The Masquerading Magician by Gigi Pandian

here.”
    â€œWe might as well look around. Since we’re here.”
    The men climbed down from the rafters. They made enough noise on the rungs of the narrow metal stairs that Dorian and I nodded at each other and crept from our hiding spot behind the curtains. Dorian scampered toward the back door, but I hung back when I saw what he’d left in his wake. Another small piece from his left foot had fallen off and was rolling along the floorboards. Another claw? I had no idea if stone claws could grow back on their own, so I ran after it. If I was able to save Dorian’s life, I wanted him to be as whole as possible.
    Where had it gone? Footsteps sounded behind me. I didn’t have time to find it.
    I caught up with Dorian just inside the back door. He climbed back into the duffel bag just as the lights clicked on above us.
    â€œI told you I heard something,” Peter’s voice said. I turned and saw him and Penelope staring at me and Dorian.
    â€œWhat have you got there?” Penelope asked, indicating the lumpy sack that contained Dorian.
    â€œShe’s stolen something. Only I can’t tell what would be that shape.”
    â€œStolen?” I said. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I knocked and nobody answered, so when I found the door open—”
    â€œThe door is locked,” Penelope said.
    â€œMaybe one of your crew forgot to lock up,” I said. “It was wide open. Try it yourself.”
    â€œWhy would we do that?” Peter said. “If it’s unlocked, all it means is that you’re a good burglar. Pen, why don’t you search her for lock picks.”
    Penelope crossed her arms and leaned against the black wall. She smiled as if she was watching an amusing television show she wasn’t participating in. “If she’s that good, Peter, I’ll never find the lock pics. They could be under a fake scar, hidden in her mouth. She might even have swallowed them if she’s a regurgitator.”
    Dorian made a gagging noise as she spoke the word “regurgitate.”
    I quickly coughed to cover up the sound, but Penelope looked to the duffel bag.
    â€œI’m terribly curious,” she said, “about what you’ve got in the bag. We like our possessions to remain inside the theater. I’m sure you understand.”
    â€œI’m sorry. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I live locally and run an online business called Elixir. We’ve got lots of really cool antiques that I thought could serve as props in your stage show. I brought over one of my statues to show you. Just to give you a sense of the kind of things I’ve got.”
    I hoped Dorian was up for playing dead as a stone gargoyle. I unzipped the bag. Inside I found a stone gargoyle, his snout flared more than usual and his face set in an angry scowl.
    â€œRemarkable,” Penelope said. “Peter, are you looking at this?”
    He wasn’t. He was tapping the screen of his phone. “Elixir, huh. This is your website?” He held up the screen.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œYou expect us to believe you make a living off this site? It’s not even mobile friendly.”
    â€œI set it up before smartphones,” I said.
    â€œHow is that possible? You can’t be older than twenty-five.”
    â€œI’m twenty-eight, actually.” That was the age I was when I accidentally discovered the Elixir of Life.
    â€œWe’ll take him,” Penelope said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThe gargoyle. The reason you’re here. We’ll take him.”
    â€œOh! Oh. This is an example. A prototype. He’s not for sale. You can order a custom carving through me, to your specifications.”
    â€œWe like this one.”
    â€œGreat. I can have one made that looks identical.” I named a price, hoping it would be too high.
    â€œPerfect.”
    â€œPerfect?”
    â€œIs there a problem?” Penelope asked.
    â€œOf