Jairo stood in the middle of Oceanside Hall, turning a slow circle as he took in the arch frame, packets of coloured balloons and Wonderland paraphernalia waiting to be hung. He smiled at the hand-painted cat banner. Cute, but a far cry from the Veifa big top’s soaring elegance. The Veifa’s entire foundation was magnificent spectacle. In a town hall, it would be hard to get the audience – their real audience, not the students – to believe this was the real thing.


‘You’re sure this is it?’ he asked.


‘The seed event.’ Melarie’s voice was soft beside him. ‘A point where time can be moved. Yes, this is it. Simple, really.’


Jairo raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Nothing is simple with you.’


‘I think …’ Melarie trailed off, making a note from the laser measure in her hand.


Jairo waited, gazing across the hall to the stage. Stairs to either side; they’d need extra security.


‘You’ve spoken of other worlds,’ Melarie said. ‘Not just the Plane and lives beyond this one, but whole galaxies out there with planets and people.’


Jairo didn’t remember, but his sister did. She used to tell him of distant civilisations, places where magic thrived, places he’d supposedly had a hand in creating. In most things, Jairo didn’t trust his sister, but he’d spent evenings gazing at the stars and sensed the truth in her words. ‘You think this comes from another world?’


‘Dark Star Productions is a front. Their office is a forwarding address. To have this kind of money, to know I’m a Ma magician … if it’s not your sister, it’s someone bigger, and who on this planet is bigger?’


Jairo nodded. He’d had the same idea, but had lingered less on it. They’d taken the deposit as soon as he determined the gig wasn’t connected to his sister. It was a done deal. ‘What does our intergalactic producer want us to do?’


‘A girl called Gabrielle Whitehall will come to the ball, but she mustn’t remember.’


‘Well, we’re the show no one remembers.’ Jairo shot Melarie a grin. ‘Looks like that niche finally paid off.’


Melarie smiled back, but she shook her head. ‘I can make her forget, leave her memories fuzzy, but she has to think she chose not to attend at all. That’s something else entirely. I can’t create new memories.’


‘Only remove existing ones.’ Jairo knew. Melarie had done it to him the day they’d met, returning the memories shortly after. It was remarkable magic, and more so because Earth didn’t have magic.


Even though it should.


‘What will you do?’ he asked, stooping to examine the square of parquetry set before the stage for a dance floor. It was sticky.


‘I’ll have to use the serum.’ Melarie shuddered. Melarie’s magic hid memories, but it didn’t damage them. Serum was a different story. ‘I might be away for a while after tonight.’


‘That complicated?’


She ran a ribbon of black fabric through her fingers, twisting and untwisting it. ‘Here we hold the universe in our hands.’


A bitter laugh escaped Jairo’s throat. The universe could do with less of his handiwork. Still, anticipation hummed through his veins. Seed event and Melarie’s strange visions aside, tonight might be it. Everything he’d worked for would pay off. He knew by the fevered rehearsal the day before that the rest of the Veifa cast felt it too.


Tonight, they were going to fix the world.


But it would be easier in the big top. He wanted Melarie by his side to call Oskar back, and in this hall, she’d be busy managing the memories of five hundred students and the Veifa guests and making sure the universe pivoted in the correct direction around a girl. He couldn’t argue with her. She’d found him, after all, and put a pin in him, a place and time after which nothing would be the same.


For all that he believed in their goal, Jairo couldn’t help but wonder. If he’d never met Melarie, would Gavrin still be alive? Was there another path in an alternate universe where they walked hand in hand, had never been on that beach?


But even if they did, they’d walk with shards in their hearts, and Gavrin would do what it took to fix it.


‘This much magic will leave a lot of residue,’ Melarie said.


‘We’ll have to burn it.’ Jairo sighed. The hall was nothing special, but still. It had excellent ceiling height. Good for rigging.


‘And I won’t be with you on stage.’


Jairo’s breath caught. Of course, she couldn’t be in two places at once, and without her magic, the patrons couldn’t watch the show. All she did on stage was offer moral support.


Spectacle was no foundation. Moral support was the foundation. Without Melarie, Jairo would never have started, never have come this far. How was he meant to finish without her?


He stared up at the stage and tried to picture himself, makeup and microphone on, lights bright, leading the show.


Without her.


His throat scratched, and he coughed, then asked, ‘There’s no other way to do it?’


Melarie laid a hand on his shoulder, her brow creased with concern. ‘I’m sorry, Jazz.’


Everything would go to plan, even if the plan meant Jairo had to work alone. It was nerves whispering doom in the back of his mind, nothing more. Nerves and old stories. He closed his eyes for a moment, drawing strength from somewhere. The stars. Melarie’s hand on his shoulder. The black of the night sky.


It was too late to change anything. The truck was here, the storm approached, and they’d left the tent packed in its trailer three hours south. He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back as if he was already in top hat and tails, already the show master. He danced a few steps across the tacky floor, turned on the spot.


‘Let’s bump in.’