“Close.” Her fingers slide over my lips. “Niall. Niall Clark. He’s here.”
A laugh bubbles out of me, mostly nerves.
A head of blond curls tumbles out of Fray’s bedroom, squealing. He sways on his feet, dangerously close to the staircase, and I dart forward automatically to steady him. He looks at me with wonder.
I step back, self-conscious all at once. This is Fray’s oldest and closest friend. What if he hates me?
He sighs dreamily and I realise belatedly that he’s in no fit state to judge me either positively or negatively. I’ll be surprised if he can see straight.
“My sister … is horrible,” he whines. “She’s not my sister.”
Fray makes a sad face. “Then who is she?”
“Wrong. She’s wrong.” Niall slides down the wall. He curls into a ball on the carpet and he’s snoring within seconds.
Said sister peers out of the bedroom, her eyes shrewd and not, as I’d expected, clouded by alcohol. Unlike Fray and Niall, she’s sober. She looks right through me, fixing on Fray. “Where did you go?”
“I went here,” Fray answers helpfully. She gazes up at me with wide, honest eyes. “Are you staying?”
In a house where two thirds of the occupants are drunk and I feel more out of place by the millisecond? “I have to get home. Minnie’s expecting me.” She isn’t, but I’m too cowardly to stay here with strangers.
Fray doesn’t protest. As I’m walking through the back door she pulls me into a hug. She smells like the sharp tang of alcohol and the honey-spice smell that’s all her.
“I’ll call you, okay?” I say. She smiles, watching me in a way that makes my insides writhe. “I’m … I’m going to go, Fray.”
I hurry to my bike as fast as my legs will carry me, more than a little scared. It could just be the drink but she looked at me as if she cared for me. As if she didn’t just like me, but had feelings for me—which is crazy. It’s not even two months since we met, and we only started spending time together two weeks ago. We’re just friends.
Minnie’s predictions flash through my mind as I cycle away. I don’t dare to look back.
TWENTY TWO
THE SISTER
I don’t see Fray for four days, but she calls me every day to chronicle her hectic life. One night she sits on her back step, stressed to the point of tears about how little time she has until her college deadline. I let her talk it out, listening. By the end of the call she’s back to her stubborn, iron-willed self.
Another night she phones from a club, a noisy band in the background. The singer screeches and the music blends into one continuous angry note, but Fray sounds happy so I try to be enthusiastic.
Tonight Fray’s waiting for me on her back step, wrapped up in a sequined shawl. I’m not sure if her friends are listening, so I slip the talisman over my head to ask if she’s okay.
No. She chews her lip. I feel tired all the time. I have no energy to do anything. I feel weird, Yasmin.
I hug her, partly to comfort her but also because I selfishly want Fray in my arms. I know I’m getting attached to her but I don’t have the will to fight it. It’ll be alright. On Monday your work will be done, won’t it?
Yeah. I’ll be better on Monday.
I asked Mavers to look for records of you, I think, releasing her. She sways a little towards me.
Did he find anything?
No, sorry. There’s nothing in any of his archives.
I guess we knew that. She sounds resigned. I want to give her hope but I don’t have any. Well that confirms it. I’m completely human. Nothing special after all.
I look at the darkening sky and say, You’re special to me. Sorry if that’s cliché.
Thanks. She smiles at the ground. You’re special to me too. Even if you are cheesy and unoriginal.
“Harsh,” I whisper, unable to keep a straight face. She laughs, taking my hand.
We go into the warm sanctuary of her kitchen. My heart picks up when I realise we’re holding hands. She releases me to close the door and I expel everything in my lungs.
Before I put the talisman back in place, I say, Mavers says there’s one option left, if you’re really desperate for answers. We could ask a Numen.
Fray shakes her head furiously. I told her about Numina—the bloodshed and deaths they’re responsible for. No wonder she looks like contacting a Numen is the last thing she wants to do.
We don’t have to, I assure her. I don’t want to either, but it’s an option.
She presses herself against me, winding her arms around my waist. I never want to contact a Numina.
A Numen, I correct. Are you exploiting your fear to get hugs from me?
Yes.
You’re shameless.
I know.
I flinch at movement in the corner of my vision and detach myself from Fray.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” says Niall. “You looked cute.”
Fray glares at him, her cheeks turning pink. “Sorry, Yasmin. He’s always this annoying.”
“And she’s always this lovely.” He taps Fray’s nose on his way to the fridge.
His sister saunters into the room, all big hair, scarlet lips, and effortless poise. She frowns at me and I narrow my eyes at her. The Crea moon is over a week away but the beast isn’t opposed to a fight. “Who are you?” Her voice wraps around the question with obvious distaste.
Fray crosses her arms, clenches her jaw, and I wonder if she’s friends with Niall’s sister after all. “Don’t look at her like that, Miranda.”
Miranda shrugs and leaves the room.
“I can’t stand her,” Fray huffs. “Niall, I know she’s your sister but she’s a bitch.”
“Yeah ….” Niall scratches his head. “It’s a disease. Bitchitis.”
Fray snickers, lifting the tension.
There’s something about Miranda that doesn’t sit right with me. My hairs are standing on end and the beast is uncommonly nervy. I do the one thing I promised myself I’d never do: I invade someone’s mind without their permission. Harnessing my Psychic Majick, I search Miranda’s thoughts—and find nothing.
I bite my lip. There have been times before when I couldn’t read someone, so it’s not too worrying. But it’s frustrating. It’s even worse because Miranda looks at me like I’m dirt.
Ignore her, Fray thinks. And put your necklace back on. You don’t want to see my dream again.
No, I agree. I fasten the pendant around my throat, though I don’t want to lose my tether to Fray either.
“I should go,” I say out loud.
“No you shouldn’t.” Fray’s eyes beg me to stay, her mouth a sad curve.
My heart sinks, but I realise what she’s doing. “That won’t work on me.”
She sighs, “Okay.”
As I cross the threshold she presses her palm into mine, halting me. She leans forward on her toes and kisses my cheek, a tiny point of heat that spreads over my face. “Come back soon.”
I walk away in a daze.
TWENTY THREE
THE DREAM INVASION
I’m dreaming, but it’s not a normal dream. I know it the minute I wake up and find myself still inside it. I expect the hysteria of Fray’s dreams but there’s only calm.
“Yasmin Ex Venere,” says a rasping voice. The use of my Legendary name puts me on full alert.
A Numen in female form comes into view, willowy tall and haloed with silver curls. My eyes assess them for indications of their identity—they wear long, flowing trousers, a yellow cloak, and a thin band of gold around their head. But it’s the peacock that gives them away. Fastened to their cloak is a brooch of blue, green, and yellow gems set in a twisted metal peacock.
“You’re Juno,” I whisper.
They smile. They have the feel of someone in their forties—motherly and intimidating—but they don’t have a single wrinkle. “I am. I’m here to offer you guidance.”
“I don’t need guidance. I mean—thank
you.” I sink my teeth into my tongue, calling up every lesson I’ve had about dealing with Numina. Be grateful, be respectful, be awed. “I’m … honoured to meet you.”
“I preferred your honesty.” They sit on a marble bench that didn’t exist a second ago. “Unlike other Numina I won’t be flattered into kindness and mercy. I can decide whether you’re deserving of those things by my own judgement.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. They gesture for me to sit beside them so I do, warily. “What guidance are you here to give me?”
“Firstly, I’ll echo a warning you’ve already been given. Your mother has become involved in a quarrel. You should not draw attention to yourself or you may find yourself a target for those wishing to upset Venus.” They give me a wry look. “However you have done nothing but draw attention to yourself.”
I don’t want to give away how much that scares me but my breathing won’t slow.
“I’ve kept your current situation and location between me and Jupiter, however. We both agree that the other Numina need not know of you yet. You have a destiny, Yasmin Ex Venere, and though I do not approve of it, you deserve a chance to fulfil it.”
“What destiny?”
“If you think I’m going to inform you of something that is sworn to secrecy, you take me for a fool. Destinies are hidden until they are realised, I’m sure you know.”
“Sorry.”
They straighten the front of their robe. “You’re forgiven. Now, as protector and counsellor of the Legend Mirror, I have been tasked with setting you on the right path. You need not know your destiny, but it appears you won’t follow the route chosen for you without help.”
“What if I don’t want it?” I look at my hands, the bitten-down nails, the stubby fingers. I curl them into fists.
“I suppose I should tell you it is a great honour to receive a Legendary gesture, but I disagree with that notion. To have a destiny to follow is a burden. It will task you harder than anything before. It will challenge you to act a way you never would have imagined. But I guarantee one thing—it will be rewarding.”
“I don’t want rewards.”
A peal of laughter answers me. “Oh, Yasmin, you are naïve. It will be rewarding in the sense that you will accomplish something great, something no other Legendary could. It will change you, for the better.” They look at me in a way that keeps me quiet, as if they see something in me, something I don’t want to know. “Your Pure needs a protector, someone to bring her back to herself when she is most lost. You know the girl I mean?”
“Fray,” I murmur.
“Yes.”
“What is she?” I ask, cutting off something Juno was going to say. I feel dread but press on anyway. “Do you know what she is? Please.”
“No. I do not know, and nor does Jupiter. We see much, Yasmin, but not all. Whatever Fray is, or whatever she has the power to become—it is something we have missed, something that seemed unimportant at the time. She is Pure but Majickal. An impossibility.”
“Is that my destiny? Am I supposed to find out what she is? How she has Majick?”
“No, your destiny affects more than one girl.” They incline their head towards me. “I do see much about you and the girl, however. You are linked by your Majick and hers. I foresee a great love, Yasmin. One that could free you.”
I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to think about love. The truth is that love—being bound to someone by your heart and soul and thoughts and needs—terrifies me. My life has conditioned me to expect to lose people. I can’t love someone, and I cannot have someone love me, because there will be no way out for me if I do.
There’ll be no way to escape the pain, the longing in my heart, the affliction of being without them.
I know this because I let myself love my brother and then I lost him. I let myself hope that after two meetings with my mother she’d want me, that she’d realise her mistake in stranding me on Earth, that she’d take me to the Legend Mirror and be a mum to me, but I never saw her again.
I will not make the same mistake three times. Loving Venus was a mistake, loving Guy was a travesty, and loving Fray will ruin me.
I jerk away from Juno with the ferocity of the Manticore and I come awake gasping in the familiarity of my flat.
I stay awake all night, and at some point I realise I pulled myself out of a dream with a Numen. I shouldn’t have been able to do that.
Heart beating wildly, I find a crack in the wall and trace its veins and capillaries until I’m lulled back to sleep.
TWENTY FOUR
THE MATRONALIA PARTY
Minnie and Amity have sent me a box of dresses.
I’ve tried on three dresses and none of them look right. A gold that compliments my skin tone is too puffy, a crimson dress is too sleek and clingy, and an elegant chiffon grey makes me look ashen. The fourth is a deep green with accents of silver around the neckline and lace sleeves. It’s a little too long but the bodice sits comfortably against my stomach and gives the impression I actually have a bosom. It also shows the pale feather-shaped mark I have above my collarbone. The mark of a Dei.
I suffer the extra skirt for the sake of vanity.
I don’t bother wearing extravagant make up because it looks ridiculous on me. I just cover the uneven skin of my cheeks and the shadows under my eyes with concealer.
I look better than I did when I started.
The only thing that doesn’t go with the dress is my talisman. The marble keeps falling down my cleavage and it’s uncomfortable. I hunt for a ribbon to make it a choker but of course I don’t have one. Fray’s already at the door. I hear her shuffling before taking a deep breath and knocking. I take off the necklace and replace it with a twisted silver chain that shimmers in the light.
Fray is a ray of sunlight made human. Her eyes are lucent, the gold vines of her irises brought out by yellow eye shadow, and her face glitters. She wears a ruffled white blouse and a mustard coloured skirt with big purple flowers; it spins in a circle when she twirls.
All the tightness in my chest caused by Juno’s dream dissipates when I see her.
“Do I look okay?” she asks.
“Yes. Very pretty—I mean, very okay.” I duck my head.
“You look very okay, too.”
I lock the door behind us, flattered and more aware of Fray than I ever remember being.
Fray drives us to the party and I give directions.
She gawps at the Academy, clambering out of the car to get a better look. The red-brick gothic monstrosity is lit up by bright amber lights, and paper lanterns are strung from the gateway to the courtyard.
The cold pricks goose bumps along my collarbone.
Fray stands beside me. “What do we do now?”
I send a quick message to Guy, letting him know we’re here. “Now we wait for my brother.”
Fray huddles closer as we wait.
Guy strolls down the driveway two minutes later and tosses a ring to Fray who does well to catch it in the half-dark. She studies it, running her thumb over the engraved metal. It’s infused with a little of Guy’s Akasha—the same Majick that runs in the Ward—to let her pass. She puts it on her index finger and I take her hand, guiding her onto Academy grounds. As soon as she’s clear I let go of her fingers, unsure if touching her is okay. I don’t want to accidentally pressure Fray into something she doesn’t want.
Guy marches up the driveway, rubbing his arms to keep warm. He steals a look at Fray. “Keep the ring. You never know when you might come back.”
The party is already unbearable by the time we get there. Harriet is running around with party poppers, unleashing them on anyone unfortunate enough to catch her eye. She shrieks with joy, sprinting away before Vic can retaliate with Aqua.
“So this is the Red,” Fray breathes. I glance down at her, expecting fear but finding wonder. She breaks into a grin. “They’re not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Vic sidles up to us, a pretty
redhead on his arm.
“Um. Warriors?”
Vic chuckles. I introduce them to each other and find out Vic’s companion is called Alice. He thrills at being able to introduce her as his girlfriend.
“Vic!” Mavers yells from the direction of the kitchen. “The sink’s frozen.”
Vic heaves a theatrical sigh and tips an imaginary hat. “Ladies. My skills are needed.”
Alice laughs indulgently. As Vic leads her away, a hand on her elbow, Fray nudges me. “What are his skills?” She has the crazy glint in her eye that means she’s craving information.
“Aqua. He can control water.”
“Watch it!” Vic snaps when Rowan comes barrelling into the living room. Vic tucks Alice under his arm and she brings her white cane down on Rowan’s foot as he’s passing. He swears cruelly, rounding on Alice, but he balks at her unfocused stare.
“I’m sorry,” Alice says pleasantly. “I didn’t see you there.”
“That’s—no worries.” Rowan scurries away.
I bite down on a grin. Fray elbows me.
Glimpsing Minnie going into the dining room, I weave around the Hannam sisters, Fray at my back.
“Don’t drink the orange juice,” Minnie warns when she spots us. “Fearne put vodka in it.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
Fray points to Minnie’s glass. “Why are you drinking the orange juice?”
“I did say there was vodka in it ….”
“Minnie,” I chastise.
Her answering grin is devilish. “It’s Matronalia. I’m allowed.”
“Did Mavers okay this?”
“Wow.” Min blinks. “Killjoy.”
“He did,” Harriet says, bringing a platter of snacks to the table. “The only one not allowed is me, and I don’t really care.”
“That,”—Minnie gestures with the glass—“is because you’re a baby.”
Harriet ignores her, talking instead to Fray. “I’m Harrie. Don’t worry, I know who you are. Minnie’s told everyone about you.”
“Oh.”
Min jostles Harrie. “It was mostly things you’d approve of, I promise.”
“Mostly?”
“There might have been an analysis of yours and Yasmin’s sexual tension.”
I bare my teeth half-heartedly. Min ducks out of the room, faking a scared expression.
Harriet starts after her. “I’m gonna help Mavers set up the fireworks.”
The Beast of Callaire Page 11
