by Emma Savant
“I don’t know when we’ll be able to move ahead with the plan, and I don’t know how long I can keep up appearances.”
“Why don’t you move to England?” he said. “I could find you a nice place.”
“He’d follow me. He wants me to cut back on live performances—which is the big problem—and get my next album out quickly so I can go on tour. So we can’t do anything until then, and I don’t know how long it’s going to take to get the album out.”
That was to say nothing of what sorts of horrible creative decisions he was going to try to make. If our first attempt at a music video was any indication, this album was going to be a disaster.
“My birthday is coming up,” Clarence said.
That was a much nicer train of thought. I rolled over to face him. “When?” I said. “Happy birthday! Can I throw you a party?”
He laughed. “It’s next month,” he said. “July twenty-first. Yes, you can do whatever you want, but I was thinking—what if we throw a party, and I hire you to perform there? Would that get you a big enough audience?”
I’d never performed at a prince’s party before, or at a boyfriend’s. Since Clarence was both, though, maybe August could be talked into booking the gig.
On second thought, maybe August didn’t need to know that Clarence was my boyfriend just yet. With any luck, the whole celebration could be arranged through event planners and Clarence’s tabula rasa wouldn’t have to be compromised.
“How big are your parties?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I usually try to get away with going for drinks with a few friends. I imagine we could get quite a few people to attend, though. I’ve got favors I could call in.”
“You have to call in favors to get people to attend your parties?” I said, eyebrow raised.
He laughed and covered his face with his hands like I’d just given him a headache. “No,” he said, lifting his palms enough to let the words out. “You’re willfully misinterpreting me.”
“Mmhm,” I said. I leaned over him and pried his hands away so I could kiss him. “It’s fun.”
“I think I could get a lot of people there,” he said. “We could rent somewhere large and invite everyone we know.”
“August will invite people.”
“All the better,” Clarence said. “He’ll think he’s in charge. You’re very brave, you know.”
“I’m not,” I said. “I’m scared.” I drew my knees into my chest. “I’m really scared.”
“You don’t have to be,” he said. “You’re not alone.”
My heart felt like it dropped clear through my stomach. A bird called in a tree overhead, and the noise startled me, sending my heartbeat into a skitter.
“Are you okay?” Clarence said, sitting up.
“I think it might be better if I was alone,” I said. “I just realized, if it’s your party, you’ll be there.”
“That is the point,” he said slowly.
“I mean, you’ll be there,” I said. “You’ve never seen me perform before. Not live. Not when August is poisoning my entire audience. You’re not being controlled by him. I don’t want you to be. I can’t even look at my dad right now, and I just—I can’t. Not you, too.”
“Surely we can protect me.”
“We can try,” I said. I pulled up the leg of my jeans and showed him the ribbon anklet. “My friends and I are all wearing these and cleaning each other’s auras all the time now. I don’t know for sure if this will work, though. I haven’t seen August for more than a few minutes since I started wearing this, and they haven’t seen him at all. They’re already involved but I can’t risk you.”
He was the only piece of real sanity in my life, the only person utterly untouched by August’s influence and invisible to August’s attention. In a room filled with my manager’s oily golden magic, I couldn’t be sure our shields would be enough.
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “We can work whatever charms you want on me, and I’ll bring a security detail. There are some trolls who work for me occasionally, and they’ve never met a spell they couldn’t deflect.”
“I don’t want you in danger.”
“It’s up to you,” he said. “If you don’t want me there, I’ll leave the second you start singing. I’d like to help, but whatever you think is best. I’m behind you all the way.”
His voice was soft, but a muscle in his jaw twitched. I brushed my thumb back across his cheek. “Are you okay?”
“I’m angry,” he said. “I’d rather like to kill your manager just about now. I don’t think that line of thinking is productive, though.”
“Might save some effort,” I said.
He cracked a smile. “Just let me know what you need,” he said. “This is your safety and your decision. I’d very much like to be there and to help you and Serena however I can, so you tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
“You promise you’ll hire security?” I said.
He leaned forward, eyes intense. “Absolutely,” he said. “As much as you want.”
“And you’ll wear one of these?” I said, tapping on the anklet.
“Purple is one of my best colors,” he said.
“And you’re willing to let everyone you know get poisoned by August?”
He frowned. “He just makes them love your music, right?”
“As far as I know, yeah.”
“Then I think it’s not the end of the world,” he said. “I’ll hire someone afterward to go around and clean everyone’s auras up in a week or two.”
“I’m hoping the Faerie Court will handle that part.”
It seemed impossible that the Faerie Court might be involved soon and that this whole nightmare would be over. It probably was impossible. Even so, I had to try.
“We could just leave them obsessed with you,” Clarence said.
“No.”
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll have my people talk to August, then?”
My stomach flipped over. Above us, birds called to one another, a song that sounded like a warning against the pounding of my heart.
“Yeah,” I said. “Please be careful.”
Chapter 24
The lines of music stared at me like they were daring me to blink first. I did blink first, and then I blinked again, and then I let my eyelids drop closed and I leaned my head against the music rest on the piano.
This song was terrible.
The melody was repetitive and lacking any kind of style. The lyrics were insipid. I couldn’t imagine dancing to it without feeling like one of those stiff boogieing Santa dolls that popped up at stores around Christmas and annoyed people for months before they disappeared from the shelves until the next year.
August himself was bad. But this music, I thought, might actually be worse in terms of how insulted I felt.
I pulled out my phone. August had insisted I learn the songs this morning in one of the recording studios in his building, and I’d played along. The reception in here was terrible, which I thought might have been intentional, but I’d managed to boost the signal with a little charm and could get texts in and out.
Dior: You want to grab dinner tonight?
I stared blankly at the screen until it flickered on with a buzz.
Clarence: And desert?
Dior: I don’t want to go to a desert.
Clarence: Screw you, autocorrect. Dessert. Pick you up at 6?
I sent back a celebration emoji, then dropped my phone on the seat beside me and continued to stare blankly at the music.
Maybe I could make it more interesting if I changed the key.
And shifted the melody around.
And wrote completely new lyrics.
I was in the middle of trying to figure out how to best revise the brilliant line, Oh baby, yeah baby, uh-huh baby, touch me baby, yeah, yeah, yeah when the door to the studio opened. I stiffened; August’s presence filled the room and scratched against my aura like a wrong note.
�
�How’s it going, Dior?” he said.
I picked up a pencil lying on the music stand and pressed it firmly between my fingers, letting it give me something to focus on. I smiled.
“It’s great,” I said. “I was thinking that maybe I could make a few changes to the music. Make it sound more like what my fans expect from me. This Benedict guy is obviously talented, but we probably don’t want to lose my voice.”
He smiled and leaned over me to tap the sheet music.
“I think your fans will be happiest if you perform this exactly as it’s written,” he said.
My face felt like it had turned to plastic, my accommodating smile hard and fixed.
“Of course,” I said. “You’re right. It’s just hard to turn off that songwriting habit.”
“Well, I think we’d best try,” he said.
I nodded and waited for him to leave. He stood and watched me.
“Go on,” he said, and gestured at the music. “Don’t mind me.”
I could perform in front of thousands. I could perform in front of individual fans, or other musicians, or even Clarence, and it was fine. The thought of practicing with August watching me made my pulse speed up in my veins.
I cleared my throat and turned back to the piano, glad to hide my face from him. I played the song through, just to get the feel of the chords, then went back and sang it, then repeated it again with what might pass for enthusiasm. When I went back to the beginning, August’s hand came down on my shoulder. I felt it in my aura before I felt it on my skin, and it was everything I could do not to flinch away from the touch. My spine felt as stiff as steel.
“You sound fantastic,” he said. “You really are a shining star of talent, Dior. I’m so glad you’ve decided to trust me and go with these songs. I hope you understand now that I only want what’s best for your career.”
“I know you do,” I said. I forced myself to smile up at him, the way I imagined Abigail Johansen might from the way she’d beamed vacantly at everyone during the film premiere I’d attended. “I’m so grateful for all you’ve done for me and my career.”
I was laying it on too thick; I had to be. I froze and waited for him to see through me, but he was right: I was a talented performer. His face relaxed into a dazzling smile.
“We’re good partners after all, don’t you think?”
His hand massaged my shoulder. My stomach churned and a scream like off-key violins rose up in my throat. I fought it back.
“We’ll be together for a long time, you and me,” he said. “My clients always stay for a long, long time once they realize what a good team we are. I’ll enjoy getting to know you better, Dior. Someday perhaps you’ll even learn all my secrets.”
He laughed, a quiet, oily sound that made the hair on my arms stand up.
“August isn’t even my real name, did you know that?” he said, leaning in and speaking softly. “Keep being a good girl and maybe someday I’ll tell you all about myself.”
I was a bug, and he was a spider, and he was spinning me up in his web until I was bound as tightly as a mummy. I forced my breathing to stay slow and steady and tried to think of what I’d do if his hand moved anywhere else.
Then he stood up and backed away, and cleared his throat.
“I have good news, by the way,” he said. I turned to look at him, though the sight of his handsome face made my stomach lurch. “An influential Glimmering prince is visiting from England and has booked you to play at his birthday party. I know birthday parties aren’t quite the normal way of things for Orbs performers, but he was insistent. It seems the prince has noticed you. Play your cards right and we could manufacture a nice relationship for the tabloids.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “That’s amazing news!”
“Of course, he’s paying quite a lot for your services, too,” August said, with a smug expression that made me cringe. How much had Clarence had to pay to help me?
It didn’t matter.
Once we’d caught August in our web the way he now had me caught in his, I was going to petition the Faerie Court for every coin to be returned.
“Well, Dior, you’re making excellent progress,” he said. August chuckled, and my skin prickled. “Keep rehearsing. We’ll have that album done before you know it, and then you get to go on tour. Who knows? Maybe I’ll join you.”
I heard his footsteps, and then the door closed shut behind him.
I called my dad, just to keep up appearances with him, too. I couldn’t bear to see him in person.
“Good news!” I said, forcing happiness into my voice, which was even better trained than my face. Happiness had a music to it, and I could sing that song well enough to convince even him. “I’m performing at a prince’s birthday party soon. It’s a big deal. August is excited.”
I listened closely, silently pleading with the universe for Dad to drop any hint that he’d snapped out of it, or at least was conscious enough that maybe Sadie and Briana and I could jump in and save him.
“Great job, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll bet August is as proud of you as I am.”
“You were right,” I said, listening hard. “He really is just trying to do the best thing for my career.”
“I’m glad you’ve realized that,” Dad said. My heart plummeted. “I was a little concerned after our last talk. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Dad said. Silence lingered between us, and it was impossible to tell whether this warning was coming from him or my manager. “August is a powerful man, you know. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay on his good side.”
“Me too,” I said. Tears sprang to my eyes and I choked back anything that didn’t sound like excitement. “I just wanted to tell you the good news. I’ve got to get back to rehearsal.”
“All right,” Dad said. “Good job, honey. I’m glad you’re doing the right thing.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Love you. Bye.”
I hung up before he could say anything else.
Chapter 25
“August Rumpel isn’t his real name,” I blurted.
I hadn’t been able to sleep since my last, creepiest encounter with August. Even talking to Clarence hadn’t been enough to chase away the feeling that doom was descending. My skin and aura tingled with urgency, a desperate knowledge that I had to do everything in my power to outrun it and outsmart him.
“Excuse me, what?” Serena said. She tugged on my hand and pulled me down to sit next to her.
I’d never been in this bar before, but I had the distinct feeling that I was the only faerie here. Every glass in the place was filled with jewel-red liquid, dark or bright or thin or so thick it could have been syrup.
Realizing too late that I should have kept my voice down, I threw up a privacy bubble and leaned across the small table.
“August Rumpel isn’t his real name,” I said. “He told me. I don’t know what his real name is but we’ve got the wrong one.”
“Stage name or is he actually faking an identity?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a secret, whatever it is.”
Serena downed the last of her drink and slammed the glass down on the table.
“Well, damn,” she said. “That’s something, I suppose. Do you think you can get more out of him?”
“I don’t want to push it, but yeah,” I said. I quickly recounted August’s behavior and comments in the recording studio, glossing over how sick the whole thing had made me feel. “He’s going to tell me sooner or later.”
“You must be a hell of an actress,” Serena said.
“This is harder than conveying a song,” I said. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but I wanted to tell you in person. We have to take him down.”
“We will,” Serena said. “With any luck, we won’t go down with him.”
She waved at the bartender for another drink, and I left. The air outside the bar was balmy and smelled like dust and flowers. It was o
nly early evening, and I wondered whether Serena was drinking early or late. I still didn’t understand her schedule.
Clarence’s car pulled up at the curb just a few minutes later. He got out, waved at his driver to go, and then took my arm.
“You staying sane?” he said.
“That’s a relative term,” I said. “Kiss me and maybe I’ll feel better.”
He obliged, and then we walked together down the street. The shops were closing and the bars and clubs were just opening their doors, and we passed groups of people heading home in their work clothes or going out in tiny dresses and band T-shirts. Portland’s brief, beautiful summers felt like a vacation from life, and it was easy to forget my drama when I felt so much like a tourist in my own city. The lights on the buildings looked brighter with Clarence beside me, and the glimpses of the sunset through the buildings were colorful enough to take my breath away.
We walked down by the river and wound our way through the riverfront park. Eventually, we found a secluded bench that looked over the water. Clarence sat down and I scooted in close next to him.
“Did you bring my anklet?”
That felt too much like real life intruding, so I shook my head and leaned against him. We watched a riverboat churn slowly past us, glittering lanterns strung up on its balconies, casting light on the diners who sat at white tables to eat and enjoy the view. Then I pulled the anklet out of my pocket.
“It’s right here,” I said.
He took it from me and examined it. The anklet didn’t look like much, just strands of braided purple ribbon, but I was sure he’d be able to feel the charm quietly zinging its way across the fibers.
“I hope it’s enough,” I said.
“You have to clean my aura too, right?”
“Have you ever had that done before?”
“It’s been a while,” he said. “It’s hard to find the time.”
“I know,” I said. “People always insist it’s so essential, but most people I know have never had their aura actually cleaned by someone else past, like, age five.”