by Emma Savant
I tried to ignore August watching me whenever he glanced up from his phone, and moved through the piece while my demo recording blared through the enchanted speakers.
“That looks great, honey,” Starling said. He glanced at August. “I think that’s a wrap for today.”
I ignored August for a few moments while I went to towel the sweat off my forehead and take a long drink from my water bottle. He was still standing there when I was done, though, so I walked over to him, holding the water bottle between us like the world’s most ineffective shield.
“Did it look okay?”
He looked up from his phone, artificially surprised to see me standing there.
“Yes, it looked excellent,” he said. “You’ll still need a day or two of strict rehearsal, of course. You’ll want to give them a good performance. A prince is not quite an Orbs audience, but performing for the Glimmering elite comes with its own kind of prestige.”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”
He stood there, smiling vaguely at me. I didn’t know whether he wanted to talk more or if I could go, and it seemed like he sensed my indecision and enjoyed it.
Maybe he was waiting for an apology. If nothing else, giving him one would be a great acting exercise.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” I said. “You were right: I wasn’t focusing hard enough on my work.”
His eyebrows went up. “Yesterday?”
“You seemed kind of angry with me.”
His expression didn’t change. He held onto a look of bemusement and said, mildly, “I wasn’t angry with you.”
Did the dude have amnesia? Or was the stress of all this making me crazy? I shifted from one foot to another.
“When you came by my apartment,” I said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Dior,” he said. He graced me with a dazzling smile, patted me on the shoulder, and walked away.
My shoulder was sweaty, and I watched him discreetly wipe his hand on his trouser leg just as he walked out of the room.
Score one for the singer.
“You okay?” Starling said, coming up behind me.
I looked at him for a moment. His expression was one of slight concern, and it made me angry. Slight concern wasn’t enough. He knew what was happening. He should be furious, and ready to fight August with me.
I took a small step back and smiled.
“I’m great,” I said. “Better run, though. We went long, and my vocal coach is waiting for me.”
I was calmer this morning. Maybe it was all the dancing, or maybe it was the way the spells I’d put on my apartment had reclaimed the space a little. Whatever the reason, talking to August hadn’t made my heart race, and I didn’t feel like I needed to rely on Starling to support me.
I had people in my corner, and I would see them tonight.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Having everything in August’s building was awful but convenient: I went over songs with my vocal coach in a rehearsal room, headed back to my apartment for a shower and lunch, went down to the recording studio and laid down the tracks for two of the awful new songs, and then stopped by Calista’s office for a costume fitting, all without leaving the building. The gold-spangled leotard she adjusted around me was meant for a new music video.
I smiled and chatted breezily while she tugged at hems and pinned seams, all the while silently hoping I’d never have to wear it. I would be away from August before then. I had to believe that.
Finally, the evening was mine—or as much mine as any time was allowed to be under August. I stopped outside his office. Mari was there, as elegant and cool as ever.
How far under his control was she? Did he own every person in this building, from the staff to the actresses and musicians I sometimes passed in the hallways? This was an empire.
“I’m planning on going to my dad’s for dinner. Just wanted to keep you updated on my schedule in case August needs to know where I am.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said. “It’s good of you to keep August informed. I’ll let him know.”
“Thanks so much.”
Why were we thanking each other? Did she want to run as much as I did?
I kept my steps slow as I moved toward the elevators. When the doors closed, I let out a sigh.
Nothing that might show on cameras, though. He had to be watching.
Out on the street, a photographer shouted my name and I heard the click of a camera from behind some cars. It was strange to be grateful for that violation of privacy. I took advantage of the moment to throw a privacy glamour up around myself. It would shield me from the attention of paparazzi. It would also hide me from him.
I walked to Dad’s apartment building just in case. Once inside the building, I threw on another, stronger privacy glamour and went back out the back entrance.
I didn’t want to see Dad. I didn’t even want to think about him until this was all over.
The house Starling and Serena shared was a short Humdrum train ride away. I got off at the stop nearest the house and walked the rest of the way. The neighborhood was as beautiful and quirky as I remembered, and I wished it felt as safe now as it had then.
Serena would be safe, I was sure of that. Starling wasn’t under August’s control, and he had my back; he might not be willing to stand up to August, but he wouldn’t rat me out. I didn’t know about the other roommates, though, and the thought of running into one of them made my heartbeat bang inside my ribs like a bass drum. This glamour would keep people’s eyes off me, but no hurriedly applied privacy spell would shield me if I had to have a conversation with one of them.
My breathing felt loud enough to power a whole woodwinds section.
I knocked. The door opened to reveal Starling. I almost melted with relief. He stood aside and I darted indoors.
“Hi,” I said. My pulse slowed, and finally I could hear something other than the chaos inside my own body.
“You here for Serena?” he said.
I nodded.
“I figured,” he said. “Glad you decided to listen to me on that one.”
My earlier irritation at him had faded away in the intervening hours. He was helping me the only way he could—by connecting me with the one person brave enough to go up against August, and by giving me a safe place to talk to her. Impulsively, I hugged him.
He patted me on the back. “Good to see you too, honey.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For having my back.”
“We’re all in this together,” he said. “Serena’s upstairs. She’s got the attic. Follow the stairs all the way up, but be sure to knock. She gets mad if you catch her in bat mode.”
I stared at him. I’d thought vampires turning into bats was a myth. He winked.
There were only two doors at the top of the stairs, one off to each side. One was clearly a bathroom, so I knocked on the other, which was made of dark, polished wood. I heard shuffling inside, and then Serena let me in.
The attic was larger than I’d expected, and cozy. She pointed to a low, overstuffed chair set into a window nook between two bookcases and said, “Tea?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said.
“Black or green?”
“Green, please.”
She poured the water from an electric kettle plugged in next to her bed, which was not, I noticed, a crypt. It was covered with a patchwork quilt and layered with at least five pillows with homey embroidered cases.
Serena handed me a steaming cup of tea in a mug covered in twinkling stars.
“Sorry it’s bagged,” she said. “Bagged tea is gross, but all my loose leaf is downstairs.”
“I don’t mind,” I said. “Though I’ll deny that if Clarence ever asks.”
She sank into the chair opposite me. Outside the window, a sparrow hopped across the roof of the house next door.
“How are you doing?”
“I’m surviving,” I said. “I just want to get this done.”
/> “I’ll cut right to it, then,” she said. She crossed her legs. She was wearing loose black slacks and a loose black T-shirt; the effect should have been of pajamas and instead looked runway-ready. “We don’t have anyone to help us. We should, but my contacts at the Waterfall Palace insist there’s simply not enough evidence against August.” She spoke delicately, politely, but the sarcasm in her voice was like acid. “There seems to be some idea that my personal issues with August are affecting my judgment. Never mind that I’m one of the best in the business, and they know it.”
“Your personal issues with August stem from what he’s doing now,” I said.
“I told them that,” she said. “But you just can’t trust an emotional vampire. They’re too bloody-minded. They just can’t let go of things. Haven’t you heard?”
I cringed. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m used to it,” she said. “But it means we can’t count on anyone but ourselves. You, me, and your boyfriend and two friends if they’re willing.”
“They’ll help,” I said.
“Most of it’s going to be down to you.”
I’d expected this, and yet it made the pit of my stomach feel wobbly.
“What do I have to do?”
Serena carefully set her mug on the windowsill and stood up. She crossed the room, opened her nightstand drawer, and pulled out something small and glittering.
“This,” she said. She handed it to me as she sat back down. It was a small glass bottle, no bigger than my thumb, filled with silver dust. “You’re going to be in the center of everything. You’re the hub. You stand there on stage, right, and you’re the one connecting with your audience?”
“Of course.”
“And you’re the one August is feeding off of. He does feed off of you while you’re performing, right? And tries to control you?”
“Yes,” I said. “He stands backstage and enchants my audience, and then all their energy comes rushing at me, and then he feeds off of it.”
“And I’m the vampire,” Serena muttered. “And your connection with your audience, what’s that?”
“That’s just music,” I said. “It’s not magic, I don’t think. I mean, unless all music is magic. I think maybe it is, but Humdrums can access it too.”
“We don’t need to get into philosophy,” Serena said. “As long as you’re not casting spells directly on them?”
“No, never,” I said. “I cast spells on myself while I perform, mostly glamours and stuff, but that’s standard for Glim artists.”
“You’re going to need to cast a spell on them this time,” Serena said. “Well, not on them. That would ruin everything. On the room. When you’re performing, right in the middle of your performance when you feel like August’s influence is highest, you need to stand at the edge of the stage and cast an illumination charm over the whole space. The kind of thing that will make his magic visible for a few moments. Do you know how to do something like that?”
I thought back to my apartment and the dozens of glowing, sickening surveillance charms.
“Definitely yes.”
“God, it must be useful to have such general magic,” Serena said. “All of mine is so specific; I could never pull off something like this.”
“That’s why you have me,” I said.
She held out a hand. I took it, and she gave me a long squeeze. Her skin was cold and yet the touch filled me with warmth.
“I’m grateful to you for this,” she said. “It means the world to me.”
“I just want to get away from him,” I said.
“That’s what I want, too,” she said. “For you and all his slaves.”
I hadn’t thought of myself as a slave before, but one memory of what I’d been like under his control and I knew it was the right word. I thought of how I might be now if Sadie and Briana hadn’t pulled me out and shuddered.
“When you cast the spell, throw that dust out on the room,” she said. “It only takes a little, but between that and the magic, it’ll be enough to light up the entire house.”
I turned the bottle over in my hand. The dust gleamed dully.
“Is that enough, though?” I said. “For so many people to see what’s happening? Why wouldn’t he just keep controlling them and make them lie about what happened?”
“Oh, we’re not depending on the audience to do anything,” Serena said. “My contacts at the Waterfall Palace might not be interested in helping us, but I still know where their magic mirrors are. I’m going to broadcast the whole thing. They’re not going to like it, but they won’t have a choice but to investigate after they see your concert.”
“Wait, you’re going to what?”
“I’m going to broadcast your concert,” she said calmly. “Right into the Waterfall Palace.”
This seemed more than risky, and not at all foolproof.
“What if August doesn’t influence this audience?” I said. “What if it’s not worth it to him since it’s just a private party? They’ll just get footage of a concert and you’re going to get into so much trouble.”
“Then we’ll pretend I really wanted them to see how great you are,” Serena said dryly. “To be honest, I’ll probably get arrested and never be able to land another client. I have to take this chance, though. We might not get another. I’ve been waiting years for one of August’s dolls to be aware enough that we could do something like this.”
I thought about it while I tapped a rhythm on the side of my mug. The plan seemed loose, circumstantial—like if anything went wrong it would all fall apart, or worse, make it look like I was the one enchanting everyone.
If I didn’t do it, though, life would continue on as usual. Even without his magic affecting me, August’s grip was getting tighter. I didn’t know how much longer I could last before it strangled me.
“In that case—”
I was interrupted by footsteps pounding up the stairs. Serena shot to her feet, and I reached for my wand in my jacket pocket. Someone knocked on the door, loudly, and then threw it open without waiting for an answer.
My entire body went cold with fear. He was there, menacing in a black suit, and his dark eyes were fire.
“Dior,” he said, and my heartbeat sped up like it was trying to run away.
I set my mug down.
“August,” I said, and a smile that rose from some self-preserving instinct lit up my face. “I didn’t realize you and Serena were friends!”
He marched in. Serena took a step forward, shielding me from him.
“I don’t think I invited you in,” she said.
“Unlike some, I don’t have to wait for an invitation,” he said. “Vampire. Dior, what are you doing here?”
“Serena was just telling me some of her stories about being a detective,” I said brightly.
He cut me off by stepping around Serena and putting a claw-like hand on my shoulder. His fingers dug into my muscle, sending jolts of pain up my neck.
“Put that away,” he said. “We have to go.”
Silently, I set the tea aside and stood. His hand stayed on me the whole time, rising with me as though he knew I would escape if I could.
“Get your hands off her,” Serena said.
“Dior doesn’t mind,” August said. His fingers dug in deeper. “Does she?”
“Not at all,” I said.
I looked at Serena. I could only imagine what my eyes were saying to her. Her dark red lips drew to a tight line.
“Get out of my home,” she said.
“With pleasure.”
August marched me out of the room and past Starling, who was wringing his hands and looking at me as though he desperately wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the words. August walked too quickly behind me, and I almost tripped on the stairs trying to keep ahead of him.
We burst out of the house together and he marched me to a sleek black car parked at the curb. The engine was running, and the driver’s eyes slid over me as though I wasn’t
there. August pushed me into the back of the car, followed me in, and then slammed the door behind us.
“How dare you,” he said. “Home,” he barked to the driver, and then turned his wrath back on me. “You never went to your father’s. He lets me know when you come to see him, so that’s not a useful excuse anymore.”
I tried to disappear into the seat. The neighborhood streets passed slowly outside the tinted windows, and I noticed the colors of everyone’s front doors to keep myself from crying.
“You lied to me, Dior,” he said.
“I know you don’t like Serena,” I said.
“Then why were you there?”
“She’s interesting,” I said. “She was telling me about her work. I’ve never known a real detective before.”
I sounded like an idiot child, even to myself.
“She’s vile trash.”
“She lives with Starling,” I said. “Starling wouldn’t live with anyone bad.”
“I called around looking for you, and Starling told me you were up there with that bloodsucker,” August said. “Do you really think he would have done that if he thought you were safe with her? He didn’t take much convincing.”
Startled, I looked at his face. He was staring straight ahead, angry and distant. My heart seemed to shrink in on itself.
Serena was right. We really were alone.
I looked back out the window. Brown, brown, red, blue, red. The driver turned the corner and merged onto a busier road lined with businesses. There were no more colorful doors. I turned my attention to counting fire hydrants.
August let out a frustrated sound. “A vampire, Dior, really,” he said. “You think a bloodsucker is an appropriate friend for someone of your stature?”
I felt a familiar change in the air. He was influencing me, and I had to pretend it was working. Silently, I shook my head and tried to appear chastened.
At least here, lying, I felt like I had some control. If I could pretend well enough that he had me under his thumb, I might have room to breathe.
