CHAPTER FOUR

I don’t black out entirely, though I might prefer that over witnessing the fuss the crowd makes. They press in with gaping mouths and arms reaching to steady me as I struggle to catch my breath. Once upright, it’s like gravity goes wonky on me, and I nearly knock over the men trying to support me. They lower me to a seated position and barrage me with a sea of questions.

“Are you all right?”

“Bit dizzy there, eh?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Anyone know if this bloke has family here today?”

“What’s yer name, son?”

I can’t do much more than try to grin it off as I struggle to shake away the black specks hovering at the edges of my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut and when I open them again, the dark-haired woman is standing directly over me, her head tipped in scrutiny, like she can tell my clothing’s just a costume. That I’m just playing a part. That I don’t really belong here.

“Give him some room.” She waves her hand about to break up the crowd and kneels beside me. “Are you all right?”

I try to speak, but my mouth is dry, my head’s still spinning, and my heart’s beating wildly in my chest. I can’t tell if my disorientation’s from the fall, the landing, or the intensity of the woman’s eyes on me. She gestures to some men. “You two help me get him over to the wagons where he can lie down.”

The men each grab one of my arms and lead me away, following the hypnotic swish of the magician’s assistant’s braid.

“Wait!” I say. “My jacket!”

Juliette glances around, then marches back over to the fence and grabs the jacket herself. I cringe as she flings it carelessly over her arm, but the Wormhole Device remains tucked safely inside as she leads the sorry bunch of us down the dusty path, weaving between carts of fresh vegetables and down a row of worn wagons on the edge of the fairgrounds.

“Right in there.” Juliette gestures to a covered wagon of sorts, where a few wooden crates function as steps up to a cozy room, where thick canvas serves as a shield from the elements.

The men deposit me upon the bed, which is really just a pallet covered with blankets and a layer of hay as a mattress. I’m still feeling dizzy, so I lean back and rest my head against the pillow, breathing in the scent of hay and… what is that? Lavender?

“Technically, I’m not supposed to have men in here,” Juliette says sharply, pouring a bit of water from a pitcher into a delicate teacup. “But Viggo’s wagon is the only other place I know with a bed, and he keeps his dog Brutus tied up there while we’re at shows to discourage thieves. Believe me, you wouldn’t want to cross that beast. Nearly bit my hand off when I tried to pet it.” She offers me the teacup, and I push myself upright to take it, her fingers brushing mine in the process.

“I’m Juliette, by the way.”

“Chandler.” I sip the water, somehow managing to slosh half of it down the front of my shirt. Juliette turns away, but not before I see her smile at my clumsiness. I suppose I should be grateful that she finds me amusing right now.

“You have any family out there I should hunt down to come care for you?” She jerks her head toward the open flap, where outside, the crowds bustle by.

“No. No, I came alone today. I take it you work at the fair?” I ask, trying to act casual. The last thing I want is for her to think I’m some creep who knows more about her than I ought to.

“I suppose I do.” She wrings out a wet cloth into the basin and holds it out. “Here, put this on your head. I just joined up with Viggo—sorry, the Amazing Velés, I suppose I ought to call him—not too long ago. I’m his assistant.”

“So this is your wagon?” I glance around the space with new curiosity. It’s neat and tidy, with few furnishings or decorations, and no personal items besides a battered brass cage with a bird inside that tips his head at me and chirps.

“Viggo’s, technically. It used to be his former assistant’s, but she up and eloped back in Cleveland last season.” She hoists herself onto the chest of drawers and rests on the edge of it. Then, as if realizing how unladylike she appears, sitting there swinging her legs in her brown trousers, she daintily crosses her ankles beneath her.

“Isn’t he worried you’ll do the same?”

Juliette rolls her eyes, but her cheeks color with such warmth and loveliness that it only proves my point. Elise was an attractive woman, no doubt, but she had a plainness about her, too, which allowed her to blend into crowds easily. Her great-great grandmother, though… with those big, expressive eyes and her lips, so quick to smile… She’d stand out anywhere.

“Our first show is this evening,” she says, evading my question. “You ought to come. That is, if you’re feeling well enough by then.”

She turns those big eyes on me, and I feel as though I’ve gotten the wind knocked out of me again.

I struggle to sit up. I can’t think straight in here. I need fresh air, somewhere that isn’t heady with lavender and where those bright, intelligent eyes aren’t on me, studying my every move. If I stay in here much longer, I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep from confessing everything to her. “I really should be going.”

“You ought to stay. I’ll admit, I feel rather responsible for you. If I hadn’t distracted you while you were climbing down that pole—”

“I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with your new boss.”

“Oh, never mind him,” she says, waving a hand carelessly. “I’m always taking in strays: lost dogs, abandoned kittens. Peeps there is a sparrow I’ve been nursing back to health; he’s just about strong enough to go free. Viggo and I grew up together, so he understands. And if not—” Here she shrugs carelessly. “Then I’ll just make my way down to Chicago and find work there. There’s bound to be other performers at the World’s Fair there who need assistants. I’d really like to be an acrobat, mind you, but everyone’s told me Barnum and Bailey won’t even take a second look at anyone without some experience in showbiz. I figured I’d spend a year on the circuit with Viggo first, and he was gracious enough to give me the opportunity.”

“Well if your acrobatic skills are anything like your climbing skills, I’m sure you’d do great.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t mention that to Viggo.”

“About the competition? Why not? You were fantastic.”

“I wasn’t supposed to win.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s one of his rules. He said I could play the games at the fairs and carnivals we visit, but I’m not supposed to win. We’re supposed to let the locals take home the prize, but I got a bit carried away. I wear a wig on stage during the magic show, so I don’t think anyone else would recognize me. Oh. You don’t think those men who helped you in here will make the connection, do you?” She bites her thumbnail thoughtfully.

“Nah,” I assure her. “But what about the ax-throwing and butter-churning?”

“I might have gotten carried away on those, too.”

Her expression is so sincerely remorseful, so innocent, that I laugh. My head throbs and I press the heel of my hand against it. “Ouch.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Juliette says, sliding down from the chest of drawers. “I ought to let you rest, rather than chatting your ear off like this. I’ll be back in a few hours to check up on you.”

Before I can protest, Juliette slips gracefully from the wagon, flicking the canvas tent flap shut behind her and leaving me alone with nothing but the muffled noises of the fair around me and her lavender scent upon the pillow.