Chapter 7: A Hint of Gold

It became immediately clear as soon as I climbed into the car—which would, more appropriately, called a limo—that Sy's good guy welcoming act up in the box had been just that—an act. He didn't say one word to me as we got into the car or until we stepped out of it again and waded into the warm brown-wood interior of the pub.

The pub was literally a two minute drive away, but the crush of fans outside the stage door—so dense that we had to be surrounded by security to make it the ten feet to the car—demonstrated that Sy Dage did not just 'go' anywhere. His every movement was a production, coordinated by a team of security and managers and professional organizers.

The pub was crowded, and a quick flicker of familiar magic against my senses told me where most of the crowd had come from: Sy's concert. They were humming with his darkly gorgeous Unseelie magic. It made my skin crawl.

There was a massive cheer from all around as they spotted Sy. Cell phones were raised for photos. Women were screaming declarations of love. Sy raised a hand and gave them a quick half smile. The screams intensified. If it weren't for the security men circling us, I'm sure someone would have tackled Sy or been begging for a cutting of his dark, glossy hair. I was pressed so close beside him I could feel the ripe, rotten magic festering on him, smell the whiskey-and-sweat sweetness of him.

The booth he'd been talking about was really the only booth in an entire back-room performance space.

"Two double bourbons," Sy gestured to his security. "Whatever's top shelf. And wait outside."

Then we were sitting alone in the muffled quiet of the backroom, the whiskeys sitting tall between us and spicing the air with dark, very expensive aroma.

There was a taut, dangerous energy to him, a darkness that was almost magnetic. It wasn't just his stage presence. It was something deeper, more fundamental, more macabre—a need communicated in the silent pressure of dark eyes.

"I'm not doing the show," I said sharply, trying to sound collected. But the fact was that he was radiating that black, rotten energy, the aftermath of his massive magical working at the concert. His skin, his eyes, his voice, it was all tangled with power. And it was intoxicating. I gripped my beer tighter, not drinking.

"Really?" He sipped at his own dark pint. "That's very unlike your people. Breaking contracts and all that."

"Contracts?" I repeated suspiciously. "What do you mean by contracts?"

"I mean that you're committed to this. Or at least you've been committed to this. We both have. Worse luck."

"I didn't agree to it," I countered quickly, biting my lip. "I wasn't asked."

"That's big talk, considering you brought us together, princess."

"Why in all the realms would I want to associate with you? I have not used so much as a charm to advance my own career—why would I stoop to appealing to you? Besides, it was YOUR team that reached out to ME. Not the other way around."

Sy looked wryly amused and annoyed in equal measure. "I thought you Seelie were all about balance and the reign of order and whatnot."

I stared at him, fuming internally but focusing my fury and challenge into my glare. He was batting me around like a cat with a ball of yarn, enjoying the power imbalance between us. I was tempted to snarl at him, to challenge him in the way I would have done if we were in the Realm of Faerie: a magical competition, or even a duel. But this was not Faerie. This was a grubby pub in London. Exactly the kind I would usually be playing at. And all the while, he still buzzed with the powerful wash of concert energy, a vortex of sweet, thrumming power that I could almost taste like the sugary fizz of soda.

"Tell me," I said, swallowing my pride, "what in all the worlds you mean by that."

"Magic is getting impatient with you, princess." Sy's knowing smile made me want to slap him. "You came into this plane and then ignored it like some senseless mortal. Was it out of pride that you could do just as well without it? Rise on talent alone? Nevermind, don't tell me. Either is as naive as it sounds. But the moment you opened yourself up to a true, meaningful spell—or however you rescued that poor child in distress and then went viral about it—magic took you by the hand and lead you where you wanted to be. Magic took the wheel. And clearly it has a sense of humor. It's getting back at you."

"Where I wanted to be," I grunted—incredibly undignified, but incredibly angry, "was not next to you."

"The feeling is mutual," Sy leaned forward, dark eyes flashing. "Even if you are cute when you bit your lip like that."

"I am not 'cute,'" I shot back, narrowing my eyes. "And I don't appreciate your tone."

"Yeah, yeah." Sy leaned back, waving a many-ringed hand dismissively. "You Seelie. You float around with such power, such beauty, such superiority. I bet people tell you just spontaneously tell you that they love you before they give you any kind of bad news, right?"

I huffed, trying not to remember the countless 'Hester. I love you, you know that. But you cannot let this moment go's and the 'Hester, I love you, but sh*t's.

He sighed deeply, and to my shock reached out a hand to touch a lock of my hair, twisting it thoughtfully around a finger. I was too surprised to pull away, watching the movement with mesmerized disgust. "Well, like it or not, we're both here. I can't back out of the collab without looking like a complete snotty tool who doesn't want to share the spotlight. But trust me, I don't want to work with you any more than you want to work with me."

He let his hand fall—right onto mine.

There was a split second of bright, clear energy—something like a spark that happened through all my veins, all at the same moment. A hot, golden rush of power. Glorious. Complete. Perfect. And then it was gone. I gasped, freezing, and I saw at once by the wide-eyed, startled look on his beautiful face that that he had experienced something similar.

It was magical. Absolutely, clearly magical. And I had no idea what it was.

We sat there, staring at each other. It was a brief moment of startled unity—a shared shock. But then, as quickly as it had come, the sense of united faded. Our hands lay one on top of the other on the tabletop.

I waited for him to say something about it. To explain. But by the way he was looking at me, he was expecting something similar from me. And I had nothing.

There was a long silence, as our startled stares gradually turned back into our original hard glares. I felt the decision forming between us: we were going to ignore that spark, that moment. Because neither of us wanted to admit any kind of ignorance in front of the other.

"I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsal, princess." He slid out of his bench and levered himself up to his full, considerable height. "Hopefully you can keep your lunch down next time you hear me sing."

I shrugged again as he pulled his hand away at last. The pressure of it slid away without another explosion of sweet golden power. Entirely ordinary. As ordinary as two ordinary humans, parting at the end of the night.

When I got back to the apartment, I felt utterly drained. I dragged myself up the three flights to the apartment door and slouched past Toby and Cass where they were perched in the kitchen, fresh beers in hand, Toby regaling his sister with the splendor of the evening. I was in no mood for it. I waved tiredly and shot a quick "Goodnight" their way before escaping toward my bedroom.

But I stopped when I got to the door. I had the shimmering, familiar sense of a magical presence on the other side. And I could hear the shifting of weight on the tired floorboards. Someone was waiting for me in my room. Someone who wasn't human.