Spinning Into Gold

by Emma Savant

  “And you want help getting information,” I said.

  Her fingers tapped gently against her blood bottle, her nails clicking on the glass. “You don’t need to go out of your way,” she said. “If I help you keep your head around him, you’ll be able to stay conscious and alert. That’s more than I can say for most of his clients.”

  “His victims,” Sadie corrected.

  Serena nodded. “You need to keep an eye out and report to me if you see anything strange. Better if I can get it in writing. Then, eventually, if this comes to anything, I’m hoping you might be willing to testify.”

  I paused. Helping her gather dirt on August was one thing. Subjecting myself to the scrutiny of a court case was another.

  Then again, all publicity was good publicity.

  “I’m willing,” I said. “Whatever you need.”

  She looked at me with her lips pressed tight together, her eyes steady and scrutinizing me, maybe for weakness. I didn’t feel weak. Not with the three of them on my side.

  “We’re going to need to work some magic on you,” Serena said. She set her drink on the side table, then leaned over and picked up her purse. She rummaged in it for a moment, then glanced up. “I’m going to need some of your hair.”

  Reflexively, my hand flew to my head. “How much?”

  “Don’t look so panicked,” she said. “Three strands will do it.”

  I pulled them out and handed them to her. She took a small coil of thick red thread out of her purse.

  “I’m going to need everyone to shut up for a few minutes,” she said.

  She took the hairs from me and set them carefully on her lap, then pulled out three of her own. She clipped off three pieces of thread and handed me the ends of the threads and hairs.

  “Hold these,” she ordered. “I’m making you a charm. The whole time I’m working, I need you to think about who you are—your preferences, your family, your music, anything that matters to you.”

  I nodded and held on tight as she made a knot and began to braid, weaving our hair in with the deep red thread.

  “You two can help,” she said softly, not taking her eyes from the braid. “Think about what makes Dior, Dior. The good parts and the annoying ones.”

  Briana grinned and opened her mouth, then thought better of whatever joke she was going to make. She gave me a silent thumbs-up, and she and Sadie settled in to think and watch Serena work.

  I tried to think of everything that made me, me, and immediately came up with a blank. It felt like the first few times I’d been interviewed. The interviewer inevitably opened with something like, “Tell me about yourself,” and I always had to bite my tongue to keep from saying, “I’m a singer, which you already know, since you’re the one who invited me here.”

  Eventually I’d figured out how to answer that question in a way that was a pitch for my latest album. I wondered what the newest one would be called, or how August would make me act in the interviews.

  No, I thought. This is about me.

  My albums were Dior, Imprint, and Captivate. I had written every single song on every single album. I had worked with mostly the same studio artists for the last two albums, and Jack, one of the guitarists, had surprised me on my birthday with an enchanted smoke show that had filled the air in the studio with translucent dragons and birds for almost half an hour. I liked red licorice, fairy dust chewing gum, and chocolate topped with sea salt, and Dad made sure there was always at least one of those in the house.

  I loved my dad, and I didn’t care about Orbs games, and my best friends in the world were Briana and Sadie. I’d had a dog for a few years when I was a kid, and I wanted to get a dog again someday when I’d settled down enough to take care of one and do it right. My mom had taken the dog to the shelter a few months before she’d left us. I hated people who abandoned their animals like that. I didn’t remember my mom well, and I didn’t miss her, although I was glad she had given me some of her genes so I could feel more connected with my beautiful Humdrum and Glimmering Latina fans when I toured. I loved being a role model for those girls, and one of my best memories was the day I’d gone to a local elementary school and had a little girl ask me whether, if she worked hard like me, she could sing in Spanish and have everyone like it. I’d tried harder to learn Spanish after that, and I’d written a song in my next album just for her.

  I was grateful for my career, even though it had meant sacrifices along the way.

  I’d never gone to college. It wouldn’t help me be a better singer, but sometimes, I thought people looked down on me for it.

  Not Clarence, though. Clarence didn’t seem to look down on me, ever. He liked me, and I liked him.

  What else? I stared at the threads as Serena deftly wove them together in a braid that looked simple but throbbed with magic.

  I loved the ocean, but thought the Oregon coast was too cold. I preferred the welcoming waters of Hawaii and Mexico, where I’d visited for both tours and vacations.

  I liked to read, although I didn’t spend much time reading these days, in between the demands of my schedule and the lure of the games on my phone.

  Only once had I successfully managed once to wash, dry, fold, and put away my laundry in one go. I was a bad cook and burned or soured anything I tried to enchant. I was not good at domestic skills or adulting, and neither was Dad, and we managed to do okay anyway.

  I liked this apartment better than the gold one August had made for me.

  “Done,” Serena said. I jumped; I’d gotten lost in my thoughts and the rhythmic motions of her fingers.

  She knotted the braid closed, then again for extra measure.

  “Tie this around your ankle,” she said, handing me the braid.

  Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath while I wrapped the rope around my ankle and tied it tight. Sadie pulled out her wand and touched it to the tip of the knot, sealing it tight.

  I let out a breath. The whole apartment seemed to relax and emerge from the frozen, timeless shelter of spellwork.

  “That should keep you tethered to yourself,” Serena said. “Don’t let August see it. If he does, claim religious significance or medicomagical reasons or something. If it gets bad, we’ll throw a glamour on it, but I don’t want to do anything that might dampen its potency.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Remember to keep an eye out for August being August,” she said. “Write it down. Text it to me. Keep records. You’ll have an insight into him like no one else really does right now, and we need to use it. I don’t know when we’ll have this opportunity again.”

  “I’ll get everything I can.”

  “Act normally around him,” she said. “If he tells you to do something and it’s not a deal breaker, just obey for now.”

  “Wait,” Sadie said sharply. “I thought we were getting Dior out of this situation.”

  “I guess we are,” Serena said. She pursed her lips and her eyebrows tensed together; I could see the hope and frustration warring on her normally placid face.

  I ran my fingers along the bumpy sides of the braid, feeling its tingling magic pulse through it and into my ankle and fingertips.

  “Not yet,” I said. “Serena’s right. We’re not going to get this chance again.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Sadie said.

  “I do,” Serena said. “Trust me.”

  “That’s what August said,” Sadie muttered.

  I felt their eyes on me, everyone waiting to see what I’d decide.

  It was a nice change from being told what to do.

  “I have to trust someone,” I said. “I’d rather it be the person who gives me the option to say no.”

  Chapter 16

  “Dior, you’re a picture,” August said.

  No doubt a picture was exactly what he wanted me to be. Pictures were still and silent and didn’t want to deck him across the face.

  I smiled angelically and glamoured a slight blush onto m
y cheeks. “It’s all Calista,” I said.

  “Nothing can match the teamwork of my girls,” August said.

  My skin crawled. Had he talked like this while I was under his influence? Had I just not noticed?

  Around us, people milled around in evening gowns and tuxedos in the lobby of the Aureate Theater, a beautiful old building covered in frescoes and gilded carvings.

  This was an exclusively Glim building, and the celebrities and guests at this premiere took the opportunity to let their freak flags fly. Everyone was radiant with glamours. Several faerie women had trendy “living forest” hair, with live ivy and trailing succulents woven through braids and updos. I’d seen at least four people floating airily through the room on fluffy, insubstantial clouds that hovered a few inches above the gleaming marble floor, and servers walked around the room with little fountains of sparks constantly shooting above their heads to alert guests to the approach of the champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries on their golden trays.

  I didn’t know what Humdrum movie premieres were like, but I had a feeling they weren’t quite this colorful.

  “August, darling!” a woman with bright red lipstick said, coming up to him and grabbing him by the arm. He turned and gave her air kisses on both cheeks, introduced her as Lady Muriel, and instructed me to go off and mingle. I smiled and obediently trotted off, holding up the hemline of my dark red mermaid gown to keep it out of my way.

  I stopped and said hello to anyone who looked familiar. I didn’t know most of the A-list celebrities here, but it was impossible to be in the Glimmering music scene for very long without making a few friends. I chatted with Lacey, a girl who’d played drums on my first tour and was now finding some success in her own band, and Adrian, a costume designer whose gowns I’d modeled in my teens for a small Glim magazine. It was great to catch up with people, and even better to do it without August’s influence steering me around the room.

  Starling sidled up and bumped my hip with his. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said.

  I gave him a big hug. He was careful not to mess up my hair or dress, and I was careful not to wrinkle his purple silk shirt. It was covered in tiny embroidered dragonflies that flittered from one spot on the shirt to another, their silver wings flashing in the golden light of the room. He’d cut his hair close to his head and wore a silver circlet that would have looked silly on most people but suited him.

  “How are you doing?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Serena is a miracle worker,” I said. I waved my fingers toward my head. “All clear.”

  “That is wonderful news,” he said. “You seem happy.”

  “I’m here, which is the main thing,” I said.

  “The same cannot be said for August’s other clients,” he said. He looked pointedly off to his right. I followed his gaze to a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman wearing an off-shoulder blue velvet gown.

  I recognized her, in the surreal way I usually recognized people I’d seen on the internet and magazine covers but never in real life. Her name was Abigail Johanson, and she was an actress, most famous for her recent role in the Glimmering film Ink Like Midnight.

  “I didn’t realize August repped her,” I said.

  “Just started,” Starling said. “She’s already a little… Well, you know.”

  I did know. I could see it in her face, too. It wasn’t something most people would pick up on—just a sort of pleasant vagueness that could be pinned down to anything from a recent massage to a naturally calm personality. The tranquility of her expression was attractive, even enchanting, and it made me want to turn and run out of the room.

  “They’re all like that, aren’t they?” I said.

  “You tell me,” Starling said. He pointed discreetly across the room to a famous singer, to a girl I didn’t recognize, and to an actress whose face I’d seen but whose name I didn’t know. Each one had the same vacant, pleasant look on her face.

  I felt my own expression shift with horror, and took a deep breath. I had to share their calm appearance. If I wasn’t careful, August wouldn’t need to watch my behavior; he’d only have to look closely at my face to see that I wasn’t under his control.

  Even when he wasn’t controlling me, here I was, modifying my facial expression and toning down everything I was in order to make myself seem small and invisible.

  “Am I the only one who’s realized what’s happening?” I said.

  “I doubt it,” Starling said. “But ask yourself, who’s going to take him on? August has the power to create careers. He can destroy them just as easily.”

  My stomach sank.

  I’d been non-stop worried that I wouldn’t be able to convince August to let me go. I hadn’t even considered what he might do to me for leaving.

  I wished I had Serena here. She might not have a solution, but her anger would feed mine and make me feel strong. Instead, I just had myself and Starling, and he’d already made his own deal with our devil.

  Abigail nodded at someone in her small circle and smiled the pasted-on smile of someone who’d been told to pose for a photograph. She laughed in the same way, and touched someone on the arm like she’d been handed the choreography to do it.

  “So weird,” I muttered. “That was me. Just a couple of weeks ago, that’s what I looked like.”

  “Not quite,” Starling said. I looked to him for clarification, and he added, “You’re a better dancer.”

  I gave him a deadpan glare, then bit my lip.

  “I’m going to talk to her.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Starling said.

  “Why? Because August will think I’m up to something?”

  “Because August will see you wasting your time with a straight woman and order to you go flirt with people, and I know how much you appreciate that.”

  It was worth the risk. I gave Starling another quick hug and made my way slowly over to Abigail.

  When I was just outside her circle, I paused. The circle widened effortlessly to include me, and she began smiling at me and making vague eye contact as though I’d been part of her audience from the beginning.

  “It’s just been so inspiring to work with such a passionate creative team,” she said. Her voice was silk and honey. “Being part of a project like this is almost spiritual.”

  “You deserve it,” someone said.

  “We all deserve total creative fulfillment,” she said. Her hands gestured as she spoke, like delicate white moths. “And yet, who among us is able to live their artistic dreams? I’m so fortunate to have been included in this project.”

  “What project’s that?” I said.

  “The Illuminator’s Daughter,” she said, treating each word with reverence. “It’s a film I’m making with Aarti Mishra. The script is just remarkable and I’ve never been part of a project that felt like such poetry.”

  “Sounds interesting,” I said. Then, half-knowing the answer, I added, “How’d you get involved with something like that?”

  “My manager,” she said. Her gaze focused on me briefly before growing soft and vague again. “He’s a true visionary. He was the first person Aarti spoke to about the film, and he was good enough to recommend me for the role. I auditioned and they felt I was suited to the part. I’m so blessed.”

  “Sounds like it,” I said.

  Was Aarti under August’s thumb like Abigail was and like I’d been? Or was she like Starling—an artist who was willing to make moral compromises in exchange for a golden touch of fame? I murmured a “Congratulations” in Abigail’s direction, and slipped away from the circle.

  A hand on my elbow made me jump. I spun, expecting to see August, and instead found Clarence grinning down at me.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  “So do you,” I said, quickly taking in his black tuxedo and bow tie, which shimmered between black and dark metallic green like the plumage of a duck or the shell of a beetle. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  “I hadn’t planned on
it, but a friend wanted company.” He nodded vaguely behind him, which wasn’t helpful at all in the crowded room. “He found someone to talk to who’s prettier than me, so I’m killing time until the film starts.”

  No one in this room was prettier than Clarence. The kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach started fluttering around like drunk morons.

  My boobs vibrated. I froze, then spun around and quickly fished my phone out of my neckline.

  “Was that—”

  “I’m in an evening gown,” I said. “I don’t have pockets.”

  “No charms?”

  “Well, yeah, that would have been smart if I’d thought about it,” I said. I glanced at the screen.

  Dad: We just scored again! You’re missing one hell of a game.

  “Do you follow Orbs?” I said.

  Clarence leaned in, suddenly alert. “You’re following the championship? What’s the score?”

  “You should talk to my dad sometime,” I said, holding up my hand. “I don’t know anything about it. Oh, don’t look sad. I’m really good at pretending like I care.”

  “That’s encouraging.”

  “I mean, I definitely care a lot,” I said. “Go, Manticores!”

  He raised an eyebrow at me, as skeptical as a human could possibly look. I laughed and scrolled up through Dad’s messages a ways, then handed him the phone.

  “He’s been updating me,” I said. “Here.”

  Clarence read through the messages, reactions shifting rapidly across his face. At one point he scowled and swore under his breath, then his eyebrows jumped up in delighted surprise. For a supposedly stiff-upper-lip British guy, he had one of the most expressive faces I’d ever seen.

  Behind him, a woman floated across the floor on one of the frothy clouds. She smiled vacantly off toward the other side of the room. She was one of August’s; I’d bet money on it.

  “Damn, it’s close this year,” Clarence said. He handed the phone back. “Maybe if Martinez can come back from that injury we’ll have a shot.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Martinez? Isn’t he with the Yetis?”

  “I thought you didn’t follow.”