Blood Threads: The Star Seamstress Book One

by Noella Royce

  "Okay. You can stay."

  I exhaled shakily and tried not to cry. She was far nicer than I deserved. "Thank you so much, I can't tell you how deeply I appreciate this. I'll work my ass off to get you the money, and might even take a third job. No matter what, I'll make it happen. You can count on me."

  Breanna reached forward and squeezed my hand; her expression was now warm and sympathetic. "Of course I can. I'm so sorry to give you a hard time, Veda, and I'm still glad to have you as my roommate, although sometimes you could really wear more clothes around the house." I winced. I'd earned that. "It's just that I can't afford the mortgage on this place alone, and the income from the rental is very important. Without money coming in steadily, I may have to sell."

  "That makes sense. Sorry to add to your stress."

  "It's fine—as long as we're friends." Her gaze shone with sincerity, which made me want to cry. I didn't deserve this woman and her patience with me, not at all.

  "Thank you so much." We sat there in uncomfortable silence for a moment. I cleared my throat. "How's Kyle? He seems super nice."

  Her face lit up. "Isn't he just the cutest! I know he's a little young for me, but not by too much, and I can't believe how thoughtful he is." She told me about the flowers he got her and their first three dates, and I was pleased she didn't despise me.

  While she talked, I was also thinking about my own situation. I needed a job that paid better. Unfortunately, my employer for the last six years would never write me a recommendation, so it would take a while. Also, could I be trusted to do a real job? I mean, I'd just blacked out for several hours while sewing, which did not reflect well on either my mental state or health.

  Man, was I screwed.

  After a long day of work and stressing out about my life I wandered home again and crashed without so much as cleaning my face.

  Sleep wouldn't come. Instead, I heard a sound not unlike a very loud cat purr, threading itself through my brain and demanding to be held. Did we have a cat? No, I told myself firmly; we did not. What the hell?

  The room seemed too stuffy, and at one point I got up and tried to open the window. It became stuck, however, and I gave up. In other circumstances, I'd ask my landlord to fix it, but there was no way I'd have that conversation with Breanna now.

  My plan was to go back to bed, yet something stopped me, and I found myself walking across the room to my bag. In a fugue state, I pulled out the sparkly skirt I had made for myself. In my messed up head, the garment sang sweetly to me, and I rubbed my face all over it again, humming happily.

  Man, my brain was really crumbling.

  Pulling it up over my hips, I was surprised to find it fit perfectly, skimming my figure and draping comfortably to the ground.

  "Fancy that," I murmured and swirled, oddly pleased and empowered by my creation, and feeling it was pleased with me, too. I decided if I was going to go crazy, at least I could look cute while doing it.

  Yes, I was a broke nutcase in a weird town that didn't want me, but at least I had some skills, right? I fell on the bed and luxuriated in the feeling of my skirt.

  A pleasant sleepiness and cozy sense of safety spread over me, and either getting up again or taking it off was unthinkable. Soon I'd fallen into a deep, all-encompassing slumber, and for the first time since I'd gotten to Maywen, I woke up without remembering a single disturbing dream.

  The day at work was spent chatting about our night out and planning logistics, and I found I was excited to hang loose and not think about all the depressing things in my life. There were no more weird occurrences at work that day, and all I had to think about on my trip home was what to wear. I decided on a little black dress that made my ass look amazing but also wasn't too flashy. New, broke Veda wasn't flashy when she didn't need to be.

  After my shower and placing my dress on my bed, I walked into the bathroom to do my makeup, thinking of how little I had kept of my formerly epic collection and how this was the first time since I'd moved that I missed the rows of pleasing colors and products that had filled my bathroom. I'd left all that to my former best friend and roommate, a bittersweet attempt to take the high road, despite the fact she'd taken my boyfriend's side over mine.

  They all probably still believed I'd had that affair, when outside that one, unexpected kiss, I'd never even considered flirting with the man.

  "Maybe they would have believed you if you weren't such a drama llama otherwise," I said wryly to my reflection.

  Man, I looked beat, and almost like a different person. Oh, the features were the same. There was the nose with the slight swoop, and those big brown eyes with the thick lashes. My mouth, supposedly my best quality, was still wide, my lips full and prone to smiling.

  It was like I had returned to me in high school, when I was trying to earn a scholarship to college while working most nights of the week and had felt so much older and more exhausted than my peers. I wanted to read, and play video games, and watch anime like my friends, but I had a third of the time they did.

  I traced the curve of my face and the dark circles under my eyes. I'd used my frustration and looks as the fuel to propel me to LA and a career, as well as the formation of a cosplay group full of close friends, and, eventually, the love of a man I thought I'd marry. My future had seemed so bright and shiny, until it'd all fallen apart.

  "You need a new future," I told myself. "One that's low-key and normal and doesn't involve famous people." No more shiny clothes, or chasing social media fame, or getting involved with sexy, charismatic people. This included bizarre, stupidly hot, annoyingly cryptic classics professors who may or may not be stalking me.

  Guys like that were to be avoided.

  I shook my head to disperse the dark thoughts and focus on having a good night out. Throwing on the dress, fluffing my hair, and throwing on my favorite purple lipstick, I looked pretty good and was ready to roll.

  A little note sounded in the back of my head, and I stopped to pick up my skirt. The world felt right as I stuffed it into my purse, which now looked way too bloated for a night out.

  I strode out into the street, ready to take over the world and headed to the Shady Lane, the dive bar near Tangerine where I was meeting everyone to pregame.

  As I entered the bar someone wolf-whistled, and I turned to find Amari, Kristen, and Leslie at a booth.

  "I'm guessing that was you?" I asked Amari, lifting an eyebrow.

  "It's the least you get for being almost half an hour late. And quite a whistle, right?" He preened, adjusting his gunmetal jacket. The buttons and counter-stitching were silver, and he looked very stylish. His modern, slightly punk, edge contrasted nicely with Leslie's shirt and tie with a tight black vest. "I practiced for days."

  Leslie wrinkled his nose and touched his ear. "If 'just right' equals 'eardrum shattering', then yes, your preparation was successful."

  "You were flattered when I did it to you." Amari poked his boyfriend in the arm.

  Leslie smiled. "I think you're confusing 'liking' with 'was struck dumb by'. They are not the same thing. Regardless, you look splendid, Veda. That lipstick is lovely."

  "It is! You should wear purple makeup more often," said Kristen. She had her hair twisted up on the top of her head with shiny chopsticks, and the long-sleeve, scoop-neck blue mesh shirt she was wearing was very cute and matched her hair nicely.

  "You should wear color, in general, more often." Amari's tone was arch. "Nothing personal, girl, but your wardrobe is depressingly bland. That's a nice dress, but black again? Really?"

  "Be nice." I sat next to Kristen and flagged the waitress. "This round's on me, everyone."

  I ordered the cheapest beer I could get and tried not to wince when Amari ordered a martini. If they were covering everything else, it was the least I could do, but it still hurt my very empty bank account.

  As we rolled towards the Tangerine an hour and a half later, I was already feeling better due to the magical powers of alcohol. I'd convinced myself the blacko
uts were probably just a side effect of my stressful life and financial situation.

  Hanging with them was fun, and we got into a debate about superhero movies. Leslie and Amari were being very cute and touchy-feely, their hands entwined and their heads close together as we'd walked. I watched them, envious of their intimacy.

  A small part of my brain noted that Leslie was movingly differently than earlier, in that smooth, uncanny way that Adin had.

  That was ridiculous, of course, because people's walks didn't just up and change based on time of day. The thought was utterly impossible.

  As impossible as blacking out and yet still creating a perfectly fitting piece of clothing in three hours?

  I ignored that thought, since it was too disturbing to ponder.

  As I walked next to Kristen, I suddenly was hit by a wave of unexpected melancholy. Man, I missed my friends in LA.

  Kristen shot me a sympathetic glance. "You okay?"

  "Oh, yeah; just admiring the smitten couple up there," I lied.

  She giggled. "They're pretty gross, aren't they? They were like that since the beginning, when Leslie came into the store for something. The flirting was adorable. Were you seeing anyone in LA?"

  "I was, yes, but it ended badly. That's one of the reasons I moved here. How about you?"

  "No, single, but there's someone I really like." She sighed.

  "You make it sound like a dire condition."

  She considered that seriously. "Well, he has some unique issues, and his—" she paused, as if looking for the right word, "family doesn't like it when anyone dates outside their groups. They also mostly live out in the woods so it's hard to get the chance to see him. For now, we're just good friends."

  My eyes widened. "Wait, they only date within their family?" That didn't sound right.

  "Oh no! I'm sorry, I didn't explain that correctly. They're more like a tribe, or a village; does that make sense? But they're big into keeping relationships internal to the group."

  The odd, circumspect way she told me this had me suspecting she was in love with a cultist. "Sounds challenging."

  "It totally is! I—"

  The rest of her sentence was cut off by the violent shaking of the ground, and others on the sidewalk clutched each other and began to shriek.

  Kristen and I grasped each other's arms, and Leslie turned and looked at the ground, his expression enraged. The effect was terrifying.

  When it stopped, people whispered among themselves and then continued along their way.

  "How long has this been going on?" I asked Kristen after taking a deep breath and steading myself.

  "It... it started a couple of weeks before you came to town, but it only happened once," she said shakily.

  "Those bloody fools," Leslie said darkly. I blinked, wondering if he was commenting on a different topic whatsoever.

  "Who?"

  Leslie ignored me and stalked towards the entrance.

  7

  "We're here," Amari said gaily as we approached the front entrance to the club, as if the earthquake hadn't happened and his boyfriend hadn't just turned into a different man. This was another thing for me to ignore, it appeared.

  "Thank you," I said to Leslie sincerely after he paid for my entrance fee. "This is really great, I mean it."

  He bowed at me, and there was no sign of his rage from moments before. "My pleasure, m'lady. I'm sure the many mysteries of Maywen have become ponderous, and a night out might help you clear your head."

  "Yes, but telling me what the hell is going on would work even better."

  Leslie just winked and joined Amari.

  There were only a few dozen people there so far, mostly sitting at tables chatting and a few on the dance floor. The music was re-mixed current pop, and it looked like mostly a college student crowd, with lots of Maywen University shirts and wristbands indicating the wearer wasn't allowed to drink.

  I was a bit overdressed but didn't care; if I was gonna be an old lady at a college night, I might as well own it.

  Jordan was at the bar, looking handsome and just the right amount of scruffy, and I leaned against the far end from him with a big smile. Maybe Kristen was right, and seeing Amari and Leslie be so cute together had me yearning for romance.

  "Veda!" The way his eyes lit up and his grin had me feeling like a million bucks. I stood up, and the quick look he gave my body in my dress added at least a couple hundred thousand more to the feel-good total. "Wow, you look amazing," he breathed. He was against the bar, and I matched him on the other side. "You've never worn your hair down at work before; it's really pretty. I love the color."

  I swear I blushed at how earnest he was. Hell, I'd never thought my hair had much of a particular color other than 'dark brown', but he made me feel like it was beautiful.

  "Thanks," I mumbled, and then looked away from the clear admiration in his eyes. I was always a little rough at the beginning stages of a flirtation. "You know, it's pretty weird being here just as a guest, not as a worker. Think Jake will give me a hard time?"

  He laughed. "Maybe, but he's watching sports in the back room. You're safe. And if you do, I'll protect you from him; promise."

  I twinkled at him. "My hero."

  Now he was the one blushing, and he was about to say something else when a customer landed at the bar further down. "Crap, I suppose I am technically here to work, unlike you."

  "I know," I said cheerfully. "I'm such a slacker."

  "You totally are. What can I get for you?"

  "Oh, I haven't gotten everyone's drink orders yet."

  "But I have," an accented voice said next to me, and I turned to see Leslie. "We need a dirty vodka martini, an IPA, a Long Island, and whatever's she having."

  "A rail gin and tonic, please."

  "Wouldn't you prefer top shelf?" Jordan asked.

  I snorted. "Well of course I would, but I'm not going to go around burning other people's money like that."

  Leslie shook his head. "Veda, darling, you are supposed to get whatever you want. I wouldn't invite you if I couldn't afford to indulge all you starving artist types."

  I was going to protest that I wasn't an artist, but Jordan spoke first.

  "It also doesn't matter, since I've got you all covered. I'm going to make you a gin drink that'll knock your socks off."

  "That's very kind of you." Leslie threw a sly glance in my direction. "It appears that I now owe Veda another night on the town."

  "You don't have to do that," I protested to Jordan. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

  "Nah, don't worry about it. I almost never comp drinks, and Jake takes more than his fair share of the goods, If he ever threatens me, I'll just tell the owner about his deficiencies as a manager."

  "Sounds like a healthy working relationship."

  "It's the best." He winked and went off to make the drinks.

  "That young man is very interested in you," Leslie noted quietly with a gleam. "He's also good-looking to the point of distraction. Are you going to accept his offer?"

  Damn it, he made me blush. "So far we've been offer-free."

  Leslie smiled knowingly and put a ten-dollar bill on the bar, sliding it forward to make sure Jordan saw it. "That'll change."

  Jordan came over to put our drinks in front of us, and as Leslie thanked him and smoothly carried their three drinks to their table, I couldn't help but grin at Jordan. "Thank you."

  His eyes lit up. "Anything for you."

  That was both thrilling and terrifying to hear, and I said something silly and flirty in response. This, I thought, could be a very interesting arrangement.

  I could practically feel his eyes on me as I walked away, and I stood a little straighter.

  Suddenly my spidey senses tingled, and I had the sensation that someone else was staring at me from across the dancefloor, from a dark corner next to a speaker.

  Should I really be surprised? I was in a short skirt in a dance club, and someone checking me out was par for the
course.

  Yet something about this gaze was heavy, and familiar. "You alright?" Amari asked as I approached our table, still staring at the corner. The lights pulsed up during an especially frenetic song and the area was briefly illuminated.

  No one was there.

  "I'm fine." I smiled. My incipient madness was a serious drag.

  Before Amari could ask me another question, Erica showed up with a tray full of shots. "Hey, Veda." She grinned. "Nice to see you here as a customer. Jordan sent me to make sure you're having fun." She put the shots—which I now noticed were a shimmering pink—on the table. "These are one of his specialties."

  "What's in them?" Leslie asked, holding it up to the light.

  "Damned if I know. He always says its core ingredients are sugar and the siren song of sweet, sweet sin. He likes to make up stories for his drinks."

  "Does he really?"

  "He does."

  "Huh." That was pretty endearing. "I'll have to ask him to tell me a few."

  "Veda, sweetie, you could ask him to read you your tax documents out loud and he'd be more than game." She winked and thanked Leslie as he handed her a tip.

  As she left, Amari and Kristen leaned in. "Oooooooo, Veda!" they said together as if rehearsed, and Leslie laughed.

  "Someone's got a crush on you," Amari teased, "and he's one of the handsomest boys around." He looked at Leslie. "Nothing personal, but if he sent me sinful alcoholic drinks with a side of innuendo I'd probably need to break up with you for a night."

  Leslie patted his thigh. "Not a problem; I'd do the exact same thing."

  I blushed. "He's just a flirt."

  "I don't know," Kristen said thoughtfully. "He's usually just friendly and professional, no matter how hot my friends are."

  "Yeah, exactly." Amari lifted up his drink, and we all followed suit. "To Veda, and her adventures in Maywen!"

  "To Veda!" Kristen and Leslie repeated, and I pushed down a weird sense of anxiety that came up at the toast. Damn it, I didn't want adventures in Maywen. As I took my shot, I saw Jordan watching me from the bar, and I mouthed "thank you."