Boise had always felt small to me, like a pocket-sized city that couldn't possibly hold the shadows of my past. But sometimes, the past had a way of sneaking in through the tiniest cracks—an unexpected text, a familiar voice, or, in this case, a friend I thought I'd left behind.
Mara. I hadn't seen her in years. Not since the fire, not since I disappeared. She had been part of the old world—the stage, the tricks, the danger, and the lies. And now she was standing at the little café I had chosen for our reunion, sipping tea, scanning the crowd as if she were already planning her next illusion. Her hair was shorter than I remembered, dark brown with streaks of crimson, but her eyes—the sharp, calculating, mischievous eyes—were exactly the same.
"Mara," I said, my voice tighter than I intended.
She looked up, eyes widening just slightly before her expression softened into a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Clara." Not Ava—not my old self. She'd known me as Clara here, and yet, there was a flicker in her gaze that acknowledged the real me beneath the layers.
We hugged briefly, and I felt the familiar tension of old tricks, old secrets. Mara had always been observant, always more perceptive than anyone realized. I wondered what she had noticed about me in these years apart, what she might already suspect.
"You look… different," she said finally, pulling back. Not a compliment exactly. More of an observation.
"So do you," I replied, taking a seat across from her. My hands tightened around my cup. "I heard about your last tour. You've been performing?"
She nodded, lips twitching with amusement. "A few private shows. Nothing too risky. You know me—I like the thrill, but I also like staying alive."
Her words made me tense. She always understood the stakes. She always had. And that was exactly why I had reached out. I needed someone I could trust, someone who remembered both who I was and who I had to be now.
I leaned in slightly. "Mara… I need your help. Things aren't… normal."
Her eyes sharpened. "You're in trouble, aren't you?"
I nodded slowly. "Yes. And it's not just… small-scale. He's back. The blackmailer. And he's not alone. There's a network—illusionists, performers, people who know the tricks, the patterns… and they're watching. Me."
Mara's eyebrows rose, and she leaned back, taking a slow sip of her tea. "I wondered how long it would be before he came for you again. You always had a way of making him wait, but he's patient. That's his thing."
I felt the old fear creeping in, the one I thought I'd buried. But I pushed it down, forcing my mind to focus. "I need to know what I'm dealing with. I need your perspective. You were always the one who could see the moves before anyone else."
She studied me, her gaze piercing, evaluating. "Alright. But you have to promise me something."
"What?" I asked cautiously.
"That we play this smart. No heroics. No disappearing acts that aren't planned to the second. He's clever. So are you—but he's been watching, learning. And if you slip… it's not just you anymore. It's anyone you care about."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. She was right. Always right. And that was why she was the only one I could trust with this information.
We spent hours going over the details: the messages, the network, Elias, the patterns I had observed. Mara asked questions, sharp, precise, like she was dissecting a puzzle. I answered, revealing only what I could safely share, withholding anything that might compromise my new identity. But even in restraint, I felt a spark of relief—talking to her, planning with her, reminded me that I wasn't completely alone.
Then came the hardest part. The conversation I had been dreading.
"You're planning to perform again," she said, leaning back, eyes narrowing. "I can feel it. You want to draw him out, see the blackmailer. But you're thinking of using the stage—using Houdini's tricks—like before."
My heart skipped. She could see right through me. "I… maybe. I need to know where he is. I need to understand him before he makes a move I can't counter."
Mara's lips pressed into a thin line. "Be careful, Clara. You've done impossible things before, but this is different. This isn't just tricks and smoke. This is people who know how to manipulate fear, how to anticipate your every move. You have to be smarter than anyone you've ever faced."
I nodded again. Her words sank in, heavy but necessary. She had always been a grounding force, a reality check when I was too wrapped up in illusion and adrenaline.
Finally, she leaned forward, lowering her voice. "And one more thing. You performed that one trick… the one that nearly killed you. The one the blackmailer would have loved to see fail."
I froze. Her memory was precise, sharp as a knife. I had hoped it would be buried, forgotten. But she remembered. "Yes," I admitted, voice barely audible.
"You survived. You always do. But remember—he hasn't forgotten either. And neither should you."
I swallowed, feeling the familiar mix of fear and exhilaration. That was the thing about Houdini-style danger: it never went away. It only waited for the next illusion, the next chance to test you.
By the time we left the café, the sun was low, casting long shadows across the streets. We walked together, silent for a moment, each lost in thought. I knew the path ahead wouldn't be easy. There would be traps, misdirection, and moments where I would have to trust instincts above all else.
But for the first time in weeks, I felt a small flicker of hope. Mara was back in my life. And if anyone could help me survive what was coming, it was her.
As we parted ways at the corner, she touched my arm lightly. "Clara… remember. The world sees only what you allow them to see. Never forget that. And always watch the shadows."
I nodded, watching her walk away, feeling the weight of the words. She was right. The network was real. The blackmailer was real. And the danger I had once escaped was closing in faster than ever.
But I had survived before. And I would survive again.
Because Ava always did.