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“Is this your card?” Félix asked, producing it from behind the man’s ear with a flourish.
The man gasped. “It is!” he exclaimed as the audience applauded. “How did you—”
Félix tapped his nose. “You know the saying about magicians and secrets, sir.” He waved his hand, deploying the hidden spring in his sleeve. A bouquet of paper lilies appeared in his hand. “And these are for your grandmother. I do hope her cough improves.”
The man took the flowers, wide eyed. “Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you for volunteering.” Félix turned to the roaring crowd. “This marks the end of our time together, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you and goodnight!”
The crowd leapt to its feet as one, with a singular exception in the front row. As Félix took his bows, his gaze was drawn inexorably to the one seated figure. She was a tall, brown-skinned woman with her long hair in thick braids. She wore a neat orange pantsuit with a matching square-shaped hat and fine gold jewelry. When she made eye contact with Félix, she smiled a slow, predatory smile and disappeared into thin air. Though she had been surrounded by people, no one seemed to notice her disappearance.
Félix was a consummate performer. His own smile scarcely faltered. With a final, sweeping bow and a flourish of his red-lined cloak, he vanished as well. To the audience’s eyes, he seemed to become a flight of white doves escaping through the open skylight. In fact, while they were watching these, Félix exited through the side door and stepped into the alley, straightening his shirt cuffs.
The woman from the audience leaned against a lamppost, watching him. “Parlor tricks,” she sneered. “From all the hubbub in the city, I had expected something truly impressive.”
“It pains me to have disappointed you,” said Félix smoothly. He snapped his fingers. A fresh bouquet of paper lilies appeared in his hand, though no hidden spring had guided them there. He offered the flowers to the woman. “I believe you have the advantage, Madame…”
“Lila Rossi,” said the woman. She took the flowers and studied them with an expression of deep disdain. “And you are Félix Fathom, otherwise known as Flairmidable.” Condescension dripped from every syllable of Félix’s stage name.
“That’s correct,” said Félix brightly. “What can I do for you?”
Even now, at rest, power crackled off the woman’s skin. She was his equal, easily, if not his better. Part of Félix, the part he’d laid to rest years ago when he turned his back on the magical underworld of Paris, itched to challenge her to a proper magicians’ duel and discover once and for all who was stronger.
“Your reputation is rife with contradiction,” said Madame Rossi. “One magician I spoke to said you were nothing but a common hedge wizard with no true power. Another claimed he had seen you transport yourself to the sun to recover a golem another magician had stranded there. You seem to have abandoned all connections to the magical world, and yet I find you here, playing pretend for this rabble.” She gestured to the theatre.
Félix pulled a deck of playing cards from his pocket and idly thumbed through it. “It’s a fascinating art, isn’t it? With cards, paper flowers, and a few secret pockets, I can take them to another world without leaving this building or expending an ounce of power.”
He shuffled the deck, then lifted the top card for study. Four of spades. He could work with that.
Félix stepped forward, entering Madame Rossi’s space. For just the barest moment, he allowed a fraction of his power to manifest. Her eyes widened.
“There is a reason I enjoy this privacy,” he said softly. “The underworld remembers me. They know that I am to be left alone. Tell me, Madame Rossi. What has my uncle offered you in exchange for troubling me tonight?”
Félix flicked his card onto the ground between them and stepped back.
“Whatever it is, ask for a raise,” he hissed as four flaming snakes burst from the card’s surface and twined around Madame Rossi, binding her. With that, Félix allowed the shadows to swallow him.
He reappeared at the other end of the alley and broke out into a run, not caring about the strange looks he received from passersby. A magician of Madame Rossi’s caliber would not be restrained by a mere card trick for long.
Félix muttered a curse. He had hidden in plain sight for so long, allowing his true abilities to grow rusty. His magic came when he called it, but it was not as smooth as it would once have been. And he could sense his pursuer’s rapid approach.
“It’s rude to interrupt a lady before she is finished speaking,” said Lila Rossi, appearing in front of him with a sound like the crack of a whip.
Félix kept his alarm from his face, but only just. “Is it? You will have to excuse my unrefined ways, madame. I have spent so long outside polite society.” His eyes darted from side to side, searching for exits. She wouldn’t fall for a second card trick, and he was unwilling to truly injure her.
“Playing the parlor magician,” said Madame Rossi. Her lip curled. “Why?”
Félix clenched his fists. “I do not appreciate the way my uncle operates,” he said coolly. “This being a prime example. He abuses his power, and to be a part of the underworld is to be either his enemy or his pawn.”
“Then you are the man I was led to believe you were,” said Madame Rossi.
Something in her tone made Félix lower his guard ever so slightly. “My uncle didn’t send you. Who did?”
Madame Rossi sighed. “Adrien. Your cousin. He sends his regards, by the way.”
A flutter of relief flowered in Félix’s stomach. So Adrien was alive.
“I no longer wish to be a pawn,” said Madame Rossi. For the first time, she looked uncertain. “Adrien said… he told me you could help.”
Félix took a very deep breath. Despite her poor first impression, Lila Rossi reminded him of the angry, traumatized person he had been when he first left the underworld behind. “I can,” he said. Then, with a smirk, he added, “My act was missing the beautiful assistant.”