Spinning Into Gold

by Emma Savant

  He touched a small cluster of yellow flowers. I jumped as they seemed to explode under his hand. The blossoms fluttered up, flapping their wings—not blossoms, then, but butterflies that gave off a sweet scent as they flew around me in a flickering yellow cloud.

  “This is too freakin’ cool.”

  “It’s brilliant,” he said. “And you haven’t even had the tea yet.”

  It was too pretty to just sit. I wandered around the rooftop, looking at the plants and enjoying the view of the garden below and the city around us. Clarence walked beside me, matching his strides to mine.

  After a while, a woman about my age stepped out onto the roof. Clarence took my hand and led me to a table. I sat carefully on one of the spun glass chairs while the woman approached.

  “Welcome,” she said. “I’m Cassia and I’ll be serving you today.”

  She handed us menus on thick, cream-colored paper. Each tea had a name and a description below it.

  “These make about as much sense as wine descriptions,” I said under my breath to Clarence. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “I’m happy to answer any questions,” Cassia said. “I can also provide recommendations, or bring you a sampler tray.”

  “Do you mind if I order for us?” Clarence said. “There are two I especially like. I figure you can try them both and keep the one you like best.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” I said.

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. He turned to Cassia. “A Sea Pearl White and a Poison Apple Green.”

  “Poison?” I said.

  “It’s very safe,” Cassia said. She had the broad smile and enthusiastic voice of someone who really enjoyed her job. “It gets its name from a slight kick from Tree of Life apple peels that are blended with the green tea leaves and a hint of cinnamon bark.”

  “And the Sea Pearl?”

  “The name’s a misnomer,” she said. “It’s a white tea grown on the shores of a remote lake. The leaves are rolled into small pearls by freshwater mermaids. It’s mellow and quite fragrant.”

  “It’s delicious,” Clarence said.

  He ordered a side of steamed buns and lychee fruit, and then Cassia took our menus and left us. I became suddenly aware of how alone we were up here, and even more aware of how much I liked the shared solitude.

  Clarence leaned forward and propped his elbows on the glass table. It seemed delicate enough to shatter under his weight, but the surface held, and after a moment, I relaxed.

  “You’ve never performed for me,” he said.

  “I thought you’d looked me up on the JinxNet,” I said. “Or internet. The whole Cassidy tour was mostly Humdrums.”

  “Yeah, I’ve seen recordings,” he said. “But you’ve never performed for me.”

  He waited, smiling slightly, his dark eyes warming me up from the inside out. I hesitated.

  I didn’t hesitate to perform. I was Dior Miller. Performing was what I did.

  But his attention was so purely on me, and his face was so lit up with anticipation, that I couldn’t just jump up and run to the piano.

  And then I did jump up and run to the piano, because if I let him stare at me from so close for one more second the butterflies in my stomach were going to explode out of me and get me even more freaked out than I already was.

  I took a deep breath and sat down. My fingers found the keys and traced their smooth lines in silence for a moment. Though a piano had never told me as much, I always felt like it would be rude to just sit down and start pounding something out. I had to say hello first.

  I tested the keys, feeling their weight. It was a beautiful instrument, and it must have been protected with a handful of spells to keep its sound so well out in the open. Pianos were sensitive to temperature and humidity, but this one rang out like it had been carefully preserved in a concert hall for years.

  My fingers ran up and down in a few scales as I made friends with the keyboard, and then I was ready. I played the first few notes, chords that echoed down the keys in a circular pattern.

  “Every single morning when I wake up here without you I can feel you in the wrinkles on my bed,” I sang, the melody rhythmic and repetitive, the notes cascading down in a pattern and then rising only to fall again. It was a song that everyone loved best in the acoustic version. “I ask a million questions when I wake up on those mornings and you’re gone but won’t get outta my head.”

  The song took over, like songs always did, and I closed my eyes and let myself forget that Clarence was watching. I could feel his gaze on me, but the music wrapped me in a cloak and shielded me from taking on too much of his attention. My songs could do that; other times, they could blast away anything that stood between me and my audience and clear a space for us to truly connect with one another. Unlike every other place in life, here, I was in control, and the music did my bidding.

  “What did I do to disappoint you? What did I do that you just couldn’t forgive? What did I say to make you walk away? Why can’t we go back and relive?”

  The piano thundered through thick, dense chords, falling to shatter like glass on the floor. Then, a breathless pause, followed by the same light waterfall of notes from the beginning.

  “I’m asking all the questions and I’m missing all your answers and I feel you in the silence of this room. My brain could generate a million answers to my questions but hey, baby, I don’t wanna presume.”

  The song ended on a low note, promising more, hinting at a resolution that would never come. I let the last chord linger in the air, its vibration tremulous, and then I let out a huge sigh and opened my eyes.

  Clarence stared at me, mouth slightly open and eyes still too intense for comfort.

  “Damn,” Clarence said. “Who hurt you?”

  His face was so serious that I burst out laughing.

  “No one,” I said. I swiveled on the piano bench to face him. “Okay, confession time, and you absolutely can’t tell anyone this because it will kill my cool-girl image.”

  His eyebrows went up, interested.

  “So, you know the TV show Silver Willow?” I said.

  His mouth twitched. The show had been popular about five years ago among Glims. Emotional teenage Glims, in particular, who were generally into the brooding, uncommunicative romantic lead.

  “So, I may or may not have written a song at one point because I was feeling a certain degree of angst about some characters,” I said.

  Clarence choked back a laugh.

  “And I may or may not have written this song for my first album while nurturing a very intense crush on Leonard Amborella, who I realize is not actually the character of Raphael but sure looks like him, okay?”

  “I was imagining this really traumatic relationship,” he said.

  “Oh, it was,” I said. “Leonard just never knew about it.”

  Clarence looked way too entertained. I couldn’t help laughing, too. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous, and I liked feeling ridiculous around him.

  “I’m too busy making albums and touring to maintain that kind of drama,” I said. “My most meaningful relationship in life is with my pillow, which I travel with because I’m fussy about neck support.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” Clarence said. “Because of the singing. You’re really good, by the way.”

  “I know,” I said. “Does that sound really full of myself?”

  Of course it did. But Clarence smiled and shook his head.

  “It’s an accurate assessment,” he said. “You know your strengths. It’s a bit American, but it suits you.”

  “I’m also good at writing backwards in cursive and memorizing things,” I said.

  “If I ever need someone to copy down Da Vinci’s journals, I’ll call you,” he said.

  Cassia came back with our tea on a tray. Each of our drinks came in its own small teapot with a matching cup. She set the tray down on the table and set up our drinks and the dishes Clarence had ordered.

  �
�Enjoy your afternoon,” she said. “If you need anything, send a summoning spell down the stairs. It’ll find me.”

  Clarence poured tea from the two pots into the cups. The set for the Sea Pearl White was glossy and pale ivory, and the Poison Apple Green’s was dark green clay carved with delicate patterns.

  “Try a sip of each,” he said.

  “You’re not worried about my germs?”

  “I’m rather hoping to get better acquainted with your germs,” he said. His gaze lingered on my mouth, and I felt my skin grow almost hot enough to steam like the tea.

  I took a sip of each, pausing to let the various tastes and aftertastes play across my tongue. The Sea Pearl White was clean and bright, slightly bitter, with a hint of something that tasted almost like cucumber. The Poison Apple was Christmas in my mouth, as if someone had taken cider and diluted it down to a cinnamon-infused tea. She hadn’t been kidding about the Tree of Life apples, though; the spark from them hit me in the back of my throat and burned like liquid lightning all the way down.

  “I’m keeping this one,” I said, pulling the pot closer to me. “I might not sleep for a week, but I like it.”

  “I suspected you might,” Clarence said.

  My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

  August.

  I turned the phone off and put it back in my pocket.

  “So,” I said. “What other secret hideaways in Portland have you discovered?”

  Chapter 15

  I slicked hot pink polish over my baby toenail and held my foot out to admire it. I’d only smeared pink on the skin of two toes, which had to be a new record. Briana waved her wand over my foot and the smears dissolved as the polish dried instantly.

  “Give me your foot and I’ll do your big toe,” she said.

  I nestled it in her lap and she leaned over, carefully painting white polka dots and stripes.

  “It’s a little rich that August just tells you when you’re going to start working on the new album,” Sadie said. She was on the floor with her legs spread out almost into a split, and she rested forward on her elbows and leaned into the stretch. She turned her head to look back at me. “And over text? I realize he has a timeline, but it seems a bit disrespectful to not include you in that decision.”

  “Since when does August include me in decisions?” I said. “I’m firing him. I am. I just have to figure out how. Stupid contract.”

  “Speaking of which,” Briana said. She leaned up and waved her wand over my foot again. “When’s your friend showing up?”

  I glanced out the window, past the brightly patterned scarf. “She’s probably on her way. Had to wait until the sun set.”

  “Obviously,” Sadie said. She straightened back up and stretched her fingertips toward the ceiling. “What’s her deal with him, exactly?”

  “She hates him,” I said. “And she agrees I need to get out. That’s all I know.”

  “Anyone on the planet could have told you that,” Sadie said.

  “Dude’s bad news,” Briana said.

  We all agreed on this point. We’d been over it a dozen times. Still, I appreciated their willingness to keep repeating it. When August’s gifts entered the picture, it would become all too easy for me to forget. The protection spells Briana and Sadie had covered me with helped—I could hang onto myself more easily when I was around him now—but I’d also been trying to act normal. I didn’t know how well our enchantments would hold up once he turned the full force of his control on me.

  “I’m guessing you haven’t told your dad about this yet?” Briana said. She glanced around, like Dad might have somehow come home from his big Orbs vacation without any of us noticing.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to worry him.”

  “Your dad’s not exactly prone to worrying,” Sadie said.

  “I should still be able to handle this,” I said. “I know I only barely live on my own, but I am an adult.”

  “Adults can have help,” Sadie said.

  I could feel the lecture coming on, and was relieved when a knock at the door interrupted the conversation.

  “Come in,” all three of us called in chorus.

  Serena entered, her face slightly reserved as she took us in. She had a small purse slung elegantly over her shoulder.

  “Come on in,” I said. “This is Briana, and this is Sadie. Guys, this is Serena.”

  “Hey,” Briana said cheerfully.

  Sadie examined her before offering a reserved, “Hi.”

  I waved at Serena to sit down in Dad’s armchair, then jumped up to grab drinks while Briana made small talk. Sparkling water for Sadie, soda for Briana and me, and a bottle of O negative for Serena. The local Glim convenience store kept it in stock, though I’d never had a reason to buy it before now.

  Serena’s eyebrows went up when I handed her the bottle, and she opened it immediately. Briana looked curiously at her while she took the first sip, while Sadie kept her eyes politely averted. We’d all met vampires before, of course, but faeries and vamps didn’t usually socialize much. They liked cities and nighttime, and most of us thrived in greenery and sunlight. Portland was a city where those worlds could meet, though, and I was glad to have her here.

  “How did you guys meet?” Briana asked.

  “A party,” Serena said. “A friend of mine is Dior’s choreographer.”

  “Starling,” Briana said. “Yeah, he sounds like a sweetheart.”

  “The devil knows what he’s doing working with August,” Serena said.

  “Do you mean that literally?” Briana said. We looked blankly at her, and she added, “The devil, I mean. Would he actually know?”

  Sadie hit her on the arm, not too gently. “Bree,” she hissed.

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t tell you,” Serena said. Her face took on a slightly pained expression. “I’m an atheist. For both teams.”

  “I think she was joking,” I said.

  “We talked about microaggressions,” Sadie scolded under her breath.

  Serena and I glanced at each other and her mouth quirked up for just an instant.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a couple questions, though?” Sadie said, sitting up straighter.

  Serena waved a manicured hand, as if to say Go on, then.

  “I’m not trying to be negative; I’m just a little hesitant about anyone who happens to be mutual acquaintances with August,” Sadie said.

  “You should be.”

  “How do you know him? What’s your history?”

  “Right for the big guns, then,” Serena said. She took a long, slow sip of her drink. “It’s straightforward. August repped my girlfriend a few years back. I was dating her, she signed with him, and we both fell under his spell.”

  “Literally, I assume,” Sadie said.

  “Goes without saying,” Serena said. “Tyra was a talented singer and dancer—not unlike Dior.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Tyra.” I paused, letting my research on August fall into place in my mind. “Storm. Tyra Storm.”

  Serena’s lip curled at the name. “We’d been together for three years and, naturally, I was excited for her and everything August promised to do for her career. Mine, too. He’s generous with promises.”

  Briana paused with her soda halfway to her lips. “We’ve noticed,” she said, making a face.

  “I swallowed his bullshit for a long time,” Serena said. “Then I stopped.”

  “Why?” Sadie demanded.

  “More to the point,” I said, “how?”

  “I noticed changes,” Serena said. “Little things, at first. She changed her whole look, not because it was a good move but because he told her to. He was always pushing us to appear in public together as some sort of artistic lesbian power couple, and it didn’t seem to bother her as much as it bothered me. It wasn’t just career things. She was different. I’d look into her eyes and she wouldn’t be there.”

  I knew what that felt like, to be
in my body but not actually integrated with it. I shuddered at the thought of seeing someone I cared about in that same position.

  “We started arguing over everything, but there was no passion in it,” Serena said. “It was like my girlfriend was gone, and instead I was with someone who was being paid to pretend to be her. I knew it had something to do with August. She changed as soon as he started telling her what to do, and I was around him enough that I knew what it felt like for his will to impose itself on me.”

  “But you fought it,” I said.

  “No thanks to anything I did,” Serena said. “I confronted him, and he tried hard to keep me under his thumb, but I kept slipping out. I know a bloodsucker when I see one, and August is the worst of them.”

  “He’s not controlling you now, though,” Sadie said, and it was half question, half statement.

  “I’m a vampire,” Serena said. “We’re not as susceptible as others to his sort of magic. We spend our lives taking in the essence of other magical beings and have to learn to maintain our own identities through all that. August’s energy is strong, but I suppose I just had practice keeping hold of myself.”

  “Tyra wasn’t a vampire?” Briana said.

  “No,” Serena said, and her face softened. “She’s a witch. A very beautiful, talented witch, who couldn’t fight him off. Dior might be able to.” She turned to me. “His hold isn’t as strong on you as I imagine he’d like it to be, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He wouldn’t be happy to know you’re getting advice from me.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Good.”

  Serena smiled slowly, her red lips glistening with blood. “I can help you,” she said. “I’m hoping you might be able to help me in return.”

  Briana leaned forward. Sadie frowned. I looked intently at Serena, trying to read her request in her face.

  “I’ve been collecting dirt on August,” she said.

  She was a detective. I could only imagine how she went around collecting dirt, or what she’d found.

  “Are you going to charge him with anything?” I said.

  “I don’t have nearly enough evidence,” she said. “He’s slippery.”