Disenchanted (21 page)

“Keely, Lorelei will be here soon.”

“Oh crap,” I mutter, looking at the clock. I’ve got about ten minutes before Lorelei is banging at the door instead of Rey. “Be there in a minute.”

Flinging aside the sheets, the cat howls in protest as he tumbles across the bed.

“Sorry, bud.” I hustle my ass to the bathroom for a quick makeover.

Feeling semi–functional, I head to the kitchen, wiggle my fingers at my houseguests—thankfully, the tantalizing trio are gone, Royd and his entourage are the last thing I wanted to see—grab a cup of caffeine and head to the salon.

“So, you’re still alive,” says Lorelei as I open the door enough for her to get in then slam the lock home before anyone pushes in behind her.

“If you can call it that.”

She drops her purse at my station and follows me to the shampoo bowls.

“What no Nyssa tonight? Am I the happy recipient of a Keely’s Magical Fingers Shampoo?”

I laugh piling her hair into the basin and wetting it down. “Yep, complete with scalp massage.”

“Damn, a girl could get used to this.” She practically purrs. “Maybe you should get in trouble everyday so I can have you all to myself.”

“Funny.” I dangle the hose dangerously close to her hairline. She giggles as a fine spray of water coats her face.

“You know what I mean.” She relaxes back and closes her eyes as I begin scrubbing.

I’ve always stood by the idea that a good shampoo is the base for a return clientele. Some people forget this business is all about the client. A good shampoo and scalp massage is the first step to putting them at ease. If you don’t have that basic skill down you don’t have any business picking up the tools. I may be talented with the shears, but my shampoos kept them coming back in the beginning of my career.

“Over already? Can’t you just do that a little longer?”

“Not unless you either want to be late for work, or go with wet hair.”

Her bottom lip juts out as I lift her head wrapping a towel around her hair.

“Fine, be that way.”

I laugh, stepping behind the chair as she slouches down so I can roll the top of her head.

“You ever going to let me cut any more than just the ends off this stuff, Godiva?”

“Funny you bring that up, I was thinking about asking you to bob it to my chin after the party.”

“Wow, that’s pretty drastic. Sure you’re ready for that?”

“Why not? It’s not like you can’t put it back if I hate it that much.”

“True.”

It’s now, or never, might as well ask her.

“About the party...”

The chair swings around, nearly pulling the roller from the half–wound section. “Oh hel no, you are
not
canceling on me.”

“I wasn’t going to cancel.” I swing the chair back. “I just wasn’t sure you still want me there.”

“Of course I want you there. Why wouldn’t I?”

“What about your other guests, won’t they...um...be upset the supposed Collector is there?”

“Who cares what they say and if they don’t like it they can leave. I just hope they can swim. You haven’t heard from your little receptionist, have you?”

I shake my head. In all the excitement, I’d forgotten the missing Jenny. Makes me a great friend, huh?

The last roller tucked into place, I move her under the dryer and grab the manicure table.

“I repeat my earlier surprise and appreciation,” she says with a grin as she points to her favorite polish. Like I needed a clue. She leans back and closes her eyes as I slowly work through the steps.

It’s nice to be back in the salon, surrounded by familiar smells and sights, even if the place is empty. Even nicer is the leisurely pace I’m allowed to take, giving my one and only client my full attention.

I suppose I should be bitter about this whole mess, but some small part of me isn’t. The experience has made me appreciate everything and everybody I have in my life. I know it sounds like a cheesy,
Hallmark
moment, but it’s true. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud.

Now if I could only sort out my new rebellious and unwanted Talents and the secrets that lie behind the scenes. All of which seem to be tied to me in some way, from Royd’s interest to Dara and The Sister’s omissions. I can almost bet Rey and Nys are also keeping things from me. Oh well, not much I can do about it and we’ve already proven bad things can happen when I get upset. That thought just leads to my dream buddy and Vereinen’s world is not one I want to experience right now, let alone drag Lorelei along for the ride. If that’s even possible, but why chance it?

Finishing the last nail with topcoat, I tighten the lid and stand to check her hair. Not quite done. She turns down the offer of a beverage, or magazine and closes her eyes as I replace the hood. I take the time to straighten up my station, then peek around the corner to reception. Outside the reporters hover around the door like the vultures they are, maybe I should sneak her out through Dara’s basement entrance. Not that she’ll let me. Lorelei loves to flaunt what she’s got.

That voice can influence anyone, or anything with the potential to hear. It’s been said she’s influenced plants to grow. Now
that
is what I call a useful Talent, unlike the ability to call life–sucking shadows to life. Well, at least I can make hair and nails grow, very useful in my line of work. On that cheerful note, I wander back and grab a soda.

Interestingly enough, I’m not the only one in the break room.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

A scrawny figure in dirty hooker wear is scavenging through the fridge. When I flip on the light, she bangs her head and turns a frightened, tear–stained face toward me.

“Jenny? Oh my gods, I’ve been so worried.” I move toward her and she backs away shaking her head.

“Don’t come near me. I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Of course you should have. Are you in trouble? What can I do to help?”

“I’m sorry, Keely, so sorry.”

She backs around the table and I stupidly follow her. Shaking her head, hands held out in front of her she makes it all the way around to the door and darts out. Talk about not all brain cells firing, I should have stayed at the door. Chasing her out and down the hall, she disappears down Dara’s stairs. I hear her tumble down them, grunting with pain as she gets back up and struggles to the outside door. The apartment door opens just in time for me to run smack into Dara, and Jenny slips outside.

“Damn.”

“What’s going on?”

“Jenny,” I say, between pants, definitely time to get my butt back on the treadmill.

“She was here?”

“In the break room. Gone.” I point to the door.

She looks at the door. If looks could kill it would be deader than its knob. It’s still light outside so there’s no way she can make chase. “Damn.”

“Already said that.”

“At least we know she is still alive.”

I nod. “Gotta get back to Lorelei.” So not looking forward to taking those steps again.

“I will let the others know.”

“Okay,” I say, already headed back up the stairs. “Thanks.”

Lorelei’s already sitting in my chair fingering the rollers. “I get it; you did all the extras and expect me to take out these.” Her grin flips as she studies my face. “What happened?”

I take a deep breath, then slowly let it out, rolling my head from side to side before taking out the curlers. “I found Jenny in the break room.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she ran like a rabbit and I stupidly thought I could catch her.”

“I wonder why she was skulking around.”

I don’t bother answering, shielding her eyes as I mist her hair with spray.

“No clue. I just wish she would let us help her.” I set the can down.

Giving her hair a final fluff, she looks at me in the mirror. “Some people don’t want to be helped.”

I nod.

“And it’s not your job to help everyone. As soon as you realize that, you’ll sleep better.” She winks, flipping a wad of money on the vanity before heading to the door.

I close and lock it behind her, catching a glimpse of the enamored crowd outside before turning away. She’s right, of course, but I still feel responsible for Jenny.

***

Back upstairs, my apartment is in turmoil. The three of them shouting about what should be done about Jenny, each with varying opinions. Dara’s all for waiting until full dark and tracking her down. Rey agrees, but not with the same vengeance. I have no idea why Dara is so upset about this, unless it’s the violation of her personal space. I can relate, but as Nys points out, it’s Jenny and she obviously needs our help. My getting involved with the discussion won’t help anyone, but the more they yell, the more agitated I get.

“Stop,” I say softly. Too softly, because they keep on going, or maybe they are ignoring me as usual, so I repeat it a little louder. Still nothing. My skin feels too tight. There’s a rustling in my ears and an irritating itch slowly progresses along my flesh.

“Stop!”

And they do. Amazing. But the looks on their faces isn’t one I want to inspire. Fear. Even Dara’s typical composure laced with it.

“Her eyes,” whispers Nyssa.

I stare at her and she looks away. “What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“N–nothing.”

“They’ve changed Keely, they’re black,” says Rey quietly.

“What, like my pupils are dilated?” No one owns snippy like I do right now.

“No,” he shakes his head and nods to the mirror. “Like everything. Nothing, but black.”

I turn to the mirror. No wonder they’re scared, I am too. A startlingly white face stares back at me, fingers brush against luminous skin. It glows, not with the sun—like light Royd projects, but softer, more like moonlight. My eyes are black, no white, no iris, or pupil, just blackness. Like Vereinen’s. The reflection becomes hazy and I fall into that blackness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Who put glitter on my ceiling? When did I get shag carpet and why is it damp? My fingers dig in and I feel something push up under my nails. Eww, someone spilled something disgusting. Somehow, I’ve fallen into the 70’s complete with shag carpet and disco–effect ceiling. To make an already weird situation weirder, everything is in black and white.

The sounds of every cricket, owl and other night dweller are louder, more distinct. Like someone flipped the switch on the city, removing all its familiar white noise.

It finally dawns on me the shimmering orb above isn’t a ceiling lamp, but the moon. That means this nasty carpet is grass and the gunk under my nails is dirt. I’m outside which explains the disco ceiling. Stars. What a relief, but how did I end up outside?

Slowly I push myself into a sitting position, my body aching with each movement. Head throbbing until I can almost swear the stars are coming from behind my eyelids.

Trees dot the landscape and I smell a hint of roses. Maybe a garden nearby? But definitely not the city. A park? Someone’s backyard? Oh hel. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath and slowly let it out. Maybe if I click my heels three times and wish really, really hard I’ll get to go back home.

Gentle hands brush against my shoulders, pulling me back against a firm body and for a moment, I relax as arms wrap around me. Must be Rey. I’m having one of my episodes. I remember them yelling and me wanting them to stop. My skin felt too tight, it couldn’t contain my body, wanted to burst. Then fear when they finally looked at me. There was a stranger in the mirror with luminous skin, kind of like that moon overhead, and blacked out eyes. Pitch black then nothing until the simulated shag under my fingers.

“I see you have taken the time to visit.” Warm breath rides across the back of my neck, lips brushing with each word.

Um...okay, not Rey. I look down at the pale hands on my arms, nearly a match. Vereinen. Damn, that means I’m in dreamland again.

“It wasn’t by choice, so don’t let it go to your head.”

His laughter echoes all the way down my spine in a very disturbing way. Not unpleasant. Making it even more disturbing.

“Dumb question, but where am I?”

He laughs again, the effect doubling. “My gardens, would you like to see them?”

“Sure.” Anything to keep him from touching me, knowing all too well where that would lead.

He helps me up, wrapping my hand around the crook of his arm. So much for that idea. We walk at a leisurely pace. I get the feeling it’s less because of my infirmity and more because that’s just how he does things. Slow and precise.

“Are you chilled?” A sly smile plays at his lips.

I shake my head, not cold, just imagining what else he might do at a leisurely pace. No way am I putting that into words. I’ve got enough problems.

A heady sweetness floats around me as we walk the path through his garden. I can distinguish roses and lily of the valley, but the others are lost on me. The flowers turned shades of silver grey and black by the moon, a photographer’s dream. When we come to a bench, he motions for me to sit and lowers himself beside me.