Keep Your Enemies Close, Your Friends Closer
ARIEL
By the time we close Poison Apple, my arms feel like wet noodles and my smile has started sticking to my teeth.
The last customers spill out onto the sidewalk in a glittery, drunk clump. Rap locks the register. And I’ve wiped down the bar with sharp, efficient strokes.
Ryder waits by the front door, arms folded, scanning the street through the glass.
Since Snow gets off earlier than me this week, he escorts me home.
Dude even has an open-carry license and has been walking around with his piece showing.
It feels weird to see it in Poison Apple, a painful reminder that it might be necessary, but to be honest, it also makes me feel safer.
I roll toward Ryder, bag tucked against my side, when I spot white hair outside beneath the streetlight.
Snow stands near the curb in her all-black gear, one hip cocked, daggers strapped to her thighs like a black cat. She almost reminds me of Lucifer sometimes. Though if I told her that, she’d murder me.
Snow lifts a hand and waves without smiling. She’s been tense lately too.
"Snow’s here," I say to Ryder, already pushing toward the door. "Don’t worry about walking me home. I’ll be fine with her.
Ryder looks past me, his gaze narrowing. "Are you sure? I can still walk you both home."
I shake my head, even as I watch Snow shift her weight from one foot to the other as if slightly impatient.
Usually, she’d come right in and wait, but for whatever reason, she’s still poised outside.
Maybe she had another weird fight with The Seven that has left her anxious or pissed off. I’m still not sure about that guy, err, guys? I see how he looks at her. I know he deals with a lot of issues having seven personalities and all, but I’m all kinds of uneasy around him.
I mean, he knows I’m a mermaid now, which feels like letting my roommate’s boyfriend go through my panty drawer.
Both violating and unsettling. But there’s nothing I can do.
He can’t unsee it, and I just have to trust that he won’t tell anyone.
I mean, he has plenty of his own secrets he’s trying to keep on lockdown, which I can relate to.
But the guy is undeniably unstable.
Unlike Snow, I don’t like riding the roller coaster of unpredictability with other people. And as all over the place Snow is, her friendship, her loyalty, and love are rock solid. She’d never let anything happen to me.
"No, we’ll be fine, but thanks, Ryder. See you tomorrow night."
He gives me a nod and holds open the door for me as I leave. "Straight home."
"Yes, Dad."
His brow lowers as he lets out a low snort that could be amusement or irritation.
I push through the front door into the sticky summer night.
"Hey, you," I call to Snow. "Any news?"
She smiles, but it looks off, or maybe uneasy? Snow shakes her head no.
Snow starts walking, and I roll beside her, the streetlights striping over the glossy black of her outfit. For a few seconds, all I hear is the soft spin of my wheels and the occasional distant honk of cars.
"So," I say, prodding harder, "Patrolling was a bust?"
Snow glances down at me. My skin prickles with an unease I can’t name.
She takes a different street than usual.
"Where are we going? Ryder said we better head straight home or he’ll likely ground us," I try to joke, but the prickle of unease keeps growing inside me.
She slows and turns to face me.
"Are you okay?" I ask. "Did something happen? Is Mr. Multiple Personality being a dickwad again because I’ll punch him. Seven times. One for each of them."
Snow's chin dips and her eyes drop to my lap, then come up again, and she presses her lips flat. Then she reaches out to me, and I see a strange glint before cold metal kisses my neck.
Pain stings bright and mean.
I gasp.
"Don’t worry." The voice that comes out of Snow’s mouth is all wrong. It’s a man's voice, a familiar one I can’t place.
As Snow pushes the plunger down on the needle, her blue eyes turn green.
All the air leaves my lungs at once.
"Snow?" My voice cracks in half. My body jolts before my brain catches up. I grip one wheel, ready to roll, ready to shout, ready to do anything except sit there while every survival instinct in me starts banging pots and pans.
The street tilts.
My fingers slip against the wheel rim. My chair jerks sideways and bumps the curb. I grab for her wrist, but my hand barely closes.
Snow catches me before I spill forward.
Strong.
Too strong.
Her arms lock around me, steady and careful, almost kind.
No.
No, no, no.
The world smears at the edges. Neon stretches. Streetlights bloom into halos. My tongue goes thick in my mouth as I realize who is holding me.
The Seven.
Green eyes, this is Six? The one who can make illusions. Oh fae lords...
Panic claws through the drug, slow and useless. I try to scream. It comes out as a wet sound behind my teeth.
"Don’t worry," he says.
A van pulls up beside us, quiet as a held breath. The side door slides open.
I try to move, but I can’t even twitch a finger.
Six gathers me closer even as my vision floods with darkness.
"Mother will help you," he says, voice calm and certain. "She’s going to help all of you."