Spinning Into Gold

by Emma Savant

  “Exercise, therapy, massages,” Clarence said. “Never regret them, never can find the motivation to do them.”

  I took the anklet back from him. “Put your foot on the bench,” I said. “This part just takes a second.”

  I pulled his sock down and wrapped the ribbons around his ankle. My fingertips brushed against his skin while I held it, and he shivered. I glanced up, caught his eye, and saw him blushing like a Victorian lady who’d just exposed too much.

  Titania, he was cute.

  I pulled my wand from my jeans pocket. It expanded and I felt the jolt that meant it was ready to go. I waved the wand over the anklet, focusing on sealing the threads one into another into a smooth, unbroken plait. A slight warmth flooded through the ribbons, and I pulled away.

  “That’s it?” Clarence said.

  “Unless you want me to make a big production out of it,” I said. “I can write you a song.”

  “I would like you to write me a song, but I would like it to be about how awesome I am,” Clarence said.

  I filed that away for later. I’d write him a song, but I wouldn’t perform it at his birthday. It would be just for him, from me, and it would all be kept far away from August.

  I held up my hands and started reaching into his aura. Then I paused.

  “May I?”

  “Go ahead,” he said. He locked eyes with me, and my skin tingled.

  Doing this with Briana and Sadie was one thing. We were best friends, and we’d shared secrets and seen each other in our underwear for years.

  I hadn’t seen Clarence in his underwear yet.

  The thought was enough to make me completely lose my train of thought. I took a deep breath, forced myself to focus, and reached into his aura again.

  The air around his body felt warm, and his aura wrapped around him with the slightest hint of pressure when my hand passed through it. I leaned in and listened; it was hard to tell whether it was real or just my imagination playing tricks, but I could swear I heard a faint low hum that was his own unique music.

  Within the energy that surrounded him, I felt a vague, hard-to-decipher texture. In some places it felt like his aura was full of ripples; in other places, I felt threads that seemed to connect him with the outside world. His own magic, faerie and witch, mingled together in a subtle duet. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on anything that felt like August.

  It took a moment for the impressions to resolve. There was so much here—feelings and relationships and talents all mingling together in this energetic skin that shielded him from the outside magical world. Slowly, though, the textures began to distinguish themselves, and I felt my fingers become drawn to long, thin threads that, if I could see them, I was sure would be gold.

  I clamped one thread gently between my fingertips and pulled it out. The thread came lose with an almost imperceptible pop, again one that could have come from my own imagination, and I pulled it clear out and away from Clarence and let it float away on the breeze.

  One after another, I pulled out tiny threads of influence—bits of energy that were from August, or from people being influenced by August, or just compatible with the kind of magic August used. Anything that felt thin and thready and gold had to go, and so did anything that felt dark or thick or like it might be causing Clarence harm. It was always tricky knowing what to remove and what to leave, but I wasn’t worried. Auras were resilient, and loving energy that should be wrapped up in him would always find its way back.

  When there was nothing else to pull, I ran my fingertips through the air around him one last time, searching for any strays. I plucked out a last final thread that felt like it didn’t belong, and then I brushed off my hands and opened my eyes. He was smiling gently at me, and I flushed.

  “Have you been watching me the whole time?” I said.

  “Is that okay?”

  “Normally people zone out or meditate.”

  “I find looking at you to be relaxing,” he said.

  I leaned into him and let myself enjoy the heightened awareness of his energy as it mingled with mine. I wanted to merge our auras together and let the tendrils of magic around us twine around one another until we were inextricably linked.

  It didn’t work that way, of course. Glims always returned to their own natures. It was nice to imagine, though.

  “You want ice cream?” Clarence said.

  I stood up immediately and held out my hand. He laughed and let me pull him up, and we continued walking down the twining path along the river.

  We stopped at a food cart and ordered fairy dust strawberry ice cream off the secret menu, then continued up the sidewalk on one of Portland’s many bridges. Clarence pulled me close when we were almost at its apex, and we looked down at the sparkling water. Deep below us, obscured by the shadow of the bridge, a mermaid jumped out of the river for a brief instant and then disappeared with a splash.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, but then it buzzed again.

  August Rumpel: Where are you?

  August Rumpel: You’re not at your apartment.

  Nothing in the real world changed, but the sun still felt like it disappeared behind a cloud. My ice cream seemed suddenly too cold.

  “What’s wrong?” Clarence said, tightening his arm around me. I leaned into his warmth and silently handed him the phone.

  He read the texts, and his hand shook as though he were trying to keep from chucking the phone into the water.

  “This is absolutely not okay,” he said. He handed the phone back to me, and I stared at it for a moment, trying to decide what to type. “You don’t owe him an answer,” Clarence said.

  “He thinks I do,” I said. “And I’m still playing nice. I mean, I moved back into that cage of an apartment he put me in. He has to think he has me.”

  Clarence stiffened.

  I didn’t like it any more than he did. This was stupid. I was a grown adult with a thriving career and amazing boyfriend. There was no reason I should be stuck playing these games.

  I remembered Dad’s voice: I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

  I shivered. It was such a cliché line, the kind of tired dialogue used by one-dimensional villains threatening side characters in action flicks. From my dad, it was terrifying. If August could reach him, he could reach anyone, and that meant nobody was safe.

  Dior: I’m out for a walk. Treadmill gets boring after a while. I’ll be home in 20.

  August: You’ll be home in 10.

  I shuddered and put the phone in my pocket.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  “And I’ve got to kill him, so let’s both head that way,” Clarence said. His jaw twitched; he wasn’t kidding as much as he probably should be.

  I put a hand on his chest. Beneath the layers of shirt and skin, his heartbeat pounded in a fast, predictable rhythm. I leaned against him, carefully holding my ice cream off to the side, and listened as his heartbeat slowed. He buried his face in my hair and held me for a long moment.

  “It’s almost over,” I said. “We’ve just got to make it through your birthday.”

  “You getting away from that creep will be the best birthday present I’ve ever received,” he said. “Come on, let’s get you home before he suspects anything. I’ll walk you as far as you’ll let me.”

  I dumped my ice cream in the garbage after we left the bridge. The ice was too icy, and the fairy dust made my heart hammer in a way I didn’t need. Clarence held my hand tightly as we made our way back to August’s building. A few blocks away, I stopped us.

  “Probably better leave me here,” I said. “I know there’s tabula rasa and everything, but I don’t want to risk it.”

  “I understand,” he said. He bent down and gave me a gentle, lingering kiss. “Text me when he leaves,” he said. “Let me know if you’re okay. Let me know if you need anything. I won’t try to contact you until I hear from you, just in case he’s still around and gets curious.”

  “
Thanks.”

  I didn’t want to leave him. I wanted to take his hand in mine, turn down any street that led away from August’s building, and keep walking until we were far away from everything my life had become. Instead, I held tight to him for one last moment and then walked toward my gilded prison as though the day had been full of nothing but music practice and a refreshing afternoon stroll.

  Chapter 26

  August was waiting outside my apartment. He was on his phone, talking and tapping his foot impatiently against the carpeted hallway floor. As I approached, he looked at me briefly, held up one finger, and kept talking.

  “I know that’s what we agreed, but I think you need to step your game up a little,” he said into the phone. “Nothing’s been signed yet. If you want Johanson in your movie, you need to make it worth her while. That’s what I mean. No, not in the future, now. Those future merch rights aren’t worth anything if you can’t get the film through. You think about it and call me back when you’ve made a better decision.”

  He clicked off the phone and turned to me with a sparkling smile.

  “So, Dior,” he said, drawing out the words long enough to let me know he was paying attention to me, now. The attention made a shiver run down my spine, and I fought to suppress it. “You went for a walk? You’ve been gone for a long time. You left here at six minutes after eleven, did you know that?”

  The precision was no accident. He was watching me, and he wanted me to know.

  He probably had cameras and sensors trained on this place from every angle. Sadie and Briana and I had run enough sweeps to make sure he didn’t have any charms following me around, but this was his property, and I wasn’t stupid enough to think he didn’t have eyes on me. I had been stupid enough to think I could get away this morning without him noticing.

  I laughed and shifted my eyes, playing the guilty kid with her hand caught in the cookie jar. “I went to the movies earlier.”

  “What movie?”

  The answer was ready, as though my subconscious had been preparing the lie. A new film had just come out at the closest Glimmering movie theater; I’d seen people milling around the entrance when I’d passed it this morning, so if August looked up showtimes, my story would check out.

  “Wilde Witch 2. It was pretty good, but, you know. Sequels are never as good as the original.”

  “A movie,” he said.

  He paused, waiting for my reaction, but I didn’t know how I was supposed to react. His face suddenly lowered into a scowl. “You have work to do,” he hissed. “You don’t have a typical nine-to-five job, so you think you can waste your time—my time. Think again, Dior.”

  I took half a step backwards. He stood between me and my door.

  “It was just a movie.”

  “Which you went to instead of working on your album.”

  “I spent all day rehearsing yesterday.”

  “So today is yours?”

  I couldn’t run back the way I’d come; that would make him suspicious, if he wasn’t already. I felt his magic bouncing off the edges of my aura, and instantly feigned submissiveness so the onslaught would stop. I didn’t know how much our charms could take.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have asked you first.”

  “You should have,” he snapped. “Your time, Miss Dior, is not your own.”

  The Miss made me bristle. “I think I’ve earned some time to myself,” I shot back, before I could stop the words from flying out.

  He stepped closer and loomed over me, all traces of his smile gone. Ice ran through my veins and I stepped back and shrank into myself.

  “Your time is not your own,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “Your identity is not your own. Even your firstborn child will not be your own. The sooner you get that through your head the better.”

  I swallowed and forced myself to hold still. He straightened.

  “Now get inside,” he said. “I want to see you practicing, and I want you at the dance studio first thing in the morning. You’ve got a performance coming up, and I won’t have you looking sloppy in front of a prince. Go.”

  He stepped aside, and I darted past him. My hand shook as I waved it in front of the enchanted lock, which clicked open with a grating sound. I went inside, dared one quick look back at his stormy face, and then closed the door on him.

  I locked it, knowing that locks wouldn’t stop him if he wanted in, and likely weren’t stopping him from watching me even now. I felt my body begin to shake, the pent-up nerves and adrenaline bursting free in the pseudo-solitude of my empty living room. My knees shook, but I didn’t collapse until I reached the piano bench.

  My fingers found the keys and I began rehearsing, practicing the songs I’d already learned to sing and to hate. I practiced, ears straining, until I heard August’s steps recede down the hallway, and then I kept practicing until the notes on the pages seemed to swim in front of my eyes.

  If there were cameras or spells, I had to find them and knock them out of whack. Playing nice was one thing; opening my every move to his scrutiny was another. I couldn’t even think of what he might have seen if he had been watching anything that had happened past my front door.

  I pulled my wand out of my jacket and cast a quick obscuring glamour over myself. If August was watching, and if my spell was powerful enough to counteract anything he had going on, this would keep him from being able to focus his attention on me. With my wand out, I began to examine the apartment. I swept it across every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling in the living room, then checked all the furniture.

  It wasn’t long before I found my first bug: a tiny charm clinging to the lampshade that buzzed almost imperceptibly when my wand passed over it.

  “Illuminate,” I ordered, and the charm fizzed into visibility. It looked like a small ball of glowing gold light. I jabbed the tip of my wand right to its center. I didn’t have to use the words, but they gave me something to focus on—a sound, a familiar vibration in my throat. “Destruct.”

  The spell shimmered black for a moment and then dissolved into tendrils of smoke that dissipated within seconds. I took a moment to be thankful that my friends hadn’t spent any time in this apartment since they had first discovered all the threads in my aura that were letting my manager control me.

  We’d avoided this apartment on instinct, and now I knew: We should trust our instincts.

  Not that it was always possible. My instincts were telling me to run, to jump out the window and scale my way down the building if I had to—but I couldn’t get out. Not without August knowing.

  There were two more charms in the living room, one clinging to the wall and the other stuck to the piano. I found two in the kitchen, and three in the bedroom. These made me shudder. I was so glad I’d never brought Clarence home.

  There were none in the bathroom, which filled me with a relief that seemed unfair. I shouldn’t be relieved that no one was spying on me in the shower.

  A sound made me jump. I whirled around. August must have noticed me destroying his bugs already. I had to be ready to look innocent, to insist that I had no idea what he was talking about, and hope against hope that he’d conclude that the charms had run out of power on their own.

  After a moment of tense silence, my heartbeat began to slow. August wasn’t here. It had been the fridge kicking on. I was alone. More than that, I was actually alone, for what was probably the first time since I’d walked into this apartment.

  I curled up in the middle of my bed on top of the gold coverlet and texted Briana and Sadie to tell them what I’d found. Their responses were almost instant.

  Sadie: Make sure you put an alert spell on the whole apartment so you’ll know if the charms come back.

  Briana: WTF?!?!?!

  Sadie: Yeah, also that.

  Dior: Good idea. On it.

  I walked through every room again, setting up a spell that would reactivate with a single wave of my wand and illuminate any new spells or charms. Final
ly, when it was so late that all traces of daylight out the windows had been replaced by my reflection over the black and gold spangled pattern of the city at night, I sank onto the sofa. I pulled out my phone to see more messages.

  Briana: Not to be paranoid, but you might want to delete these messages. Braden had no issue looking at my messages even after we broke up, and August sounds even creepier than my creepiest ex.

  Sadie: Not a bad idea. Put a protection charm on the phone, too.

  Briana: Put a protection charm on EVERYTHING.

  They were right, and it made me feel sick.

  Dior: Will do. I love you both a zillion.

  Sadie: Love you too, lady.

  Briana: BE SAFE. ALL THE LOVE.

  I held up my wand, sensing for any strange energy or last charms that shouldn’t be there, but the apartment was still, silent, and the only magic were the spells I recognized that kept the food hot in the microwave or made sure the lightbulbs didn’t burn out. I texted Clarence.

  Dior: I’m okay. August has been watching me. I’ve handled things, so please don’t worry, but I should probably stay under his radar. Don’t message me again until you hear from me, just in case.

  I hit Send and waited for a long time, half hoping he would ignore my instructions and send a text back. He didn’t, of course. He knew what was at stake.

  Chapter 27

  “And five and six and turn and hold it!”

  The music faded. I held my hands flung out at my sides, my palms turned outward as though I might embrace my imaginary audience. Starling gave me a thumbs-up, and I relaxed.

  My body knew these steps, and it was a luxury to sink into the movements and not have to think. My life might be falling apart at the seams, but as long as I could sing and dance, I would always have a place to hide and reveal myself all at once.

  The door to the rehearsal space opened and August strolled in, lean and dark in a black suit. His fingers swiped across the screen of his phone, and then he glanced up.

  “Don’t mind me,” he said.

  Starling and I were done for the day, but we both knew this meant Keep going. Starling switched the music with a wave of his hand and we went into the choreography for one of Benedict’s uninspiring songs, “You and Me, Baby.” This one was slower and repetitive, and I knew it so well I’d literally danced it in my dreams a few times.