by Emma Savant
Rowan handed me a cup of pills and a glass of water. “Painkillers.”
She’d taken to helping Clancy in the infirmary lately, and I was glad to see her. I didn’t get to spend much time with the other novices my age these days, and I missed her cheerful face and warm demeanor.
“Don’t you have a potion that will knock me out?” I grumbled, accepting the pills.
“I do if you don’t mind missing work tomorrow,” Rowan said. “With the way you’ve been pushing yourself lately, I figured you’d be mad at me if I gave you the good stuff.”
I groaned. She was right. I had an appointment with members of the Faerie Court tomorrow to show them some of the latest items in Carnelian’s showroom. I knew Grandma would hand the job off to Josette if I couldn’t make it, but there was no way I was about to give up something that interesting.
“You’re a bro.” I raised the tiny cup of pills in a mock toast and then downed them.
“Heard you did a good job out there,” Rowan said in an undertone. She tucked a gleaming dark curl behind her ear and beamed at me. “Blaze said you held your own, and Poppy told me she was impressed at how perfect your timing was when you called them all in.”
“I was almost too late.”
“But not too early,” she said. “Which meant everyone got five more minutes of peace and quiet, which we all appreciate.” She winked. “Lie down, and I’ll check on you in a minute.”
She moved to tend to Cerise, who was lying back on a hospital bed with a cold pack over one eye, and I fell back onto the crisp pillow behind me.
I let my thoughts drift as I stared up at the ceiling. We’d managed to fight off the wolves and save the Humdrums. It was a huge success, but my mind still raced with thoughts of what could have happened.
Those wolves were more dangerous than I ever could have imagined when I’d seen them in The Hideout. They had been hunting for sport. They had no qualms about attacking a party of children. The knowledge chilled my blood.
I thought back to the spike in unsolved murders and the rise in missing children that had been plaguing the city over the past few months. The Daggers had kept an eye on these crimes, as we always did, but they hadn’t seemed like something that couldn’t be blamed on ordinary factors. The incidents hadn’t been limited to just the Humdrum or Glimmering worlds, and there hadn’t even been a pattern in victims—not anything that stood out clearly.
But now, I thought, idly tracing back over the reports and rumors I’d been hearing, there was one correlation. It wasn’t anything I could prove, but I couldn’t help realizing that this trouble, nebulous and unconnected as it may be, had started around the same time a mysterious maybe-werewolf had started buying up clubs in the city.
I didn’t know for sure if the owner of The Hideout was connected to the werewolves. I didn’t know if the werewolves were connected to the murders and disappearances.
But I did suspect that the wolves of the Burnside pack wouldn’t shy away from that sort of thing, and the timing was enough to set red flags waving.
Red flags weren’t enough. I needed proof, and I needed to connect the disparate threads that wouldn’t quite come together.
I just didn’t know how.
20
The women from the Faerie Court were every bit as dazzling in person as they were in the tabloids and on the JinxNet. One of them, an elf woman with slanting, pale-green eyes and elaborate blonde braids, towered over me and walked like she was perpetually striding through an ancient forest. Another, a faerie with ivory skin, chestnut curls, and an impish face, flitted from one display to another like a butterfly. The third was a witch, Yvette, whose dark skin and eyes were a sharp contrast against her platinum hair and who seemed enamored with everything on display.
“Carnelian embraces witch culture in such a sophisticated way,” she gushed, fingering a blazer with a discreet elemental symbol design on the inner lining. “So many witch designers can’t seem to get past pentacles and cobwebs.”
“We try to bring subtle elegance to our designs,” I said. “You probably know Carnelian Hunter is a witch herself. She has strong opinions about how we can best reflect our Glimmering heritage.”
“You do a nice job with nature motifs, too,” the faerie said. She stopped to examine a mannequin in a bias-cut silk gown hand-painted with a leaf pattern all down the green skirt. “That’s part of what attracted Queen Amani at your last show, I think.”
I tried to keep my smile from turning into a huge grin. Grandma had been strategic about designing the last collection specifically to appeal to the Faerie Queen’s tastes, and it had paid off big-time. The queen had ordered several outfits from us after the show, and a new order had come in just last week for a gown for the Waterfall Palace’s annual All Hallows Eve ball.
“You mentioned you’re here for business attire,” I said. “We have some crepe jackets with a really lovely peplum silhouette that I think would be stunning on you.”
I led them through the showroom, walking slowly enough that they had time to see the clothes on the mannequins that surrounded us like sculptures. I stopped in front of a soft-pink jacket that flared out prettily at the waist.
The faerie, Isla, was as enamored as I’d expected.
“This color in particular would look beautiful with your skin,” I said. “I’d recommend a slight adjustment to the neckline, right here.” I pinched the neckline of the jacket to form it into a slightly rounder shape that would flatter her face.
She nodded, then got immediately distracted by a skirt on the mannequin behind this one.
I let her roam and turned to the other two. “We also have some gorgeous blouses made from mothman caterpillar silk. It’s a comparatively new material and it has a gorgeous drape and texture.”
They both handled the material and oohed and aahed over its iridescent sheen. It was a particularly lustrous fabric, as flowing as the lightest silks but totally opaque even in white. Isla ran over to join us, and she and the elf, Sage, looked through the color samples I offered while Yvette turned to admire a fitted velvet cocktail dress and cape, both in deep crimson.
Once they had seen everything, I led Isla and Yvette over to a sitting area and offered them champagne and petit fours to nibble on while Sage made her orders in the small office off the showroom. The elf seemed enchanted by everything Carnelian had to offer and ordered two evening gowns, several cocktail dresses, one winter coat, and shoes to go with everything.
I couldn’t even comprehend how anyone could afford to wear that much Carnelian couture without being involved in the house somehow, but I smiled and acted like this wasn’t a big deal and like we got orders of this size every day, while I privately bit my tongue and tried to imagine Josette’s face.
When I led Sage out to the sitting area so the next woman could make her order, I caught a snippet of their conversation.
“It’s such a violent game,” Isla said in an undertone. “I’m shocked the queen hasn’t done anything about it yet.”
“Some people like that sort of thing,” Yvette said. “I’m sure she’ll shut them down if it gets bigger, but you know how these things are. Close one, and two others will pop up in its place. Better to keep them running where she can keep an eye on things.”
“I’m not sure if it’s better. Camilla’s going to lose her entire fortune if she doesn’t get a hold on herself.” She raised her eyebrows significantly and sipped her champagne.
I cleared my throat, smiled, and waved Yvette in. She brought her drink and settled into the seat opposite me. Behind her, the glass panes of a waterfall wall shimmered, and the air was scented with the perfume of the eternally blooming plumeria tree that lived in the corner.
I tried to focus as Yvette put in her requests, ordering both the velvet dress and its attendant cape, as well as several pantsuits and a black evening gown spangled with hand-beaded constellations. I took a note of her last instructions for the gown, then held my pen above the paper for a momen
t.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned forward.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but were you talking about a mesmer game out there?”
Her eyes widened, and she put her hands reflexively around her knee, as if to keep her legs and body closed off to me.
“I’m just curious,” I said quickly. “A friend told me they’ve started holding games downtown, and I’m kind of worried he’s going to get involved.”
She relaxed a little. “I guess it is a bit of an open secret. Your friend wouldn’t be the only one to end up in trouble.”
I put a hand to my mouth. “Not members of the Faerie Court?”
“No one on the Queen’s Council.” She gestured with her long nails at herself and at Isla and Sage outside. “But other, lower-ranking members of the court…” She trailed off, then added. “Not just them, of course. Word is the games are attracting all sorts of people. Celebrities, business owners, even another fashion designer who’s dressed the queen is rumored to be involved.”
“That’s awful,” I said. “Can’t Her Majesty do anything?”
“She will, if it comes to that. But… You know, it’s a hard line to walk. How much should a monarch get involved?”
I nodded. “It’s the same with Ms. Hunter here. She can micromanage and control everything, or she can let little problems go and keep her attention on big issues that matter.”
“Exactly,” Yvette said. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. You’re just awfully easy to talk to.”
She smiled, and I smiled back. I didn’t mention that her openness might have had something to do with the charm on the room. Its real purpose was to make sure clients were communicating their orders clearly and directly, so we didn’t end up having to remake things down the line when they had said “light blue” but really meant “pale lavender.” The charm had the sometimes advantageous and sometimes awkward side effect of lowering people’s inhibitions and making them chattier than they might be outside the room.
“There’s supposed to be a big tournament happening this Saturday,” Yvette said, leaning forward. “Betting on it is high. If your friend hasn’t heard about it yet, you might want to find a way to keep him busy that night.”
I nodded earnestly. “Thanks for the tip.”
“The queen might get involved this time around,” she said. “People go crazy when that kind of money gets involved, and mesmer’s not the safest game anyway.”
“I’ll keep him far away from the game,” I said.
I made no such promises for myself.
21
Grandma ran into me on my way out the front door. The basket in her arms was heavy with herbs harvested under the moonlight, and I knew she’d be in the kitchen for the next half hour stringing them into bundles and putting them up to dry in her spell craft room for use in spells.
She stopped on the porch and took in my tightly fastened jacket and boots.
“Where are you headed, sabre?” Her voice stayed conversational, but her eyes were sharp behind her glasses.
She’d caught me.
I knew I should tell her what I was up to.
I also knew she would stop me.
Even though my last mission had gone well, and even though she had said she was proud of me for handling the werewolf attack the way I had, that approval had come with a lecture on how I wasn’t supposed to pursue major leads on my own without telling her.
But I had to pursue leads without telling her, because this next lead was going to take me into an illegal club to watch an illegal game, where I very well might run into members of the pack I had just fought.
It was way above my pay grade, but I couldn’t bear the thought of letting the opportunity go.
I could see the guilt on my face, so I reached for the first excuse that might explain it away.
“I was headed out to the den to go see Brendan,” I said.
She smiled slightly. “Have you decided on him or Alec?”
I stepped aside to let her through the door. “I didn’t know it was a competition.”
She chuckled. “You ought to be more observant if you’re going to become a Dagger,” she said. “You must have noticed the way those boys look at you.”
“I most certainly have not,” I said.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, then. You have a nice visit.”
She smirked, and I made an indignant noise.
She brushed past me into the kitchen, calling, “Have fun, sabre,” over her shoulder.
My ruse had worked, which did nothing to explain why I felt so suddenly unsettled. Brendan and Alec were attractive, certainly, and I knew they both had my back. But that didn’t mean I had to choose one of them.
As if to prove a point, I pulled out my phone as I walked toward my bike and sent them a group text.
Scarlett: Heading to a mesmer game downtown. Don’t come, too risky, but feel free to stage a rescue if you haven’t heard from me by midnight.
I hesitated, then added an emoji with its tongue sticking out before I pressed Send.
The bar that fronted the club was busier than it had been last time, with several people hunching over at the bar and two tables full of people with beers. I made my way back to the bathroom and threw a quick glamour over myself. If any of the wolves from Sticks & Stones caught sight of me, they’d see a woman with fading blonde hair, a black jacket, and a face entirely different from my own.
I tapped the Out of Order sign. The door swung open, and I made my way into a club that was ten degrees warmer than the bar and so loud I almost had to plug my ears.
The gaming area at the back had been rearranged. Three mesmer tables sat evenly spaced along the floor, and each table was now surrounded with staggered platforms covered in small tables and chairs, so everyone present could have an unobstructed view of at least one game. I wandered slowly to the bar and ordered a cola with ambrosia infusion, then scanned the nearest game for an empty chair. There wasn’t one; the platform was crowded, and every seat was occupied with someone whose attention was fixed on the game. I had better luck at the table farthest from the entrance, and managed to snag one just as someone was leaving.
The game was more than halfway over, with only three people left in play. An enchanted microphone on the table amplified their voices as the players made moves and the dealer announced cards. In the center of the table, the two snakes coiled lazily around one another.
I wished Brendan or Alec had come with me. But my discomfort wasn’t worth the risk of them getting recognized as Wildwoods, especially when even a glamour wouldn’t be able to disguise their scent from other werewolves.
Everything in my body thrummed with a subtle sense of suspicion, and I was alert to every person and movement around me. I wondered if this was how the other Daggers felt with the Wildwoods around, like they were open to an attack at any moment.
Or how they had felt, until recently. The tension in the house had faded a bit since the incident at Sticks & Stones. After word got around that the Wildwoods had tipped us off to the attack, most of my sisters seemed… not trusting, exactly, but not so openly antagonistic, either. A few, of course, thought it was suspicious that the Wildwoods had heard anything at all, but, as Grandma had reminded me after I’d complained about it to her, one shouldn’t expect to have everything.
Down at the edge of the table, I caught a glimpse of someone I recognized. It took me only an instant to place his sharp profile and impeccably tailored suit: this was Joseph Brick, the head of a prominent fashion house and a distinguished magician. I’d met him more than once, and each time I’d had to fight to keep from being overwhelmed in his presence.
The House of Brick was the kind of fashion empire Carnelian had aspired to be back before the queen had started ordering from us. We were on Brick’s playing field now, and if we stayed in favor with the Waterfall Palace, Grandma was poised to be able to exert the same kind of influence on Glimmering fashions as their designers.
Joseph Brick had a subtle power as he walked through the room. This was a person who knew his authority and had confidence in his ability to use it. I watched him as the crowd parted around him. He had a drink in one hand and his other placed on the back of an attractive young woman in a slinky dress.
He stopped at the edge of the mesmer table and watched, focused on the game and getting distracted only by the woman next to him when she spoke. He stayed through two confronts, which both ended in the snake going back to rest.
The third time, the player was attacked. She screamed, then screwed her eyes tightly closed and panted. I recognized the technique; it was a pain management trick I’d learned during my early Dagger training. She stayed absolutely still while the dealer detached the snake, then held out a hand and let herself be led away.
“That’s a professional right there,” a woman behind me said to her companion.
I sipped my drink and tried to let the player’s agony wash over me. She had chosen to take part, I reminded myself. Anyone who played this game knew the risks and must have been willing to accept them.
Mr. Brick had watched the whole thing with a smile. Now, he led his date over toward the tables in front of me. One of them cleared immediately, its previous occupants grabbing their drinks and suddenly deciding they had somewhere else to be. He nodded politely as they left and pulled out a chair for his date. He spoke with her for a moment, then took off toward the bar.
The deference the people around Brick showed was more than something a fashion celebrity might expect, and more than I’d seen people offer him the few times we’d met.
It was more than I would have expected even for members of the Faerie Court, except for maybe the queen and her heir.
A slight suspicion wiggled at the back of my mind, and before I could think it through, I jumped up and scurried after him.
I arrived at the bar a moment after he did and waited behind him while he ordered. The bartender seemed flustered by what had seemed to me like an ordinary encounter, and Mr. Brick turned around, so quickly that I was too late in glancing away.
