“We’ll never get in the front door,” Nick murmured. “There will definitely be security, and we don’t even come close to blending in. But I have an idea.”
I glanced at him, and he pointed toward the back corner of the building, which we could barely see from our angle. A truck was backed up to the banquet hall, and several people in crisp white shirts carried boxes and things from the open back of the truck, disappearing around the corner of the building.
“We’ll sneak in with the caterers. We just snag a white shirt and we’ll blend right in with the staff.”
I shook my head before he’d even finished speaking. “I’m not sneaking in the back with servants.”
“Why not?” Nick growled. “It’s the perfect way in. Easy entrance, less security.”
“I have spent my entire life as a slave,” I hissed back. “Always in the back, always forced to do other people’s bidding. This is the only time I will ever go to a human event of such extravagance, and I refuse to do so by sneaking in with people who are only a few steps above me.”
Nick swore under his breath. “Do you enjoy making things harder than they need to be? Staff members are invisible in a place like this.”
“Exactly. How are we supposed to question the council candidate if we look like staff? He’d just dismiss us, or get suspicious and call security.” I peeked around the corner at the line of beautiful humans streaming into the gala. “We need to go in the front entrance.”
Nick snorted. “How do you plan on doing that? Security would take one look at us and call the police.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “But you’re not going to like it.”
His earlier comment about blending in had reminded me of how Gemma had completely transformed me with only a few changes to my appearance. Humans saw what they expected to see; I just had to match that expectation. Create an illusion.
And that’s what magic did best.
I turned around to face the door of the shop, putting my back to the road, and took off the fabric I’d turned into a makeshift hijab. The cool evening air caressed my exposed face and neck. The hijab had been an effective disguise, but it felt so freeing to take its weight off my head and let my hair down again.
“What are you doing?” Nick said. “There are cars and pedestrians. Someone will see your face.”
“They’ll see a woman adjusting her hair in a reflective window. It’s my cuffs they can’t see.”
I shook out the fabric to unfold it, then wrapped it around my waist, a makeshift skirt over my pants. I felt a little silly now, like a child playing dress-up, but I needed a foundation to build the illusion on. After tying the corners at my waist to secure the mock skirt, I arranged my hair on top of my head in a messy bun, using safety pins as loose, awkward clips. It looked terrible, but it didn’t need to be perfect. Then I pushed up the sleeves of my jacket to reveal the cuffs. Taking the jacket off altogether would have been better, but that would be too risky.
Nick grabbed my cuffs. “No magic,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s too dangerous.”
I looked him right in the eye. “Do you want to find your uncle’s killer or not?”
Nick made a frustrated sound and moved slightly to block my wrists from view of anyone in the street who might glance this way. He was a solid, warm presence behind me, his shadow matching mine. But I pushed my awareness of him away, blocked out the sounds of traffic behind us, silenced the nervous voice in the back of my mind. I pushed everything away and reached for my magic.
I envisioned the heat of power rushing under my skin, magic rising from my bones ready to be shaped by my will. Like I had in Morgan’s office, I gathered all the power I could reach. Red-hot lava, white-hot lightning. The magic answered my call despite my cuffs, warmth building in my chest, although it wasn’t nearly as much as I had used to fight Morgan’s killer. I focused on what I wanted, channeling the power like I had in the alley in Koreatown to create the police sirens. That had been a small illusion, something I could do only because the gang members constantly expected to hear it. What I imagined now was bigger, more complicated. I hoped what magic I could access would be enough.
When I opened my eyes, my reflection in the window showed an entirely different woman than it had a few moments ago. A huge smile crossed my face as I examined the illusion I’d created. My worn and slightly dirty clothes had vanished, replaced with a strapless full-length gown of shimmering silver. My copper-and-iron cuffs masqueraded as stacked diamond bracelets, and matching diamonds glittered around my neck and my earlobes. More tiny diamonds sparkled in my thick black hair, highlighting a fashionable up-do. Even my face had changed slightly to hide my true identity, my nose a bit shorter, my cheeks a touch fuller, my eyes lightened from charcoal to amber. My skin remained the same, the golden undertones of my djinn heritage making the silver of my dress and jewelry pop.
I spun around, my skirt swishing. “What do you think?”
Nick had his back to me, his arms crossed as he watched cars go by. He turned, and his stony glare faded, his eyes widening as he took in my transformation.
“Do you think I’ll blend in now?” I asked, unable to hide my smirk.
“No,” he breathed, his mouth hanging open. “I think you’ll stand out.”
My cheeks warmed at the admiration in his voice.
“How did you do that?” He gestured at my gown. “I didn’t know magic could change one thing into another.”
“It can’t. Or at least I don’t think it can. It’s not like I have a teacher to answer my questions either.” I twirled my skirt, listening to it swish. “It’s just an illusion. My real clothes are still there. It’s quite odd to feel the air on my bare skin, and my jacket covering me at the same time.”
Nick’s gaze moved to my bare shoulders and arms as I spoke. There was something in his eyes that made my insides melt and my skin sing with tension.
I cleared my throat and lifted a hand toward him. “Your turn.”
He jerked back from me, and the crystalline moment broke. Distrust glinted in his eyes as he vehemently shook his head.
My shoulders slumped. “It doesn’t hurt, Nick. It’s just an illusion.”
He still held back, and my disappointment hardened. We didn’t have time to waste.
“Fine,” I snapped. “If you can’t give me an ounce of trust, then you can sneak in with the caterers.” I picked up my skirt and swished past him.
His hand caught my arm before I’d gone two feet. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
I pointed an icy stare at him as I turned to face him. Then I raised my hand toward him.
He flinched, but didn’t let go of my arm. “Just don’t do anything to my face, all right?”
“You have bruises and cuts from the Koreatown gang. I think that will make it hard to blend in at a black-tie event.”
“Fine.”
I laid my hand on his chest, the leather of his jacket cool and smooth under my hand. He scrunched his eyes as I reached for my magic again. Lava and lightning. Warmth gathered in my chest, not as much as before, then flashed down my arm to Nick. My eyes were open, and between one blink and the next, Nick’s black leather and jeans became a crisp dark suit with silver satin-edged lapels. A silver bow-tie matched the neat silver handkerchief poking out of his breast pocket, while diamond cuff links glittered against the black suit. Snug pants showed off his muscular thighs. The bruises and scrapes on his face had disappeared, the longish hair slashing across his forehead the only hint of his previous rogue style.
I kept my hand against his chest a moment longer than necessary to steady myself after the magic passed through me. My limbs trembled, weak from pushing abilities I’d never learned to use. I was not admiring how handsome the illusion made Nick look.
“Is it done yet?” he asked, his eyes still closed.
I dropped my hand. “See for yourself.”
He opened his eyes and looked down at himself, taking in the skin
ny suit and all its details. “Weird,” he muttered. Then he gaze jumped to my dress. “We match.”
“It seemed appropriate,” I said softly. “Let’s go.”
I spun around to march toward the banquet hall, and a wave of dizziness hit me. I stumbled and nearly fell before Nick caught my arm and pulled me close.
“You all right?” he said.
I put a hand to my pounding head, waiting for the world to stop swirling. “The cuffs still block a lot of my power. I guess reaching for it takes more out of me than I expected. I’ll be fine.” I took a deep breath and straightened, sliding my hand around Nick’s arm the way couples do, telling myself it was just part of the illusion we were creating. “Shall we?”
“It’s going to look weird crossing the road instead of using the valet.”
“People see what they expect to see,” I said, guiding him toward the crosswalk. “That’s what makes the illusion work. They won’t even notice.”
I could feel him giving me the side-eye as we crossed the road. “What?”
“Don’t push so hard you make yourself pass out in there. That would attract far too much attention.”
I rolled my eyes as we turned up the sidewalk toward the banquet hall. Little tendrils of heat spun out of me as we walked, a steady stream of magic feeding the illusion that we belonged. Nick made a good point—if I kept this up, it would take its toll sooner or later—but he was right about our approach looking wrong, too. If we wanted to get into the gala, we had to blend in out here, and that meant more magic.
The line of rich humans had thinned out while we’d been disguising ourselves, and we easily joined the throng. No one paid us any mind. I let go of the magic as we climbed the steps between other couples, the sudden lack of heat sending a chill down my bare arms. I smiled. We looked like we belonged. This would work.
At the top of the steps was a lectern, where a short balding man with a red vest over his shirt and tie stopped us, holding out his hand. “Ticket, please.”
Nick’s arm tensed beneath mine. “Ticket?”
“Yes, yes, your ticket.” The little man narrowed his eyes. “This is the biggest political fundraiser of the year, not to mention all the celebrities and important figures that are here. I can’t just let people in off the street.”
“Of course not,” Nick said with a nervous chuckle. He patted his pockets and sighed. “I knew I forgot something. We were in such a rush to get here on time after what I paid for that ticket. I don’t suppose—”
“No ticket, no entry.” The short man puffed himself up, clearly taking his job very seriously. Behind him, two burly security officers stared at us.
We had to get in. Both leads of our investigation into Morgan’s death were here, and we couldn’t just let this opportunity slip past us. I had to do something.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I grabbed the ticket before we left,” I said, reaching for my magic. The effort made my head pound as another wave of dizziness crashed over me. I tightened my grip on Nick’s arm to keep my balance while I slid my other hand through the illusion of my gown and into the pocket of my jacket. My fingers found a stiff paper, the postcard invitation to the slave auction. I pulled it out, channeled the magic as best I could, stars dancing behind my eyes. Then I looked back at the red-vested gatekeeper, meeting his scowl with a smile as I handed over the postcard.
He snatched it from me and examined it intently, tilting it in the light as if looking for a special watermark. My stomach clenched.
“Nick Morgan and plus one,” he read. He sniffed and looked back up at us. “Thank you for being prepared, miss. However, I do need your name, please.”
“Alice,” I said.
“Alice,” the little man repeated as he took a pencil and leaned over the lectern to scribble something. Then he glanced back up at me. “Alice what?”
My mind raced for a suitable, nondescript surname. Morgan was out, and Smith seemed too obviously fake. “Callum,” I finally said. “Alice Callum.”
“Thank you, Ms. Callum, Mr. Morgan.” The man nodded at us, and waved extravagantly for us to pass. “Enjoy the gala.”
We passed the lectern and the security guards, and proceeded through the oversized main entrance, fairy lights twinkling above us.
“Alice Callum?” Nick said softly as we approached the low roar of hundreds of voices.
“Alice was the name I would have used if I was questioned on Skid Row.”
“And Callum?”
We entered the grand hall, where layered golden light from the ceiling and walls created an intimate mood despite the size of the space and the open stage at the far end. Tables filled the room except for an open area in front of the stage, covered in linen tablecloths and flickering candles. Humans were everywhere, milling about in their fancy clothes or sitting at the china place settings around the tables.
“Callum was the first human to be kind to me without any selfish reason.” I had to raise my voice a bit for Nick to hear me, and I felt self-conscious saying things so loudly, even if no one would hear us in this din. “He took me to Skid Row after the bomb went off at the police station. Taught me the rules of living on the street.”
I smiled at the memory, hoping he and Gemma and Hernandez were okay.
Nick guided us to the side as the next group entered behind us. “I didn’t have a selfish reason for trying to protect you from Sebastian’s advances last night.”
He sounded a little grumpy. Was he miffed that he didn’t get to be first on my list of kind humans? I rolled my eyes. He couldn’t distrust me and want me to think highly of him at the same time.
We walked around the room, edging standing groups as if we were making the rounds and talking to everyone. White-shirted staff moved invisibly all around the hall, flitting between tables and a discreet door in the back corner. I couldn’t help a little smug smile. We’d never have been successful trying to blend in with the staff.
“Found him,” Nick murmured.
I followed his gaze to see Sebastian in one of the standing groups. He appeared to be regaling the group with some fascinating story, a leech feeding on their attention. Several of the women smiled and looked on adoringly. They had no idea what kind of man he really was.
“Do you want to go question him?” I asked. “Break up his group of fans?”
“No, we have all night. We’ll just watch.”
Cheers and applause erupted all around. I turned to see what all the fuss was about. A spotlight drew all eyes to a man on the stage walking toward the microphone, smiling and waving at the crowd. He was tall, older man, with dark hair and a bit of gray at the temples. My heart started to pound. That was him, the man I’d given the flash drive to. I couldn’t believe our good luck.
I shook Nick’s arm, disrupting his polite applause. “That’s him!”
“Of course that’s him. Why do think everyone’s clapping?”
“What? No, that’s the man I met last night at the campaign office.”
Nick’s hands stilled and his eyes sharpened. “That’s who Uncle John sent you to?”
I nodded as the man began speaking.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for being here. I appreciate your support and interest in my candidacy. I’m excited to be running for the open position on the council, and I have big plans and ideas for our djinn resource.”
My jaw dropped. No. It couldn’t be.
“I’ll make my rounds and hope to meet with all of you before the night’s through. Please feel free to stop me and ask all the questions. If you’re interested in supporting my candidacy—hint, hint—” He paused and winked at the crowd as a collective chuckle rippled around the hall. “There are donation stations on either side of the main entrance and also on each table. In the meantime, enjoy the party!”
Applause went up again as the man dropped from the stage. Humans surged toward him, but I stood frozen, the noise swirling around me, the ground seeming to drop out from under me.
Morgan hadn’t sent me to deliver the secret flash drive to some random man. He’d sent me to a politician running for a position on the government body that determined my fate and the fate of every one of my kindred.
He’d sent me straight to my enemy.
16
The crowd pressed toward Bentley, as if he were some kind of hero. He smiled and shook hands, by all appearances the wise, friendly leader he made out to be. Hundreds of voices rose and tangled into an unintelligible din that matched the roaring in my ears.
That man was no hero. His desire to join the council proved he was power hungry, a future destroyer of lives. And Morgan had been working with him. My hands balled into fists, fury exploding in my chest like a volcano spewing ash and flame into the sky.
“Hey.” Nick nudged my elbow. “Keep it together, Adira. We need to find out what he knows.”
I took a deep breath and nodded sharply. Keeping a gentle hand on my elbow, Nick guided us into the throng toward where we’d seen Bentley disappear among all the humans. I turned and twisted to avoid touching any humans as we passed, weaving around tables and standing groups. These people weren’t the kind to sit idly by as others were shackled—this mass actively contributed to the oppression of my people. My stomach roiled at the thought of them even looking at me, much less brushing by.
I angled to follow Nick through a gap in the wall of humans just as one of them took a step back. He bumped into me hard enough I lost my balance, nearly crashing into the woman behind me. Nick tightened his grip on my arm and pulled me back upright.
“You okay?” he asked, his brows furrowed.
I nodded as the man who’d backed into me turned around. He was middle-aged with salt-and-pepper hair and a strong jaw, and gray, nearly colorless eyes that made my spine crawl.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I hope you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” I said, turning toward Nick to continue our forward progress to Bentley. But the man caught my hand, holding my fingers in grip too firm to be gallant.
Heroines and Hellions: a Limited Edition Urban Fantasy Collection Page 177