by Emma Savant
She held out her arms. I walked into them, and her arms wrapped around me with the smell of vanilla and cloves.
“Be safe,” she said. “And honey? Give her hell.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
My phone buzzed. My hand shot into my pocket to grab it.
Amani: Found the goblet. It’s at Gilt with the sprite.
I groaned. Lucas looked sharply over at me.
“What?” he said.
He turned the corner. We’d been circling this neighborhood for twenty minutes while Amani tracked down the next item for her spell. I’d been ready for anywhere but there.
“It’s at this club,” I said.
“What’s wrong with it?” he said.
“Nothing.” I put the phone back in my pocket and pointed ahead, telling him to go straight through the intersection. A single drop of rain landed on the windshield. “It’s just, it’s a popular place for Glims. A popular place for popular Glims. And if a sprite is there, I’d say it’s a good chance that the popular Glims are now the ones the Oracle has in her watery pocket.”
“Probably a safe guess,” Lucas said. He ran a hand through his dark hair. It was a nervous habit; he’d been doing it every few blocks since we’d left my house. “Especially seeing as how everyone is supposed to be on lockdown.”
“In their homes,” I said, finishing the thought. “So we’re dealing exclusively with people who have freedom of movement.”
“Sprites,” Lucas said.
“Fantastic.”
I watched him as we drove. I knew the way from here, so I told him where to go. He kept his eyes intently on the road, only taking breaks to check his mirrors or scan the sky for trouble.
He seemed calmer now that he had something to do. Sitting around at Haidar’s hadn’t been good for him, but out here, alone with me and able to help, his posture and energy had both settled. He shouldn’t have been part of any of this, but somehow, he had relaxed into it.
I imagined reaching across the space that separated us and putting my hand on his shoulder, maybe his knee. I wanted to thank him, to reassure him, to tell him how grateful I was to have a friend.
But we were half a block from Gilt, and it was time to park and go in to face the next step of our quest.
“Right here,” I said. I waved toward an open space. Usually, trying to find parking in Portland at this time of day was an ordeal. But today, the streets felt empty. Only Humdrums drove down the roads and walked along the sidewalks, and there weren’t many of them. A woman hurried past our car. She glanced in our windows and quickly looked away.
I climbed out. Lucas fed the meter while I paced behind him, hugging myself against the chill and hoping Amani’s necklaces would hide us at least until we got into the club.
“You should wait here,” I said.
He glanced up at the building I’d pointed out to him. It stood innocently, looking for all the world like just another restaurant behind an old brick façade.
“Not a chance,” he said. “You’re not going in there alone.”
I couldn’t bring myself to argue. We crossed the street to a plain door that looked like it was only there for deliveries. I tucked my necklace underneath my shirt.
Normally, a bouncer stood outside Gilt, making sure only Glims came in. Today, though, whoever was running the place hadn’t seen the need for precautions. The door stood cracked a few inches. I nudged it further open with my wand.
Nothing happened. The staircase was empty.
I nodded to Lucas behind me. His presence here would either help or throw everything into chaos. It was impossible to guess which way things would go.
Unlike every other time I’d been here, no pulsing dance music made the walls vibrate. Instead, I heard only the mellow tones of someone singing to acoustic guitar, accented by the soft burble of conversation. Warm light poured from teardrop-shaped crystal lamps attached to the silvery sage walls.
I waved at Lucas to follow me up the steps.
The door at the top of the stairs led into the actual club. I stopped in front of it and held my wand up carefully in front of me. Behind the door, the voices continued to rise and fall, oblivious to our presence.
What’s the plan, Feye? I demanded.
But any voices in my head remained silent.
There was no plan.
I inched toward the door. And then I stopped cold as her voice floated out toward me.
“I give her two more weeks to have this place totally cleared,” she said. Her laugh hit my ears, so familiar it took everything I had not to double over in pain. “I can’t believe how quickly she’s made this all happen. It’s, like, beyond crazy.”
Lucas pressed his hand gently against my back.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered, so softly I could barely tell the voice was his and not just one of my stray thoughts.
I turned back to him and mouthed her name.
Imogen.
Something flashed over his pale face, but I couldn’t identify the emotion. My faerie senses were closing in on me, making the world seem too bright and sending the feelings and impulses of everyone just behind that door crashing over me until I felt my knees tremble with the effort of standing.
This one wanted to go home. That one was getting a headache. Another one hated someone else in the room, and someone else was having the time of her life.
And in the middle of it all, Imogen reveled.
Lucas was no faerie. He had no idea what was happening. But he was my friend. In an instant, he was right behind me. He wrapped one arm tight around my waist and the other around my shoulders and held me to him. His heartbeat pounded against my back as the world tilted and blurred in front of me. My knees trembled, and in an instant he was the only thing holding me up.
“You’re okay, Liv,” he whispered against my ear. “You’ve got this. Remember to breathe.”
I zoned in on his heartbeat. Its rhythmic thump-thump was the only thing in the world I could count on. I listened for it, felt for it, and tried to match my breathing to its pattern.
In, thump, thump, thump.
Out, thump, thump, thump.
In again.
Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The emotions screaming for attention in my head faded back, until all that was left were the faint conversations behind the door. At the edges of my vision, a silver shield glimmered, covered with vines.
I let a breath out. My body relaxed. Hesitantly, Lucas let go.
“I’m okay,” I whispered.
“You’re okay,” he confirmed. He squeezed my arm, then fell back into place behind me.
I crept toward the door and slowly, carefully pushed it open.
She was impossible to miss. Even in a room full of silvery sprites and crystal chandeliers, Imogen glittered.
She sat at a table with a handful of sprites. Some of them looked like petite humans with white-blond hair; others let their tell-tale blue shimmer loose, and still others were translucent and rippling and looked like they’d splash to the floor if anyone touched them. I pushed down my glasses. Past the lenses, the room practically swam in shifting blue light.
In the middle of it all, Imogen’s magic pulsed warm and gold. Her aura was bigger than last time I’d seen her, and it swirled so quickly it seemed frantic. But Imogen herself was languid. She hung her arm over the back of her chair and slouched elegantly as she watched the room. Her hair seemed almost rose gold in the light. It was swept into a French twist on her head, and her lilac silk blouse made her shimmer.
The dance floor, which was usually empty, now contained several clusters of sofas and armchairs. Sprites slept on a few of them. The ones that weren’t sleeping talked softly together. Occasionally, a laugh rose up.
No one noticed us.
I crept into the room. Behind me, Lucas followed. Part of my mind screamed to get him back out to the car where he’d be safe, but I couldn’t. I needed him. I held a hand out behind me. He took it and squeezed, and t
hen I let go, raising my hand to throw a spell just in case they saw us and my wand wasn’t enough.
“The real holdouts are going to be the ones who’ve been squatting in the same horrible place for decades, clinging desperately to their rent-controlled apartments,” said a sprite at Imogen’s table.
I had to squint to see which one was talking. Sprites looked too similar. They all had the same pale hair, the same delicate features, the same big blue eyes, the same slender figures. This one wore a white tunic and blue jeans. It was impossible to tell her age.
“Her Honor doesn’t plan on getting everyone out,” Imogen said. She looked over the room as though this conversation was too boring to deserve her full attention. “She doesn’t need to. As long as people understand the way we do things now, they’re welcome to stay.”
A couple of the sprites laughed. The others gave each other knowing looks.
“The news has finally started to leak beyond Portland,” another sprite said.
“Of course it has,” Imogen said. “Even the most obtuse Humdrums realize something’s going on. In another week, they won’t have to wonder about the details.”
“You think it will only be another week?”
“Do you honestly think it will be more?” Imogen said. She looked sharply across the table at the sprite that had spoken. “You know the plan. Get the Glims into lockdown. Scare out everyone who can be scared. Deal with this ridiculous Huntsmen problem. Close the city limits.”
“And then we can live as we were meant to live,” a sprite said.
“We’ll never have to hide our magic again,” another said. He held out his hand and a tiny fountain erupted in his palm.
“Speaking of,” Imogen said. She waved her hand at the sprites around the table who looked like they could be anyone off the street. “What is this?”
The sprites shifted in their seats, looking almost embarrassed. Shimmering light started to ripple around them, casting blue ripples on their skin.
“I’m not used to that yet,” one of them said. “Being able to just be.”
I watched as emotions filtered over their faces, confusion and satisfaction and pure discomfort at something unfamiliar. I’d never seen a sprite out in public with their shimmer visible. They weren’t like faeries or witches, who could blend into the human crowds with no effort. They were like mermaids and werewolves; their magic was visible and its appearance sometimes couldn’t be controlled. That was why most sprites stayed in the fountains—they were only allowed to roam freely once they’d demonstrated they could control their appearance enough to blend in with the Humdrums.
What must that be like? I’d spent my life hiding my faerie side from the Humdrums and my Humdrum interests from my family. But it had come easily. What if I’d had to work at it?
The relief they felt lapped over me, familiar and strange all at once.
Lucas nudged me in the back. I jumped.
We had a mission.
I straightened up and walked into the room. Still, no one noticed us. Whatever charm was on these necklaces, it was a strong one. I twisted my hair up into a bun and jabbed my wand through it.
“The goblet is with someone named Brooke,” I said.
“We obviously can’t go around and ask everyone’s names.”
“Can you imagine?” I muttered. “No, we’ll have to look. It’s here somewhere.”
We started walking between the tables together. Everyone here seemed to be drinking water out of plain glass goblets. No special magic seemed to come off of them. After a while, we split up and prowled the room separately. I was tense and looked up every few seconds, waiting to see Lucas wave me over and tell me he’d found it, but the minutes crept past with nothing to show for them.
I avoided getting too close to Imogen’s table. I’d been practically attached to her for years, but now, the thought of my energy touching hers was enough to make my stomach turn over.
Her table was the only one I hadn’t looked over, though, so I skirted around its edges, avoiding brushing against any of the sprites.
Glass goblets, a couple of cell phones, and a single chewing gum wrapper sat on the cream tablecloth. Around it, a couple of the sprites had purses or handbags, but I didn’t sense anything strange in any of them. I looked for signs that any of these people were Brooke—a personalized bracelet, a Humdrum ID that happened to be lying out. But, of course, there was nothing.
I caught Lucas’ eye across the room and shook my head. He shook his back.
We were getting nowhere.
When I looked back down at the table to give it one final scan, I jumped.
Imogen locked gazes with me. I stared at her, and she stared back.
“You can see me?” I said.
Almost imperceptibly, she nodded. She glanced around the table and looked back up, the message clear: They can’t?
“No,” I said.
None of the sprites seemed to hear my voice. Two of them kept talking about how they wished the lockdown would hurry up and end so they could get back to shopping at Glim stores downtown.
Goosebumps prickled down my arms.
“Yeah,” Imogen said, slowly, drawing out the word like she was unbelievably bored. “Guys, I have some business to wrap up. I’ll be in my office. Knock if you need me.”
She stood, her thin, lanky figure seeming to unfold from the chair.
“You have an office?” I said, following behind her. “At Gilt?”
Lucas started walking toward us. I waved frantically at him to stay where he was. Imogen hadn’t seen me until I was close; with any luck, she’d never know he was here.
Though maybe keeping him away wasn’t the best idea. As far as I knew, she’d only dumped him. That was nothing for Imogen. She could dump seven boyfriends in a year without breaking a sweat.
She didn’t hate him like she did me.
I crooked my finger at him, gesturing to follow us slowly.
I followed Imogen through a nondescript door. I’d never noticed it before; it looked like a service door Gilt employees might use to bring hors d’oeuvres in from the kitchen during events.
Instead of leading to a kitchen or hallway, though, the door opened directly onto a private office. It was a nice one, too, with pale silvery-blue walls and a gleaming charcoal desk. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room. It wasn’t turned on, but the charmed crystals gave off a pale white light anyway.
She ignored the desk and waved me to one of two charcoal plaid armchairs set by the tall picture window. The view outside was obscured by sheer silver curtains. She shut the door firmly, leaving Lucas outside.
“I have an office,” Imogen said, like I was an idiot, “because the Oracle’s heir needs an office. It’d be pretty unprofessional if I didn’t have one, don’t you think?”
“Imogen,” I said.
Too many words fought to be the first out of my mouth. I wanted to apologize, to ask where we went wrong, to tell her everything that was wrong with Kelda, to convince her to come back to the side that wasn’t bent on destroying everything.
Instead, I couldn’t say anything.
“Have a seat,” she said.
Her voice was cool and distant. I sat and tried to look confident.
Imogen walked to a sideboard loaded with bottles and poured herself a glass of sparkling water. She added a pinch of silver fairy dust and walked over to me.
“What are you doing here?” she said.
She sank into the seat opposite me and surveyed me, like I was a mildly interesting specimen instead of her friend, or even her enemy.
“I’m looking for a goblet,” I said.
She raised a smoothly manicured eyebrow. She looked different, and older. “Try IKEA.”
“A specific goblet,” I said. “A sprite named Brooke has it. I need it.”
“Why?” she said.
“Seeing as how we’re on opposite sides of this, you don’t really think I’m going to answer, do you?” I said.
She smiled—not enough to imply amusement, but just enough to let me know that she wasn’t threatened.
“Brooke doesn’t have the goblet,” she said. “I do. She gave it to me for safekeeping.” She laughed. “That was her story, anyway.”
“Why else would she give it to you?”
“You really have no idea what’s been going on here, do you?” Imogen said. “She was trying to impress me.”
She rolled her eyes, but I still knew her better than that. Whatever had happened, she loved it.
How had it come to this? We were supposed to be best friends. We were supposed to be helping each other get ready for senior prom and graduation.
“How’d you meet Haidar?” she asked.
She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. She sipped her water; the fairy dust in it sparkled and danced inside the glass tumbler.
“You don’t need to look so shocked, Olivia,” she said. “Obviously you know Haidar. Why else would you be here? Only Haidar would be self-absorbed enough to think all this business between our rulers was a perfect time for him to get his precious goblet back.” She swirled her drink. “And only Haidar would be cowardly enough to send a child to collect it for him.”
Haidar. She thought I was here for Haidar.
I remembered Isabelle telling me to give Brooke hell for her.
I had no idea what the history was here. But it didn’t matter. It had given me an opening.
“Haidar is not a coward,” I said. “He’s not exactly charming, but cowardice is not one of his problems.”
“Why else would he send you?” Imogen said. “It’s cowardice or laziness, and I wouldn’t put either past him.”
“How do you know him so well?”
“Oh, we’ve never met,” she said, waving me off with the drink still in her hand. The sparkling water sloshed inside the glass. “Brooke knows him, though. She told me more than I cared to hear, honestly. Nothing talks as much as a sprite bending over backwards to get your attention.”
“Nothing lies as much either, I guess,” I said.
“Aw,” Imogen said. She gave me the most condescending smile I’d ever seen. “You’re defending him. How sweet.”