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Bri nearly swerves into oncoming traffic. “She’s not too much.”
“We know that darling. Unfortunately, Ember does not. I think she was pretty lonely until she met all of us.”
“Aren’t we all,” she mutters quietly.
The truth in her words lands harder than it should. I’m not sure she’s even aware she said them out loud, or that I heard, but it’s a quiet kind of wake-up call I wasn’t expecting.
I move on quickly. “Now, if you were to look up both love and soulmates in the dictionary, there’d be a candid photo of Luna and Lennie front and centre.”
She nods. “That is painfully accurate.”
“But,” I add. “There’s something I can’t quite reach or understand about them. A secret maybe. I don’t know. It’s something about the way Luna drifts away from him when the group naturally splits, and the way Lennie watches her like he’s waiting for bad news.”
"No,” she breathes. “I refuse to believe they have problems. They’re, like… The perfect couple.”
We sit in a strained silence as the indicator clicks steadily toward the exhibition centre turnoff. I wait for it, because I know she’s going to cave eventually. And right on cue, she asks, quieter this time, “And Jax?”
I'm unable to stop the grin pulling at my mouth.
“What?” Her cheeks pink. “You did everyone else.”
"Jax is complicated. The media paint him as this arrogant party boy." Her expression changes so fast I regret saying it. Clearly, she hasn't looked him up, which is interesting, but that means she still has no idea of his past. "Just… be careful with him, Bri."
"I don't believe he's that person anymore," she says, quiet but certain. "If he ever really was."
I glance at her, surprised by how steady she sounds. She barely knows him, and yet there’s no hesitation in her at all. I want to argue. Some old, tired part of me still wants to. But… what if she’s right? I’ve seen the way he is with her, and he does seem genuine. That’s the maddening part—I can’t reconcile the man I’ve been watching with what he did. Two truths that shouldn’t both fit in the same person, and yet somehow they do, and I don’t know what to do with that.
I hesitate, choosing my words more carefully. “You’re right, he doesn’t quite match that. He’s… More grounded than I thought he’d be.” Oh, that’s… Surprising. I wasn’t actually expecting to defend him.
“But?” she presses impatiently, nearly bouncing in her seat now.
“But he seems… Lost.” I tilt my head slightly, considering it. “The Strigoi ending knocked the wind out of him more than he lets on. He’s still doing the conventions, the appearances, all of that performative nonsense…” I pause, watching Bri for a fraction too long. “I think he’s starting to realise it’s not enough. That he wants something that’s real. And I think he’s getting very close to figuring out what that something is.”
She’s too busy concentrating on the tight turn into the exhibition centre to notice the look on my face. “Okay, Mystic Meg."
Oh, my beautiful, smart, emotionally oblivious girl. A chuckle escapes me, making Bri giggle too, though I’m fairly certain we’re not laughing at the same thing.
Chapter 17
Luna
From the second we arrived at the exhibition centre, I knew this year was different. Last year we’d been squeezed into a corner in Hall 1, shoulder to shoulder with barely enough room to breathe. This year, when we checked in, event staff directed us towards Hall 3 instead and honestly, just wow!
The convention has expanded massively; the owners have really listened to the feedback from traders and attendees alike and hired an entire third hall purely to improve the shopping experience.
It’s one of the reasons I love doing these events so much, the owners genuinely care. Not just about the celebrities and ticket sales, but about everyone involved, from the biggest guests right down to small independent artists like myself. They want people to succeed here. And you can feel that effort immediately.
Hall 3 stretches around us in organised chaos; traders unpacking stock, event staff helping people find their tables, as laughter and conversations echo off the high industrial ceiling. There’s energy everywhere.
And naturally more space means more traders, more variety, and more opportunities for smaller creators to grow. So, I took a gamble and applied for a bigger stall. And somehow, unbelievably, it’s paid off. My stall looks incredible.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, grinning despite the shame hidden in my heart. “Look at this.”
Stepping back to get a panoramic view of the backing boards covered in my framed fanart, it looks even more impressive. Stylised film and TV portraits fill the display, every piece layered with rich colour washes and dramatic ink details. Under the bright hall lights the watercolours almost glow, giving the entire stall a soft cinematic feel that makes it look more like an art gallery than a convention setup. I spent weeks planning the layout and for once it’s actually worked. There’s enough room for people to properly walk through and browse without awkwardly bumping into each other too.
A live painting area with my easel, paint and jars already organised neatly, sits by the front corner. Beside it a little desk area where Lennie will be waiting with the card reader, cash tin and carrier bags. It all suddenly feels very real, and with that comes the nerves twisting in my stomach.
I should be happy, but I’m still carrying this secret, and honestly, this weekend might make things worse. I’m practically praying for a miracle at this point, and I’m not even religious.
