Chapter 23 #2
The precarity of the evening was far too familiar—the precarity of the last few weeks, really.
It was a constant battle, trying to forget how terrified she’d been when her parents had walked out the door.
How scared she’d still felt on her sixteenth birthday, her first without them, alone and lighting a single candle in a cupcake someone had been about to throw away at the grocery store. Not knowing what came next.
It was like she’d time-traveled right back to that place, to that same fear. She hated it.
Dani turned the faucet on full blast and stuck as much of her head as she could fit under it, washing off the remnants of the glamour, the rain, the blood from the cut on her chin.
She rinsed out her mouth and spat over and over until she could no longer taste the acrid residue of vomit.
Then she grabbed her wet hair in both hands and wrung it out into the sink.
The color dripped from the ends and swirled inkily in the drain, her usual ombre breaking like an arctic dawn in the night sky.
She tossed it a few times to air-dry it, and confronted her reflection a second time; this was the person she’d made herself into.
A person who had broken her own heart.
Dani didn’t know what else to do—she went out into the bar.
Wyatt had beaten her there, already sipping on his scotch and reading the hookah menu when she slid into the plush booth he’d claimed for them.
The setting was distinctly romantic, but that didn’t seem to register with Wyatt, who pushed a tumbler of bubbly golden liquid over to her without looking up.
“I got you a ginger ale,” he said. He was restored to his normal annoying level of handsomeness, his hair back to its close crop and his face clean-shaven. “You ever smoked hookah before?”
“No,” she said, “and I don’t really know if now’s the best time.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, “but you should at least look at the flavors.” He handed her the menu and took in her appearance. “You want a dry?”
She realized he was no longer soaked through, like she was. “If you can, sure.”
He huffed. “If I can.”
Right—not a one-trick mage. A soft ruffle of warm air rippled her clothes and her hair as Wyatt waved a hand over her body, like the portable version of the dryer in the entrance to the Leap’s library.
Her sweater returned to its original fluffiness and her hair felt salon-silky on the back of her neck.
“I thought the brown was pretty on you.”
“Thanks,” she said shortly, staring down at the menu, “but I like my hair like this.”
“Hey,” he said. “Hey.” He put a hand over the menu, blocking her view, and she looked up. For once, there was no trace of sass, sarcasm, or suggestiveness on his face. Only real remorse. “We gotta talk about it,” Wyatt said. “What happened tonight.”
“What is there to talk about? You went against Silva’s orders, and you almost got us caught. We’re lucky Katya was able to shut things down when she did.”
“Yeah,” he said. “We are. But I need you to know that this isn’t a game to me, not in the slightest. I’m just—well, I can be a little impulsive, and I let that get the best of me tonight.”
“You don’t say,” she said, but she felt herself softening.
“I won’t let it happen again.”
It wasn’t her ability making him say this; he’d had enough initiative to address this on his own. Dani met his eyes, and what she saw there was serious enough to convince her. “I believe you,” she said.
“Great,” Wyatt said, with obvious relief. “Now we can order some hookah.” He flipped her menu to the other side. “The magical smokes are on the back.”
“Oh no.” Dani shook her head. “Last thing either of us needs is some kind of enchantment fucking us up.”
“Fair enough. Well, if you want to pick a flavor, I don’t mind.”
“I really don’t know if I’m going to try it.”
“Pick anyway. I’m obviously bad at making decisions.”
“Okay.” She went quiet for a minute as she actually read the options, her mind glomming on to the distraction. “Watermelon mint.”
“As the lady commands.” Wyatt swept out of the booth to place the order.
He’d only been gone for about a minute when the door to the bar opened to admit two police officers.
They glanced around the establishment, scrutinizing the late-night crowd.
Though her body very much wanted to become one with the booth, Dani forced herself to scoot to the edge of her seat and draw the curtains across the opening of the alcove.
She startled when Wyatt slipped back through. “It’s okay,” he said in a low tone. “They didn’t even look at me when they came up to the bar. Still—” He tightened up the gap in the curtains, then took a larger-than-recommended swig of his drink, nearly finishing it in one go.
Dani observed him, eyes lingering on his ostentatious platinum watch. A lump rose in her throat. “Why do you hate him?”
He shook the ice cubes around in his glass. “Hate who?”
“Kass. The CEO’s son. You said he was an asshole.”
“Yeah. ’Cause he is.”
“Why were you at his birthday party, then?”
“Why were you?”
Dani didn’t like the way he was looking at her, his eyes narrowed, curious. He couldn’t know—none of them could. Especially not Silva. She didn’t know what the professor would do if she found out Dani was involved with the CEO’s son.
“McKenna,” she said in the end, taking a sip of soda. “She drags me to parties sometimes. She got herself invited; I don’t know how. She’s pretty good at that.”
“Mmm.” That seemed to satisfy him. “Yeah, so, Kass. We’re in a lot of the same classes together and he really thinks he’s the shit. Perfect grades, perfect family, perfect life. Whatever.”
Dani couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around this assessment of the boy she’d spent time with over the last couple of weeks. “Okay, then,” she said, putting her glass down. “What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean, my ‘deal’?”
“You know. Your in. Why you’re doing this thing with Silva. You kind of seem like you come from money, too. And, um, you’re—”
“Also an asshole?” Though he said it like a joke, Dani could see the rising conflict in his face; she’d touched on a rich vein, but he didn’t want to let her see the ore she’d mined.
“I was going to say, not doing this out of the goodness of your heart, but … yeah.”
Wyatt looked up at her then, his eyes troubled. “I know what you must think of me,” he said. “It’s the same thing everyone thinks, and I get it. Up until a year ago, it would’ve been true.”
She’d tapped it now; an envious emerald green flooded her mind in a rush. She knew she didn’t have to prompt him anymore, so she went back to her ginger ale instead, savoring the bubbles that burst like misfired jinxes on her tongue.
“My family’s business went under last year,” he went on. “Totally bankrupt. We lost our house, our savings, everything. I’m only at the Leap because my grandparents left enough money to pay for all my schooling, and we’re legally obligated to use it only for that. Real fucking helpful.”
“Um. I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but—isn’t it?”
Going by the smoldering expression on his face, that hadn’t been the correct response. “My grandparents don’t give a shit about me,” he said. “They’re only paying for the Leap to piss off my parents.”
“Not a happy family,” Dani said. “Got it.”
“Long story short,” Wyatt said, his bitterness growing weary, “I need the money to bail my parents out. I’m the only resource they’ve got left.” The emerald gave way to a delicate blue—this was way, way more vulnerability than Wyatt usually allowed himself.
Empathy and understanding stirred in her chest. Wyatt didn’t really hate Kass. He just resented him for still having the things he was losing. “I can relate to that,” she said. “It sucks having to take on responsibility for stuff your parents caused.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, exactly. What about you? Why’d you join this roller coaster?”
“Oliver,” Dani said. “I mean, mainly Oliver.” She hesitated.
She didn’t love talking about the tenuousness of her presence at the Leap, but it was only fair for her to open up the way Wyatt had, especially since he’d done so partially because of her ability.
“And, well, I need the money, too. I’m here on scholarship, and I might lose it.
The payout from all this could keep me here if I do. ”
“Damn,” Wyatt said. “I’m sorry. Makes you want to just say fuck it and join a cult, doesn’t it?”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dani said, and he laughed at the sight of her throwing back her soda. A honeycombed warmth spread throughout her with such a swiftness that she was certain it was magical. “Is this a healing potion?”
“Nope,” Wyatt said. “It’s just a ginger ale. I told you sugar’s the best remedy there is for void sickness.”
“How long does that usually last?”
“Oh, you should feel fine after a couple of those and a good night’s sleep.”
Just then, a hand slipped between the curtains and pulled one half back. Dani’s diaphragm squeezed, but it was only the bartender, bringing the hookah Wyatt had ordered.
“Anything else I can get you?” he said as he set it down.
“Another ginger ale for the lady,” Wyatt said.
“What did those police officers want?” Dani asked, feigning nonchalance.
The bartender leaned into their alcove a bit, seemingly eager to gossip. “They wanted to know if we’d noticed anything unusual tonight,” he said. “Apparently a business down the road got hit—unsuccessful robbery. The guys who did it are still at large, and the cops are doing a sweep of the area.”
Wyatt snorted. “Because they’d still be hanging out nearby, hoping to get caught?”
“You said it, not me,” the bartender said, winking. “Enjoy your smoke.”
“Well,” Dani said after he had gone, closing the curtains behind him, “I hope everyone else is safe.”
“They’re fine,” Wyatt said. “Silva made sure of that, even though it meant essentially abandoning us.” He let a long, fragrant curl drift out of his mouth. From the scent, Dani thought she’d made a lovely selection. “Wanna try?”
He offered her the hose, and after a moment’s hesitation she took it. She put the mouthpiece up to her lips and took a tentative pull. As soon as the smoke entered her lungs, she launched into a spectacular coughing fit. Wyatt laughed and pounded her amiably on the back.
“You’re good, you’re good,” he said.
“I’m good,” she agreed, passing the hose back to him. “Just not my cup of tea.”
He gave a more-for-me kind of shrug. Dani glanced down at her glass. “I’m sorry I said you were an asshole. But I’m not sorry I yelled at you earlier.”
“I’m a little bit of an asshole,” Wyatt admitted, “and I deserved it. But you know what,” he said, “tonight might have been a shitshow, but hey, at least we made it out alive. That’s something to celebrate, isn’t it?”
The carbonation in Dani’s stomach shimmered.
Sure, they’d made it out alive—but not everything had.
Kass’s face materialized in the back of her mind, his sweet smile unburdened by the knowledge she now held.
The knowledge she’d have to figure out what to do with.
She raised her drink to Wyatt’s, but when their glasses clinked together, she didn’t hear the sound of celebration—she heard nothing but the ringing of alarm bells.