The door of the Fang is both familiar and strange, but I don’t give a shit about that. It’s only a door. An obstacle between me and the normality I need more than my next breath.
I yank it open and stumble inside.
The bass hits me, rattling my bones. I ignore it and the lingering stares, shoving roughly past several patrons. It’s crowded tonight—fuck, I don’t even know what day it is. Myname is whispered, then shouted, stunned voices drowning out the music. Glass breaks behind the bar. I don’t turn around. I could use a drink or ten, but that’s not why I’m here.
I careen into the dressing room and slam the door behind me, blinking wildly. It’s the same as always: layers of glitter caked to the floor, a line of well-lit mirrors on the right wall, and stilettos stacked in haphazard piles against the lockers. The air is sticky and sweet, a mix of hairspray and perfume. I manage a shaky inhale, coating the inside of my nose with the smell of home.
Sitting in front of a mirror, with a tube of purple lipstick gripped delicately between her fingers, Imani meets my eyes in the reflection and lurches to her feet. The lipstick falls to the floor and rolls, disappearing inside the leg of a faux-leather thigh-high boot.
Her arms wrap around me, and I shatter exactly like Luca feared I would.
Sobs erupt from somewhere deep in my chest. The other girls gather around me, but I can barely see them through my blurry vision.
Brandy’s platinum-blonde hair grazes my arm, Ada murmurs something and curls against my back, and I fucking cry. Uncontrollably. I’m a dam with a leak. I cry until my eyes are sore and my throat burns with every hiccuping swallow.
Someone presses a bottle of tequila into my hand, and I lock eyes with Lyss over Imani’s shoulder. Her signature gap-toothed smile is nowhere in sight. The absence is jarring, and reality crashes back in, making me aware of the commotion behind me.
“You’re not getting through this door,” Ada says fiercely. “I swear to the mother, Luca Saratelli, I will put you on your ass if you try again.”
“Ada, I would never hurt Celine. You know that.”
She scoffs. “Let me tell you what Iknow. I know my friend is crying—something I’ve never seen her do in the three years I’ve known her. I know that she’s covered in cuts and bruises and dirt and blood—her own and gods know who else’s.” Ada glances over her shoulder at me and shudders, pushing the door another inch closer to closed. “She’s dressed to spite every mirror in the realms: pocket-sized to floor-length. It’s truly awful, I’ve never in my life?—”
Luca’s hand lands on the other side of the door, keeping her from closing it all the way, but not trying to force it open either. “Ada?—”
She continues talking, barreling right over the top of whatever he was about to say. “And I know that Celine disappeared weeks ago with you and Alistair. Until she tells me she wants you in here, you won’t be coming any closer. Do you hear me?”
Ada bursts into tears, but she doesn’t move out of his way.
Another wave of emotion hits me—grateful tears, this time—not because Ada thinks Luca might have hurt me, but because she’s putting herself at risk to protect me. Almost any supernatural that might try to get in here would be stronger on paper than Ada. Hell, she describes her magic as ‘finickier than a lit match in a thunderstorm,’ yet she’s facing down a basilisk shifter wearing nothing but six-inch heels, a thong, and nipple tassels.
I cover my mouth to stifle my sob.
I’ve been gone for weeks, and I was distant for months before that. I was trying to keep my father’s attention away from the girls at the Fang, but they don’t know that. I don’t deserve this loyalty, and they’re giving it to me anyway, no questions asked.
“H-he didn’t hurt me, Ada,” I say around a hiccup. “Neither of them did.”
Her shoulders sag, then start to tremble.
I meet Imani’s gaze and swallow hard. I love the guys. I killed for them, and I was prepared to die for them too, but I need to talkto my friends. Even if I’ve already made up my mind about Malach, I want to get their take on it.
I call Luca’s name, sniffling as he sticks his head into the dressing room, lip ring caught between his teeth. “I’ll come home soon,” I tell him. “After I explain to them what’s going on.”
His worry throbs through our bond, pulsing around my heart, but he nods immediately. “Take your time, baby. I’ll be right out here. I-I can’t—Celine, don’t ask me to go without you.”
“Okay.” My response is barely audible, but Luca hears it and steps back from the threshold, satisfied.
The door closes, and I’m led to my station. I’m surprised to see my things still neatly organized on the counter. I thought they would have given this spot to another dancer by now.
“Sal wanted to,” Imani says, answering my unspoken question. “We told him if he got rid of your stuff, we’d all walk.”
I collapse into my chair.
Brandy presses the infamous box of tissues into my hand. I’ve seen it hundreds of times—it’s fucking hard to miss—but I’ve never needed to use it before. Covered in pastel sequins, the tissues themselves are pink and purple.
“They have essential oils,” Brandy whispers. “And I added a little spell I’ve been working on. I swear, Celine, your nose won’t turn red or swell or anything. These tissues will have you walking out of here as good as new.”
I thank her and wipe my face. The tissue has a nice herbal smell that reminds me of Hyacinth, and I stiffen.Did I lead a teenager into the Naked Fang?I don’t know if she remembers Earthat all. Dragging her into a strip club on night one is a bad idea. Riven will take care of her, I know that, but maybe I should go check.
