He’s been very careful, Luca told me earlier. His half brother, Zhihao, works cleaning out the manure in the Menagerie, and he lives in one of the orphan tents in the Uphill. He’s ten years old and probably the only person who matters to Jiafu. Jiafu won’t want anyone finding out about him, because anyone associated with someone in Jiafu’s business could be in danger.
Jiafu stiffens as if something has grasped his shadow. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Ten years old,” I say. “You have the same mother, don’t you?”
I told Luca that, as much as I dislike Jiafu, I wasn’t prepared to expose his ten-year-old brother and thus put a kid in danger. But Luca assured me it wouldn’t come to that. Hopefully Jiafu won’t figure out that this is all an empty threat.
“We can talk inside,” he grunts and then slides his key into the door of his black caravan. Luca and I climb inside. It still smells of burnt coffee and feet.
Why can’t Jiafu just work a safer job if he cared about his brother so much? I asked Luca.
Because, he said, he loves his job. He lives for the danger of it.
“How did you find out about Zhihao?” Jiafu asks once he shuts the door. “He hasn’t been telling people, has he?”
“It doesn’t matter how we found out,” I say. “I have a favor to ask you. I need some bodyguards tonight.”
“Are you paying me?”
“No.”
“Then how am I supposed to pay for men?”
“I don’t know. You pay them,” I say. “I definitely don’t have any money at the moment. I may be able to get you some later but no more than ten gold pieces.”
“That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
He narrows his eyes. “What do you need bodyguards for?”
“Because someone has been killing my illusions. Two are already dead,” I say.
“I heard. How do you kill illusions?”
I glance at Luca. Should we be telling Jiafu this much? I wish Luca would take over—he always chooses his words better than I do. But he only nods for me to continue. “We’re not sure,” I say, “but we’re starting to suspect that it’s the same way you could kill anyone else.”
“I can’t get any men so soon. It’s already so early. I can give you some starting tomorrow...for the ten pieces.”
“I need them today.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
When I sleep, the illusions will be vulnerable. But it’s only for one day. I don’t have to sleep. Tomorrow, I can get the guard. I’ll stay up all day and keep them locked away, protected, in my head. I know this plan is working under the assumption that the killer is operating with the pattern of one illusion per city—when that may not be the case—but if there’s any chance my family is in danger, I need to protect them.
“Thanks, anyway. Sorry to bother you.”
“Don’t tell anyone about Zhihao,” he says and then jabs his finger into Luca’s chest. “Not a word.”
We climb down from the caravan into the darkness of the Downhill. There are three hours left until sunrise, which gives me just enough time to gather up the illusions, explain what’s happening and brace myself for staying up all night.
“So your plan is to keep yourself awake all day, alone in your tent?” Luca asks.
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous. You could easily fall asleep,” he says. “I’ll stay up with you.”
“At my tent?”
“That’s where the illusions are, is it not?” He bites his lip and digs his walking stick into the dirt. “Besides, I know you have questions to ask me. I can see it all over your face.”
“I’m wearing a mask.”
“Yet I still find you rather easy to read.”
I consider this. I do have questions to ask Luca, about his life before Gomorrah and why Nicoleta thinks he’s dangerous. Not to mention continuing our conversation from earlier. We’ve moved rather quickly from Luca needing time to him staying with me, alone, all day.
Regardless of how awkward that might become, the idea of staying up all morning in our tent by myself, waiting for the killer to pay a visit, sounds terrifying. Even if Luca is a better target than a swordsman, just having another person there will reassure me.
“Thank you,” I say. “You don’t mind skipping sleep this morning?”
He shrugs. “I’m not from Gomorrah. I’m still somewhat accustomed to staying awake while there’s sunlight.”
The walk to my tent is quiet, and my head swarms with dozens of different thoughts and emotions. Making the illusions disappear requires me to tell them that I think they’re in danger. That Blister was definitely murdered.
Then I can’t help but imagine what follows, after Luca and I are alone. I think back to his words earlier, that he wants things with me he never thought he would want. I want to be patient. I want to give him the time he needs. But our entire conversation was so vague, and I’d still like some more concrete answers. I’d like to know if he thinks of me the way I think of him, even if that means telling me with words rather than showing me through action.
When we reach my tent, everyone is home except Venera, who Hawk said dressed for a good time and left three hours ago. Usually she returns home by sunrise.
The rest of us gather together in the tent, including Luca, who sits off to the side, stiff with all the eyes on him. With his expensive clothes and pale features, he looks like an audience member we’ve allowed backstage.
“This is awfully formal to be meeting some boy,” Hawk says. “Do you really like him or something?”
“Um, this isn’t about that,” I say, reddening. “It’s about Gill and Blister.”
The room sobers immediately. Nicoleta peers up at me with round, warning eyes. I know this might start a panic, but I can’t help that. The best way to protect everyone is to make them disappear, and, for that, they need to be informed so they won’t be constantly fighting me to get out.
“I’ve been working with Luca for a while, trying to figure out how Gill and Blister died, as well as with Villiam,” I say. “Because of some things we’ve discovered, we think it’d be best if, while in Gentoa, we keep you protected. And the best way to protect everyone is to keep you locked in my head.”
“The entire time we’re here?” Hawk screeches. “I have things to do.”
“Like what?” Du says.
“Things.”
“What is significant about being in Gentoa?” Nicoleta asks.
“Well, Gill died in Frice, and Blister died in Cartona,” I say, stumbling over my words. I wish I could explain things as logically as Luca. “If there is a pattern of some sort, we want to take precautions. It’s better safe than—”
“So you’re saying Blister was murdered?” Unu nearly wails. “You’re saying there’s someone after us?”
“I’m not sure,” I lie. “But it’s still better to be safe, isn’t it? You’ll be out for the shows, and during the morning so you can sleep. Other than tonight, anyway.”
“You can’t just lock us up for everything but our performances,” Hawk snaps.
“I’d like everything to at least appear normal. And it won’t be like that. After tonight, you’ll be under the watch of the guard. Your time locked up will be minimal.”
“Normal is Unu and Du playing the drums until sunrise. Normal is Venera yelling at me while trying to comb my hair. Normal is chaos,” Hawk says. “Everyone will notice if we’re being quiet.”
“Everyone would probably be grateful,” Nicoleta mutters.
“You’re not going to let her do this, right?” Unu asks Nicoleta, the unofficial mother of the group. You’d think it would have defaulted to Crown because of his age, but this entire time, all he has done is keep his head down.
“I think Sorina’s right. Better safe than sorry,” she says. “How would we all feel if we woke up tomorrow morning and found you two cut right down the middle?” She means it as a joke, but the morbidity does not suit the situation. Unu pales.