Every time he burped, Juke tasted salt and vinegar. It was the only drawback to the chip of his fancy. Which was fine. He could handle it. But something about the combination of crème brulee, bread pudding, and the aforementioned chip left a literal bad taste in his mouth. His gut roiled and he couldn’t decide if the indigestion stemmed from his peculiar lunch menu, or the fact that this night was without a doubt the most important night of his life. The night he would reclaim his career and place as the world’s greatest magician.

What he hadn’t mentioned to the nice matronly woman sitting next to him in the club dining hall was that the extremist groups weren’t the only ones after him. The police were too. The only downside to resurrecting a random stranger on live TV in...

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