Faerie Forged, page 24
I slammed my palm into the steering wheel.
I couldn’t afford to walk the middle path any more. I either had to cut myself off from the fae entirely, or embrace them and give up the pretense of a mortal life. But the fae were part of a larger paranatural community. Distancing myself from magic would mean more than just giving up on Kai. It would mean ending my relationship with James, evicting Chase and Jynx, severing ties with Marc and the werewolves. . . . Shit! I had to warn the werewolves O’Connell was still after them. I pulled out my phone and dialed Marc.
“Alex, what’s—”
“I ran into O’Connell this morning,” I blurted, cutting him off.
A low growl rolled over the line. “Are you all right?”
“He knows something was off about your release. I can’t guarantee he won’t come after you again.” I bit my lip, hating what I had to say next. “You can’t count on me if he does. I don’t have any sway with the PTF.” Not anymore.
“But your—”
“We’re on our own.” The words came out harsher than I intended. I pressed my palm against an ache in my chest.
“Understood. Thanks for the warning.”
“Stay safe, Marc.” I disconnected the call and rested my head against my seat. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cut those connections. Besides, mortals didn’t have the power to fight monsters, and the monsters would keep coming no matter what I decided.
I took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. I couldn’t go back to the way things were. I could never go back. I had to move forward. I had to let my humanity go.
Releasing the parking brake, I rolled out of the lot and merged with the congested Boulder traffic. The first step was to stop lying to the people I cared about. I wouldn’t be like David, like Sol. Tonight, I’d tell Maggie the truth, no matter what. If it ended our friendship, if she turned me over to the PTF, so be it. I was done hiding.
Chapter 23
I STEPPED INTO the hall in my new dress boots, black skirt and leggings, and a red sweater. My hair was clean and combed, but I hadn’t had time to put it up.
Emma was leaning against the back of the couch wearing a white t-shirt crossed with rainbow suspenders that were clipped to a school girl miniskirt straight out of a shonen manga. Her black, platform boots reached her knees and each had six sparkling buckles down the side. Her red and yellow hair was up in a number of pigtails that sprung off her head like birthday candles on a cake.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
She pushed off the couch. “Just waiting on you.”
“What about Jynx?”
Emma tipped her head toward the kitchen.
Jynx leaned out over the bar so I could see her. She balanced on her stomach, giving a view straight down her sparkly halter top while her jean-clad legs curled off the ground. “Ready and waiting.” She popped a Cheeto into her mouth and sucked the orange residue off her fingers. “What took you so long?”
I grabbed my purse and jacket off the hooks by the door, then I jingled my car keys. “I’m waiting on you now.”
Emma smiled, and Jynx scrambled off the counter.
The Caribou Room was a renovated warehouse right off the Peak to Peak Highway just north of Nederland, so it didn’t take us long to get there. I turned off the road and followed the directions of a parking attendant through the crowded lot to find a vacant space.
It was half an hour till showtime and the place was packed. The bar off to one side was piled three deep. Beyond that was a section of tables, each filled to capacity. People stood elbow to elbow in the large open area in front of the stage, lit strangely by the blue and pink lights that streaked the room. As I stepped farther inside, I craned my neck to see shadowed faces in the gallery above. The layout and lighting reminded me of Bael’s throne room, and I found myself cringing away from the press of bodies.
But this wasn’t a fae festival. This was a human concert in the mortal realm. Men and women mingled in groups, some in flannel shirts and hiking boots, others in party dresses and high heels. People in their twenties and thirties chatted with snowy-haired seniors. There were no pixies flitting through the rafters or baku stalking the perimeter, sniffing for dreams to devour. No lords and ladies in gossamer robes plotting a coup. No one here was trying to kill me. Probably.
The stage was empty. “Where’s Ava?” I asked, shouting to be heard over the din. “Should we wish her luck?”
Jynx shook her head. “She’ll be getting ready in the green room by now. We can talk to her after their set.”
Emma started wedging her way forward, and Jynx motioned for me to follow.
“You go ahead,” I said. “I’m gonna look for Mags.”
Nodding, she pressed through the crowd on Emma’s trail.
I shot off a text asking Maggie where she was.
A moment later, her reply lit the screen. Just parked.
I hung out by the entrance till I spotted her, then waved an arm above my head. She came over, a tight smile on her face.
“I’m glad you came,” I said. Part of me had feared she’d stand me up. It would have been no less than I deserved, but that had never been Maggie’s style.
“Thanks for inviting me. I was afraid that . . . you know . . . after Magpie . . .” She shifted her weight between soft, brown boots and worried a pendant shaped like two stylized women holding a crystal between them along the little silver chain around her neck.
The ropes around my heart loosened. If Maggie was wearing the necklace I’d made for her—imbued with memories of all the good times we’d spent together—maybe I could fix things after all.
“I was hoping we could talk.” I glanced at the people packed in around us. “Not here. After. Maybe you could come to my house?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek and held my breath. If she said no, that would mean our friendship was beyond repair. The last of my college friends would be gone. If she said yes, I’d finally have my chance to come clean, and that would open a whole other can of worms. More emotions, more vulnerability, more danger.
“Sure. I was actually hoping to talk to you, too.” She met my eyes, then glanced away.
The lights dimmed.
“Ladies and gentleman.” A man in jeans and a pinstripe shirt stood on the stage. He had long gray hair with a matching mustache and beard. Wire-rimmed glasses sat at the end of his nose. “Thank you all for coming this evening. Please put your hands together for tonight’s opening act. Toxic Tantrum.” He swung one arm to the side, where the band members were filing on stage.
Ava was the first one out, and I could hear Jynx screaming above the applause from her position near the front. Ava waved to the crowd, a wide grin on her face. Her cherry-red hair was up in two anime-style buns with trailing white ribbons that glowed in the purple light. She sashayed across the stage in a short, black dress that swished when she moved and probably gave the folks in the front row a free show. As she settled on her stool behind the drums, the next band member stepped on stage.
The person had an Asian look, but that’s all I could tell. Straight, black hair framed a face that could be either male or female, and a straight-line suit hid any curves on the rail-thin figure. Another wave of clapping washed through the room as the androgynous artist took position beside a double bass.
Next up was a large woman who moved toward the keyboard set up on one side of the stage. She had to be at least six feet tall, with a Rubenesque figure. A sparkly purple dress hung to just above her knees, shimmering as she walked. My eyes shifted to the next band member, a middle-aged man in a red flannel shirt and thick tan boots that made him look like he’d stepped out of a lumberjack skit. He tucked a fiddle under his chin.
The last musician to climb the steps was Oz. He wore a rumpled blue suit with the sleeves cuffed to his elbows and a wide, iridescent purple tie that dangled in the middle of his chest. I grinned and cheered, pleased beyond words to see him free and healthy after his time with the PTF. Angry as I was with Sol for spying on me, I couldn’t deny he’d come through when it counted.
Oz strode to the center of the stage, guitar slung on a strap from his shoulder, and grabbed the microphone. “Thanks for the warm welcome,” he said into the applause. “We are Toxic Tantrum!”
Ava laid out a beat, and Oz and the others slammed into the opening notes of their first song.
All around me, people danced. One old man flailed and jolted like he’d just been zapped by an electric current, his long ponytail swinging wildly. A young woman swayed with her eyes closed like she was bending to the will of some breeze she alone could feel. A group near the front started jumping up and down in time to the rhythm of the music and I saw Jynx’s white hair flash in and out of sight as she leapt higher than someone pretending to be human had any right to.
“Which one’s your friend?” Maggie was mere inches from my ear when she spoke, but she still had to yell to be heard.
Ava had been the one to invite me, but I pointed to Oz, who strummed his guitar strings so fast his hand was a blur. For the year or so that I’d known him, Oz had been an acquaintance at best—the guy I called when I needed tech support—but defying his alpha to help me infiltrate a vampire nest and rescue my boyfriend bumped him solidly into the “friend” category. He’d nearly died because of me.
The first song rolled over into a second, slower song, and the tall woman playing the keyboard leaned forward to sing into her mic. The lilting lyrics fell from the speakers like a spell, and the tempo of the crowd shifted to match. The popcorn people in the front row settled down, though many still swayed. The man with the ponytail took a break from being electrocuted.
I gripped Maggie’s elbow and pointed toward the bar. “Want a drink?”
She seemed to consider, then shook her head. “You go ahead.”
Shrugging, I wove toward the bar. I was looking at a long, emotional night, and a little liquid courage could go a long way.
The third song picked up the pace again as the bartender traded out my cash for a Long Island. The beat tripled in tempo, whipping the dancers into a frenzy. Elbows, shoulders, and hips jostled me as I made my way back to Maggie. I took a gulp, cringing at the slight burn that scalded my throat.
On and on the band played. I deposited my empty glass in a bin by the bar, a nice buzz dulling my senses, and pulled Maggie closer to the stage. Jynx and Emma were still dancing, drenched with sweat and grinning ear to ear. I joined in, letting my thoughts fade as my muscles took over. It had been a long time since I just let go. Then a memory cut through my calm—the last time I’d danced at a club.
Aching shivers ricocheted through my bones as I recalled being carried into the darkness below the dance club, draped over Bryce’s shoulder. I stumbled, catching a wayward smack on my arm as the dance continued around me.
Maggie squeezed my shoulder and leaned close. “Are you okay? You’ve gone pale.”
I shook my head, though whether to deflect her comment or answer her question I wasn’t sure. Perhaps I was just trying to wipe away the images playing in my mind. After the debacle at Abandon, I hadn’t danced again until the Winter Festival in Enchantment. And that’s when everything went sideways once again.
A heavy weight settled in my gut. A terrible dread.
It was silly to equate dancing with trouble. A foolish correlation. And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
An hour had passed since the band started playing, and as the last, sustained notes died out on the current song, Oz grabbed the microphone. He was breathing hard, and a sheen of sweat coated his skin, glinting purple in the stage lights.
“We are Toxic Tantrum.” He lifted his guitar in salute. “Thank you, and good night.”
The gray-haired man with glasses traded places with him as the band shuffled off the stage. “There will be a brief intermission. Please grab a drink and stick around for the Sweet Lillies.”
There was another round of applause, then the room lapsed into the ambient din of too many conversations.
Jynx grabbed my wrist. “Come on.” She hauled me toward the door through which the musicians had disappeared. Stopping in front of the door, she released her grip so fast I stumbled.
“Watch it!” The woman I’d bumped into spun to face me.
I froze in place, still off-balance, and stared into wide eyes that mirrored my shock.
“Sophie,” I breathed. The now familiar cocktail of guilt and anger I experienced whenever I came face to face with my once-upon-a-time friend hit me like a sucker punch.
“What are you doing here?” She crossed her arms and leaned away, nose crinkled as though I smelled bad. With her short green dress and spiked blond hair, Sophie looked like an angry Tinker Bell from the old Disney movies, made before the world learned what faeries really were.
“I came to hear the band.”
Maggie leaned around me, squinting like she couldn’t see Sophie clearly. “Aren’t you the painter who used to show in the bookstore?”
Sophie glanced at Maggie. Then her eyes flicked to Emma, who’d come up on my other side. “Seems you have quite the entourage these days. I hope you warned them.”
Maggie frowned. “About what?”
Sophie’s lips pulled tight. “Get away while you can. Being Alex’s friend is dangerous.”
The door to the green room opened and Ava launched into Jynx’s arms, squealing.
Oz was the next one out, but he stopped in the doorway, the smile melting off his face. He looked at Sophie, then me, then back to Sophie.
The remaining band members bottle-necked behind Oz, finally pushing him out of the way when he failed to move. That put him right between Sophie and me.
Ava and Jynx were still clinging to each other, but even their exuberance had dampened. Finally, Ava broke the standoff by dragging Jynx toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink.”
It was like breaking a spell. We all blinked and started breathing again. Feet shuffled, hands shook, congratulations were given. But all the while, I kept an eye on Sophie. She was still stiff, but she no longer stood apart with her arms crossed. She set one hand on Oz’s shoulder, pressing close to his side, and the tension around her eyes and mouth eased. When she smiled, she almost looked like the old Sophie.
“Thanks for coming,” Oz said to me. “How’d you even know I was playing?”
“Ava.”
We both glanced at Jynx and Ava, now entrenched at the bar next to a growing collection of shot glasses.
“You know her from Crossroads?” he asked.
I nodded. Oz had once mentioned that his band played regularly at the fae bar owned by Ava’s uncle. Surprising, considering how most werewolves felt about the fae, but Oz had proven particularly accepting. He was like a poster child for One Earth—the flip side of Purity. Or he would have been, if he were human.
He leaned in close, bumping my shoulder, and whispered, “Thanks for helping with my . . . predicament. I’m not sure how much longer I could’ve lasted.”
Mention of Sol’s favor soured my stomach, but I smiled as best I could. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
He turned to Sophie. “This actually works out. I was hoping to get you two together. See if you could bury the hatchet.”
“In my back,” I muttered.
Sophie glared. “I heard that.”
“Good.”
“Stop.” Oz raised his hands like he was holding back two fighters. Then Sophie shifted her glare to him and he backed down. If he’d been in wolf form, he would have had his tail between his legs.
“Um, Alex?” Maggie tapped me on the shoulder. Her lips were thin and she seemed pale, a neat trick considering her complexion and the purple hue of the lights. “I hate to be a wet blanket, but I need to sit down. Maybe get some fresh air.” She swayed on her feet.
Turning my back fully on Sophie and Oz, I gripped Maggie’s arms. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Just a little light-headed.”
I frowned. Maggie was bracing against my hands like she was trying to keep from falling.
“Let’s call it a night.” I cut my eyes to Emma, who’d stayed silent through the exchange. “Sorry to make you leave early.”
She frowned, but shook her head. “It’s all right.”
“Codswallop,” Maggie said. “I won’t botch anyone else’s night. You should stay.”
“What about our talk?” I bit my lip. If Mags was sick, it probably wasn’t the best time to drop my bombshell, but I’d promised myself I’d come clean. No more putting it off. “Are you still up for it?”
Her fingers dug into my forearms. “I think I can manage after a bit of a sit down. Maybe a nice cuppa.”
Releasing her with one hand, I dug in my pocket and pulled out the keys to the Jeep. I held them out to Emma. “I’ll drive home with Maggie. You can use the Jeep.” I tipped my chin toward Jynx and Ava. “Keep an eye on those two.”
Oz tugged the sleeve of my shirt. “Alex, I—”
I held up a hand to cut him off, pulling free of his grip at the same time. “Not tonight, Oz.”
I chanced one last look at Sophie, who seemed to be studying a pattern on the wall beside her. Then I gripped Maggie’s elbow and led her to the exit.
Movement on the stage drew my attention as I pushed open the door and ushered Maggie into the crisp, cold night. The announcer was back. He raised his hands for silence. “Now, for the headliners of tonight’s concert. The Sweet Lillies.”
