I lurched upright. “No!” Oops, that sounded very judgmental. “I mean, no, she doesn’t. This music is lovely, butAudrina sings folk songs and plays her guitar. Less of a heavy beat,” I explained. “More ballad-like.”
“Hmm.” Donovan met my eye in the vanity mirror. “You are kind to offer her sanctuary.”
“I’m hardly going to leave her out on the streets. She’d be trafficked in a heartbeat. The poor girl doesn’t even have a phone. Her father is never home, and her mother is a tyrant.”
“Tyrants do not give up their prisoners easily,” he said quietly. “If this mother finds out the songbird has escaped and is seeking sanctuary with you, she will strike out at you.”
“I know,” I sighed. “I will have to manage her in the same way I manage everyone else.”
He looked almost interested. “You will do battle?”
“In a way. Management is all about helping people get onto the best path for everyone. And the best thing for Audrina is to get her away from that family, and the best thing for her mother is to let her go so she’s not constantly confronted with her disappointment every day.”
I exhaled wearily. I was a big believer in redemption, but practical enough to know that sometimes, you just had to throw the whole person in the trash. “As you said, tyrants don’t give up their prisoners easily, and since Audrina is underage, Jessica won’t let her leave home.” I looked out the window, thinking. “Audrina’s mother cares about one thing and one thing only; her image. She’s cold and heartless, so there’s no point appealing to her sympathy. No.” I sighed. “I’m going to have to threaten to ruin her reputation.”
“How will you do that?”
“She prides herself on being seen as a good mom. Mom of boys,” I clarified. “She’s based her whole personality on it. I just have to publicly threaten that image. I’m thinkingwe’ll film a few clips of Audrina talking about how hellish her life is and how horrible her mother is, interspersed with some videos of her singing, just to gain additional interest. Then, we’ll send them to Jessica and threaten to release them on social media—and tag her, of course, so her humiliation is as public as possible. Then, we just have to offer Jessica some options, so she feels like she’s in control of the outcome. I bet she’ll let Audrina either stay with me, or she’ll enroll her in a boarding school somewhere far away, until she’s ready to go to college.”
Donovan nodded slowly. “And if it does not work, we can kill this Jessica tyrant,” he said softly. “We will ‘tag’ her publicly.”
“Um…” I’d been wondering how much of what I was saying he would understand. “Let’s call that plan B.”
Donovan furrowed his brow, listening to the explicit lyrics of the song again. “It is interesting. The women in the front box of your carriage sing songs like the warrior goddesses of fae lore. Do you have the same warrior goddesses in this realm? They sing of the same things. Is this a hymn to the old gods?”
“Uh. No? How are they… uh… similar?”
“They sing of destroying men’s bodies, gripping them, and forcing them to beg for mercy. Wrestling pythons. Devouring predatory cats all night long. And… eating equine beasts like baked goods?”
“No, no, my friend,” Amir chipped in. “Eatingasslike acupcake.”
My cheeks burst into flame. “Oh, look,” I said brightly. “We’re here!” Amir turned onto a dark street lined with huge cypresses. It felt like we’d turned into another dimension. One second, we were on a city street; the next, we were driving down a dark road lined on both sides withmansions and stunning gardens. “Professor Owen’s manor house is just there.”
The wrought-iron gates were wide open. A strange blue glow lit the space between them. “That’s weird,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “I didn’t know he had laser security.”
Donovan grunted. The two boys sandwiched up against the window next to him flinched. “It is a ward, Chosen.”
“Huh.”
Amir pointed. “I drive in, yes? He has circular driveway?”
“Yes please, Amir.”
“No.” Donovan said firmly. “The ward may not allow you to enter. You will find your flesh pushed through the metal of this carriage like raw beef in a sausage press. Even these younglings will not survive the passing.”
The teens squeaked.
“Just stop here, thanks, Amir,” I said.
He pulled up to the curb. Before I could open the door, Donovan was there, holding it open for me.
“Have good fun, my friends!” Amir called out. He roared off, trap beat still booming.
I turned to face Professor Owen’s manor house. Just beyond the glowing blue gates, I could see lights on and hear a faint tinkling of laughter.
I gulped. “Donovan?”
“Yes, Chosen?” He stood beside me.
