by Holly Evans
It was still early, but there were a few people lounging in the chairs and sitting at the broad bar. None of them seemed to pay me much of any attention, too lost in their conversations. A trio of older women were gesticulating wildly before they burst out in raucous laughter. A man my age was reading a leather-bound book, his expression taut and pensive. I reminded myself that these were my people. That didn’t help me shake off the feeling of discomfort, the niggling sense of wrongness that had plagued me from the moment I stepped in the door. It was as though I was being watched, but no one had so much as glanced in my direction. Shrugging it off, I put my shoulders back, fixed an easy smile on my face, and made my way between the chairs to the bar. They were my people.
An older man with thick deep red hair turned to me as I approached the bar.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said, his eyes roaming over my body.
I stood out in my leather jacket and jeans. The rest of the magicians were in well-pressed dress pants and elegant dresses.
“I’m new to the city,” I said as I claimed a barstool and tried to find something low alcohol to drink.
I didn’t want to get drunk. I’d never been one for morning drinking. Unless it was continuing on from a long fun-filled night of drinking. The bottles perched on the dark wooden shelves behind the broad bar were all simple in their design with clearly written labels. They were expensive enough that they’d gone through needing to be flashy, back to elegant and pointed. The name alone was enough to raise eyebrows and alter your social status.
“Give him a phoenix fire, Tess,” the red head said to the feral bartender.
A phoenix fire was an alchemically infused fae liquor. A single cost me a few hours’ wages, and the effects were said to be mildly hallucinogenic. At best. I’d never had much interest in trying the more interesting alcohols. I didn’t want to lose myself to visions and sensations outside of my usual senses and experiences. I was a social drinker, not someone looking to escape.
“Just a red ale,” I said.
The bartender looked between us, her thin mouth pressed into a tight line. Her ears had the sharp tip of a feline, her hair was the fire and white stripes of a ginger tabby. Her ears twitched back and forth as she waited for a response.
The red-headed magician remained quiet. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to be stopped again, the bartender pulled me a pint of red ale.
“Scott.” The magician held out his hand for me to shake.
I noticed a sigil tattooed behind the feral’s ear, a small black and blue binding sigil. My muscles reflexively tensed. That meant she was a slave owned by someone. The sigil would remove her ability to run away. I forced myself to smile and turn to Scott.
“Dacian,” I said, shaking his hand.
His grip was a little too firm, his hands silky smooth. The man had never so much as thought about doing labour a day in his life. Such was the way of a tattoo magician, I supposed. Still, I enjoyed working with my hands in other ways sometimes. There was a therapy to be taken in chopping wood and simple carpentry.
“What brings you here today, Dacian?”
I took a drink of my ale while I tried to formulate the best answer.
“I was told this was a good place to relax among my peers,” I said.
Scott’s mouth twitched into a smile.
An elegant woman in a knee length black dress walked up to Scott and smiled at me.
“Elona, and don’t worry about him. He likes to make out that he’s far more dangerous than he is,” she said.
She clicked her fingers to get the feral’s attention.
“Green ocean, and don’t skimp on the mermaid scales this time,” she snapped.
The feral dipped her chin in acknowledgement and set to making the drink.
“They need firm instructions. They’re lazy beasts,” Elona said.
I took another drink of my ale to stop from grinding my teeth. What would Vyx say about that? I had no doubt she’d tear into Elona verbally, and likely physically.
“Where’s your parlour?” Scott asked.
“I’m freelance. I tattoo in client’s homes.”
“And your partner?” Elona asked.
Fuck. They knew the trade. I couldn’t wave them off with big sounding words. I tried the truth, or at least some of the truth.
“My partner’s focusing on other artforms at the moment.”
Elona’s gaze sharpened.
“How curious,” she said.
I smiled. The last thing I needed was people asking too many questions.
“And you? Where’s your parlour?”
Elona smoothed out non-existent wrinkles in her skirt.
“Old Town, of course. Scott wanted to be more fashionable; his is in Lesser Town,” she said.
Both were very expensive parts of the city.
“You must do a steady trade,” I said.
“Enough to keep me in the life I’ve become accustomed to,” Elona said.
She picked up the vivid green drink the feral had placed on the bar next to her. It sparkled like crushed emeralds.
“To new friends,” she said, lifting her drink in a toast.
I lifted my ale and accepted the toast.
Scott and Elona were later joined by Elona’s tattooing partner Niall. We talked about tattooing and exchanged stories about various clients. I did my best to ask the questions and listen rather than offering information, but Elona was rather sharp and insistent. There were a number of ferals working in the club, each with the same binding sigil tattooed behind their ear. None of them dared speak outside of the bare essentials, and the other magicians treated them like shit.
Elona noticed me watching the ferals.
“They’re a rather good price, if you’re looking for something to do menial work for you,” she said.
I fought back the desire to point out they were people and smiled leaning forward a little to show my interest.
“Oh? I had thought they were… difficult,” I said.
She laughed.
“That’s part of the fun, darling. Breaking their spirits and remaking them exactly as you want them. Orin, the owner of this bar, has been far too soft on the beasts here. He refuses to let me solve that little problem, though. You can have one of your own for as little as six thousand. Of course, that will be a scrawny vicious little thing. The prettier, more obedient ones cost quite a bit more,” she said.
“I’ll give it some thought,” I said.
Feeling uncomfortable and ready to be done with their company, I made a show of noticing the clock and bid my goodbyes. Of course, I’d known that slavery was a thing and ferals were a common target of such a thing. I hadn’t, however, expected to have my fellows speak so openly about it. I’d never thought of myself as naïve, but I was being dragged into a dark world I wanted nothing of. Ignorance truly was bliss.
8
My mind turned to Keirn on the walk home. I’d planned on telling him about the tattoo club, knowing that he’d roll his eyes and laugh at them. The memories of Caiden’s words and the night before came forward. I loved Keirn. I needed to tell him as much. Caiden was right, I couldn’t allow things to continue as they were. It wasn’t fair to anyone involved.
Good fortune meant that no one but Keirn was in the flat when I returned. Everyone else was out in the city somewhere. The last thing I needed was them snickering at my discomfort.
I felt like a little boy. My chest had gone tight, and I found myself worrying my bottom lip as I obsessed over what I had to do. How could something so simple be so terrifying? What was wrong with me? I put my shoulders back and plastered a smile on my face. Fake it ‘til you make it. Wasn’t there some theory out there that said if you act confident you’ll feel confident? I walked the short distance to Keirn’s art room and still wasn’t feeling very confident. If anything, the panic was rising as I wondered, what if Caiden was wrong? What would happen then? Keirn was my oldest and closest friend. I couldn’t lo
se him.
“Stop hovering, Dacian, what do you want?” Keirn called out from the darkness.
I broadened my smile, but it felt like there were too many teeth. Fuck, why was this so difficult?
“Can we talk?” I asked, my voice sounding so tinny, so weak.
Keirn moved with all the grace that I’d come to associate with him, fluid motions that I couldn’t help but watch and admire. I really was in love with him. I didn’t know how I’d missed it for so long. It hung over his head like a huge neon sign as I looked into his beautiful silver eyes and finally smiled a genuine smile.
He took my hand, his slender fingers soft and familiar around my own.
“Come in,” he said softly.
No one other than Vyx had ever been allowed into his art room before. It felt like walking into a treasure vault. A forbidden paradise. The only light was a scattering of moonlight orbs that hung overhead, shining soft silver light over the room. My heart was pounding in my chest. I tried to focus on the details around me to take the edge off. It was just an art room, nothing to panic over. The line between Keirn and Vyx’s halves was crystal clear. Keirn’s half was immaculately organised, every canvas, paint, and brush in a clearly designated spot. Every line was straight, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. It was a wonderful reflection of him, his perfection and dedication to everything he did. I swallowed down my fear and glanced around further, hoping to find some calm buried in a corner somewhere.
The other half of the room, however, was chaotic. Brushes dangled from ribbons, canvases sprawled across lopsided shelves, and paints were scattered everywhere. I took a step closer. Something about the room enchanted me. When I really looked, I could visualise Vyx working there, her dance-like motions, her limbs moving in sweeping arcs. It wasn’t chaotic, it just allowed her the freedom to be herself. The brushes were perfectly placed to allow her to stretch, spin, and flutter as seemed fitting to her. A small part of me was envious of her space within that room, the time she spent alone with Keirn when he was at his most vulnerable. What I wouldn’t give to be there as he created his art.
Keirn pulled me out of the moment. The panic began to rise as I remembered why I was there. I shoved my hands down into my pockets and tried to look him in the eye.
“Dacian, what’s wrong?” he asked, his hand on my face.
I leaned into his touch as he had done mine so many times previous.
I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It was like doing a shot: best to get it done quickly. No overthinking it.
I placed my hand on his cheek and ran my thumb over his cheekbone, “I… I love you, Keirn. I think I’ve always loved you, but I’ve been too scared to admit it. You’re my other half. I’d be lost without you. Oh gods, please say I didn’t fuck this up. Please say-”
He kissed me tenderly, his fingers stroking down the back of my neck as he soothed the tension away.
“I’ve been in love with you since college. I hoped… I hoped that in time you would open up. It hurt watching you with Isa. I couldn’t touch you, I felt as though I’d lose you,” his words tumbled out.
I pulled him to me and wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his hair.
“I’m sorry old friend, I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
“Am I still your friend?” he asked, pulling away from me.
I choked, “I… I want more, did I fuck up?”
He laughed.
“Then why did you call me ‘old friend?’” he said, grinning at me like a fool.
I frowned and put my hands back in my pockets. The cougars made affection and feelings look so fucking easy.
“What else should I call you? Lover? Darling? Snowy?”
He laughed so hard tears streamed down his face.
“Not Snowy, by the gods above and below, not Snowy,” he said through the laughter.
I finally began to relax. He wiped away his tears and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“I love you, Dacian Corbeaux. You’re a blind fool sometimes, but I am proud to finally call you mine,” he said with a broad smile.
I felt as though a physical weight had lifted.
“So, er… how’re the paintings?”
He kissed my jaw and turned to gesture at the painting on easel nearest us. His arm remained around my waist holding him close. I took comfort in his presence. He was my other half.
“Vyx was kind enough to give me some alchemical paints. They contain pieces of substances that give the paints a truly three-dimensional effect.” He gestured at the slivers of silver in the top corner; they were so vivid that it almost seemed he put his hand through them. “This paint has moonbeams within it, whereas this one has wisps of mist in it.” He pointed to the ethereal white dusting in the centre of the painting.
I leaned in closer looking at the details. He had used small lines and touches of the alchemical paints to draw the eye to certain parts of the painting, to make them leap off the canvas and tell a story. A flood of pride filled me. His art was stunning. The painting before me told a story of shards of light cutting through the darkness. To me, it spoke of passion and strength driving through the depression that comes with loss. I was truly blessed in my elf. It had taken me too long to realise it, but I wouldn’t be without him.
9
Vyx returned from her artists meet-up in a buoyant mood. She practically danced through the living space. She stopped and looked between Keirn and me, with Keirn’s head nestled against my neck.
“Something changed between you two,” she said as she walked around the sofa to get a better look at us.
She narrowed her eyes and looked at Keirn’s hand entwined with mine.
“You have the same goofy smile on your face that the cougars get…”
I laughed and brushed my thumb over the back of Keirn’s hand. It didn’t quite feel real. We’d cuddled on the couch hundreds of times, but it was different.
“Have you finally got together?” she said crossing her arms.
“What do you mean ‘finally’?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes.
“We had bets on when you’d finally come to realise that Keirn’s madly in love with you. Did someone say something to you?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.
I shrugged. “Caiden may have given me a push.”
Keirn brushed his lips along my jawline and said, “And I’m glad of it.”
Butterflies formed in the pit of my stomach. He was mine. The invisible weight I hadn’t realised I’d been carrying had lifted and left me feeling better than I had in a long time.
“Oh, he would,” Vyx said, pulling me back to the moment and throwing her hands up.
“He bet that you’d come out with it this week. You could have waited until Monday, that was when I bet on.”
“Good to see you’re happy for us, little vixen,” I said with a good humoured smile.
She beamed at us. “Oh I am, I really am. You’re glowing. It’s a little sickening, but I’m happy for you. I’ll have words with Caiden, though, he cheated.”
“How did he cheat?” Shadow asked from somewhere behind me.
“Apparently, he gave Dacian a push,” Vyx said.
One of the cougars made a barking coughing sound that I think was a laugh.
“About time, too,” Luka said.
None of them seemed at all surprised by the development. It felt as though my entire world had shifted, and they were more concerned with bets. I reveled in the sensation of Keirn’s skin again mine and steady rhythm of his breathing. He was everything I’d dreamt of, and he’d been right there the whole time. What a fool I’d been.
“Speaking of about time, we heard you finally stopped by the tattooists’ club today,” Luka said.
Keirn looked up at me. The worry lines had formed around his eyes. I wanted to brush them away and make sure they never returned.
“Yea, I was given instructions to make myself known there,” I said with a small shrug.
“They’re not good people there. They’re the elite assholes who look down on those like us,” Keirn said.
“So I noticed, but as people keep reminding me, I work for Fein now, and he told me to make myself known there,” I said, finding myself torn between wanting to soothe Keirn and bitch about the situation I’d been put in.
“How did it go?” Shadow asked.
I shrugged. “I spoke to a few people. I’ll go back tomorrow. I can’t say I appreciated how they treated the ferals.”
Vyx bared her teeth.
“We’re viewed as mutts to be beaten and used as superior beings deem fit,” she spat.
I didn’t know what to say. There was no denying what she’d said. It was well known that ferals were deemed to be inferior, that they didn’t fit into either the magical or non-magical communities. They had been pushed out of both, and thus lived short lives on the streets. The woman’s words and clear joy in ‘breaking’ the ferals in her employ came back to mind. I dreaded to think what the poor bastards had been put through.
“Fein is aware, he’s trying to make things better. That is what we’re doing right now, and why we were attacked by a dreamwalker,” Luka said calmly.
Vyx nodded and calmed herself. Her canines remained slightly on show, revealing her agitation.
“I have some new paints I’m going to play with. I’ll be out for dinner,” she said.
“What happened to you two?” I asked the cougars.
They were usually pristine in their grooming. They were felines, after all. Yet their clothes were mussed and their hair was ruffled, and it didn’t look like it had come from their enthusiastic marital activities.
“We were trying to track down the dreamwalker that dared attack us. It seems there’s a small faction within the criminal world that feel this is a good time to challenge Fein, and thus us,” Luka growled.
He flopped down into his armchair while Shadow went into the kitchen area.
“The ferals are all riled up, too. Someone’s been taking their cubs. More than usual, that is. It’s not unheard of for ferals to sell their cubs on to slavers. They tend to breed prolifically, quite often having litters like their animal sides. Selling the less useful ones on gives them enough money to support the rest while they grow. Apparently, someone has been outright stealing the cubs, though. A number of ferals decided we were the people to take that little problem out on,” Luka said.
