Visions of pianos and hands and bodies in candlelight tumbled through my mind, and I had to bite my lip. He definitely had a way with words. It was strange, being a little infatuated with him. Already knowing that he wanted me, having seen it in the glance. Wanting him, too.

“You should take some blud,” he said. “It’s important to keep yourself safe here.”

“I don’t think so,” I said. I’d already been thinking about it, of course. “I’d rather be free than safe, and drinking someone’s blood and becoming something I’m not …” I shook my head. “It’s not a compromise I’m willing to make.”

“No, no—it’s all about being free,” he argued. Seeing him animated and passionate made me a little breathless, even if I disagreed with him. “That’s the point. Do you know any other humans walking around barefoot and gloveless around here?” He looked down at his boots and tugged at his collar with a shrug. “I’m dressed up now for the show, but most of the time, I’m the only person who isn’t wrapped up in fear and cloth.”

His lip curled up, and his hands were in fists. The old Tish would have apologized and moved on, changed the subject. But Letitia was more willing to argue for what she believed.

“But how long are you a human, when you’re drinking from Bludmen? I don’t have anything against them, obviously, but when do you start to crave blood? When does it take you over completely? You might be free to dress differently, but you become a slave to your choices all the same.”

“I choose to disagree,” he said quietly. “But then again, you’ve never died. I have. And I don’t want to do it again. And I don’t want you to, either.”

We were silent for a moment, watching the Pinkies disembark and mill about in a tight cluster. I subtly studied him. He was just as pretty when he was angry. Criminy was right to call him sulky, but it suited him. It was odd to yearn toward two such different men at once when I wasn’t even sure how I fit into their world. Loving either one of them would be easy, if I let myself. Choosing between them would be the hard part. I would have to ignore the glancing and listen to my gut. I trusted Nana’s wisdom more than magic.

He caught my eye, and I was lost for a moment in the startling blue. Despite his bravado, there was fear there, and I wished that I had some solace to offer him. But I didn’t.

“Is that what you saw for me, then? Becoming a Bludman?” he asked, almost pleading. “Is that the great loss—my humanity?”

“I can’t say.”

Or I wouldn’t.

He put his head down and chuckled sadly. “You can see it, but you won’t tell me.”

“I do not talk of the beginning or the end,” I quoted with a sad smile.

“You can quit quoting ‘Song of Myself,’ ” he said bitterly. “This is Sang. The words were never written here.”

He stood up and walked away.

When he was out of range, I muttered to myself, “That doesn’t mean they never will be.”

The Pinkies cut a path through the grass, moving toward us in a giddy but skittish herd. My skin tingled as a ripple of magic rolled over me. I looked up and smiled. Everything seemed brighter, sharper, more fascinating. Glitter danced in the air, and a calliope began to play. I wondered if that was Criminy’s doing, too, or if Casper’s fingers were the magic behind the cheery pipes. Emerlie’s smile became genuine, Torno’s muscles seemed to bulge a little more through his leather suit, the jigging leoparth let out a very genuine-sounding roar. I sought Criminy in the crowd and saw him in front of his wagon, his hands playing in the air as he grinned. Just another one of his talents, this glamour.

The crowd flowed in little groups, and I could feel their fear and excitement. A gaggle of Pinkies approached me in a rustle of skirts and whispers, my first customers for the night.

Oh, great. Teenagers.

They looked like teens from my own time, except for their heavy, suffocating clothes. Frilly, silly, catty, whispery, scared but hiding it with bravado. The boldest of them broke off from the group and stepped up to me with a flounce and a sneer as her friends giggled behind her.

“Can you really tell fortunes?” she said. “My pa says it’s a trick.”

I lowered my head and looked up at her through my painted eyelashes, trying to appear mysterious. “It’s not a trick, miss,” I said, my voice husky. “Touch my hand and see.”

“How much is it, then?” she said as if bored, but I could tell that she was caught.

“Whatever you think it is worth,” I said. “To know your future.”

I held out my hand, with the glove already removed. Mrs. Cleavers had filed my nails to talons and shellacked them, bright red as cherries. When the girl saw it, she gasped.

“Remove your glove,” I said with a knowing smile.

She looked back to her friends. They urged her on, and she knew she couldn’t back down. She removed her glove with a dainty, unwilling tenderness. She likely hadn’t shown her hand to anyone but her parents in her entire life.

When I touched her skin, the jolt was quick.

“The lad you love doesn’t return the sentiment,” I said, my voice low. “But another does. Beware the one with golden eyes, for she will betray you. Tell your father not to bet on the black mare. Listen to your mother, and don’t marry the first one who asks, and you will find happiness.”

I dropped her hand. Her eyes bugged out unbecomingly, showing me how young she truly was. “Thank you, lady,” she said.

She slipped her glove on and dropped some coins onto the table. I whisked them into a little bag at my feet, as Criminy had told me never to let them see the money. Her circle of friends enveloped her, but she shook her head at their questions.

“She sees true,” she said. “That’s all I can say.”

Of course, her six friends fell into line before me, and my bag of coins grew heavier. Every time I grasped a hand, I was terrified that I would see something horrible, some hideous end that I couldn’t prevent with a few well-chosen words. Or even worse, that I wouldn’t see anything and would have to make something up on the fly. But life in the city, from what I glanced, was dull and mostly safe. Only one girl’s palm held a tragedy, and I was able to help on that one.

“No matter what your boyfriend says, never sneak out at night,” I said, my tone dark and foreboding. “Or else your death will come from the shadows of the alleys, and your mother will find your bones nibbled by bludrats.”

It sounded bad because, well, it was bad. But it could easily be averted. Stay inside, stupid. I hoped I had scared her sufficiently.

Fortunately for business, nothing spread the word like a group of impressed and terrified teenage girls. Soon I had a line, and Criminy’s clockwork monkey came by to do tricks for pennies, which she gathered in her little fez. After turning several back flips, she brought me a note in elegant handwriting signed with a C.

Well done, love, you’re a star was all it said, but my mysterious mask cracked into the goofy smile of a kid receiving a love note in high school.

“Miss?” said the next customer. “Can we make this quick?”

I looked up into the anxious face of a Copper. I recognized the spade beard and mustache. It was Ferling, the nicer of the two I’d seen on my first morning in Sang while I was invisible.

I discreetly tucked the monkeygram into my sleeve.

His nervous fidgeting told me that whatever Coppers were allowed to do at the carnival, fortune-telling wasn’t on the list. With shifting eyes, he yanked off his leather glove, which had already been unbuttoned. He was ready. And he was worried.

“I need to know if my wife is true,” he said quietly. “Quick.”

I grasped his hand, and the jolt was powerful.

Oh, gracious. This wasn’t good at all.

“Your wife is true, but she is being forced,” I said. “Proof lies in the spice chest. The baby is yours. Stay faithful, and all will be well. The bones can knit. Seek vengeance, and all will be lost in blood. When the time comes to choose, remember this.”

His face was stricken, his hand trembling in mine.

“I’m sorry,” I said in my regular voice.

“Thank you, lady,” he said, tossing a vial of blood onto the table and disappearing into the crowd.

It was a tough fortune, and I felt sorry for the man. What I hadn’t told him was that his wife was being blackmailed by his partner, Rodvey. It was a fast, confusing jumble of visions, but I could see that if he confronted Rodvey, the resulting duel would leave them both dead. In the bottom of the spice chest, he would find the documents that his wife was winning from Rodvey with her body one page at a time, a fake declamation of Ferling’s supposed illegal dealings with the Bludman’s Guild. She was doing it to protect him from a false accusation and certain execution.

As I had first deduced, Rodvey was a very bad man.

I had seen something else when I touched Ferling’s hand, though, something even scarier that I was absolutely positive not to mention. It was a secret meeting of hooded figures, all in copper-colored velvet robes and surrounded by candles in a stone chamber. In the center of their circle lay a Bludman, whiter than white, his blud draining into strange channels carved into the floor. The faces of the cloaked men were in shadow, and I didn’t recognize the voice that spoke.

“Another demon drained. But he has many brothers, and we will bring a plague on their kind, sent from the gods to purge the wickedness of Sang,” the voice boomed. “We will destroy all the creatures of blud once and for all. The Stranger will come to make our world pure again.”

“Amen,” came the answering chant.

The Coppers were planning a secret genocide, and I had no clue how to stop it.

My mind was elsewhere, which made the glancing even easier. Everything seemed so petty after Ferling’s revelation, and I didn’t have any problem seeming mysterious and far away.

It was amazing how many people needed to be told not to go out alone in the dark of night. It just seemed so obvious, like telling people not to jump out in front of cars. But being cooped up in their clothes and their homes seemed to lull the Pinkies into a false sense of safety. It wasn’t even Bludmen they had to worry about, swooping in like dark angels to drain them in the shadows. No, it was the stupid bludrats.