Page 24 of No Charm Done

“An artist!? An artist of bullshit, maybe.”

He mock-gasped. “Such profanity from a lady!” But then he shrugged. “Fair, though. Still, I was never involved in any violence. Though at the moment I’d happily murder Capone himself for a decent gimlet.”

“I’m pretty confident I can scare us up a drink in the East Village.”

They made their way down the sidewalk, stepping carefully around debris and avoiding the occasional group of rowdy young people, who paused their conversation to watch them pass. Luna became acutely aware of how strange they must look together. Refugees from different centuries.

“So,” she said, glancing at his profile in the dim light, “a con man, huh? That’s what got you stuck in the Void?”

“In a sense.” Elias’s expression darkened. “Some justice needed doing, so I did it. Or tried. Didn’t quite work out.”

She was about to probe for more details when a commotion ahead caught their attention. A crowd had gathered around something in the intersection. As they got closer, Luna could make out what looked like a street performer in the center of the group—someone juggling what appeared to be balls of light. But something was wrong. The lights were flickering erratically, and the performer struggled to control them.

“Looks like magic, yes?” Elias asked. “You think he’s one of my kind or one of yours?”

“Must be a magician, given how lousy that spell looks.”

“Hey!”

She winked. “I’m kidding. Seriously, though, look at the way those lights are behaving. They should be steady, controlled. Instead they’re⁠—”

One of the lights exploded in a shower of sparks. The performer screamed and stumbled backward, clutching his burned hand. The crowd scattered, some laughing nervously, others muttering about “street theater gone wrong.”

But Luna and Elias knew better.

“Another magic malfunction,” she said as they watched the performer limp away. “Something is very off.”

Elias nodded. “We’d better find those twins of yours.”

Chapter 8

Weird Brothers

Two blocks from the park, Elias was starting to appreciate what Luna had meant about this being “the future.” The smell alone was enough to knock a man sideways. Garbage piled high in the summer heat, car exhaust thicker than anything he’d ever experienced in Chicago, and something else he couldn’t identify. Something chemical and unpleasant.

Unbelievable, he thought. What did they do to this poor city?

Their salvation appeared in the form of a small bodega, its metal security gate rolled halfway up, warm light spilling onto the sidewalk. Outside, sitting on plastic milk crates, were two identical boys who couldn’t have been more than eight years old. Both had dark hair and serious brown eyes, and both were working their way through what appeared to be their third or fourth ice cream bar each, judging by the collection of empty wrappers at their feet.

“There they are,” she breathed. “My gods, that’s wild. Last time I saw them, they were fifty-eight.”

“Hmm,” Elias said. “How they’ve not-yet-grown . . .”

Luna picked up her pace, practically skipping over to them. “Hey! Hector! Diego!”

The twins looked up in unison, which was Elias’s first sign that something was off. Not just that they moved together, but the way their eyes focused on exactly the same spot at exactly the same time. Like they shared a brain.

“Do we—” one began.

“—know you?” finished the other.

Both boys stared up at him with undisguised fascination, and Elias could practically see the gears turning in their identical little heads.

“Are you—” said the first twin.

“—in a play?” asked the second.

“What’s with the⁠—”