Shadowglass (8 page)

He swallows, dismissing it all. He’s not interested in random plunder. He’s here for only one thing, and he listens harder, scouring the fae-bright ether for the itching stink of a rusted round hellball.

He doesn’t find it. Gritty sweat stings his burnt palm. Too much clutter. He’ll have to look the old-fashioned way. Folding damp silvery wings, he pads lightly out into the dark corridor, ears pricked for movement even though he knows Kane’s not here. If Kane were here, he’d be caught already.

Smooth off-white walls, an unused bathroom, the dry smell of vacuumed carpet leading to other rooms, empty, distant, stuffy with loneliness. Light spills up the curved white stairs, tall shadows angling, the rubble-flecked iron rail stabbing bright in his senses like a trail of fire. Down, on a draft of cool air that tingles beneath his wings, to mahogany floors lined with steel nails, receding like runway lights under the screaming tungsten filaments of halogen lamps.

The black television reflects him in a mosaic of glass and shimmering silicon transistors. The sick ache of overstimulation grips his skull. His stomach chews listlessly at what’s left of the cobalt-laced fish he swallowed for dinner, and nausea climbs his guts to crouch in his throat like an oily toad. Metalsense makes him sick. He tries to focus on the cool blue titanium bangle shining around his wrist. Light, inert, comforting, it’s the metalfae equivalent of a seasickness bracelet, but it’s never enough. If he doesn’t switch off soon, it’ll get messy.

But he still can’t smell the mirror. There’s no rust here, not in this vapid façade of an apartment, almost as fake as Indigo’s own.

Down a fresh-painted corridor, mercifully synthetic. He ghosts past a lead-spattered oil painting that glares in his eyes, and an old gilt-framed mirror backed with mercury sickens him with the stink of his own blood.

Kane’s bedroom. Dim, cool, charcoal’s acid tang drifting from neat white sheets. Metal clamors from the master bathroom, sharp chrome edges knifing his sinuses. No rust. No mirror. He swivels to leave, but gentle silver twinkles on his tongue like sherbet.

There, under the bed. Almost hidden by folded linen. He bends to slide one claw over knotted woolen carpet and hooks out a woman’s shimmering diamond bracelet. Snapped, the silver wrenched apart, the clasp still holding.

He holds it to shadowed light, tiny rainbows prisming, and a faint fruity scent waters his mouth. Strawberries, tainted raw with alcohol. His memory somersaults back to last night, Ice laughing on his lap with diamonds tumbling around her slender wrists. The same wrists that trailed those sweaty diamonds around Kane’s neck and crushed them into his hair when she came.

Indigo drags the shimmering chain over his tongue, just to be sure. Sweetness flares like fruit juice from rough facets, delicious icing on the cake of fine silver. His blood sparkles. It’s her.

Ice was here. The mirror’s gone. Given her incorrigible jackdaw fingers, probably not a coincidence. Brave, quirky, cute little Ice. He wishes he’d been there to see it. He smiles darkly to think of her, and distrust of his own motives burns his bones.

He should leave her alone. No certainty she’ll know anything. Kane could simply have the horrid thing with him. And for all he knows, she’s working for Kane anyway.

But it’s a place to start. A plan that doesn’t involve picking a demon lord’s pocket in public view.

Anticipation whets his metal-drenched senses. His headache swells, deafening, and he wraps the diamond chain around his finger, clenching his fist so tight, it cuts, and silvery blood slides over his knuckles.

He’s still leaving. This is just for information. Ask his questions, use her blushing fangirl act against her. Find the mirror, return it to Delilah. Leave Ice alone and get out. That’s all.

That’s all.

Urgency twists his diaphragm, and he swirls on sweating wings and darts for the stairs. The motion sickens him further, and he barely makes it into the empty bedroom and out the window before gritty metal vomit explodes in his mouth. He spears into the air, giddy, and gasps warm fresh air through the acid remnants of his sensory feast and a faint, lingering lust for strawberries.

8

A
fternoon sun glared in our shop window, spearing mercilessly through the purple tie-dyed drapes to roast us. The sign outside says
CRYSTAL DREAMS
, and we dress up like New Age gypsies and pretend to be fortune-tellers, dazzle them with glamour so we can steal their wallets and break into their houses if they look rich.

The air inside had been cooking all day like a dead pig. Hair stuck to my neck in trickles of persistent yellow sweat, and the scent of sandalwood candles stifled me, though we’d stopped burning them when it started to get hot.

Business was slow. Nonexistent, in fact. Our feathered dream catchers hung stagnant and damp. I sighed and gazed longingly outside, where light breeze ruffled café blinds and shopping bags, fingering lightly through people’s hair like little dancing feet. The urge to flee swamped me like an ocean wave. I imagined the clean smell, sea breeze and pollen and freshly cooked pancakes from the café next door, and my head throbbed in sympathy.

In reality it’d be stinky with exhaust fumes and sweat and city dust. I didn’t care. I wanted out to play, to let the wind ruffle my hair in the park and smell green grass’s cool moisture, or drink in bright salty sea spray with a sugary sorbet and roll down the sand into warm waves at St. Kilda Beach.

I wriggled my legs on my wicker chair, the garish sequins on my top flashing in the sun. My silken skirts itched me, damp. Sweat trickled down my bare belly into my navel. Innate longing for cool water flooded my veins. “Can’t we close up and go to the beach? I wanna swim and chase jellyfish and throw sand at little kids.”

Azure glared up from her puzzle book, damp purple scarf tied loosely over her hair. Heat doesn’t bedraggle her as it does me. It just polishes her beauty a little more. She puffed her wings, wafting cooling breeze over her face. “Be sensible for once, sensible one. How are we supposed to scam anyone if you piss off to the beach?”

“We don’t need another one yet, Az. We just made four and a half grand, remember?”

“Yeah. Half of which you two already spent on booze and pills.”

“It wasn’t half—”

“And the diamond money we already owe to Sonny V,” reminded Blaze, who was trying to fly upside down over the coffee table, his feet stuck up in the air and his dangling scarlet hair dripping sweat on the pinewood. He reveled in the heat, being firefae and all. I asked him once why he sweats, if he loves heat so much. He said because it makes him look sexy. I couldn’t argue with that. “In fact, we owe Sonny a lot more than that. Five grand more by week’s end. Fancy getting your wings ripped off by a hairy Italian gangster?”

“And your teeth pulled one by one,” chimed in Az.

“And your claws torn out.”

“And your ears sliced off.”

“And a fat ugly cock up your—Ow!” Blaze banged his head on the table and tumbled to the floor, lithe denim-clad legs tangling over his head.

“Serves you right, idiot,” I said crossly. “Stop doing that. Someone’ll see.”

Blaze unfolded himself and shook like a wet dog on his knees, wings crackling with green sparks. “Fuck ’em if they do. I don’t care.”

“Well, you should care. What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing. I’m just sick of other people’s fucking rules, Other People.” He glared at me, defiant orange flames flicking around his lashes.

I scowled back, his attitude scratching like a burr. “If Other People didn’t watch out for your ass, you’d be crucified to cardboard in some human’s butterfly collection by now.”

“Uh-huh. You, watching out for my ass. I’ll remember that next time we go to Quang’s.”

Discomfort swelled my blood. I still felt bad about that. But irrational ire twisted my tongue, and words spilled out, coated with un-censored truth. “Yeah, well, maybe you should just let Sonny Valenti suck you off instead of giving him the four grand, if you liked it so much.”

I held my breath, blood hurtling too fast in my veins.
Uncalled for, Ice. Nasty. Say you’re sorry.

But Blaze just laughed at me, spite smoking from his claws. “Nah. We’d get more per hour for you, seeing as you’re so keen on arrogant assholes with no manners. Is it true you come harder when you’re crying?”

“Stop it, you two.” Azure jumped up in a whirl of silken skirt, her nose twitching. “Someone’s coming. Blaze, put your damn glamour back on.”

I swallowed angry words and jerked up from my chair. Az always knew when business was coming. She could smell their intent on the air from down the street.

Fine. We’ll do this one and then I’ll get the hell out and go to the beach. Alone.

Stormy static zapped behind me as Blaze ignited his glamour. The doorbell tinkled, and a fat woman waddled in. Sweat sprayed from her rolling limbs and stained her stretched white dress, the colossal outlines of damp underwear clearly visible. White canvas bag with wooden handles, no separate purse. An easy one.

I wrinkled my nose at the sour stink, still smarting from the truth of Blaze’s accusation. “Great. The incredible doughnut woman.”

Oops. I said that kinda loud. Giggle.

“Shut up!” hissed Az between her teeth, and raised her voice, wafting her glamour-cloaked wings to puff a cool draft over the sweating woman. “Welcome, lady. Blessings of the stars upon you. How can we be of service?”

The woman shifted, uncertain, the floor creaking under her squashed rubber flip-flops. “I want to know the future.”

Azure flashed her dazzling smile, and irritation crawled under my skin. “Of course. Sister Ice will consult the magic crystal. It never lies.”

It never lies.

An epiphany washed over me, refreshing like lazy ocean swell, and a cool iron whisper of truth feathered my skin.

It never lies. How wonderful. How . . . liberating.

I snorted, fortified. “Don’t need no stinkin’ crystal to see your future, lady. An early heart attack and a triple byp—”

“Step this way,” interrupted Azure loudly, pushing in front of me to usher the fat woman inside.

I gaped at myself for a moment, remorse stinging my cheeks. What a horrible thing to say. Stupid, too. We needed the cash. She didn’t look flamboyantly rich like the last one, but the stones in her rings were large, and that was a Rolex digging into her flabby wrist. She could have treasure at home.

But alien mirth erupted in my chest, and I spurted laughter. Horrible, but funny. And true. I was sick of pretending. So, so sick.

Azure speared me a warning frown, her mouth tight.

I widened sarcastic eyes at her and flounced into my seat in front of the crystal ball. We found it in a dusty junk shop months ago, when we first came up with this scam. For all I know, it really is magic. “Okay, lady. What’s the story?”

She lowered her sweating turnip-shaped body into the chair. “Well . . . I’ve met this wonderful man, you see. He says he loves me, and that we should get married. I must know if he really . . . If it’ll work out.”

Her tired blue eyes shone with hope, and I winced. Ten to one he was stinging her for her fortune. “Okay. Sure. Give me your hands. . . . What’s your name?”

“Noelene,” snapped Blaze, staring out the window. “Can’t you smell it?”

I glared. He knew I couldn’t sniff out names like he could. “You know what? Screw you, Blaze. Sorry, Noly-poly. Give me your hands—Okay, yuck. That’s gross. Wipe ’em first, can’t you?”

Bewilderment hurt Noelene’s eyes, but she did as I asked.

Azure swiped frustrated claws through the air at me. But I ignored her, satisfaction lightening my heart for the first time since Quang’s. It was sniggering, alien satisfaction, but I didn’t care.

I wasn’t on this earth to care what other people thought of me. Screw it, and screw them.

I dragged Noelene’s clammy hands around the glass ball, and as her flabby arm lifted, a petroleum whiff of sweat and overworked deodorant dizzied me. “Shit.” I coughed, but too late. My vision wobbled, and the images poured in.

Young, dark, boyish curls and swift cunning smile, silky black suit and a white tablecloth at some glassy restaurant that smells of patchouli. Eyes like hot chocolate, intent, she’s mesmerized, her heart fluttering when he brushes his gold-ringed hand over hers. Lobster and champagne, lemon sorbet on an icy silver tray, she’s paying, thrusting her brassy credit card forward, no, I insist, my pleasure. Driving her home in the sporty car she gave him, breeze tugging her lank hair, the smell of leather and designer aftershave and freedom. Kissing in the dark on the veranda of her rambling suburban mansion, her fat body wet and aching with need and loneliness, he tastes of Moët and heaven, he’s pulling away too soon, we can wait, soon we’ll be married and I’ll make love to you in Paris. He leaves, too quickly, and she waddles into the dark house alone with her dreams.

I spluttered, shiny glass chaos raging against sensibility in my blood. So lonely, this poor woman, so in love with an untouchable prince who doesn’t care. My heart hurt for her. I wanted to break it gently, warn her to leave before he broke her heart.

But the truth isn’t my concern. Remember Sonny’s trolls. We need her money. Keep her sitting here so Az can snatch her purse, get her address, her credit card numbers. Now’s the time for a big fat lie. I’m good at those.
Yeah, sure he loves you. Congratulations. Go home and plan your wedding.

I took a deep breath, and the words spilled out before I was ready. “Christ. Are you kidding? He didn’t even have a hard-on.”

“What?” Her damp forehead creased, confused, and behind her Az inched forward, crafty fingers reaching for the bag.

I stared into the blank glass, shaking.
Tell her he loves her, that he doesn’t care about her riches. Tell her he’s a nice Christian boy looking for a good woman.
But my poisoned pulse thudded in my ears, whipping me to careless truth, and before I’d even opened my mouth, I knew it was no good. “Lady, look at yourself. You think a guy like him wants to marry you? He doesn’t even wanna fuck you. Tie the knot with him and you’ll be over a cliff in your Audi by year’s end.”

Muscles clenched in her wobbly jaw, and she dragged her bag onto her lap in sweaty hands, out of Az’s reach. “How dare you?”

I felt like crowing, or hiding under the table. Az waved her hands frantically, but pleasure chemicals thrust into my blood, hot and sexual. I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, and it felt awesome. “Trust me, he’s playing you. Dump his lying ass and find another boy toy. Here, our Blaze is free. He’s cute, and he’ll fuck anything for money.”

Tears washed her eyes, and she clambered to her feet, sobs shaking her jowls. “You horrible little girl. You could at least have said it nicely.” And she hove to, brushing Azure out of her path, and lumbered out, sniffing.

The bell tinkled, and the glass door slammed shut.

A grin splattered across my face like a custard bomb, and stuck there.

Azure rounded on me in a breezy storm, her face darkening to cobalt. “She didn’t even pay. What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” I laughed, the expression on her face needling mirth between my ribs. God, it felt good not to give a shit.

“Plastic dogshit. You’ve got to be kidding me! You just broke that woman’s heart!”

I folded my arms across my sequined chest, defiance steeling my spine. “So? It was the truth.”

“I don’t care! How about not getting my wings ripped off, Ice? How about not getting buttfucked to death by some warty troll?”

Blaze snickered, and she shoved him, fury bleeding her wings white. “Don’t you start.”

He fluttered back cheekily. “You gotta admit, the look on that fat chick’s face was kinda cool.”

“Have you both gone totally insane? We need the money, Blaze. Think she’s gonna tell her friends good things about us? What are you gonna do, Ice? Sell yourself on the street? Get a real job? I don’t think so.” Az glared from Blaze to me and back again, and her pretty mouth dropped open in a gasp. “You’re in this together, aren’t you?”

“What?” I gave her a sarcastic frown.

“Razors on a waterslide. The two of you. You’re doing things behind my back. Playing tricks on me.” She lifted her tight little chin, greenish hurt flooding her face.

Blaze laughed, cruel. “What if we are?”

“That’s ridiculous,” I cut in, glaring at him. “We’re doing no such thing.”

But Azure wasn’t listening. Tears trickled blue on her cheeks, and her throat caught in a clutch of sobs. “You’re so mean to me! It’s not fair!” And she yanked the door open and ran out in an indignant whirlwind, skirts trailing a whiff of lemon blossom.

I let my head fall back and sighed. “Real clever, Blaze. What’d ya do that for?”

“Do what?” He pressed his nose flat on the window, craning his neck to follow her exit, a curious little grin on his lips.

“Let her think we’re throwing some big conspiracy party behind her back, of course.”

“Well, aren’t we?” He threw me a casual glance, but it fixed me in place like a corkboard pin.

I laughed, uneasy. “What are you talking about? I didn’t tell her, if that’s what you mean.”

I tried to brush past him, but he slid bony fingers around my elbow. His hand shook, tense. No levity in his voice. No teasing smile on his lips. “I don’t mean us nearly shagging. I mean this. She’s jealous. You’re careless. I’m . . . Well, I’m kinda twitchy, you know.” He jerked his head, and vertebrae crackled. “Nothing’s any fun anymore. Having a hard time keeping still. Don’t ya think something’s a bit wrong?”