18
“Victoire?”
Beyond Tristan gaping at me, deep blue eyes wide and pulsing red, I saw the grand lobby of an opera house, complete with chandeliers, liveried waiters carrying silver trays loaded with amuse bouche, ladies wearing princess dresses and their hair piled sky-high on top of their heads. A string quartet. The carpet was a deep burgundy and two inches thick under my sneaker-wearing feet.
Not really my scene. I was wearing a farmer friend’s mom jeans and sweater, with no T-shirt on and no socks. For all my insensitivity to social conventions, I was feeling a tad underdressed.
“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked me.
“Where are we?”
“We’re in my realm, of course,” Dora supplied with a condescending smile. “Having fun. Please join us.”
Tristan frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but then he changed his mind.
“Thank you so much for the kind invitation, Dora,” I said, honey in my tone, “but I’m in a hurry. I have band practice. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions.”
Dora’s perfect dark eyebrows shot up, so that the mesmerizing make-up on her eyebrows sparkled. She was wearing a very dramatic black bustier dress in black velvet with elbow length black silk gloves and a silver ornament in her hair, representing a canid of some sort, maybe a fox or a jackal, come to think of it. She didn’t look as outdated as the rest of her guests. Maybe she spent more time in our world than they did, what with her hitwoman activities and all.
“I’m a little busy at the moment,” she said unctuously, showing me the crowd with a side glance and a smile of apology. “As you can see, I have guests. You will have to come back later.”
“I’m sorry, but it can’t wait. I need to know what’s in the boxes and who paid you to deliver them to me.”
Dora laughed.
“Wow, you are direct.”
Tristan’s eyes were huge right now, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that his NDA charm definitely wasn’t working at all.
“I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” I told Dora.
“Unfortunately, my dear, I can’t answer your questions. I never divulge the identity of my clients. It would be very bad for business.”
“Sure,” I snorted. “You know what else would be bad for business? Me telling everyone that your disguises don’t work and that your assistant is a wimp.”
Dora narrowed her dark eyes.
“You wouldn’t dare put me in such a position.”
“I’m merely suggesting a mutual show of goodwill,” I said, shrugging benevolently.
A waiter in livery approached, chestnut hair slicked back, carrying champagne glasses on an engraved silver tray. Dora shooed him away with an exasperated flick of her wrist. Before she could talk again, Tristan cut in.
“Dora, may I borrow Victoire for a moment?”
He wasn’t asking me. He was asking her. She sighed.
“Yes, if you could talk some sense into your pet, it would be great.”
Tristan grabbed my arm to pull me away from the hostess. His skin was warm. I shook him loose.
“Stop manhandling me!”
He dropped it immediately.
“What are you doing here, Victoire?”
He seemed to be past his initial surprise and looked really angry now.
“Do you have any idea what kind of problems you’re getting yourself into? You just showed Dora that you can come here by yourself as you please, which by the way should have been impossible, and then you rubbed her nose in the fact that you’re impervious to her illusions? And the way you talk about business. Are you crazy or just plain stupid? Now she’ll either think I’ve told you too much, which I have, or that I’ve been negligent with the freedom I’ve left you, which I haven’t.”
He was starting to really annoy me.
“It is not your place to leave me any freedom. You’re not the boss of me!”
Although, yes, technically, he was, just not here, not in that sense. But he wasn’t finished.
“And Dora could get to another, even worse, conclusion,” he hissed, “which is, not only can you see through our disguise, but you’re impervious to our charms.”
And by that, he didn’t mean the way he looked in a very nice tux.
But was I? Was I really immune?
“This is not good at all,” he went on, eyebrows furrowed. “If, or rather when, she comes to understand this, you will be in great danger.”
“I may already be in great danger,” I objected. “I thought you said these boxes were bad news.”
“They are. Yet you come here uninvited and you provoke Dora, who is the only valid lead that we have,” he spat. “You’re only making things worse. I wish you would understand that.”
“Maybe I am stupid,” I said, crossing my arms.
Because that comment had stung.
“And I didn’t come here to provoke her,” I added. “I’m just trying to make sense of everything.”
“I really wish you’d have left it all to me to sort out,” Tristan complained.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Is this why you’re here? Were you making any progress before I arrived?”
“It is why I’m here, and yes, I believe I was making progress. Dora and I were going to come to an agreement. Eventually.”
I rolled my eyes. “But this is my life we’re talking about. I need to be part of the agreement. Don’t you see that?”
I knew what they were. They were all snobs.
“What is going on with you, Tristan? Two days ago, you were a normal dude opening a bar, suitably shady and competent. Now I don’t recognize you.”
But I had been stupid. I could see through his material disguises, but that didn’t mean I could see the real him. Of course we didn’t know each other at all. I didn’t understand the first thing about him, and he didn’t know anything about me, either, or what I could do. Nobody knew that, and I certainly didn’t.
“Now is not the right time to discuss our relationship, whatever it may be,” Tristan said. He sounded aggravated.
“Very true.”
I just needed my answers, and then, I was going back to band practice with my mates.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he said, pinching his nose. “I’m telling Dora that everything is my fault. We need to make her believe that I’m in control of you and of the situation, even though we both know, you and me, that it’s not true.”
I thought about it.
“You want to deceive her because we’ll get better results that way?” I asked.
I was still angry at him, but for the sake of efficiency, I could get on board with that plan.
Tristan nodded. “Better if she thinks I’m the boss and you’re just a pet, even if it’s not the case at all. We want her to underestimate us both, you, because you’re a human with a quirk and too much attitude, and me, because you make me weak.”
I startled. “Is that true?”
“That’s irrelevant. It’s the official story. I thought about using a binding charm on you, but I didn’t get through, because I like it when you talk back—I find it endearing. This is what I’ll tell her. But tonight, I’m taking actions, because you’ve been too rude, and now you’ve crossed a threshold.”
“Is that how you guys normally treat humans? Like pets? And are you not human?”
I was learning things a mile a minute, unpleasant things.
“I want nothing to do with your world, Tristan. I’m quitting. I’m sending the boxes back. Let’s forget about the whole sorry affair. We’ll be moving out tonight, the boys and I.” I bet Elise would let us crash at her place. “You and I part ways but remain friends. You can tell Dora that.”
He puffed his cheeks and rolled his eyes.
“Not possible. If you think Dora will let this go, you are kidding yourself. Even if you hadn’t shown up here like that, she would never have taken those boxes back. Most likely s
he can’t. She’s just doing her job. She’s probably bound by a contract with her client, with very tricky compensation clauses in case she doesn’t deliver. We need to take this to the next level, to her client, and you can’t do it on your own. You need me.”
He huffed again.
“And this frustrating conversation is taking way too much time and energy. Please, just do what I told you, and let’s both get away from this place before things get ugly. Can you swallow your ridiculous pride for a second and let me do the talking?”
I considered the question and then had to admit it.
“Not likely.”
He laughed, although it was clear he was pretty annoyed.
“Okay. Then I’m sending you back.”
He touched my forehead with a very hot palm. He seemed to be cold in my world and warm in his. Another oddity.
“Close your eyes if you don’t want to throw up. I suggest you listen. We have enough to do before the bar opens without scrubbing vomit off the floor.”
I opened my mouth to tell him 1) to go screw himself and 2) not to send me to the barn, because my car was in Moulins. But I didn’t have time to talk. He sighed and flicked me on the forehead.
I tried protesting, “Owww w w w w w w,” but the sound became distorted as did the space around me, and Dora’s luxurious party blurred into a swirl of colors and glitter.
19
Things reassembled themselves around and above me, in much quicker order than my organs did. I hit the terracotta-tiled floor of the Victory Bar’s antechamber on all fours. My stomach gurgled atrociously, and I threw up on the carpet.
I was mid-retch when the door opened in front of me, and Sam exclaimed from inside the bar, “I told you I’d heard something!”
“Victoire! Are you okay?” Linus’s voice.
I tried to answer him but only choked more.
“Did you drink and drive?” Thom said. “With my car? Not cool.”
It was another minute before I stopped being sick. Linus had shooed the other two away and he’d brought me a glass of water. He waited patiently until I was okay again and even cleaned my mess for me.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of it.”
He led me out of the antechamber and to a table in the main room. He watched me drink and try to compose myself. I felt completely out of sorts. Part of it was violently teleporting for the second time in less than an hour, I suspected, or whatever had just happened to me. But a good deal of how upset I was had to do with the disappointment of discovering more and more nasty things about Tristan and his twisted world.
I didn’t know why I cared so much. It was as he’d said: we were linked in some bizarre way. Events had thrown us together, and I needed to make the best of it, but it was all so confusing.
“Are you all right, Vic?” Linus asked.
I thought about it.
“More or less.”
Things were starting to make sense. The job, the weird dresses. For people like Tristan, people like me—humans—were merely pets, to be taken care of and disciplined. I felt a bout of nausea rising again.
“You can talk to me if you want,” Linus added.
“I know.”
And probably, I could really tell him everything, since Tristan’s charm wasn’t working. Except I didn’t think it would be a very good idea. Probably it would only serve to drag Linus into this whole mess, and then who knew what kind of danger he would be in? This was my best friend in the whole world, not only my bandmate but someone I trusted completely and could normally talk to. And yet, for the first time, I wasn’t spilling my guts.
At least, not in that sense.
I took his hand with my clammy fingers and gave it a squeeze.
“Thank you for being such a good friend.”
“You’re welcome. Love you.”
Sam, on the other hand, was getting restless.
“Who’s ready to make some music? We already plugged everything on the stage for the heck of it. Weren’t we supposed to try and do a sound check this week?”
We were, and we hadn’t. I found I was ready for some music; in fact, I needed it very much. Despite still feeling queasy, I got up on my feet and shook my arms to loosen up. I blew a few raspberries and did a few warm up exercises, and there we went.
Even though I felt discombobulated at first, we gave a very good performance, and not only because of the wonderful new instruments. The scene at the Victory Bar might really be an enchanted place, and having it to ourselves was magical, too. The acoustics were really good, and being the first to walk the pristine new stage, with its soft gleaming wood, felt like an incredible privilege.
First, for warmup, we played the covers we’d selected for our opening gig, and then, once awake and nimble, we slid into our own compositions. It was like flying. Each new song seemed to invoke the rich and complex feelings that had led to it, giving them a body here on the stage, so that they could dance with us under the spotlights for a dark room full of friendly ghosts. We didn’t even have to speak between two songs.
We were playing the last one I’d composed just before the house fire when I felt Tristan enter the building. He’d come straight back from Dora’s party, and he was bone tired, somewhat pessimistic, and eager to go home.
Wait. How could I know all that? How could I even feel him come in without seeing him with my eyes? Talk about eerie stuff.
Weirded out, I’d missed the start of the chorus and caught up without grace, just going “la la la” and dancing goofily to make up for my mistake. But it was too late, and the moment had passed. Our song crumbled before dissolving into nothingness, and I lost the reading on Tristan, until I wasn’t even sure he’d been there at all.
The sound of footsteps in the dark room soon confirmed it, though. A few more seconds and the lights were up at the bar, dissipating the last threads of the musical enchantment.
“I see you guys are back on track,” Tristan called in his flamboyant Circus Manager Voice.
I blinked. He was wearing a curly pink wig, a double-breasted vest covered in golden sequins, and brown pants in a houndstooth pattern. With bell-bottoms. I exchanged a glance with Linus and silently voiced my amazement.
Holy Larsen!
And how was I seeing that now, when a second ago I’d felt like I could read his mind from across the room and through a wall? And when I knew perfectly well that he was wearing a very fine tux—wasn’t he? Things between us were getting weirder by the minute.
I was the first to jump from the stage. I wanted to know how the negotiations had gone with Dora. By the time I arrived near the bar, Tristan was pouring himself a very hefty dose of whisky.
“Tristan, are you okay?”
Not even pausing to sit down, he downed the glass in two big gulps before setting it back on the smooth, golden bar. His head was down, and I had to bend over the bar to catch a sight of his face behind the improbable pink locks.
“Tris?”
His eyes flashed to mine, red light filtering through deep sea blue. He drew himself up and smiled.
“That last song was great, right before you botched it,” he said.
“I know,” Thom agreed before hoisting himself up into a high bar stool next to us. “I feel like it’s our best so far.”
He looked very pleased with himself. Tristan took out four other glasses and filled them all with liquor for us.
“Well, in that case, let’s drink to that.”
Linus looked at me, probably because I’d been sick a while earlier, but I knocked down my drink just like everyone else, whereas Tristan immediately went for seconds. He was clearly trying to get drunk.
“So,” Thom asked, “is everything else ready for the big night?”
Tristan nodded and proceeded to check every item off the to-do list.
“Invites have been sent, the press is coming, we’re stocked, and the caterer is in the starting blocks. And from what I just heard, we’ll have fin
e entertainment,” he chanted in his big manager voice. “By the way, I want you to play your own songs. No covers. I’ve invited industry people. Maybe they’ll even come.”
I didn’t ask which world those “industry people” would be coming from—his or ours. I just bit my lip and smiled politely.
“What’s the dress code?” Thom asked. “Not that we have a lot of stuff that we can wear. And obviously, we wouldn’t be doing more than nodding in the right direction. We’re a rock ’n’ roll band. We obey no one.”
He was back in pretend band leader mode, and for once, I loved him for it.
“No dress code,” Tristan said.
“Good,” I approved.
The white canvas bags with the dresses were still on the bar, and we all looked at them.
“No, those are for other social events in the future,” Tristan said cryptically.
I could feel Linus looking at me, trying to get me to look back, but I absolutely didn’t want to have that exchange. Was Tristan planning my life as an overdressed pet in a mysterious realm? If so, he was kidding himself. I was an artist, not a pet human.
It was two o’clock in the morning now, and the guys were going back to work the next day. They all went to bed one by one, and I remained alone with Tristan.
“How did it go?” I whispered as soon as Linus had disappeared behind the stage.
“Good, good,” Tristan said.
He looked very tired now. His disguise was starting to fade, as if peeling away. His hair was getting shorter, thicker, and darker. The sequins on his ludicrous vest had all but vanished.
“Did Dora tell you who had sent the boxes?”
“Yes.”
“So? Who is behind this? And what do they want with me?”
“I don’t know what they want, because Dora herself doesn’t know it. She just delivered the boxes. She doesn’t know what’s in them, either. She just got paid an insane amount of money to make sure you open them. She has until dawn, thirty-odd hours from now, to get you to do so. If she doesn’t, she will lose a great deal of money and worse. Let’s say, this client isn’t one she can afford to anger in any way.”
Gah, enough with the mysteries already.
Moonlight Binding Magic Page 10
