“Ari just showed you water. What else!”
“Flowers,” Dominique calls to her.
“Isla’s no good at tricks with flowers,” Ari says. “She doesn’t like them.”
“I like flowers just fine,” Isla retorts. Her hand is already moving, reaching toward the large potted gardenia bush nearest to them. She plucks one of the bush’s large white blooms and holds it out to everyone. As they stare, she twists her wrist, and a wash of gold sweeps over the flower, petals stiffening into metal, the remaining life in it dissipating as the entire object solidifies into a metal sculpture.
Gasps of wonder, then applause.
Isla hands the gold flower to Dominique. “An engagement present for you, Minnie,” she says.
Dominique takes the flower and laughs. “Like I don’t have enough from Michael.”
“A trophy, then. For all the overtime Reed’s been putting you philosophers through.”
“Okay, fair enough.” She leans over to tuck it behind Ari’s ear. “Looks better on you.”
Ari, in turn, presents it to Charlotte. “Not as good as it will on you,” he says, nodding at her gold boots, and she beams with pleasure at him.
Two of the men sitting next to Ari get up for drinks, and as they do, the state senator named Doherty scoots over to his side. His face is glowing tonight from the benefits of sand, his natural strength of public speaking enhanced.
“Reed calls you his golden boy,” he says.
Ari smiles serenely. “Is that so? I wouldn’t know.”
The man laughs, then lowers his voice. “Look, Ari. About our last meeting. I’ve been promised a contribution, but I want to make it clear that Lumines can’t get preferential treatment.”
Ari gives him a look of mild surprise. “Well,” he says politely, “that’s disappointing to hear, Mr. Doherty. Any chance I could change your mind?”
The man shakes his head, but when Ari puts a hand on his shoulder, he senses elevated levels of cortisol in the blood. Doherty must be feeling anxious. “You know it’s a contentious election year,” Doherty admits. “I’ve got an uphill battle for the mayorship. If I’m going to play favorites with Lumines over Grand Central, well, it could get very complicated with the bureaus. I’ve recently had visits from the city attorney, asking about my tax papers. I don’t want Grayson on my tail before I face him in a debate.”
Ari lets his hand linger a second longer on the mayoral hopeful’s shoulder and feels desire rise in the man. “Let us worry about the bureaus,” he replies. As he speaks, he quietly transmutes some of the man’s anxiety away, changing cortisol into serotonin, letting the chemicals gradually build up, boosting the man’s confidence. “We’ll make sure the mayor doesn’t get wind of any of this. All I need to know is that, when you’re in office, Lumines will be guaranteed an exclusive port contract, import taxes waived. Reed has big plans for expansion, and all of them require your cooperation.”
The man hesitates, then starts, “If I could—”
Ari’s voice turns firm. “No other syndicates.”
The light in the man’s eyes is already changing, and Ari can see him tilting in favor of the plan, coaxed by the swell of good hormones in his mind. “Well,” Doherty says again, trying to stick to his declaration. “Well—Grand Central, that is, Diamond Taylor already has her own contract that would conflict with yours.”
“You know Mayor Grayson favors Grand Central. We don’t deal with him, and we expect you to return the favor after your win.”
“I appreciate your confidence,” Doherty says in a hushed tone, “but—”
“Give me the number you want for your campaign,” Ari says calmly.
The man hesitates a while longer, then names it.
“Done,” Ari says, sipping his drink.
The man hesitates once more, caught off guard by Ari’s nonchalance at the price, but the transmutations are too much for him to resist now, and he shakes his head. “Well,” he says, “if you can keep your end of the bargain.”
“I’m not the one you need to worry about,” Ari says, removing his hand from the man’s shoulder. “Keep your end, and we have a deal.”
Doherty relaxes, feeling confident, convinced his decision is his own. Then he edges closer, and his voice lowers so that only Ari hears him.
“Can I see you again?” he murmurs. “Please. Whenever you want. I’ll make the time.”
Ari smiles, colder now. He’s certainly no prostitute, although he has used the occasional affair to get what he wants for Lumines. But the key to such a strategy is to keep oneself scarce, so Ari just says, “We look forward to your signature, Mr. Doherty.”
