Brightly (Flicker #2) (58 page)

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Conall said I can stay at Sandpiper as long as I like, even after they close shop and leave. I’ve got a set of keys.”

“You can always stay at Flicker,” Filo reminded her. “There’s more than enough room for you. Lee would love it.”

“I know.” Alice smiled at him. Then she sighed and glanced toward the crowd. “I keep looking around at all of this and wondering how long it’ll last once the Guild comes to town. They might shut the place down.”

“Maybe not,” Jason said. “The Guild only has authority over nonhumans who enter into agreements with them. If they act outside of that, it’s because someone’s doing something really harmful. Chimeric isn’t hurting anyone, and they don’t have any agreement with the Guild.”

“Not yet,” Filo said darkly. “We’ll see if that changes.”

Alice frowned thoughtfully. “Amelia said Bridgestone has been really quiet. Almost no problematic activity—at least, none that’s caught the Guild’s attention. I wonder why that is.”

“Neman and Morgan, probably,” Filo said. “They’re more powerful than some of the local Sidhe lords. They’re at least a match for Conall, and he’s one of the Tuatha de Danann. That puts them well above every nonhuman in Bridgestone. Nobody wanted to get in their way, but you could never tell what might set them off. As long as they were in the city, it was easier to just lay low and not draw any attention. Everyone who knew what was good for them kept their business behind closed doors.”

“But they’ve been gone for almost a year,” Alice pointed out. “If Neman and Morgan were keeping everyone in line, shouldn’t things have gotten messier by now?”

“Maybe not,” Jason mused. “Maybe somebody’s still making them nervous.”

“Like who?” Filo asked. “Conall?”

“Actually… I was thinking
you.
”

Filo shook his head. “That’s stupid.”

“You were Neman and Morgan’s last, best apprentice. Nobody’s forgotten that. People are scared of you.”

“No, they’re not,” Filo said, though he couldn’t help but remember what Lee had told him in the cave, what she’d heard whispered around the city:
That Seer boy from Flicker is crazy. He knows things. Don’t get on his bad side—he was Neman and Morgan’s.

“They
are
. The weaker faeries, especially, and mostly everybody else who’s seen you work or spoken with someone who has. I’ve heard the talk. People know about you, Filo. They know what you can do.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“Advanced magic and spellwork, for one thing,” Jason began, ticking the items off on his fingers. “And absolutely insane fieldwork, for another. Singlehandedly relocating packs of stray gargoyles. Killing a Bloody-Bones with your bare hands. That’s nothing to sneeze at.”

“Oh, come on. Lee went with me on that job.”

“She didn’t kill it, though, did she? You did. You’re the one who could. Besides, Lee wasn’t raised by Neman and Morgan.”

“No,” Filo allowed. “But Alice was, too. And you and Nasser apprenticed under them just the same as we did. It’s no different.”

Alice and Jason exchanged a glance, and Filo felt cold. Had they discussed this before?

When Jason finally spoke, his voice was soft, like he was trying to break a piece of bad news. “It wasn’t the same. They always treated you differently. I know they usually just treated you
worse
than the rest of us, but… I think they had their reasons for that.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think they could see that you were made of stronger stuff than we were, and they made you prove it, every day.”

Filo was shaking his head again. “Shut up, Jason.”

“I’m not saying it was right,” Jason said quickly. “God knows it wasn’t. All I’m saying is that they left Flicker to
you.
Just you. That means something.”

“Of course they left it to me! I was the only one left!”

“Don’t you get it?” Jason asked. “They could’ve thrown you into the street if they wanted, or killed you, or burned Flicker to the ground. But they didn’t.”

“You’re the closest thing they had to a successor, Filo,” Alice said gently. “They didn’t have to pick anybody, but they picked you. Everybody knows it. People might try to puff themselves up when they’re standing in front of you so they look tough, but at the end of the day, nobody wants to be on your bad side.”

Filo swallowed. “Stop it.”

“I just—”

“Please.”

For a moment, Alice was silent. Then she said, “We didn’t mean to upset you. We’re just trying to—”

“I’m not upset,” Filo said gruffly. “I just don’t want to talk about it. It’s nonsense.”

Alice nodded once, though she looked unconvinced. “Sure, Filo. Whatever you say.”

But it was already done. Even as they made small talk, Jason and Alice were watching him the way they might watch an animal likely to bolt or attack. As long as Filo could remember, they’d looked at him like he was normal, like he belonged with them—but now their gazes made him feel as if he were riding around in someone else’s skin.

A tall guy with dark hair and a scruffy beard emerged from the crowd, walking purposefully toward their table. Filo could tell at a glance that he was neither fey nor vampire. Werewolf, probably. When he reached the table, he fixed his serious dark eyes on Alice and wordlessly extended his hand.

Her gaze flickered toward Filo and Jason for a split-second before she flashed the werewolf a bright little smile. She smoothed her skirt and stood.

“I’ll be back,” she said, sliding her hand into the werewolf’s and letting him lead her toward the dance floor. Her dress glimmered when she moved, and suddenly, she looked like someone Filo had never met: a girl who danced with strange werewolves at Chimeric, and had theories about Neman and Morgan, and never told him anything.

Beside him, Jason slumped down a little. “I need another drink,” he announced.

“There’s no alcohol, remember?”

“We’ll see about that,” Jason said resolutely, and left. When he returned from the bar, he had two glasses and looked triumphant. He offered one to Filo. “Turns out, if you ask nicely and leave a tip, they’ll break out the actual booze.”

“I didn’t ask for anything,” Filo complained.

“No, but you look like you need it.”

Filo rolled his eyes, but he accepted the drink. He watched the crowd absently and half-listened to Jason, nodding and saying “uh-huh” in most of the right places while his mind wandered back to Siren Island. The golden hilltop. The cool, green shadows of the woods. The luminous cove. And Henry, always Henry, showing him everything.

“You really liked him, didn’t you?” Jason asked suddenly, jarring Filo from his thoughts. His expression was somewhere between sympathetic and concerned.

“I don’t know,” Filo heard himself say. “I guess I did.” But his heart was thumping uncomfortably, because he knew the true words were
I do
and that he was the worst kind of fool. He frowned at Jason. “What’re you smiling about?”

Jason tried to clamp down on his grin, but he couldn’t quite manage it. “I just didn’t think I’d live to see the day.”

“And what day is that?”

Jason’s eyes gleamed silver in the flashing light. “The day Filo Shine started to care again.”

Chapter Thirty-One:

It seemed ridiculous now, but Nasser had never realized just how much he used his legs. That would’ve been like noticing how much he breathed or how often his heart beat. Now he was faced with it every time he needed something that wasn’t within arm’s reach.

The little things had become complicated: answering the door, showering, washing dishes, carrying objects while on crutches. Instead of getting easier during the week they’d been at home, his everyday tasks felt like they were getting harder—more frustrating, more draining. Just getting out of bed in the morning required more willpower than it used to.

Jason spent most of each day working smaller-scale, one-person jobs around the city, but while he was at home, he helped Nasser preserve a bit of dignity by mostly leaving him to his own devices. Though Nasser could always feel Jason eyeing him with some degree of concern, Jason only intervened when he saw that Nasser was actually struggling.

Lee took a different approach, splitting her attention between her work and Nasser. She was coping the best way she knew how: by methodically organizing as many aspects of their lives as humanly possible. While Jason was out, Lee did laundry, bought groceries, cooked most of their meals and generally refused to let Nasser do much of anything.

She meant well. He knew she meant well, but he had to keep reminding himself, because her fussing was stretching his nerves thinner and thinner every day. He wasn’t sure how many more times he could endure hearing her say, “Don’t get up, I’ll do it!”

Every day, Jason left lists of the charms, spells and potions that their clients had ordered, and Nasser devoted his time to crafting and packaging them. That was his primary focus, the one thing Lee didn’t try to help him with. It was all he could contribute right now. He needed to do it himself. She seemed to understand that, at least, even without him telling her.

Nasser was etching a series of runes along the outer edge of a flat, palm-sized circle of wood when Jason came home. His brother sat on the other side of the worktable and began sorting through the finished charms Nasser had set out. Lee had left an hour ago.

“You’re still doing that stuff Amelia told you to do, right?” Jason asked after a while, without looking up. He didn’t usually talk about Nasser’s leg in specific terms—nobody really did—but, at times, he edged close to the topic.

“Yeah,” Nasser replied simply, hoping that would be enough to satisfy Jason. It was true: He was following Amelia’s instructions, doing all the depressing, necessary things. Desensitizing his stump by tapping it, rubbing it with a dry washcloth or pulling a towel against the end of it. Rewrapping the elastic bandage every time it loosened. Washing his stump carefully every night. That was a rather large part of his life now: taking care of his stump.

It wasn’t something he was willing to discuss with Jason, though. He wasn’t used to this version of his little brother: a Jason who was cautiously attentive, who worried when he thought Nasser wasn’t eating enough, who had memorized when Nasser was supposed to take his pain pills. It felt unnatural.

“That’s good,” Jason said.

“Yeah,” Nasser repeated.

They lapsed into silence, which was slightly more comfortable than talking. Lately, their conversations had been stilted and awkward, like neither was quite sure of how to interact with the other, of which subjects were all right and which were off-limits.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Jason ventured. “The day before Amelia left, she was upstairs with you for a long time. What’d you talk about?”

At first, Nasser hesitated. “She had an offer she wanted to discuss.”

“What kind of offer?”

“She, ah—” Nasser shifted a little. “She wanted to talk about making me her apprentice, which would also make me part of the Guild.”

It seemed to take a moment for the words to register fully. “She can
do
that?”

“Apparently.”

“But you’re an illegal practitioner.”

“She said it wouldn’t matter. Becoming part of the Guild would overwrite that, like it never happened.”

“Well, what’d you tell her?”

“I told I couldn’t accept.”

“You turned her down? Just like that?” Jason was staring across the worktable like he’d never seen Nasser before. “She offered to make you her apprentice, and you said
no?
”

“Of course,” Nasser said. He set down the knife.

“Were you even going to tell anyone?”

“I thought you already knew. She said the two of you talked the night before.”

“Not about that. I mean, we talked about
you
—your migraines and your seizures and your magic. But she didn’t say anything about making you her apprentice.” Jason started shaking his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t even talk about it with anyone first.”

“I didn’t need to talk to anyone to know it was a bad deal,” Nasser said.

“What did she offer you, exactly? What does that apprenticeship mean?”

“Guild standing. A job, eventually, and…” Nasser trailed off.

“And?” Jason prompted, leaning his elbows on the table.

Reluctantly, Nasser admitted, “And she said she could arrange for a prosthetic leg.”

Jason looked confused. “She offered you a leg, and you didn’t even consider it?”

“Yes,” Nasser said stiffly. “I did. I don’t need anything from her.”

For a moment, Jason was silent, his mouth pressed into a thin line, like he was debating whether or not to say anything. “Do you know how much a prosthetic leg costs?”

Sighing, Nasser shook his head.

“Well, I do,” Jason said. “I’ve been looking into it. The cost is determined by the kind of leg you need. You lost your knee, so we’re looking at something like twenty or thirty thousand dollars, on the low end.”