EIGHT
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #13:
Identify your weaknesses, then kill them.
CELINE
The summer rolls in mercilessly. Beams of sunlight penetrate every inch of the city. No air conditioning unit or magical cooling charm in existence can keep up with the dry heat that hovers over the pavement. It gyrates in hazy, horizontal ribbons, the texture visible in a way it shouldn’t be without eating a special mushroom or two first.
Today, Imani and I are rehearsing in the empty club. We’ve been keeping this weekly routine going for years, and that’s comforting to me, extreme temperatures or not.
Climbing to the top of the pole, I let myself roll down slowly as I test out different holds.
Heat makes a lot of people sluggish. Not me. I feel alive, like I could outrun sweat itself if I tried. My dance routines have gotten faster and more aggressive. My tips reflect the extra effort, which is a good thing, because I’m giving as much money as I can toHarry. I tell myself it doesn’t matter. I don’t even need magic to know I’m lying.
Anika popping up on the trail changed things for me.
My itch hasn’t stopped, and I can’t pinpoint the cause to save my life. Ciprian is gone, so it seems Luca was worried about nothing there. His departure being as sudden as his arrival doesn’t surprise me. He’s exactly like all the visitors who slink in and out of our lives here at the club. The Naked Fang is a vacation from reality, and by extension, we are too.
“I need a break,” Imani gasps, her face twisting as she bends over. Her breathing is labored, and I frown as I drop to the floor and study her more closely.
“This is more than the heat,” I guess, hoping I’m wrong. When she doesn’t correct me, my belly churns. “Imani, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“I-I can’t fucking do it,” she admits, anguish coating her voice.
“Thenwe’lldo it,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Together.”
“I can’t let you risk it.” Imani lifts her head, her wide eyes tormented. “We could drown.”
“Hey, listen to me.” I infuse magic into my words. “I will not let that happen. I swear it.”
Imani stares at me, scanning the runes covering my skin before clenching her jaw. “If you don’t mind?—”
“Bitch, don’t insult me,” I snap, and her lips curl up into a reluctant smile. They’re chapped at the corners, and I kick myself for not noticing sooner. Imani has been pushing herself to rehearse with me and suffering the entire time.
Hurrying to the storage room, I yank the big tub away from the wall. It’s here for the wet and wild events we put on from time to time, but we haven’t used it in a while. With one hand, I drag it out of the room and down the hall, stopping behind the bar.
Under the counter, there’s a thick, coiled hose, the nozzle resting in a bracket above the sink. I yank it out harshly, themechanical whine abrasive in my ears as I force it to uncurl, then turn the water on to fill the tub.
Imani eyes it with dread, hands shaking at her sides. “You know, I’m feeling better?—”
“It’s too late for that,” I say. It sounds harsh, but I’m mad at myself. I should have seen how badly she was struggling sooner.
“Your wings are smoking,” Imani whispers. When I see she’s right, I hiss and close my eyes. “If you’re pissed, we can always do this later.”
“I’m pissed at myself.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except be a completely oblivious, selfish bitch.”
Imani snorts. “Give me a little more credit, Celine. I’m covert, you know? Mysterious and all that.”
My glare tells her exactly what I think of that bullshit. “We promised each other,” I murmur.
Her face falls. “I remember.”
“Do you?” I demand, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “Because the best-friend-approved list of acceptable ways to self-destruct includes banging hot losers, overspending during sales, and drinking until you forget. You know what’s explicitly forbidden? Letting yourself desiccate because of baggage you never asked to carry.”
