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T he human contingent of Morgan’s Menagerie retreated to the Albemarle’s dining room to strategize. Lulu had me grab the local street map Saul kept tucked in the wooden armoire in his room behind his costumes. By the time I came back downstairs, Timmy was in bed and Madam Navya was ready with Matthias’s notebook and pencil to capture notes; meanwhile, Vera had thrown a stack of flyers on the table—advertisements for Dreamland attractions.

“Madam, my pencil, please,” said Matthias. She handed it over, and he made a circle around a little gray box at the corner of Luna Park across from the ballroom. “Here’s the Menagerie. And here”—he circled the New Iron Pier—“is the farthest point out to sea on Coney Island.”

“Why not Dreamland Pier?” I asked, pointing to it on the map. “It’s closer.”

“Too busy,” chimed in Igor, who nursed an absurdly tiny glass of vodka in his enormous grip. “In night before opening, is crowded with tourists for all the three parks. New Iron Pier is just fishermen and boats—”

“And prostitutes,” Vera added helpfully. Sonia shot her a look. “What? It don’t hurt to be prepared.”

Lulu nudged Sonia. “How much time would we have?”

“The park’s supposed to close at sundown on our previews day,” Sonia replied. “We’ll have from then until just before sunrise. After that, we won’t be alone on the beach.”

Eli was nervously tapping out a beat with his fingertips. “First things first. How the hell’re we gonna get the merman off the stage?”

My area of expertise. “The tank’s wheels are in the stables, we can put ’em back on,” I said. “But we’ll need to drain the tank to move it. Too much water and the swan springs could collapse—”

“And we go nowhere,” finished Matthias grimly.

“I’ll rig the pump to siphon Río’s water out without circulating it back into the tank,” I said. “The extra-long hose will route the water outside.”

Navya resumed taking notes in the strongman’s notebook. “Drain tank, reattach wheels,” she recited.

Lifting an objecting finger, Igor threw back his vodka, then said, “There is problem. Is called Samuel Morgan.”

“The Agostinellis too,” added Sonia. “They’re supposed to meet Sam here after previews close. To collect their dough away from witnesses.”

“Aw, shit,” groaned Eli, “those goons are coming to the Albemarle ?”

“I guess if Morgan’s meeting them at the hotel, that buys us time, but ain’t he gonna come back?” I asked.

“I will handle that part,” Navya volunteered. When all our eyebrows rose in surprise, she huffed, offended. “Am I not a show-woman? Igor and I will create a distraction to ensure the theater stays clear. Won’t we, Igor?”

This was the most brazen thing she’d ever suggested in my presence that did not involve murdering Lulu’s five-year-old nene. Igor poured another shot of vodka and rumbled a laugh. “Is true. I am very distracting.”

Eli tch- ed in mock disapproval. “Framing Dreamland, and suddenly the madam’s not concerned about karma.”

“Not if we are Dreamland’s karma,” she retorted.

Vera clutched her breast. “Ohhhh, I love that!” She lifted her unlit stub in salute to Navya. “Morgan’s Menagerie: Divine Instruments of the... Whatever-the-Bleedin’-Hell--Reynolds-Has-Got-Comin’-to-Him!”

“Well, seein’ as I don’t got any delusions about helping to move that iron monstrosity,” Lulu remarked, “the least I can do is hide it under some fancy-looking tarps.”

“That leaves”—Matthias’s finger bobbed in the air to count our heads—“six of us to move the thing. We can take Luna’s rear exit on West Eighth Street out to Surf Avenue—”

“And then we cut through Dreamland,” Emmett finished.

“Yeah, about that part,” I interjected. “How do we do it without getting caught?”

“Easy. We go right through the front gate.”

Sonia’s head thunked against the table.

“Well, what else you wanna do?” he snapped. “Roll it through Seaside Park and hope the philistines don’t notice a fourteen-foot-tall iron box stuck in the sand?”

“I think Em’s right. There’ll be loads of cargo going through that front gate,” Eli said.

“We can just wait for Gatekeeper Georgie to take a piss and ride the tank through on wheels,” Emmett continued. “Anybody asks, we just tell them it’s a new house for the Midget City.”

Navya muttered a stream of angry Hindi at her paper with “Blast that Midget City!” thrown in for good measure.

Lulu put her hands on her hips. “I suppose I could whip up some fake mustaches,” she said. “And we’ve got plenty of coveralls to go round.”

Sonia looked aghast. “Are you suggesting I wear workman’s clothes? As in working clothes? For a man ?”

“I’ll dress up Queen Mary here,” said Vera, leaning over Sonia to slink an arm over her shoulder. “What fits me probably fits her.”

“You’re batty.” She shoved off Vera’s arm. “Georgie’s sweet on me. If anyone’s gonna get you past the front gate, it’s me in a dress .”

“What about you?” I asked Matthias.

Back in March, not even a winter coat was adequate to contain his persona.

He barked a laugh. “Those bums could look me dead in the face but ain’t nobody gonna believe I would walk into our rival park hauling a live merman in a tank. Just you watch.”

“Overalls, face fuzz, glad that’s settled,” Emmett summarized, grabbing the pencil from Navya. In the businesslike manner of a betting broker, he tapped the point against Dreamland’s promenade, then drew a line right through it to a large rectangle adjacent to the shore. “We go in, we leave the tank in Balmer’s Bathhouse, so everyone pegs Reynolds as the rat fink, then it’s a straight shot to the water with Río and splitsville after that.”

My worry may as well have been mounted on my forehead in incandescent lamps because Eli reached across Emmett to thump my arm encouragingly. “Nobody’ll give us a second look. The night before Dreamland opens, it’ll be like a beehive in there,” he said. “It’ll work.”

Before I could reply, Igor put his enormous palm on my head and patted it, his wrist coming down over my eyes. “ Molodoy chelovyek. You not need to fear for your love,” he boomed. “All of us? Is survivor. Is strong. Morgan, Dreamland, patrons... we handle it. Mr. Benny’s job?” He stuck a long finger into my chest. “Comfort sick merman. Yes?”

It seemed the sheen in Igor’s eyes had nothing to do with booze. That Ekaterina had suffered through cholera without her husband at her side was a regret Igor kept folded in his vest pocket. He didn’t want me to experience it for myself.

“I can do that.”

I looked around the table at every ruddy face that reflected my reckless, hairbrained determination right back at me and couldn’t believe the luck that had brought me to Coney Island. “ Bueno . I, uh, thanks,” I said thickly. “I’m just... Ave María , I don’t know what to say.”

“Tonight were the most words you’ve leaked in one shot since you got here,” Vera snorted. “You was bound to run out.”

“Actually”—I reached into Lulu’s sewing bag and pulled out a remnant of leather from the dragon’s reupholstered wing—“there is one more thing I need.”

Sonia volunteered to sneak me back into the park, which left us walking down Surf Avenue together in awkward silence. When my eyes lifted from my feet to look at her, her gaze flitted in my direction, then quickly dropped back to the path ahead of us.

“You probably hate me,” she said in a small voice.

“I don’t hate you.”

“I made a mess for you and Río. And I’m sorry.”

I sighed, taking a moment to appreciate how much better embarrassment felt over secrecy and resentment. It seemed Sonia felt the same way: she’d changed out of her costume, choosing a white collared blouse and a work skirt the color of wet sand over one of her fancy vestidos , having left the burden of performing back at home. “I’m sorry too. I don’t actually think you’re selfish, you know,” I added.

“ Pfft . Like hell I’m not.”

“Everything you did was for the company. And that ain’t selfish.”

She kicked a flattened wad of newspaper out of her path. “But I was jealous too,” she groaned. “The signs were all there that girls weren’t your cup o’ tea. I just hoped... I dunno what I hoped.”

“Mind reading’s not your act,” I pointed out. “I could’ve saved us both a lot of grief if I’d just said it.”

“Well.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dab at her cheek. “He’s a lucky man. Or mer. Man.”

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets. “I dunno about that.”

“I do.”

My heart ached for Sonia just then, this kid who’d borne the weight of the company’s future on her shoulders in secret and simply wanted to be seen and loved. I was the last person on earth who could fault her for that. My arm came up, stopping just shy of wrapping around her shoulders, but she caught me in the act and leaned into the open invitation.

“Sonia”—I squeezed her arm—“you deserve a better man than me.”

“Aw, Benny.” She gave a watery chuckle and wiped her nose on her handkerchief. “Different man, yes, but not better. Ain’t no better man than you.”

“Querido,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

The electric glow through the hopper window backlit the shadowed lump of Río’s resting body on the tank floor. At the sound of my voice, his head lifted to look for me, but before I could rush off, Sonia touched my shoulder.

“I’m gonna split,” she said. Nerves or shame or both prevented her from meeting my eyes. “Tell him I’m sorry, would ya?”

I wrapped my palms around her wringing hands. “I don’t have to. He heard you.”

As Sonia’s shadow disappeared down the hall, up the rungs I went to wait for Río. His ascent was so slow he seemed to waft more than swim, his skin bleached light gray by an illness with no name. Whatever was claiming his life before my eyes was working faster than I did, and it scared me stupid. I didn’t breathe until his face broke through the water.

“Look at you,” I whispered in Spanish, tears filling my eyes. “I was so afraid to believe you...”

“You overcome your fears quickly for a human,” he murmured in a serrated version of his once silky voice. “You must be an evolved type.”

“A selfish cabrón is what I am.”

“Hush,” he said, fighting his own welling emotion. “I am so glad to see you I cannot bring myself to resent you. I thought the Shark had parted you from me forever.”

“He could never. Por Dios , I was gonna lose my mind hearing him blow that maldito whistle, knowing I could’ve...” My breath hitched. “ Ay, amor, how can you forgive me?”

He gave me his most affectionate smile. “Your amends are complete,” he said breathlessly. “The way you spoke tonight, my heart sings each time I think of it, my brave Benigno.”

I reached my hand through the bars as Río’s rose feebly out of the water. When his fingers grazed mine, they felt slick, as if he’d been dipped in grease. I was too grateful to touch him again to care. “Yeah, well. Houdini’ll be spittin’ mad ’cause, in a week, yours is gonna be the greatest disappearing act in Coney Island history,” I said. “You can hang on ’til then, right?”

Río breathed out a laugh and bowed his head to gather himself. When he gazed back up at me, tears of hope and relief were running into the beads of water adorning cheeks. “I can try.”

I lowered my face to the bars and surveyed the cloudy liquid. “Río, what’s happening to your water?”

“I am mer,” he said resignedly. “When we fall ill, the water follows.”

“I’ll adjust the pump then. I can probably get the boilers to—”

“It will not matter.”

Halfway back onto my feet, I stilled. “Why not?”

“I am not a fish, Benigno,” he explained. “I am spirit-bound to water. You can replace every drop in this tank, attach it to a dozen pumps, and it will still display my disease.”

I cussed under my breath. “Then what else can I do?”

“Speak to me,” he said. “Your voice is a balm to my ears.”

“If your ears need a balm, then this might help.” I dug into my pockets.

“ ?Azúcar? ” he asked.

“Less sweet and a lot more useful.” I threaded an arm back through the bars and dropped earplugs into his palm where he examined them closely. “Courtesy of Lulu. You put them in your ears to protect them from the whistle. Try them on.”

One at a time, he placed the plugs inside each ear.

“Well?”

“The sound does seem blunted,” he called up loudly.

“Shhh,” I hissed, grinning despite myself.

“Oh...” He took them out and held them to his breast. “Thank you. And thank... Lulu.”

“You’re welcome.”

He shuddered. “I cannot tread the water for long, Benigno,” he said. “I feel weak to my bones.”

The grin slid off my lips. “ Por supuesto. You should rest—”

“But, stay. Please?”

The only thing worse than Morgan’s whistle was the sound of Río’s pleading. “ Oye ,” I murmured. “I ain’t going anywhere. I’ll make you so sick of me, you’ll wish you’d got rid of me when you had the chance.”

Relief loosened his shoulders, where the bones cut a sharp outline against his skin. But even in illness, staring down death, he was still as majestic and handsome as ever.

With a soft smile, he whispered, “Barnacle.”

My makeshift bed was still in the wing. I pushed it against the tank where we resumed our routine positions, on opposite sides of a gulf made of four-inch-thick tempered glass. Only days ago, his cheek had found a home on my shoulder. Our hands had laid tracks on each other’s skin I thought we’d get to ride again and again. Soon I’d have to learn to live without this view of Río, of his drowsy smile and steep nose and the ever-blue eyes where I always found my truest self reflected.

I tried hopelessly to brand him into my mind. Hopelessly, because, when it came to losing people, the more you tried to make them permanent on the shorelines of your recollection, the more time eroded them away. I wondered if he was doing the same, carving my face into his memory, sealing my voice between his sensitive ears.

He’d wanted me to speak to him. So I went with the truth. “I’d go with you, you know.”

His eyebrows gathered in the middle, lips taking shape around words I couldn’t hear before pinching shut.

“I would. I’d let you steal me away like the merfolk in the legends.” I leaned my forehead against the glass. “You’ve ruined me for life on land anyway. It’s your fault the world feels like boots that don’t fit. I’d go with you, and it would be the beginning of my life.”

He shifted closer until his forehead touched the glass too.

“ Fíjate ,” I murmured. “I’d learn how to speak your native song. I’d call you by your true name, and you’d call me by whatever the word in your language for ‘barnacle’ is.”

Río shook his head and chuckled noiselessly into the water.

I ran my fingers along the glass in a path around his face. “We could visit all the places you love so much. Those pretty reefs in Australia. The Pacific kelp forests and the Aegean—”

He lightly tapped the glass between my eyes.

“Fine. The Caribbean then. Pushy.”

He smiled.

“That ain’t a bad idea, actually. Ever been near Vieques ? They say the tides there are magic because they light up blue at night, and no one knows why. In the shallows, where the water glows...” I skated my fingertips over the glass and imagined his hair threading between them. “That’s where I’d make love to you.”

His smile wavered then faded away. I worried I was making him sad, but then he gripped the glass.

“Keep talking?” I asked.

He nodded and closed his eyes.

“You would be well again,” I whispered. “You would sleep in my arms, and I would kiss you without ever having to come up for air. I would make a hymn of both our names. It would make the most beautiful sound...”

I’d dropped my English because Spanish has so many words for declaring love, and I needed to use them all before it was too late. And though his tears were invisible in water, we both wept to the sound of promises whispered like prayers through the glass about a future where time couldn’t chase us, where my heart would beat for him for as long as he wanted it—until the oceans boiled and the rivers dried.

Por los siglos de los siglos.

When his eyes opened, two halves of the same grief met in the glass between us. In the dark, you could almost forget which one of us was behind it.