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not my first
language.”
    Hannah rolled her eyes. “Sorry, Marco, but
you’re outnumbered.”
    The lights dimmed and the clatter around them
quieted. Even Hannah grew silent.
    A tall, slender man in a purple suit walked
to the edge of stage, coming to a stop between the curtain and
audience. He spoke into a microphone, center stage, and speaking in
Catalan, welcomed them all to the evening’s performance. His words
poured out so fast, Gray could hardly make them out. But two words
didn’t require translating.
    Adrian Montez.
    When the curtain rose, it was like a
tablecloth being pulled out from under dishware, only instead of
staying in place, the plates, cups, and utensils came crashing down
to the floor below.
    Someone please tell Gray she had not only
heard wrong, but was HALLUCINATING . . . or having a very bad
dream.
    It couldn’t be.
    She had not traveled halfway around the world
to end up in the front row of Barcelona’s Teatre
Poliorama   to see Adrian Montez live
on stage.
     
     

CHAPTER FOUR
     
     
    Applause erupted around Gray after Montez the
Magician was announced as the evening’s live entertainment. Hannah
hooted beside her, clueless that her attempt to cheer Gray up with
a night of festivities was crashing down with each footfall Adrian
made across the smoke-filled stage.
    At first Gray could only make out the pleated
bib of his tuxedo and white gloves. The rest of his body was
shadowed in the dim light. An eerie tempo cranked through the sound
system. Adrian stopped to light a cigarette, his side profile
silhouetted in the dim haze. When he faced the audience a spotlight
slowly illuminated his face.
    Smoke now clung to his legs thick as London
fog. The set, complete with a Victorian gas lamp, looked like
something straight out of a Jack the Ripper horror flick.
    Maybe this really was a nightmare.
    Except when Hannah pinched Gray’s arm in
excitement, she did not wake up.
    Now that Adrian was illuminated, Gray could
see his dark hair parted and slicked to one side. He held a top hat
in one hand and a cane in the other. The cane he twirled in his
fingers before lighting one end with his cigarette. After it caught
fire the flame traveled up. Adrian’s hand followed the flame as
though guiding it, twisting his cane till the end pointed toward
the ceiling. When the flame reached the end he grabbed it and fiery
sparks erupted in his hand. The fire turned to wings as a dove
appeared and landed on Adrian’s fingers.
    The theater thundered with applause. Adrian
took a slight bow and lifted his arm. The dove took to the air then
perched on the gas lamp. Adrian secured his cane and hat against
the lamp pole and walked forward.
    Little did the riled-up crowd realize that
the man before them was no magician, but a warlock—and a dangerous
one at that.
    Hannah turned to Gray, mouth widening in that
pleased way that showed off all her molars. “Isn’t this brilliant?
When we saw that an old-school magician was in town we couldn’t
resist. And he’s an American.” Hannah nudged Gray with her
elbow.
    Yes, huge comfort that.
    On Gray’s opposite side, Will smiled as big
as Hannah. They really had no idea the suffering they were
inflicting on her. Gray tried to catch Marco’s eye. Surely the
suave Italian had dragged his heals when presented with the idea of
watching a hack performer, but Marco’s eyes were glued to the
stage, and he clapped along with the rest of the crowd.
    Gray now wished she’d confided in Hannah
about why she left home. At least then her friend would know why
she was fidgeting in her seat, eyeing the theater’s exits.
    Gray had not put forty-eight states and the
Atlantic between herself and home only to end up face-to-face with
one of the reasons she’d left.
    Well, not exactly face-to-face. Maybe Adrian
would continue to look over her head rather than directly down into
the blasted front row her friends had so cheerfully procured.
    “Good evening,” Adrian said. He cast