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Lucas Cruz, one of the three actors in their murder mystery play, wasn’t technically missing. The actor simply had a conflict come up at the worst possible time. He was going to miss their dress rehearsal.

Typical. Lucas had grown up in Hidden Creek, a class clown who was a year behind Tempest and Ivy at school. As soon as Tempest made it big in Las Vegas, he’d gotten in touch with her to ask for an introduction for an acting gig. She made the introduction and he got the role, but he dropped out within a few months to pursue becoming a star in LA. He’d moved back to Hidden Creek about a year ago when his mom got sick. She’d died not too long ago, so Tempest was inclined to not be too hard on Lucas.

At least he’d located a replacement for today. Someone who was a skilled-enough performer to pull off a dress rehearsal on short notice.

“Since when does the Hindi Houdini consent to an amateur theater troupe performance?” Tempest asked Sanjay.

Sanjay Rai, known as “the Hindi Houdini” on stage, was the only one of Tempest’s magician friends who’d stuck by her when she’d been accused of setting in motion a dangerous illusion that had wrecked her career and her entire life in Vegas.

She’d fixed the bookcase at Gray House, it was now late afternoon, and Sanjay was in Hidden Creek at Tempest’s house. They were inside the secret turret above her bedroom, accessible only through two secret staircases. Tempest loved this small octagonal room. It was hers, and hers alone, which was a rarity in this sprawling, magical house she shared with her dad and her grandparents after moving home last year. She only invited her closest friends to join her here.

“At least he didn’t ask me to perform a fake séance.” Sanjay swept his bowler hat off his head and twirled it on his index finger. “You know those never go well for me.”

“Or anyone else involved,” Tempest murmured, wishing she could forget the bizarre death that had occurred during his last fake séance performance.

“Don’t remind me.” Sanjay flipped the bowler hat so high it nearly tapped the vaulted ceiling above. He caught it easily with his right hand, and as it came to rest in his palm, a puff of paper butterflies flew out of the hat. The paper creatures fluttered in the wind he was creating by blowing gently. If she hadn’t known what to look for, it would have appeared as if he was simply smiling with parted lips.

Even knowing some of the steps involved in creating the illusion, it was every bit as magical. Six paper butterflies floated to their feet.

“Really,” Tempest added. “Why did you agree to step in for Lucas? Procrastinating when you should be practicing?”

Sanjay shrugged. “I should always be practicing.”

“Seriously, then. Why?”

He steepled his fingertips together. “I have my reasons.”

“Fine. Be that way.”

Sanjay wasn’t the kind of magician who performed close-up magic and humorous patter, but a stage illusionist who commanded large audiences across the globe. He was selective in the gigs he accepted. Tempest had once been even more successful when she headlined a show in Vegas, but that meant she had farther to fall—and her career came crashing down in a heartbeat. One night, which wasn’t her fault, had ruined it all.

She didn’t begrudge Sanjay his success on any level. He was hardworking, talented, a great guy, and a loyal friend.

Plus, she didn’t miss her old life on stage. Back home in Hidden Creek, working for her dad at Secret Staircase Construction, adding the magic to their renovation projects like her mom had done before she died, Tempest had found her calling. Here, she used what she loved most about magic, but on a more personal level. Occasionally, she’d get pangs of regret at how her career had ended, but she didn’t want to be back on the stage full-time.

Until last year, she’d been living in a sprawling McMansion in Las Vegas, with Abra the rabbit her only roommate, easily paying the huge mortgage with her income as a headliner. But as soon as her show was sabotaged, the people she’d thought were her friends abandoned her. Only her family and friends back home believed in her innocence. Among her peers, Sanjay was the only magician in the country who’d wholeheartedly stood by her. He believed in her and defended her without question.

Moving home to her childhood bedroom hadn’t felt great, but only because she’d been forced to do so as a failure whose house had been foreclosed upon. She didn’t miss the generic house that was far bigger than one person and her pet rabbit needed. It was the fact that the move had been forced upon her through an unjust accusation, rather than a choice, that rattled her.

Sanjay ran a hand through his thick black hair, and a pang of something both pleasant and confusing stirred in Tempest. The most frustrating thing about Sanjay being back in her life was figuring out where exactly he fit . They’d dated once, years ago, when their careers were taking off, and they’d never been in the same place for long.

Now, it was the first time they were in the same geographic region for an extended period of time. But after everything they’d gone through this past year, Sanjay was more like her BFF number two, second to Ivy. She expected he felt the same about her. He was always casually dating someone or other. He steered clear of women from his fan club, the Hindi Houdini Heartbreakers, and none of his relationships lasted longer than a couple of casual dates. She loved him dearly and hoped he’d find the right person one day. She hoped they both would.

“Come on,” said Tempest. “Let’s grab a bite to eat and get back to Gray House.”

“We have somewhere else to go that’s more important than food.”

“We do?”

Sanjay waved his bowler hat in front of Tempest’s face. He repeated the movement a second time. The third time, it vanished.

She knew how the trick was done—it was all about perception and expectation—but she couldn’t deny that Sanjay did it brilliantly.

“We have to get back to a different library,” he said as the hat reappeared on his head from thin air. “You still haven’t figured out how a thief remained completely invisible as they burglarized the Locked Room Library.”

Tempest raised a skeptical eyebrow. “So the master escape artist and illusionist can see through the impossibility that little ol’ me failed to spot?”

“Don’t worry about missing it. Sometimes it takes an expert eye to see these things.”

Tempest forced herself to remain calm on the outside, but her jaw clenched so tightly at his condescending assumption that a stab of pain shot through one of her molars. She amended her opinion from a minute ago. This was why she and Sanjay had never worked out as a couple.

“Fine,” she said. Though she had no idea how Sanjay would get any further than she had. An intruder was captured on camera entering Enid’s library, an old Victorian house in San Francisco with the library on the first floor and Enid’s apartment above it. From there, the interior security cameras showed lamps, books, and the library’s motion sensor raven being disturbed by the intruder—but the burglar remained invisible. “I’ll let Enid know we’re heading over. Let’s see what the great Hindi Houdini can do.”