Synergist

by Chloe Adler

  Vasily spins around. “Yes, technically, that’s what she is.”

  “Screw you.” I fly to my feet. “And all of you just stand around letting her serve you. Shame on you. Shame on all of you.” I storm out of the sitting room and into my own room, where I slam the door. Hard. Yanking my bag out of the closet, I start to cry.

  That poor woman. And I was such a bitch to her. Out of petty jealousy. And then I left her in Tara. All alone. Is she better off there, not having to be a slave? No. Even though I didn’t see the fachan, from everything I’ve heard, it is far worse. What the hell is wrong with these people?

  “Amaya.” A soft wind caresses my cheek.

  Great, I have an audience. Of course he catches me with a handful of underwear in my hand. I thrust it into my bag. “Sabin. I want to be alone.”

  How can I wrap my head around this, around any of it?

  He circles my neck, warming me like a scarf. “It’s not what you think.”

  “So Candy’s not a slave?”

  “The laws in our land are different. The king had two choices: enslave her or kill her.”

  “Great.” Bad or worse. “Well, I can’t say that death wouldn’t be better. Do you know the history of our world, how long my ancestors fought? What was done to us?” My hands ball into fists and my chest constricts, tight and hot.

  “I don’t, no.” His grip around my neck loosens, unwelcome cold rushing in. “The king did what was best for her. His options were limited.”

  “What did she do to deserve slavery? Did something happen or are all young women enslaved there?”

  Sabin moves away, the cool air gripping me in his absence. “She broke a rule.”

  God damn fae and their rules. “Did she kill someone? Maim them?” I can’t think of anything else that would warrant such a harsh punishment.

  “She stole.”

  “What did she steal, the Hope Diamond? A million dollars?” Even if she did steal something huge, that does not justify a lifetime of slavery.

  “I don’t know what those things you mentioned are. She stole something small and worthless.”

  I bite back a howl, leap off the bed and grab my now-full bag, preparing to leave this magical mansion and my five hottie saviors forever. Perfect male specimens and gorgeous mansion be damned, I will not stay in a slavers’ den.

  “It’s the law in Tara. The king had no choice.”

  “Yeah? Well I do.” I yank out my phone and call Jules.

  “Hey bitch, what’s up?” She doesn’t bother saying hello.

  “Are you working?” I ask.

  Tonight. You’re on shift too.”

  “Shit am I?” Thanks to my trip to Tara, I’m losing days here. If things were normal I’d still have two days off.

  “You’re worrying me. What’s going on?”

  “Can you pick me up at the Ridge? We’ll talk when I see you.”

  “Fucking better. On my way.”

  “I’ll fill you in when you get here.” I give her the address and hang up. When I walk through the lounge, all the men are still there, waiting for me.

  “Where are you going?” asks Vasily.

  “None of your fucking business, slaver.”

  Sabin’s form picks my hair up off my shoulders. “You can fuck off too right now, Sabin,” I growl.

  The men follow after me as I stride down the hall and descend the stairs into the atrium.

  “Amaya, can we explain? It’s not black and white,” says Forrest.

  I spin around, hands on my hips. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, that’s exactly what it looks like to me.” I move my eyes between all five of them. “You four,” I point to the brothers, “may not have enslaved poor Candy yourselves, but you all stood by, letting her serve you without lifting a finger. Just because the rest of you weren’t her master doesn’t make any of you innocent. You’re all equally culpable.”

  “But—” Bodhi says.

  “Let her go,” Vasily interrupts, his face a stone mask.

  “Smartest thing I’ve heard all day.” I storm out of the house, slamming the front door behind me as hard as I can.

  Take Me Back

  Walking down the long path toward the street, I shiver from an invisible wind.

  “Sabin. Not interested. Do you not understand human emotions and my request to be alone?”

  The sylph drapes himself across my shoulders. “If you have questions that need answering, when you’re ready to go back to Tara and get Harlesque, or if you simply want to get to know me and my sparkling personality better, just call.”

  Strange. I realize I don’t know the sylph well but he’s never attempted a joke before. That, and his voice. It sounds different, ominous, like an out-of-tune pipe organ groaning. It reminds me of the other invisible creature I first encountered in my dream. Was that him or another sylph? There have to be more than one in Tara.

  “How am I supposed to call you? It’s not like you have a phone number.”

  “I can hear you. Just whisper my name.” His silky tone slides over me, intimate, invasive. The feeling turns my stomach sour.

  “That’d be a never. Especially if you talk to me like that again.”

  The breeze lifts my hair and as I reach the front gate, it disappears completely. Jules is waiting for me in her Subaru Outback.

  “Damn, girlfriend, you look pissed,” Jules says when I slam the passenger door shut. “Did they hurt you?”

  I shake my head, my hair flying into my eyes. “They hurt someone else.”

  She cocks her head but puts the car in gear. Thank god, she’s getting me away from here.

  “Look, I don’t want to explain it all right now.”

  “You don’t have to. Where do you wanna go?” She peels out of the Ridge and accelerates down the straightaway.

  “Your place, please. Mine has an eviction notice taped to the door.”

  “What?”

  I fill Jules in while she drives.

  “Is that legal?” she asks.

  “Absolutely. As a matter of fact, according to the tenant rights lawyer I spoke to, he could slap me with a three-day notice if he wanted to for failing to pay the full rent.”

  “Did the fucker do that? Only give you three days?”

  I grip the door handle so tightly that the hard plastic digs into my palm. “He gave me thirty.”

  “What an ass. Do you want me to kill him for you?”

  Laughter bubbles up, even though I try to swallow it back down. I love Jules.

  “Heard that,” she turns and grins at me. “Seriously, though, why is he doing this?”

  I shrug, loosen my grip on the door handle and stare out of the window, focusing on the ocean waves for the drive down the highway. “He’s a prick landlord, that’s for sure. Maybe he wants to move in himself or give it to a family member. At first I thought he raised the rent because he was in on it with Miss Cheryl, that he was trying to force me to work upstairs, but now I realize it was a setup for the eviction.”

  “Yeah.” Jules speeds by the boardwalk where tourists and locals mix in an unlikely combination. “Probably wants to get rid of you in order to turn the place into a Signum rental and get more money.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re right, the ten-year statute is up.” Despite the town council’s efforts to entice humans, we still have a hard time integrating. Signum own most of the land and businesses, and discrimination against hiring humans or renting property to them runs rampant. As a Band-Aid, the council passed a statute declaring all new rental properties must give preference to human applicants for ten years after they’re built, or for ten years after being sold to new owners. If landlords don’t have a minimum percentage of their newest properties occupied by humans, they can be fined by the city. But since humans in the Edge tend to be poor and underemployed, that means landlords have to keep their rental rates low to entice them to stay—but only for ten years.

  It would make more sense if Bob
is just a money-grubbing shit. Miss Cheryl never delivered the two in the one-two punch I expected if this was about picking up another worker for her upstairs business, and he never really cared about the extra few hundred a month he was trying to squeeze from me. Why would he when he can force me out completely, turn around and rent it to a rich Signum for an extra grand or two a month? And all without breaking the law.

  I should have wondered before, but oh yeah, I took a walk in Tara. Jesus, what a week.

  Jules parks behind her bungalow and we go inside.

  “Want something to drink?” she asks.

  “Sure. Your favorite?”

  “Which flavor?”

  “Orange, please.”

  I collapse on the couch. A moment later, she brings me a can of fizzy water and sits beside me.

  “Look, I totally understand why you don’t want to tell your parents what’s going on but . . . maybe you should.”

  “Are you kidding me right now? They’d drop everything and fly home.”

  “Would that be so bad?”

  I glare hard at my best friend. “Do I even know you right now?”

  “You didn’t ruin their lives, Amaya, they wanted to have you or they wouldn’t have. Your mom could have easily gotten an abortion or they could have given you up for adoption.”

  “Have you met my parents?”

  Jules rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying, having you and raising you was the choice they made. Giving up their plans for traveling and everything else . . . that’s what people do when they have kids.”

  “Sure, people who have planned to have kids or people in their early twenties even. But not two people who are practically children themselves, who had their choices ripped away from them with an unexpected child at sixteen.” I have to stop, my throat too tight to continue, and I swallow back the tears.

  Jules puts her arm around me, “I’m sorry. I should be more sensitive. I know you’re dealing with a lot right now and adding guilt for possibly re-crushing your parents’ dreams is not doable. I get it.” She smirks. “It’s so crazy how different our parents are. Your life may have been challenging, but the one thing you’ve always had is the knowledge that your parents love you more than anything.”

  “More than themselves,” I mutter.

  Jules removes her arm from my shoulder, staying silent next to me, which is alarming in itself. It means something is wrong. Crap, how could I be so self-centered?

  “Your parents love you, Jules, they just don’t know how to show it.”

  “Yeah, right.” She punches me in the arm. “Mine wouldn’t care if I was raped and killed by a group of Signum. They’d say I deserved it for moving here.”

  I try to put my arm around her, but she shrugs it off.

  “Whatever,” she says. “This is about you right now.”

  “Let’s change the subject. What about the guys? How did they get to be so damned rich anyway?” Jules has the scoop on most of the Edge’s inhabitants.

  “The warlocks?”

  “And Vasily. All of them.” Ugh. Please don’t tell me they’re into human trafficking on this plane too. I take a sip of my water to wash away the bile crawling up my throat.

  “Vasily, I don’t know about. He just showed up here one day, but the warlocks have been here for years. Rumor has it that they used to be very powerful, and their parents were among the Edge’s founders. When they first came here, they were sought out to perform all kinds of spells, since they were more approachable than the witches.”

  “Like Aurelia,” I say.

  “Yep.”

  Aurelia is one of the oldest witches in the world, maybe even the oldest, and the most powerful. But she’s prickly and prejudiced. She’s made it known she has no interest in helping humans. Ever. And she’s not that enthused about other Signum either. So it’s no surprise that the warlocks’ parents became the main go-to for spells.

  Jules continues, “So the Stetlers were known far and wide for helping humans get just about anything they desired. People from all over the Southwest, from all over the world used them, and their fame grew. That’s how the family amassed its fortune.”

  “And where are the parents now?”

  “From what I hear, they travel around the world and continue to help people, but I don’t know for sure because they haven’t been seen in at least five years.”

  “But the warlocks say they have no powers.”

  Jules crushes her empty can and tosses it in the general direction of her kitchen. “What? You’re shitting me. Since when? I haven’t heard anything about that. What happened to their powers?”

  I shrug. “Something about the fae land.”

  “What fae land?”

  “Go get another water and I’ll fill you in.” It’s not like I’m cursed.

  Jules gets up for more water and returns a moment later with two beers. “Let’s do this instead. Sounds more like a beer convo.”

  “Aren’t we working tonight?”

  “Yeah, but not for a few hours.”

  “I’ll stick to water, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” She gets me another water and pops the top on her can of beer. She starts a fire in her fireplace and settles back next to me on her couch.

  I tell Jules everything I can, keeping Vasily’s identity a secret but spilling the rest. When I get to the part about me crossing over into Tara, she stops me.

  “So you’re some kind of key? You were catapulted into a different world and you lost someone there?”

  “Yeah.” I worry my hands in my lap.

  “You need to get that poor girl back.”

  “Into costume and makeup right now.” Miss Cheryl stands in the doorway of the changing room, her hands pinned to her hips. That same electric blue light that I’ve seen on her brother flits from her hair to her ear. Great. Now whatever is going on with Tara has followed me to work. Can’t a girl catch a break?

  “Yes ma’am.”

  Jules snorts, grabs my hand and pulls me past her into the room. “Why you calling that cunt ma’am?”

  Jules talks a good game but she’s whispering.

  “Hey, Jules,” says one of the girls sitting at the bank of mirrors.

  “Hey, Porsche. Do you know my friend Amaya?”

  “Not really.” Porsche sniffs and turns her back on me.

  I follow Jules through to the back sinks, where we both wash our hands.

  “Weird,” Jules says to me. “She’s always super nice.”

  “Not to me,” I say. “The other women here have been really mean.”

  “What the fuck? Not cool. It’d better not be because you’re black.”

  “Jules, I don’t think my skin color—”

  “Really, Am? That girl’s as white as a ghost and she’s kissed my ass since I started here.”

  “You’re more likeable.” I grab one of the paper towels to dry.

  “Me, likeable? That’s not a word usually used in the same sentence as the word ‘Jules.’ ”

  “You know what I mean. You’re a people person.”

  “I hate people.”

  “Which is why everyone bends over backward trying to make you like them.”

  “That stops now. If they don’t accept my BFF, I’m done with these bitches.”

  “Jules—”

  Before I can stop her, she’s stormed back into the front room. “Hey, bitches, listen up.”

  There are four women prettying themselves in front of the mirrors and one guy—Mohawk Guy, from the other night. The women stop what they’re doing and spin around in their chairs. Mohawk Guy offers me a crooked smile and a wink in the mirror but keeps applying his eyeliner.

  “This is my best friend, Amaya.” She points at me. “If any of you are mean to her in any way, shape or form,” she punches her hand, “I’ll pummel your face and ask questions later.”

  Porsche rolls her sky-blue eyes and spins her chair back, her snow-white-blond mane swishing with the motion.
<
br />   “Porsche,” Jules snaps.

  “Whatever.” Porsche waves a hand.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now.” Jules steps closer to the woman and towers over her. Well, as much as her four-foot-ten frame allows her to tower.

  The blond siren laughs. “Look, Jules, I like you, a lot. But your friend over there . . .”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s making it hard for us here. Most of the clientele want a taste of the virgin dark chocolate.”

  My jaw drops. Virgin? Where did they get that nonsense?

  “Leave her alone,” says the guy. Porsche openly glares at him. “She’s obviously got higher standards than you do.”

  “Fuck off, asshole.”

  But he just laughs, stands up and crosses to the costume carts.

  Porsche clears her throat. “Look, we don’t trust your friend. Why is she working here if she won’t let anyone drink from her? Is she too good for it?”

  So that’s the problem. And the “virgin” crack was about my lack of drinkage. I can’t very well tell them Vasily stamped my bloodred V card for me, not within Miss Cheryl’s hearing. Especially since he’s not even an actual vampire.

  Time for a little white lie. “Tonight’s the night,” I say loudly enough for the entire room to hear.

  “Yep, it sure is.” Jules offers Porsche a tight-lipped smile.

  “Sure hope that’s true.” Porsche just keeps fingering her curls in the mirror.

  “Don’t mind them,” Jules whispers into my ear. “They’re obviously jealous.”

  “And yet,” I wave my arm toward the room, “I’m one of them.”

  “You gotta earn it. After tonight, you’ll see, they’ll stop their petty bullshit.”

  I suck in my lip and nod at my friend. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not here to win a popularity contest.”

  “Love that about you.” Jules sits in front of the mirror and starts applying her makeup. Her newest persona here is some kind of elfin princess, complete with these ridiculous pointed ears, but vamps seem to love it. The female vamps, a little more. The male vampires have proven more fluid in their dinner choices, choosing men to drink from as often as women. But the female vampires usually choose the men, until Miss Cheryl changed Jules’s persona. Now she’s almost a bigger hit with the female vamps.