"
"Oh come on Maxy!" Charlie's voice sounded bright as the electric lamp hung on the dressing room wall and just as artificial. "There'll be other chances. It's not like the industry's dying or anything."
Carter shook his head, confused. The first few moments he met the stagehand played back in his mind: the two of them sitting side by side in a saloon bar. Him fiddling with his glasses wondering if this whole thing had been a huge mistake. Her grinning because it really did take a whole boatload of crazy to scare Charlotte Esther Rosenstein. He had shown her a bit of magic-first parlour tricks then the real deal- just so that she knew what she was signing on to. Dark things. Messy things. Possibly dangerous. Yet when she saw it all, the first thing out of his future stagehand's mouth was: "I'm in. This act has the chops to make it all the way."
The very British William Carter, of course, hadn't the faintest clue what that meant and at the moment was also too afraid to ask.
But as the weeks went by and he had learned more about Charlie-bombastic, brave, clever-as-hell Charlie- not to mention a bit more of American slang, Carter had begun to piece it all together.
"Movies are the way to go," she had mentioned once. They were spread out on a hotel bed, staring a map that, according to the shopkeeper Carter had gotten it from, showed every major city in the West.
As Carter's eyes kept drifting to Corona, Charlie had been tapping Los Angeles with the head of a pencil. "Stage acts'll probably constitute the main mode of entertainment for a while longer but my sister's in industry and she says that film keeps getting better and better. It's not long before everybody's going to flip out over them. I want to get in while there's still an open spot."
"Acting?" Carter had asked, finally tearing his eyes from the map to glance at his companion.
Charlie shook her head. "Screenwriting. I want to write things that make people scream. Like Frankenstein- or Dracula maybe- but ten times as disturbing. Approximately."
It was all Carter could do to hold his tongue about the shadow creatures.
"Probably why I signed on in the first place, to be honest." The stagehand shrugged, seeming to sense his thoughts. "Houdini might be able to work himself out of handcuffs but he can't do anything like you."
Carter smiled as well, his insides bubbling up in a nervous kind of joy. Charlie thought he was good. Somehow that meant just as much to him as any audience's applause.
He fingered the edges of the maps. "So Los Angeles then?" The magician had said, "You think we can make it big?"
Charlie nodded, a mischievous look flitting across her face. "We'll blow their minds."
So two months later, in the dressing room of a San Francisco speakeasy the magician couldn't help but refuse the stagehand's offer. There was too much at stake in Los Angeles. Too much for both of them.
"LA first," he replied, "then break. We've been working for this far too long to give up our chance."
The assistant gave him an exasperated sort of look that didn't quite reach her eyes. She wanted this too, Carter realized, just as much as he did. "Really," he added, "I'll be fine."
And every iota of the words were true, too. Though Carter's nightly attempts to decode the shadows' whispers often ended in frustration, the magician was certain he knew what he was doing. He had made it this far, right?
Charlie glared into the dressing room mirror with a fierce sort of pensiveness.
"So is that a yes?"
His fingers danced upon the Codex Umbra with the nervous energy of an addict. The stagehand bit her lip, her eyes meeting the book for a second then turning away.
"A yes...with certain caveats. Which we can discuss later when not in the den of the mob."
"Of course," Carter agreed. "When we don't have a show to run. What do you say Charlie? Are you ready to wow them?"
"We'll hit on all sixes." The stagehand took a breath, replacing her anxiety with a bright smile. She really was getting good at magic tricks, Carter thought, but he could still spot the slightest quaver of her lips, the smallest shake in her voice.
He pocketed the Codex Umbra for a moment and took her hand. The two stood in silence for a few minutes, squeezing each other's fingers as though the flesh, clammy with fear, was some sort of good luck charm, the only thing that could make the world right again.
Then the moment was gone.
The door flew open with a resounding thud as Boss Nihlson's companions, both the short man and the tall woman, stormed into the room.
"Time's up," said the first of the two, fingering the knife at his waist. "Boss-man says you do the act now or take a nap in cement, if you know what I mean."
The performers peeled apart and the magician rose to his feet, shakily trying to summon a bit more of the fearlessness that had always eluded him. Then he cleared his throat, fingering the Codex Umbra. "Don't rush me, hoods. Unless you want a full taste of what the Amazing Maxwell can do."
Neither really looked as intimidated as Carter was hoping- but the woman did take a nervous step backward. The shorter man snorted, turning to his partner. "He's bullshitting you. It's all a performance."
He was right, of course. But the magician was of the firm opinion that if you played a role long enough, then maybe a little bit of it could dribble into you.
He took a step closer, looming over them both like a skyscraper. "Maybe. But do you really want to risk it?"
The two exchanged hesitant glances. Standing behind him, Charlie was doing what appeared to be her best attempt at keeping a straight face. She knew the act by heart at this point.
"You'd better believe him, " she warned with eyes slightly too wide to be serious. "After what he did to that last audience member- you remember him, right Maxy, the one who didn't clap… why I don't think I'll ever forget the sight. There are some places you really just shouldn't put a dismembered eyeball."
"Mmm, you're right darling. But he was rather asking for it…" Carter gave a dramatic sigh. "Now what were you two saying about a cement nap…?"
For a moment, everything was silent.
"That's what I thought."
"B-but the boss really does need you to perform," the short man whimpered. The woman beside him nodded frantically, still saying nothing.
Charlie patted her arm, gently. "Now, now. You only have to ask politely. We're certainly ready to do the show, aren't we Maxy?"
The magician made a show of shrugging. "The shadows know not day or night. They will perform at any moment."
"See? Everything's fine. You just need to show us the stage, okay?"
"...'right then." The tall woman was actually the one who responded, with a quiet rasp. "Follow me then. Please."
The performers were lead down a dim, scrunched looking hallway that looked more like a passage for bootleggers than part of the nightclub. Carter almost bumped his head on a lowered doorway in but ducked just in time to avoid utter humiliation. As he did, he came face to face with Charlie.
The whites of her eyes were fixed on him as though she had been staring the whole time. The magician was thankful that the tunnel was dark enough that she couldn't see his heavy blush.
Charlie grinned, a flash of shining teeth. "So Amazing Maxwell," she whispered, "I never thought 'the shadows knew not day or night.'"
"Please. You were the one who started talking about the 'dismembered eyeball." Carter smiled. "Very creative."
"Can't be a horror writer without the ability to make up something gruesome right on the spot, right?" The stagehand fiddled with a glove then slid her hand into the magician's. Her eyes grew unfocused as though she glimpsed something deep in the darkness, something Carter couldn't quite see.
"We're going to make it, Maxwell," she sighed. "Not just this performance I mean, but the future. I have a feeling."
"I'm glad," the magician whispered, feeling the box in his pocket pulsating with the rhythm of his heart. "Charlie, I-I think I lo-"
The lights of the speakeasy hit them hard, like a bullet to the pupil, and momentarily stunned both magician and stagehand. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Carter found himself face to face with Boss Nihlson, his nose just a few inches from the mobster's forehead.
"Maxwell. Miss Rosenstein." The large man smirked."I trust you're ready to perform."
The magician made a show of glancing around the room. "Certainly. I believe this environment shall be quite conducive to the spirit realm." In truth, Carter actually had no clue. He wasn't lying when he said earlier that the shadows couldn't tell the difference between the times of day. But a quick once-over was key for determining the mood of the audience.
Not to mention the identity of the person Boss Nihlson was so eager to please.
As the mobster turned to the side, signalling with the quick flip of his wrist for one of the employees to start the show, Charlie elbowed Carter in stomach. The height difference was too much for anything else.
"Psst Maxy." She hissed. "Look at that gal. Over to the right. Dark hair, sharp-looking hat."
He let his gaze drift through the crowd, as nonchalantly as possible, and just as the people at the scattered tables stood up to clap, he spotted the woman Charlie was talking about.
Then did a double take.
"Please tell me I'm seeing things," he whispered back to his assistant but she only shook her head.
"I'd recognize that face anywhere. I mean, she's in the rag enough to warrant her share of the sales. It's really her Maxy."
"Bugger." The magician muttered. Because if it really was Virgina Vanderbilt, "Birdie" to her friends, heiress to one of the largest railroad companies in the world to everyone else, then they were in more trouble than he thought. "We're done for."
Charlie elbowed him again, managing to reach the bottom of the ribcage this time. "We're fine. Just do what you do every night and by the end of the evening, she'll be goofy for the both of us. Think about it, Maxy, this could be our big break!"
The magician paused a moment, presumably thinking about it.
"Go big or go home," he sighed. Go big or take a cement nap was more like it. If the two of them couldn't manage to impress the railroad mogul, there was no doubt that they wouldn't be alive the next morning. But Charlie seemed to have faith in him and that was enough for now.
As the employee finished up his introductory jabber, Carter- no, Maxwell now- took a few deep breaths at the side of the stage. He fingered the small package in his pocket.
Things would be fine. They'd have to be.
And just as he'd finished thinking this, the lead-in came to a close. "And now Nihlson's Night-Owled is proud to present the Amazing Maxwell, performing feats to astound and mystify."
The magician and his assistant exchanged a glance.
He nudged a foot forward.
Then with a slow, sweeping, utterly rehearsed swagger, the Amazing Maxwell took to the stage.
