Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was only when the invitation card arrived in the mail that Paige realized her mistake. Unfortunately, by then, it was too late. 

Her morning started out normally. Nothing was amiss. After the ritual, she expected more changes to her day-to-day life, but that wasn’t the case. She still woke up around dawn, well-rested and ready to face the day. Work still existed. Her brother’s returned presence in the house mostly affected the food available in the fridge so far, not much else. 

That morning, she searched through yet another one of her dad’s ’spell books for distinguished gentlemen’, trying to find a permanent facial shaving charm while fending off feelings of alienation from her body at the same time. She was starting to run out of them. At the very least, she hadn’t had to pay for any of them, but it was still frustrating. She said as much when she exited the bathroom and Bryce asked her why she took so long when she didn’t use a ton of makeup.

He looked at her with an expression that could only be described as puzzled. “Why don’t you ask another transsexual to help you?” 

She sighed as she went to the kitchen sink to pour herself a glass of water. “I don’t know many other transsexuals,” she said. The one she talked to most was Pocket, and she didn’t think they worried much about facial hair or lack thereof. They had other problems, one that seemed so different from her own. 

“Oh.” Bryce’s brow furrowed. “Sorry. I didn’t know. Well, maybe you can find some. I’m sure some lady has a trick written somewhere that can help you, and she just hasn’t gotten it published.”

“Maybe,” she replied and tried to smile. At least Bryce was here. At least he was trying to help. Already she had more than she used to. But, in the back of her mind, she couldn’t help noting that Bryce would have known about her unwanted disconnection from the transsexual women of New York if he had been there consistently, from start to finish. She tried not to resent him for it. The ledger in her head where she kept score of all of the pain felt unreasonable. And yet, she kept writing in it anyway.

“No, not ‘maybe’. Definitely!” he insisted. “You’re the one always saying that knowledge is lost if it isn’t in circulation, that even writing it down doesn’t prevent mistakes or decay. Ugh, now that I’m saying it aloud, you totally get that from Mom. But I figure it must be true here too.”

She nodded. “I guess you’re right. I’ll just have to try harder to find out who might know something helpful. I don’t think I trust my magic enough to try to reverse engineer a spell on my own.”

Bryce blanched. “Oh, absolutely not. I heard of a guy who turned his head into a sheep,” he said. “Not worth it.”

That almost sounds like Billy, but what are the chances? she thought. The only reason she didn’t say it out loud was that the prospect of trying to explain Billy — the most notorious visitor to her library branch, a self-proclaimed rioter, and a surprisingly competent ritualist — to her little brother of all people was far too daunting to attempt.

“Anyway, there’s some mail for you. I left it on the counter.” Bryce gestured vaguely to his right. 

Paige perked up at the sound of that. People hardly ever wrote her letters, and almost everything sent to their house was for their parents. “Oh, thank you! Do you know who it’s from?”

“No,” he said before returning to his porridge. His next words were muffled. “It said something like J.G.? Do you know a J.G.?”

“It doesn’t ring a bell…” She picked up the envelope, turning it over in one hand. It smelled of a perfume she couldn’t name. The aforementioned letters were rendered in painstakingly ornate calligraphy. Even the material of the envelope itself felt expensive beneath her fingertips. Who would send her such a thing? 

Paige turned to the drawers, tugging them open one by one. The fourth one yielded a letter opener. “I could have just lent you my knife,” Bryce offered from his vantage point. She didn’t bother acknowledging that with a response. She busied herself with slicing the envelope open, slowly but surely, making sure not to damage what was inside.

“It’s a letter!” Her eyes widened as she tugged it out of its former prison. “Let’s see here… Dear Miss Patience Clarke, Lady… Jeanne Geist?!?”

“What?” Bryce sprung to his feet. “Let me see that.”

She wordlessly handed it over. They stood shoulder to shoulder, hunched over to read the summons — oh, Patrons save her, it was a summons — together. “Lady Jeanne Geist cordially invites you to her annual Emerald Jubilee as an honored guest. This year’s event will take place at the Baroness on October 7th, starting at dusk. Please RSVP as soon as possible and communicate any dietary restrictions or requirements— What the hell?!? I didn’t think she liked you!”

“I didn’t think so either!” she cried out. During the ritual, Lady Geist was nothing short of standoffish. The woman complained right in front of her about them being paired together, how she expected cold-hearted killers and not ‘spineless idealists better off fixing the reference section’. The Patron’s words about their team being necessary for victory did little to halt the skepticism. It faded as they continued, true, but Lady Geist never apologized. Paige had imagined that their lives would never intertwine again. Why would they? They lived in completely different tax brackets. What use could someone like Lady Geist have for little ole her?

Bryce turned to her, his expression grim. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Do you know what this means, Paige?”

“She’s going to sacrifice me during the event?”

“What? No. You need a new dress!”

Seconds passed by. Her mouth fell open. “You’re right! I have nothing to wear!” Her wardrobe was a vast wonderland filled with skirts, sweaters, cardigans, and not a single formal gown. This was sensible to her past self; what need did she have for anything else? Her suits were long gone, gifted away to people in need and a decade out of date besides. 

“Do you know any tailors that could make you one in time?” Bryce asked. He sounded so concerned. Her heart clenched in her chest. This was how it always should have been. Once again, she thanked her Patron. Once again, she wondered if she could ever be grateful enough.

The smile she answered him with was thin but determined. “I do actually,” Paige said. “I know the perfect one.”

She had to make the trek after work, but that was for the best. Outside her seat window, darkness was falling over New York, a veil shielding the sensitive from the ravages of the sun. As she drew near to her stop, more and more passengers left the train, off to their own lives. Most days, she was only aware of that in a distant sense, too absorbed in her books to think much of the outside world. 

Today, she had one cracked open on her lap, but she didn’t register the words. It was gibberish to her. Resigned to her fate, she watched the crowd instead. One woman ate her way through a messy hoagie, somehow avoiding getting any of it on her clothes. A man dozed off, his hat placed down over his eyes. Two young kids giggled together. Every so often, one would spray the other’s gills with water. It was such a touching display of love that her throat closed up. 

She remembered a time when Bryce was that small and cute. A time where he was gracious, not cruel. She remembered holding him when he was born and thinking that he’d save the world. Where did it all go wrong? Was she too overbearing? Too careless? The old Bryce could have told her. The returned Bryce…

Paige chose not to think of it much.

When she got out at 96th Street Station, it was mostly deserted. There were people around — of course there were, this was New York — but much less than she was used to. The people around here must not take the train much, she thought. They had chauffeurs. They didn’t need to mingle with people like her, who had to check over a carefully penned list of directions to find her final destination. They belonged in Carnegie Hill, and they knew it. They could read its streets like the back of their hands.

She, on the other hand, had a piece of paper. It guided her past identical brownstone townhouses and soaring mansions until she settled in front of the former. A slightly rusted intercom was labeled with various names. She thumbed at the only one she recognized and held her breath. If her one and only hope wasn’t home, then this entire journey would be for nothing.

Right as she was about to call it quits, a crackling noise came through the speaker. “Oh my god, finally! I’ve been expecting you for forever! Don’t think I’ll give you a tip after this!” 

Paige blinked, stunned. “Wh—” 

There was a click and then a grating bzzt! sound. It reminded her of a crime show her dad liked. She could almost see the gaping void of a prison now. “Don’t worry about it, Paige…” She shuddered as she pulled open the door. “It’s not like you’re actually entering the belly of the beast!”

Despite her best efforts, her dread continued to swell as she took the stairs. Technically, she was perfectly capable of turning back. She had the power. No one was making her put one foot in front of the other, step by step, as she ascended to what could be her doom. But who else could she turn to that might meet Lady Geist’s high standards? Every other tailor capable of it would be far too expensive. Heck, she didn’t even know if this one would be affordable. She only had a fragile hope in her heart that was struggling to stay alive.

She made it to the fourth floor without collapsing. The right door was at the end of the hall. Her feet dragged, like she was wading through an ocean of molasses. The sight of the door knocker did little to ease her woes or calm down her beating heart. The grotesque face of a screaming man, made from wrought iron, had a giant ring protruding from the mouth. As she lifted it, noting its weight, she hoped it wasn’t cursed. It made such a loud thud as it impacted with the wood that she winced away.

Immediately, she heard grumbling through the door. There was a series of clicks and thuds from behind the barrier, along with an unmistakable voice. “It’s literally been almost half an hour, I can’t believe this. Don’t you know my time is too important to waste? I mean, really! Do you really want to be the sort of person to keep a hungry vampire waiting? That’s a one-way track to getting dumped in the Hudson—”

Paige stared at the apartment’s occupant as the room swung open. Gawked, even. She had an image of Mina Ha in her head, a picture that screamed ‘Gothic beauty’. Sleepwear and a face sans makeup was what greeted her instead. “Um. Hi?”

Mina’s expression morphed from shock to rage in the span of a second. “You?!? What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were the blood bag delivery service!” she hissed.

“Sorry,” she said on reflex. “But, uh, it’s not really like you allowed me to say anything else? You just hung up and let me in.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault? Really classy, Paige.” Mina crossed her arms over her chest and let out a huff.

A chill settled over her. “That’s not what I meant!” She shook her head vigorously for emphasis. Please don’t turn me away!

“Right, right…” Mina drawled. Paige fidgeted, frozen to the spot by the vampire’s glare. The resulting silence stretched out towards infinity. Finally, Mina rolled her eyes. “Screw it. Come in already. I don’t want you darkening my doorstep longer than you have to. The neighbors complain enough about me behind my back as it is.” 

“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much,” she babbled, scooting past her into the darkness beyond. It was like brushing past a statue made of ice. Gooseflesh sprung up all over the place of contact.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Don’t go having a heart attack on me. I do not want to deal with that too.”

There was a rustling noise before the lights came on. “Your apartment is really nice,” Paige said politely. It was, if you were into black and red and nothing else.

Mina looked completely unimpressed by her attempt at basic pleasantries. “I know that. It’s my place, isn’t it? I’m still not hearing what you want. Is it money? Did you bankrupt yourself buying one of your stupid first-edition books or what? Because I don’t know what you’re expecting here, but I’m not digging you out of that hole.”

She took a deep breath and counted to five. “No, I’m not asking you for money. Do I really look like I would?” A part of her was genuinely curious about the answer. The rest was trying to remember how sentences worked.

“You look like you’re about to throw up all over my new carpet,” Mina replied, not missing a beat. “If it’s not because you’re scared to ask for a handout, then why are you so nervous? I don’t bite.”

The absurdity of that made her giggle. The incongruity between the Mina she remembered from the ritual and the Mina standing before her now was starting to disappear. “I didn’t know you made vampire jokes,” she said.

“Ugh! It’s just a habit, okay?!? Stop stalling!” 

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Paige felt a smile coming on. “Do you remember working with Lady Geist?”

Mina rolled her eyes back so sharply that it looked painful. “Do I remember working with Lady Geist— Yes! Obviously! I’ve only worshiped her since I was six! No big deal! What about her?”

“Well, she invited me to an event she’s hosting? The Emerald Jubilee. I’m all a mess because of it. I’m excited, but I really don’t know what I’m supposed to wear. And then I remembered you, and how you make the prettiest clothes, and I thought… Well, I don’t know what I thought. I thought maybe you’d want to help me?” 

Her rush of words was met with clear bewilderment. “You mean to tell me,” Mina raised a finger in the air, “that she invited you too? … Oh.” 

“Will you help me?” Paige asked again in case it didn’t register. She didn’t know how to deal with the crisis Mina seemed to be undergoing, but repetition usually helped get her point across.

Her heart sank as her potential savior began to pout. “I don’t see why I should have to,” Mina said.

“But it’s for Lady Geist! You know how critical she is firsthand!”

“I think you mean particular. And she deserves to be! She sighs, and the very world of luxury fashion rushes to adapt in response! She’s everything you should aspire to be. You wouldn’t be able to manage it, mind you, but you should at least try.” Her scathing critique was dulled a bit by the sound of her rumbling stomach. Even so, Paige still flinched like she had been stabbed.

“We can argue about my phrasing another time! What I mean is that I don’t want to disappoint her, and I have nothing to wear. Won’t it embarrass you if I show up in something awful?” she asked, clutching her hands in mock prayer.

Mina shook her head. “I’d get over it. Your horrible fashion sense isn’t my problem,” she shot back. It didn’t matter that she was only in shorts and a loose shirt, or that her hair was in disarray. Her haughtiness remained intact, undeterred by anything else.

This was the worst possible scenario. The gears in her mind began to desperately turn. Think, Patience! How can you get her on board? What does Mina Ha want to hear?

“Alright, fine,” she said. “I didn’t want to have to do this. But I’m not above a bit of stooping like you think I am. During the ritual, that doorman almost killed you. I saved you. And you said that you owed me one. Well, I’m… I’m calling it in! If you make me a dress, I’ll call it even! You won’t have to worry about me ever again.”

Mina’s eyes flashed red. There was a long moment where she thought she’d be thrown out of the room entirely, closed door be damned. Then Mina bent over, laughing. “Well, damn! I didn’t think you had it in you!” she wheezed out.

Paige stared at her fit of hysterics. She wanted to sink into the feeling of relief, but doubt held her back. “So… you’ll help me?” she pushed hesitantly. 

“Yeah, I’ll help you,” Mina confirmed. “I don’t do things for free. But I’ll do things for free if blackmail’s involved. I didn’t think you had the spine to pull the trigger like that! I mean, you’re such a nerd. It’s not really like you. You must really not want to humiliate yourself. Which you would, if you showed up looking like that.”

Her gaze dropped down to the outfit she was wearing. “I know this isn’t formalwear, but I don’t think it’s that bad,” she said. Her voice sounded weak and uncertain even to her own ears.

“Oh, honey.” Mina’s eyes shone with blatant pity. “If anyone really, truly cared about you, they’d burn your entire closet and max out a credit card getting you new stuff. But who cares about that? You can be a disaster any other night! With my help, you’ll be the third most beautiful woman there!”

“Third most?”

“Well, maybe fourth,” Mina amended. “I don’t know if that Wraith lady will be there. She’s, like, naturally stylish. You can’t beat that, even with me in your corner. But we’ll try our best, okay?”

Before she could work up the courage to ask who the second and first place winners of the beauty contest would be, the sound of a bell cut through the air. A floating red orb she had ignored turned a bright green. “Hey, is this Mina Ha’s residence?” 

“Ugh, finally!” She practically flew at the orb, clutching it in her claws. “Look, if you’re not the blood bag I ordered, don’t even bother coming up. And if you are, you better be ready to grovel and have the tastiest blood ever, or I’ll make sure you never work in Manhattan again!”

Mina slammed the orb back down on its pedestal before the voice at the other end had the chance to reply. She turned back around, all smiles. “Do you mind waiting so I can measure you after I eat? Thanks, you’re a peach.”

“I actually do mind a bit? I’m not trying to judge, you have to survive, but blood makes me a little queasy. Plus, I’m late going home. My parents are probably worried.” More words beat at her ribcage, fighting to come out. She clenched her fists and searched for her resolve. “A-Also… That was mean. I don’t think you have to be so mean to someone who’s coming to feed you!”

Mina’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, so if you’re at a restaurant, and they spit in your food, you’re obligated to be nice just because they’re feeding you? That’s your great philosophy?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all! You’re putting words in my mouth,” she accused.

“Well, your actual words are stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t know how to treat the help! Watch. Whoever it is is going to knock on the door, they’re going to apologize for leaving me here with nothing to eat but you, they’re going to offer me a discount, and I’m going to take it. That’s just how good service works!”

Three loud knocks rang out. “Hey! Open up, shithead!”

There was exactly one second of time before the abrasive words registered where there was only a bit of irritation in the air. Then there was nothing but vicious ire. If Mina was an Ixian, the air itself would have ignited. “Excuse me?” She stormed over to the door and wrenched it open. “You can’t talk to me that way! You little pustule! Where the hell is my blood bag?”

“You’re looking at him, jerk! Not like I was exactly thrilled either to see your name dropped in my inbox!” Billy snapped. 

He looked exactly the same as before the ritual. Maybe there were new pins on his jacket or tears in his pants, but she didn’t have the eye to tell. To her surprise, he still had the goat head, and it was exhaling hot air that came out looking like clouds. “H-Hi, Billy,” she said, waving at him.

“Oh, hey, it’s the girl who thinks she’s an intellectual hanging out with the girl who thinks she’s a big shot. What a surprise. Should have known you were just another social climber.” He made a noise that was part grunt, part bleat.

“As if she has the guts for that! Grow up!” Mina said with a disdainful tone. It took her a second to realize that the vampire was, in her own way, defending her.

Footnote: I don’t know how to feel about that.

There was no time to process it, not with how poorly the conversation unfolding before her was going. “You first! Oh, wait, you can’t. You’re the poster child of arrested development.” Billy sneered at them both. “It’s like you don’t even want blood. You’re wasting your money, and you don’t even give a shit!”

“Oh, please! Don’t make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. You’re not! I don’t need you, and I definitely won’t be using that company again if their standards have slipped enough to hire you on as a candidate! Your gross ass anarchist goat blood will probably give me a disease anyway.” 

“Why you little ass—”

She was muscling her way in between the two of them before she was even able to consciously think about it. “Can you guys just stop it?!? Please? You squabble more than the kindergartners I work with! You’re grown adults! That’s so embarassing!” she snapped.

Billy recoiled. “You callin’ me a kid, Paige?” 

“I’m calling you an antagonizer,” she replied. “You did this during the ritual too! And you do it every time I see you, even though all I want is to just be friends! I know you’ve been burned once or twice, but you don’t constantly have to approach every encounter like you’ll die if you show a little grace!”

“Aww, it’s okay,” Mina said. “I don’t think he knows anything about decorum. He can’t help it.”

She whirled around. “And you!”

Mina blinked. “Me? What did I do?”

“What didn’t you do? You need blood, you’re clearly running on fumes, and if you’d just put aside your pride, you could get some! It’s not safe to go too long without feeding! You never mention your sire, but they should have told you that! Don’t get me wrong, I’d offer to help, but I’m not a good option. The other day, I was reading a memoir by the current Viscount of New York, and there’s this fascinating aside about anemic people and their rate of survival after vampire attacks. Did you know that you can almost instinctively decide who in a crowd possesses the most nutritional value per pint? He mentioned this peculiar case where a vampire’s first meal was an anemic person, and they decided all other blood tasted ‘wrong’ after that. They had to be force fed a decent source of blood because—”

“Is there a point to your word vomit, or are you just committed to explaining what it’s like to be a vampire to the one vampire you know?” Mina interrupted, eyes narrowed.

“O-Oh,” Paige faltered. That did seem pretty bad, even if Mina was being very cruel and short-sighted. “Sorry.”

Billy snorted. “Oi, don’t apologize! Never back down! That’s what people like her want!”

It was all too much. The gown that didn’t yet exist, the party that was yet to come, the ritual meant to be long behind them. Her head was so full of bees that she had to stamp her foot to get the frustration out. “Fine then! You can bite him and not kill him! You can let her feed on you and not make a scene about it! I’ll turn around and wait for you to be done, and I don’t want to hear any more fighting! Or I swear, I’ll… bring out the dragon! I will!” 

Mina and Billy gave each other considering looks. “Fine,” Billy said first, “if you answer me one thing. Why the hell are you here? I know why I am, but what do you got to do with her if you’d keel over if she bit you?”

Their reluctant host smirked. “Well, Billy, this might surprise you. But Paige here has been invited to the event of the year! Lady Geist wants her at her jubilee, and I get the twin pleasures of going myself and dressing someone for the occasion. Sorry that we won’t see you there, raiding the bar or whatever it is you do.”

“Whaddya mean by that? I got invited too, you know. You’re not special.” He tossed his head. The nails in his horns glinted in the low light.

Predictably, Mina’s mouth fell open. “There is no way you were invited, you lying asshole!” she retorted hotly. Her face was flushed with the little blood she had left.

“Was too!” he said, his voice holding a similar amount of heat. “You ain’t gotta believe me, I don’t give a shit what you think. Her calling me ‘Mister William’ is gonna haunt my nightmares either way.”

Mina’s hands came up like she intended to strangle him. “I— You— Ugh! F-Forget it! Go ahead and sit down! Let’s get this over with. I can’t believe today. What a waste of a good moonrise…”

She watched them get settled on the couch, both grumbling at each other, before she found the sense to turn away. It didn’t matter that they almost all died together during the Maelstrom. There were some sights Paige felt justified in not wanting to see.

At least I’ve learned something! she thought brightly as she tried to ignore Billy’s hiss of pain. If even he was invited, then surely Lady Geist just wanted to celebrate their little team. She wasn’t a target in particular. She was just the woman who happened to be the sixth member needed to make the ritual work.

The aristocrat’s intent truly was nothing to fret over after all.

Chapter Text

A week flew by before she knew it. She wished she could say that she spent those seven days unbothered, her mind focused solely on the joys of reading and storytelling, but that would make for a colossally unbelievable lie. Several times, while she was in the midst of weaving a tale for children, her mind would drift to the subject of ballrooms or rituals, and she’d falter. Today, a parent pulled her aside and asked if she was possessed or otherwise under the weather. The encounter made her want to disappear. The rest of the day, she kept replaying her hurried mumbled reply. It sounded like frail excuses even to her. But what else could she say? Sorry, ma’am. It’s not that a ghost is trying to hijack my body and lead me into a life of necromancy. I just got invited to a high-class function, and I’m losing my mind waiting for my dress! 

Honesty, for once, did not feel like the best policy. 

Paige felt a bit of relief as she headed home. At least I have a day off tomorrow, she thought. Reading through The Parlement of Foules always gets my head on straight. The weather further improved her mood. There was a nice breeze in the air that cooled the sweat on her brow. The sun had dipped below the horizon, but all the street lamps were aglow in comforting hues of yellow and orange, and people were still milling about, laughing and loving together. She smiled as she dodged the gaggle of teens endemic to her neighborhood, waving at them as she passed by. They were always hanging out. They were always expected.

The woman standing in front of her house was not.

“Mina? Is that you?” Her heart sped up against her will. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

Mina turned at the sound of her name. There was a suspiciously large lump held under one of her arms. The vampire smiled, flashing her fangs. “Private investigator,” she said to the last question, ignoring the rest.

“What?!?”

“God, it’s a joke, you paranoid little nerd,” Mina huffed. “I’m not wasting that kind of money on you. I found you the same way you found me? The Yellow Pages?” 

“Oh!” Her mind went back to the myriad number of times she had highlighted her address in a copy of that for a friend. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Well, duh. Of course it makes sense. ‘Private investigator’. I can’t believe you actually took that seriously for a second. Like I’m going to ring up some detective like, hey, please find this bookworm, she’s done me a great wrong by not putting her address on a piece of paper for my convenience! Anyway, this is for you.” After that rush of words, Mina shoved the bundle into her arms.

Paige stumbled at the force of it. To her relief, the bag didn’t feel like it contained meat. There was something sharp and thin in there, but she couldn’t feel the rest through the plastic. “I—”

“This is probably your first time with silk, right?” Mina cut in. “It’s not as hard to maintain as you might think. You’re going to want to fill a basin with cold water and use a really good shampoo. Mild, mind you. You’re not trying to damage it. Just hand wash it. And don’t be stupid and put it in the dryer, or I’ll hunt you down. Getting the fibers for this was not easy. The air is your friend here. Just hang it up over a drain somewhere and let it dry. Got that?”

Her gaze fell down to the bag again. “You’re already done sewing?” she asked, her voice full of disbelief. She distinctly remembered Mina shoving her out into the hallway and saying not to expect it for two weeks at least.

“I don’t know if Billy is just on a million stimulants or if he has blood with the distilled energy of a five year old on a sugar high, but I have not been able to sleep the past few days. So why not? Do not tell him I said this or he’ll never let me live it down, but I might have to keep him on retainer for when I have really bad deadlines. It’s the perfect edge!” Mina rambled. Now that she was paying attention, she saw how wide the other woman’s eyes were. There was barely any blinking going on as well.

“That… sounds like it, yes,” Paige began hesitantly, “and thank you for your hard work, but I’m, um, not sure if it will fit? I should try it on right now. Do you want to come in? Actually, no, you can come in. That’s fine. If you want to!”

“You’re inviting me into your house? Into your precious family home?” Mina’s eyes tracked her as she walked past to unlock the door. “Are you stupid? Hey, what if I decide to drain everyone?”

She nearly dropped the key, but not because of the hypothetical threat. She was being confronted firsthand with her issues with multitasking. This is embarrassing… “You’re not the first vampire to be in my house,” she said out loud, fumbling the offending item into the lock. “And besides, I have a stake! I’ll take my chances.”

There was the sound of spluttering behind her as she finally got the door open. “I’m home!” she called.

“Welcome back, baby! We’re in the sitting room,” called her mother. 

She turned to look if Mina was going to follow behind and jumped. The vampire was right behind her, almost looming with the help of her heels. “What?” Mina shrugged. “You said I could come in. Don’t back down now.”

“I-I’m not! You’re just really quiet,” she told her. “Let me get the door.”

Once they were cut off from the outside world, more or less, Paige stooped down to awkwardly kick off her shoes. Mina silently followed suit, arranging the stilettos next to her discarded footwear. “It’s just going to be my parents and maybe my brother,” she whispered to her. “You can say a quick hello and then we can go upstairs.”

Just as expected, the three of them were huddled in the living room. Bryce was glued to the television and hogging the couch at the same time. Mom and Dad were both reading, though the former was scanning her copy of The New York Oracle and Dad had his nose deep in a manuscript. “How was work, Paige?” Dad asked.

“It was fine,” she replied. A part of her was ashamed for lying, but she knew Bryce would laugh if she explained what had happened, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with both him and Mina at the same time. “We have a guest!”

All three of them jerked to attention. “Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Mom gasped. “Hello there, dear. What’s your name? How do you know our Paige?”

“Oh, not to worry, Mrs. Clarke!” Mina simpered. “Paige didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t the plan for me to come by today, but things changed at the last minute. My name is Mina. It’s lovely to meet you! Thank you for having me over.”

“Mina’s a work friend of mine,” she added. That was true in the way that her saying ‘well, I like books a little’ was true. The ritual had been a lot of work, but it was over now. Still, explaining their connection as existing only due to the Maelstrom would be a problem. The day was long enough. She didn’t want to spend the last few hours of it fighting over her involvement with the Patrons again.

Her father squinted at them both. “Is that right?” He sounded unconvinced. “Mina, Mina… I swear I’ve seen you somewhere before. Oh! Were you interviewed in that segment about the Brooklyn Public Library two months ago?”

“Umm, no, I don’t think so!” Mina’s laugh sounded very charming. It was so unlike the usual way she laughed that Paige had to gawk at her for a moment. “I get that question a lot though. I guess I have a doppelgänger out there! How weird!”

Bryce was smirking. She glared at him, begging him in her head not to start anything, but his mouth opened anyway. “Huh. That’s so weird, Paige. I didn’t know you worked the night shift!”

“Bryce!” Three voices cried out in offended unison.

Bryce did not fight. He didn’t do the usual song and dance of calling it a harmless jest or snapping over the scold. A full-body twitch coursed over him, his mouth thinned into a little frown, and he fell silent. His gaze turned back onto the TV.

Huh, Paige thought. It was both peculiar and something she didn’t want to dwell on. “I’m sorry about him, Mina,” she said, turning away to lead her up the stairs.

“Oh, don’t be. He’s right in a way. I’m a total night owl now.” It was even harder to hear her with the heels off, but the creaky stairs betrayed everyone, no matter if they were living or undead. The groans continued until they reached her room at the front of the hall. 

“Here we are!” she announced, pushing the door open with her hip. The welcoming aroma within, all old paper and knowledge, washed over her. She carefully placed the dress on top of her quilted bedsheet and went to place back her Chaucer.

Behind her, Mina let out a low whistle. It was unclear if she was reacting to the bookcases, which took up almost all of the walls, or the stacks of books that couldn’t be placed into the more organized system. “Wow. It’s very… you.”

“Thanks!” she called over her shoulder. “Can you get the door for me? Otherwise, my mom’s going to be in and out to talk with you.”

“Ugh, pass.” Immediately, there was the click of the door. Then it was only the two of them.

Mina glided about the room like she belonged there, dodging the piles of prose and poetry as she went. “What’s with the board? You don’t have a single poster or anything? Just this ugly photo?” 

She knew what Mina was looking at without needing to turn around, but she did so anyway. “I used to have Bryce news displayed there,” she admitted. “Or, well, it wasn’t really news. I was just trying to find anything that could be him. It felt a little pointless once we were reunited. But I didn’t want to leave it blank, so I thought that clipping was the next best thing.”

Just after the ritual concluded, they were swarmed by reporters, all six of them. She drew near to Mina to get a better look. There she was, frozen in a weak smile, blood oozing from her forehead. Photograph Mina was scowling, maybe because the camera was cataloguing the tears in her outfit and her frostbitten fingers. Billy had his middle finger shoved up close to the lens. It was an imperfect capsule of time. The photographer was a good one, but they couldn’t capture the sharp contrast between the green of Lady Geist’s arm and the red drenching it, or the way color varied across Bebop’s cobbled together body, or even how Infernus’ hands glowed. Even so, she liked looking at it. No matter the conflict it caused in her family, Paige wanted to remember her triumph.

“They think the next one will be in 1999, right? I wonder what another 50 years will bring.”

She glanced at the other woman out of the corner of her eye. “I don’t know,” she said, “but I can guess one thing. You’ll still look the same as you do today!”

The light came back into Mina’s expression. She preened. “Yeah, that’s true. Except my outfit will be way better by then. I’ll be Viscount after all! And you’ll be squinting trying to read your favorite books.”

“You’ll definitely be the most experimental dresser at the reunion!” She laughed at the mental image alone — Mina in some formless outfit that only existed in the dreams of prophets, her reveling in her wrinkles. It’d be worth the wait just to see what 1999’s fashion would bring.

Rather than laughing too, the vampire flopped down into the only chair she had in her room. “Speaking of outfits… I want to see how the dress fits you! Put it on! Chop chop!” 

She’s like a dog with a bone, she thought. It wasn’t a very fair thing to think, since it was her suggestion for Mina to have her try it on right away to begin with, but she couldn’t take it back. “Okay,” she told her, “as soon as you turn around.”

“Why would I do that?” Mina asked. Her eyes were still blown wide from Billy’s blood, but now, her smile was utterly shameless. “Are you shy or something? I didn’t think the ‘protagonist of the story’ got nervous.”

“Well, this protagonist does!” she exclaimed hotly. There was not a single chapter in her story where she’d find the courage to undress casually in front of someone, especially not someone like Mina Ha. It didn’t matter how far you’d turn the pages. That was an impossibility. 

“Fine, fine!” Mina rose to her feet and slowly turned around. She raised her hands and placed them over her eyes for good measure. “See? I’m not looking. Go ahead and do what you need to do. Just be quick about it. I’ve wasted enough time here as it is!”

Paige watched her for a moment, just to check her sincerity, before she turned back to the gown. It took a bit of wiggling, but she managed to finagle it out without tearing the plastic. What emerged was a thing of quicksilver. The dress flowed into her grasp, only slightly hampered by the chains sewn to the hips. She might have made a sound, but she couldn’t hear it. The pounding in her ears drowned everything else out.

She stripped down to her underwear in record time. There was a second where she worried the back was the front, but she shrugged the thought off. Mina wouldn’t put me in something scandalous. If not for her own sake, she didn’t think the other woman would risk upsetting Lady Geist. 

As she pulled it on, she was struck by how soft it was. It clung close to her skin, but the dress somehow wasn’t suffocating. Did people truly live like this? Did they get to wear things this fine regularly? No wonder they clung to luxury so much. 

“You can turn around,” she announced. She could hear Mina listening to her, but she was still looking down at herself. “I think it fits? I don’t know.”

“It had better fit!” Mina clicked her tongue. “I spent forever getting the runes just right to make it self-adjusting. I wanted it to last no matter how your body might change. I doubt you can afford to actually buy a custom one of these in the future, so take care of it.”

This time, Paige knew she gasped. Overcome with gratitude, she reached out to grab the other woman’s hands. “You can etch those into silk? Mina, that’s incredible! I’ve only heard of it being done with lace. You’re so talented!”

The soft pink hue to Mina’s cheeks almost made her look alive. “It was easy, really,” she bragged. “The wedding industry wants to have all the fun, but I got my hands on some gowns a while back and studied the runes like crazy. You only have to fix them a bit to work with other fabrics.”

“I see! That’s very interesting.” She found it easy to visualize her copying down runes from various wedding gowns, all out of spite against gatekeeping. “Do you still have any of those wedding gowns?”

“... No.” Mina let go of her hands before she could even process the loss. “Anyway, you’re always going on about King Arthur, so I went with a look inspired by chainmail. Part-princess, part-knight, all fancy. The back’s exposed, but that’s because you’re supposed to wear a backdrop necklace with it. I picked some out for you. It’s mostly emeralds, but that’s because of the theme. Green goes well with silver though, so you’ll live. Here.” 

Paige stared at the glittering jewels fished out of Mina’s handbag. “Why?” she asked. It was all she could say.

“Why what? You look like a fish when you stand there with your mouth flopping open and shut, you know that?” was the sharp reply she got. 

“Why would you buy this for me? That wasn’t what we agreed on.”

“Look around you!” Mina gestured at their surroundings. “It’s not like you’re going to buy any anytime soon. I know what the design needs, and I could afford it. Why are you giving me the third degree here? It’s not that big of a deal!”

She looked at how she was bristling and had to suppress a sigh. I wish I knew what I did wrong, she lamented. For a brief moment, Mina almost seemed approachable. All of that was lost now to this wave of defensiveness. She was staring down a girl hiding behind walls. “Even if it’s not a big deal to you,” she said, “it means a lot to me. So thank you.”

“Tch. It’s really nothing. Just take them, will you?” The jewels were shoved into her hands before she could say anything. All three necklaces were equally long and beautiful. 

“I’m heading out now,” Mina continued. She blinked, and the vampire was already tugging the door open and escaping into the hallway.

“Hey, wait a second!” she called at her retreating back, scrambling to follow. “You don’t have to leave!”

“Ah, she’s leaving?” Dad stood at the bottom of the stairs. He looked sad at the thought. “You could always stay for dinner, Mina. We’re proud carnivores! We’re having black pudding tonight. Plus, if that’s not your style, I happen to have a perfectly preserved bottle of olliphéist blood. From the motherland!”

Mina paused. “Why would you keep blood in your house?” she asked. “Blood that’s not for the black pudding, I mean.”

Paige reached out to gently grab her shoulder. “I told you! You’re not the first vampire we’ve hosted.” She made a point to beam about it.

“And my friend is terrible with time,” Dad added. He was great at sensing the mood when he wanted to be. “They’ll probably visit again in a decade. It’s all yours if you’d like it!” 

“That’s…” Mina faltered. “That’s kind of you. Thank you. But, no, I really have to be going. Perhaps another time, Mr. Clarke.”

She tried valiantly not to wilt. She wasn’t sure if she succeeded. “Oh, alright. At least let me walk you out.” She wanted to say she wasn’t begging, but she was. She definitely begged.

Paige paused at the entrance of her house after Mina pulled on her shoes, said goodbye to her family, and stepped out into the night. “Where are you going to go?”

“Home,” Mina replied, not looking at her. “I have to make my own dress, you know. Perfection doesn’t sew itself!”

“G-Good luck,” she offered. Anyone but a vampire wouldn’t have been able to hear it.

The back of Mina’s ears were pink. The other woman spun on her heel and jabbed a finger in her direction. “I don’t need your luck! And you better be at the gala! I know where you live, remember? You invited me in too. So there’s no escaping it. You better save me a dance, or you’re dead meat!” With that said, she burst into a cloud of bats. They soared into the night sky with only a few squeaks, and then they were gone.

Paige squinted at the direction that Mina departed in, but she couldn’t make out any movement against the pitch black. “Butterscotch,” she muttered to herself. That went poorly. At least she had the dress. And the jewelry. And sky-high expectations to live up to. I need to keep practicing my dancing, she thought miserably, and Chaucer won’t help at all. 

Today really was a bust.

Chapter Text

The wait for the Emerald Jubilee could only be described as one word — agonizing. Paige hated every second of it. 

She wanted to be someone who could live up to her name, who was capable of letting the days pass without worry or stress. Who she dreamed of being though and who existed in the mirror were two separate women. As the gala crept closer, the strain showed more and more. She had to find ways to while away the time. In the mornings, she went where she was needed, reading stories to the children of New York and practicing her craft in as unobtrusive a way as possible. In the evenings, she studied up on dancing. Her family served as her partners, guiding her over and over through every step of the waltz. She even tried out different makeup looks, searching for the one that’d suit her outfit best. It occupied enough of her brain space that she almost didn’t recognize herself. She couldn’t wait for it all to be over, so she could get back to the important things, like trying to start a book club or looking over her coworker’s rough draft that was totally going to become a bestseller one day, divine intervention or not.

When the day finally came, Paige didn’t go into work. Why would she bother? It was a better waste of her time to laze around, eat snacks, and fail at reading a short story collection until nightfall. The clock moved so slowly that she wondered if someone had placed a curse on her. It could happen! She read about it in an autobiography once. Poor lady… 

To her relief, time didn’t freeze. Once it drew close to when she had to leave, she headed upstairs. Gone was Paige, amateur bibliomancer and loving big sister. She needed to metamorphose into Miss Patience Clarke, successful summoner of the Patron.

“Oh, Paige!” Mom gushed as she emerged from her chrysalis. “You look positively darling. Ah, I wish I could go with you. You’re going to wow them all.”

She leaned into her mother’s caressing of her cheek. “You really think so?” she asked, a hint of uncertainty making its way out. 

“Well, I would have put your hair up in a bun if I was in charge of your look,” her mother teased, “but yes. You’re very beautiful. And I’m not just saying that because you’re my daughter, I can hear you thinking away in there! Would you just promise me one thing?”

“Of course, Mom. Whatever you want!” she replied, smiling.

“If a dashing prince wants you to stay out all night, just say no!”

“Mom!” she squeaked. “That is not going to happen!”

From the door came the sound of gentle knocking. Mom’s face lit up with glee. “You never know! Perhaps that’s your gentleman calling for you now,” she said.

They went to check the door together, Paige holding on to her arm. “Hello, Clarke residence,” her mother said, peering at the stranger like he was a puzzle to be solved. “Can we help you?”

He inclined his head towards them. With his thick neck, broad body, and elegant suit, he played the part of a bodyguard scarily well. “Yes, actually. Would you happen to be Miss Patience Clarke? I’ve been asked by Lady Jeanne to escort you to the Baroness this evening.” 

“I am she,” she managed to say without stumbling over her words. “I didn’t know Lady Geist was sending transportation for me. I thought I would have to take the train.”

“I can assure you our driving service is legitimate,” he said. It was impossible to see his eyes through his sunglasses. His face looked extremely placid, like an undisturbed lake. Did Nimue lurk within it? Or was he an each-uisge instead, seeking everything but her liver?

“Well, that’s very kind of her!” Mom beamed like she had won the lottery. “Oh, Paige, I’m so excited for you. You’re going to have such a wonderful time and have all these new experiences. Enjoy yourself, okay?”

In the face of her mother’s endless enthusiasm, she had to smile too. “Alright, I will. I love you!”

“I love you too. Make sure to tear up the dance floor for me! And say hi to anyone I might know!”

She watched her mom wave at her from the doorstep as they drove away. The man wasn’t lying about the car at least. It was the fanciest car she had ever been in by far in her short time on Earth. The seats had to be leather. Leather! They were moving so smoothly that she barely felt jostled at all.

“What’s your name, by the way?” she asked the man, who was also her driver.

Silence.

Oh. She shrank back into her seat. Maybe he’s not supposed to talk to me? That seemed to be what rich people preferred. She couldn’t fathom it. What was the world if not made up of a bunch of people with their own names and stories? There was no way to force someone to give those things up to her though. She sat with her discomfort, and she watched the world go by without making another sound.

Soon enough, the Baroness came into view. So too did the traffic. The driver pulled into a line of cars, all equally opulent, all discharging glamorous individuals in their finest clothes. Her stomach churned. What if this all was a mistake? What if there was a joke here that she wasn’t getting, some vile jest meant to put her in her place? After everything she poured into this, all the hours of memorizing steps and fiddling with shades of lipstick, she couldn’t bear that thought. It’d crush her.

The door to the car was opening before she lost herself entirely to her fear. “My goodness! Miss Patience, is that you? What a delight it is to see you again!”

“Again?” she started to ask. Before she could, she was being hoisted out of the vehicle. Deceptively strong hands clad in tight white gloves lifted her over the curb and set her down gently. 

The person responsible smiled. None of his teeth were on display, but it was still unnerving. It wasn’t a normal smile. No, she had decided ages ago that it was a chimp smile, a fact that was clear to anyone who dared to meet those electric blue orbs head on in a staring contest. “You look fantastic this evening,” said the man in a bellhop uniform. He took her hand in his iron grasp, lifted it to his lips, and deposited a kiss. “Might I ask who you are wearing?”

She flushed. The man holding on to her was scary, and she’d never forget him almost running her over with that very same smile on his face, but he was also very handsome up close. There was something dashing about his intense focus that she couldn’t quite put into words, except to say that it reminded her of some of her less beloved romance novels. “It’s um… an exclusive item from Mina Ha,” she recited faithfully, despite her nerves.

“Ah… Miss Ha…” For a second, his gaze turned distant, and his head turned away, like he was searching Mina out in the crowd. “She hasn’t arrived yet, but she should soon enough. I saw her name on the guest list. I’m excited to see her as well when the time comes. Shall we?”

She allowed him to usher her through the doors of the hotel. “Do you work here?” she asked. In the chaos of the ritual, she did remember him saying stuff about a hotel, but she never quite caught the name. Somehow, he suited the lobby. There was the same sort of rightness she felt watching him move through it as she did watching pigeons at the park.

“Yes, I have for quite a while. It’s only the best hotel in New York, no matter what some might believe. I hope to work in it for a long time yet.” His eyes turned back to her, bright and scrutinizing. “And I do hope you’ll consider staying here one day as well!”

It was both very kind and exactly what she’d expect an employee to say. She tried to match his smile with one of her own, but it didn’t have nearly the same sort of strength or power. “Pardon me if this is rude,” she began, “but… You’re being very welcoming to me.”

“That is true,” he said. “You’re a guest! You deserve it.”

“But I…” She shook her head and lowered her voice. “Well, I killed you.” 

She was unable to forget it. The taste of bile in her mouth, the sweat stinging as it dripped into her eyes. She knew the exact weight of Mina’s body collapsed half onto hers and the smell of stolen blood gushing out of a gunshot wound. “I don’t think I lost him,” Mina said then, gasping for breath. Then he rounded the corner, riddled with holes but still smiling that chimp smile. She remembered the whistling. She remembered the sight of his gun.

She certainly remembered shooting him in the head.

It was on reflex. Just a burst of magic, really. But that was enough to drop him entirely. The sound of him crumbling to the ground, his strings cut, was something she could play back in her mind with perfect recall. But here he was, leading her through the throng like nothing ever happened. It made no sense.

He nodded. “I suppose you did. But no lasting harm was done. It’s water under the bridge now.”

“Water under the—” She jerked her head up to look him in the eye. “We’re talking about murder here!”

“I think I am allowed to choose what I feel about my own murder, thank you,” he said. “And I choose to forgive you. You never did seem to take to the violence necessary for the ritual. I know you only wished to protect Miss Ha. In the moment before I died, I recognized that. However powerful your wish was to draw you out to that little war game, I admire your resolve. It clearly meant enough for you to go against your nature.”

Her shoulders slumped. “Honestly, that just makes me feel worse. What about your wish?” she pushed. To win, there had to be losers. She was aware of that, abstractly speaking, whenever she had to think about the ritual. It was harder to stomach when she was in close proximity to someone she robbed of a wish, when they were breathing the same air.

He chuckled in the way people did after hearing an amusing joke. “My dear, it’s nothing for you to concern yourself over. You should be happy with what you gained. I only joined the ritual as a, hm, favor to an old friend. I was not particularly concerned about the result. Now, I won’t lie to you. Some of my fellows… Well, they were very displeased. But that has nothing to do with you. They might get another chance at their desires. They might not. What matters is that we all still draw breath. It must be a miracle from the Patrons.”

“I guess so,” she replied. Though I don’t really see how. Didn’t we kill the other one? She didn’t know anymore. Maybe death was a revolving door so far as the ritual was concerned. You lived, and you died, and you lived again, and so did the gods.

“I hope I’m not keeping you busy right now,” she added after a moment of quiet.

He shook his head firmly. “Not at all, Miss Patience. Don’t fret. The other guests are well in hand.”

She dared a quick peek around. Everyone did seem pleased. People were milling about the lobby, embracing old friends. None of them looked their way at all. “Well, okay,” she conceded. “So long as it’s fine.”

“It is, I assure you. They’re all quite wrapped up in each other. Now, I assume that you’d like to see the woman of the hour right away. Shall I escort you to the ballroom?” He reached out an arm, ready for her to take.

What else was she to do? Wait around for Mina to show? Fight his kindness? She didn’t have the energy for either of those choices. “Okay,” she said again, and looped her arm through his.

Paige thought she saw the ballroom through two giant doors, but the man guided her down a separate hallway instead. He was very quiet when he wasn’t talking, she realized. She had to strain her ears to hear him exhale. That detail, of all the details about him, struck her as bizarre. “What’s your name again?” she asked him, trying to shake off the cold inching down her spine.

“I don’t believe I ever told you. People refer to me as The Doorman,” he replied without missing a beat.

Her brow furrowed. “Well, that’s very rude! That’s not your name.”

“It isn’t, no. But it is what I am, so I don’t mind it. There are far worse things to be called.”

That’s true, she thought. “It’s still so impersonal though… You could tell me your name if you want to.”

“I’d appreciate you calling me The Doorman as well,” he said. “There’s nothing else on that front I’d wish to share, I’m afraid.”

At that little dismissal, she fell silent. They continued to pass by a multitude of doors. They were almost never-ending. She certainly couldn’t see the end of the hallway, though she knew it had to be there. Her guide frowned the further they walked. “My apologies,” he said. “It appears I took you on the scenic route by mistake. We should arrive shortly.” 

And it was so. They stopped before the doors she thought she recalled from before, golden giants flung open to admit anyone who desired to enter. A wall of sound slammed into her. She winced at the almost amplified chatter. Everyone beyond the threshold looked otherworldly in their splendor. They flitted about the space, laughing and holding sparkling flutes of champagne from who knew where. Oh, God. Why did I think I could do this again?

Warm air fanned out against her ear. “You seem very nervous, Miss Patience,” said The Doorman. “Might I be of service?”

She tried to flinch away from the voice, but she didn’t get far. It was like trying to pull away from a statue that held you in its grasp. “Um…” She looked at him and his unnatural calm, and she tried not to shudder. “S-Sure? Yeah. I’d like help please.”

Though she didn’t know him well enough to read him, she thought his smile looked satisfied now. “Excellent. This is your first gala, I assume, so I’ll just tell you a little etiquette that might help. It shouldn’t be too overwhelming.”

“Okay,” she replied. The word sounded like it came from somewhere else, some other girl, or maybe from out of thin air. Her head was spinning, and it didn’t seem inclined to stop.

“The first thing you must take care of is greeting Lady Geist,” he began. “She’ll also be aware that this is your first event of this caliber, but she will not be charitable if she thinks you’ve snubbed her. There’s nothing to be done on that front. It simply is her nature. Once you’ve done so, you should be free to mingle. And you should mingle. You’ll look antisocial if you don’t circulate with the crowd. Or worse, clingy.”

She took in those nuggets of wisdom, but her mind snagged on his tone. “Do you not like Lady Geist?” she asked quietly.

He performed an elegant shrug. “Well, she holds a great deal of scorn towards me. It’s difficult not to take offense. I’m only human!” He paused to laugh. She didn’t get what was so funny about that; he wasn’t Ixian, was he? “In fact, I’m surprised this event occurred here at all. But she and upper management came to an agreement of sorts, and I am loyal to my duties here above all else. You should not let my personal feelings reflect on how you treat her.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you personally, if it helps,” she offered. “It’s probably just, like, the idea of you. Which… isn’t much better, I guess…” 

“You might be right. As things stand, I give her the exact amount of space she prefers, and that results in something like peace between us. Let’s return to the subject of the gala, shall we? Your seat will be assigned. Do not complain about where you’re placed or the food that is served to you. It’s the height of rudeness in these circles. And do try to remember the names of anyone introduced to you. They might wish to speak with you further or dance with you. Do you understand?”

“I do.” The two words hung in the air between them. Her cheeks began to burn. “I-I understand you! Talk to the host, talk to other people not by the host, sit where I’m told, eat what I’m given, dance when the time comes. It’s simple really!”

“Good.” He withdrew from her, his arms falling back down to his sides. “I regret that I can’t dance with you this evening, as I’m on the clock, but I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time. Good luck, Miss Patience!” There was a door on the wall she distinctly knew wasn’t there before. He tugged it open, stepped through, and was gone again.

She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The Doorman had that effect. He was almost unreal, as absurd as that sounded to herself. It was like he had his own source of gravity. If she really took the time to think about it, he really did remind her of…

What was she doing, standing around like this? She had a party to get to! Paige patted her cheeks, smoothed down the front of her dress, put on a smile, and dove into the fray.

Finding Lady Geist was easy. It wasn’t obvious outside of the ballroom, but once she was in the thick of it, it became clear how everyone was angled towards the center of the room where the aristocrat held court. She made a beeline towards the older woman, dodging waiters and other guests along the way. The closer she drew near, the more relieved she felt that her hair was down. The host’s white locks were pinned in an elaborate updo. It would be a disaster if someone thought she was copying her.

“Hello, Lady Geist!” she called once she was within earshot. “How have you been?”

“Paige!” Lady Geist’s eyes shone with joy. “There you are. I’m quite fine, thank you. Come here.” 

Her cheeks were being kissed before she could react. She stood there, stunned. This level of affection — at least, that was what it felt like, to her shock — was beyond her wildest dreams coming from the lady before her.

“I’m so glad you could make it, darling,” Lady Geist continued. “Yes, I know you RSVP’d, but I was so worried that something would come up. Seeing you in attendance ensures I can relax.”

This is so weird, she thought to herself. Perplexing even! That’s a great word for it. Perplexing. She expected Lady Geist to be more like Mina, just as mean as before. Gratitude for her presence didn’t fit into the schema she held in her brain. “I’m glad I could help you relax, Lady Geist. I’m so happy to be on the guest list!” she told her. It was true, or at least, as true as possible.

“Oh, you can call me Jeanne, darling. And of course you were invited. It’s only natural to have my allies as guests. Without you, I doubt I would have the time to put on this event at all.” Lady Ge- Jeanne??? Jeanne smiled warmly at her. Paige tried not to faint.

Jeanne took one of her hands in between her own. “Since you are here now, I would like to introduce you to someone very important to me.”

She nodded. “Of course! I’d love to meet whoever you’d like me to.” She tried to push down her nerves. Who could be important to someone as ruthless as the woman keeping her here? A business magnate? A hired gun?!?

The man Jeanne waved over looked like neither of those things. He was dressed in a simple blue suit, and he was closer to her own height than Jeanne’s. His eyes looked very kind. The most striking thing about him in her opinion was not his carefully styled hair, but the thin mustache hovering over his lip. It curved upward with his smile. “You keep calling me back to you. If it’d make things easier, I could just stand by your side until dinner starts,” he said. 

“Oh, but then I’d be depriving the rest of the room of your scintillating company,” Jeanne replied, equally amused. “Now, don’t be rude. I have someone here who is eager to meet you.”

“Oh? Hello…” She tried not to squirm under his curious gaze. “Wait. You must be Miss Clarke! Sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t realize that right away. It’s nice to see you at last. I’m Dr. Johann Geist Jr., and Lady Geist here is my… Well, she’s my… Um…” 

Lady Geist rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop with the hesitation. You can tell her. We’re among friends.”

Johann let out a small huff. “Sorry for trying to protect your privacy then, Oma. This wonderful lady here is my grandmother. Gosh, that’s weird to say. I don’t think I’ve said that to anyone since I was 10.”

Her eyes widened as she looked between the two of them. She knew a bit about Lady Geist’s circumstances, it was impossible not to during something as exposing as the ritual, but she never imagined her as a mother, much less a grandmother with a grown grandchild. Johann didn’t resemble his grandmother much at all either. There was a slight warmth to his skin that Jeanne lacked, among a bunch of other little details. Still, they both seemed entirely sincere about the relationship. She had to be sincere in exchange. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Geist,” she said. “I like your tie.”

He looked down at the sole bit of green on his person and chuckled. “Thank you, Miss Clarke. I like it too. Oma foisted it upon me a few years back. It’s probably my most frequent date to these galas she puts on.”

“It’s your only date to my events that I’ve ever seen,” Jeanne cut in, back to the sharpness she anticipated for weeks. “Though I suppose you are very busy, as you keep telling me. My grandson here is the best doctor in all five boroughs without question. He even dabbles in ward work!”

“Ah, no, Oma!” His laugh this time was far more shy. “I wouldn’t even call it dabbling. I’m an amateur at best. And the best doctor? That’s… No, I don’t think that’s right. You just think highly of me.”

“I don’t butter up people I find useless,” his grandmother countered immediately. “I say it because I mean it. Paige, would you believe Johann downplays his work when he’s in the running for a Nobel Prize in Medicine? You find that accomplishment impressive, don’t you?”

“Well, yes, of course!” she gasped. “Isn’t that one of the highest honors you could ever receive as a doctor? That’s incredible, Dr. Geist! I have so many questions!”

Pink rose on his cheeks. “Ah, well—” 

“You two can discuss his achievements together, I’m sure. There’s so many after all.” Jeanne beamed, visibly the cat that caught the canary. “Please, have some champagne! Socialize! I’ll leave you to it.”

Dr. Geist sighed once his grandmother was out of earshot. “Sorry about her. She’s a bit like a cyclone, isn’t she? Just blows in and busts your world up. Never listens to you.”

There was a whiff of resentment coming off of him. She shuffled her feet, searching for the right response. Her mind was blank now that they were effectively alone though. It was a lost cause. “Are you her only grandchild? She must dote on you a lot,” she said.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” His smile was wry. “But, yes, I am. I’m the only one left of the family. It’s just her and I.”

She tried to imagine them together, alone, in a vast house. The picture remained half-done. She didn’t need to ask to know that they didn’t live together. They came together for moments like these or maybe for familial problems, for shared secrets that only a Geist could know.

That’s really so sad.

“If you don’t mind, Miss Clarke—”

“Paige,” she said without thinking. “Y-You can call me Paige. Miss Clarke makes me feel so fancy.”

His smile was as kind as his gaze. “You should feel fancy, Miss Paige. That’s what the Emerald Jubilee is for. It’s not really about the charity, you know. But that’s fine. Anyway, I see some of my coworkers, and I want to make sure they’re settling in alright. That’s okay, isn’t it? Would you mind saving a dance for me later?”

He wants to dance with me? She had to focus to tamp down her fluster at the idea of it. No, no, he’s just being polite! Lady Geist would kill him if he didn’t offer. “I’d be happy to, Dr. Geist. Just tell me when.”

“I’m sure we’ll find each other,” he said, inclining his head toward her. Then he slipped away, and she was alone again.

Now that she had hopped the hurdle of greeting Lady Geist, she allowed herself to scan the room. No one stood out to her as especially approachable. Thankfully, they didn’t look hostile either, just remote. She didn’t recognize a single face. Standing in place felt wrong, and it went against the advice she received from that odd bellhop, so she drifted about the room, hugging the wall. That decision was how she ended up approaching the bar. 

Her hope that she might be able to strike up a conversation with a sympathetic bartender was dashed immediately. The bar was unmanned. She stared at the unguarded display of various liquors, unable to put a name to most of them. She had always felt that it had to be a hard job, being a bartender. They had to know every kind of alcohol, watch out for the health of other people, and even sometimes make up drinks on the fly. Infernus’ flames were a bit scary to her at the time, what with her books and all, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t admire him. If only he were here…

An unmistakable head popped up out of nowhere. “Aight, that should be it…”

“Infernus! What are you doing back there?” As she asked the subject of her summoning, a horrifying idea occurred to her. “You’re not… working, are you?”

“Eh?” He shook his head. “Nah, nah, ‘course not. I just got asked to take a look at the pipe here. Should be back in order now, but I guess he took a break while he was waitin’ on me to finish up.”

“That’s still working though,” she pointed out, eyebrow raised.

Her — genuine! — reprimand only made him smirk. He emerged from behind the bar, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Touché! You’ve got me there. No more work tonight, I promise. How ya been, little lady? Your wish workin’ out for ya?” 

In the time since they last met, she managed to forget how frank he was. She had the feeling she’d get little of that tonight. It was probably fine to bask in it a little. “I think so,” she replied. “My family’s happy about it, and so am I. You? You wished for something about the bar you work at, right?”

“You remember correctly, yeah. Business is booming! Can’t complain!” His smile mirrored the relief she felt every morning. I can’t believe things are working out so good, it said. This is my life now, it said. “Speaking of, I haven’t seen your parents there in a while. Tell them to swing by! First drink’s on me.”

She frowned thoughtfully. “They’ve been to Jezebel’s?” she asked. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Infernus said. “Used to see them all the time on their date nights, but that slowed down for a while. They’re always really nice. Your pops though? Man, that’s a funny guy. He’d bring all these giant texts to the bar and try to recommend them to people when he got drunk enough. Always cracked me up. He really loves his little shop, huh?”

“Yes, he does.” She smiled, even though the mental image was a little embarrassing. She liked the version of her dad that existed in Infernus’ head. She didn’t exactly want to see her father in drunken Work Mode, but it was a charming snapshot of him when he was out of her sight. 

Now she just had to make sure she was never at Jezebel’s at the same time as her parents.

“Do you recognize a lot of people here then?” 

He shook his head. “Nah. Geist’s a loyal customer and all, but that’s strange for a joint like Jezebel’s. Her type’s not usually interested in the place. Now, I’ve been to some of her lil shindigs before, but only behind the bar. You could point me at half the people in this room, and I wouldn’t be able to even guess their names. Just a bunch of strangers in nice clothes to me, really.”  

She shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I don’t know anyone either,” she said, aiming for nonchalant but landing closer to nervous than she’d like. “So we can not know people together.”

Infernus went on smirking. “While we’re lookin’ this fly? Nope. You’re not gonna hide over here. I didn’t say I know nobody, just not most of these folks. Come on, I’ll show you off to someone nice.” There was far less pressure to the offer, but all of the same insistence that Lady Geist showed. She followed along, unable to resist. 

Standing by Infernus made her feel like she was close to a hot water bottle in the shape of a man. His natural aroma mixed with his cologne, producing an effect much like s’mores. She kept sneaking peeks at his ensemble as he steered her around the room. He’s right to call himself fly, she thought. He was wearing a new hat, and his suit had to be tailored. It fit him too well to be anything but. She marveled at his ease of movement and his self-confidence. She wished it was infectious.

“Hey, Carlos!” Infernus said at exactly the right volume to be heard, but low enough to not be disruptive. “Maria, Ivy. Don’t y’all just look like a dream? How’s it goin’ tonight so far?”

The names and faces were exceedingly, wonderfully familiar. She’d know the Arroyo family anywhere! “Yes, hi to you all,” she said, not to be outdone. “How’s Manny?”

A few years ago, she would have argued that a stone face didn’t have much power to emote. Ivy changed all of that. The surprise on the gargoyle’s face was clear. “You remember Manny?” she asked. “You must see a lot of kids.”

“I definitely do. But I remember him anyway. He might like Kelvin’s books more than me!” She giggled at her own joke. That’s impossible for sure. She liked Manny though. He had a sweet, round face, and he always listened patiently to her tales. He reminded her of baby Bryce, and how her brother used to glow before the sullenness of puberty stole all the baby fat from his cheeks. Still, for the sake of her memory, it didn’t hurt that the kid traveled exclusively with a sister made of stone.

Said sister smiled. “Wow! Well, he’s doing alright. All A’s like always. He wanted to come tonight, but we didn’t have enough tickets. Sophia stayed home to watch him.”

“Well, hopefully you can bring them some canapés,” she said. Who Sophia was, she had no idea, but it didn’t seem like something to bring up in the moment. She could ask Infernus later.

“How’s the mayoral campaign going?” Infernus was saying as they rejoined the main conversation.

Carlos Arroyo smiled beautifully. She saw where Manny got his features from; they were just blown up to a larger scale on his father. “It’s still early days,” Carlos demurred. “I am trying to be optimistic. But being here is a good sign, I think.”

“Yeah, for sure.” Infernus nodded along. “Lots of movers and shakers in here. It’d be nice if you could get some of their support before the election.” 

“Your support is also important,” Maria interjected. She gestured to the both of them. “You would be Carlos’ constituents too. It’s good to know what the people here want, but we also must know what you want.”

Their earnest expressions, so ready to receive political wisdom, put her off-balance. I don’t have anything I want, she wanted to say. But the moment she thought that sentence, she knew she was lying to herself. There were a great deal of wants curled up inside of her. She wanted more books. She wanted to make people smile, though she wasn’t always sure how to go about it. She wanted a body more in line with the one in her dreams. It sometimes felt so close that she could taste it, and it sometimes was so far that she had to wail at the futility of reforging the self. Most of all, she wanted the world to be kinder. And she was standing here, after the ritual, blood staining her hands in ways she couldn’t see, and it felt almost impossible.

“It’s very hard for a lot of people in New York,” she decided. “Every day, you wake up and there’s all these people, just suffering. And I think if we could get them more food, more money, more love even, you’d have to worry a lot less about if your kid or sibling or parent will make it home.”

The moment she said it, her gaze dropped to the floor. It sounded so naive to her ears. What did she know about what Bryce had gone through? What did she know about Infernus’ past, really, to say it was all a matter of a lack of resources? God, I want to disappear. 

There was a round of considering hums. “I agree with you,” Carlos said. 

She lifted her head, surprised. “You do?” she asked cautiously.

“Community organizing is all about meeting people where they’re at. I can only really speak for where I live, but for a lot of us, we need things that New York isn’t providing. People seek those things in places that aren’t always good for them, but we can change that together. I want to take this city and shake it and make it better. I hope I’ll have your support in my quest.” He delivered those words so smoothly, so confidently, that she was surprised he wasn’t a politician already. He could have said that they needed to up the level of human sacrifices in the Cursed Apple to remain competitive, and she would have nodded along for at least a few seconds without registering the words. 

“You’ll have it for sure,” she said, injecting her words with great feeling. She was rewarded with their smiles and warm, firm handshakes.

“Hmm. I hate to kill the party, but I’ve got my own concerns.” Infernus pushed his way back into the conversation, as simple as breathing. “If you’re lookin’ to represent Ixians, you’re gonna have to reckon with the hostility against the refugees from the South.”

Carlos nodded. He was very tranquil, seemingly unfazed by the prod. “I won’t be writing the laws, but I agree. What would you personally suggest?”

As they fell into a debate on legislation, Paige politely withdrew. Unlike her parents, she didn’t keep up with a lot of the news surrounding Ixia. Anything about the war there or people moving to this plane was bound to fly over her head. She glanced at the other gala guests. There were more people in the ballroom now, though still not enough to make the space feel cramped. Short people, tall people, more Ixians, a few ghosts, and…

There! Vampires.

She walked over, trying not to trip in her heels. “Mina! You made it!”

Like it was planned, Mina peeled away from the group she was standing with and embraced her. She smelled earthy, like fresh moss or dug up roots. The feathers of her brooch itched as they impacted against skin, but Paige braced herself and hugged back. 

The embrace lasted for only a few heartbeats before Mina pulled back, composing herself. “I was wondering if you’d make it here before me. The traffic on the way over was murder.” Her fangs flashed. They were so white that it was hard to imagine them stained with blood at all. “How have you been?”

She blinked, startled by the pleasantry. “I’m fine?”

“Great, great, I’m doing wonderful too.” Mina grabbed her arm and manhandled her further away from the vampiric entourage. Then her voice dropped to an almost inaudible hiss. “Bily isn’t here, is he? I knew it. That little loser is such a liar. They’re about to close the doors to the public soon, thank God.” 

The expected vitriol prompted her to relax. She peered at Mina’s face, made paler by makeup. The feathers adorned her shoulders and went down her back in a cape identical to the ladies further to the entrance. Mina was more crow than bat for once. It’s almost like a Troubadour costume, she mused. 

“What?”

Did I say that out loud?!? Her eyes grew large with alarm behind her glasses. “Oh, I’m sorry. That was so rude!” she rushed to exclaim. “I just… Ah… It’s your work obviously, but it’s not your style.”

“Not everything is about personal style!” Mina fired back hurriedly. She reached up to fuss with her hair, caught in the urge to get rid of invisible imperfections. “I didn’t want to outshine anyone! You wouldn’t get it. I bet you’ve spent your entire time just waiting for me.”

“No, I talked to some people! I talked to the Geists, Infernus, and the Arroyos. Then I saw you.” She felt a little bad leaving out The Doorman, but her latest blunder made her think bringing up the guy who tried to kill Mina would be even more of a disaster than the one she was trying to avert.

The other woman looked contemplative, frowning in the direction of the mentioned group of people. “That guy who’s running for mayor?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Eh,” Mina said, shrugging, “he’s not going to win. He’s, like, what? ‘Teacher, community leader, by the people, for the people’ or whatever he says in those lame ads of his? He’s a total idealist. It’s one thing to be popular with Spanish Harlem, but he’s not going to win the people over here by teaching brats how to spell and doing little food drives. I mean, he’s smarter than some of the other idiots out there. He knows he has to get in these rooms or he’s dead in the water. But it’s not going to make a difference. Unless he makes concessions, no one here will vote for him. And if he does, then he can kiss his existing voter base goodbye. The best he can hope for is getting in good with some major conglomerate. And, really, the only one with enough clout to write him a ticket to the top is the exact one he’d never support, Fair-”

A tall man cleared his throat behind them. “Ah, Mina. I see you’ve still kept up with your dabbling in political affairs despite the… change in circumstances.”

She watched as Mina went rigid, limbs turning to perfect lines. Her dread at Mina’s uncharacteristic reaction mixed with a flash of indignation. Who was this stranger anyway? She pivoted to him, her mouth open to tell him… something. There was a perfect reprimand within her somewhere. But his face gave her pause. The bald head and bearded chin reminded her of doodles she’d seen before, more caricature than anything, but enough to convey the right idea. Doodles that were always captioned with an all-caps FUCK FAIRFAX.

“Hello, Mr. Fairfax,” Mina grit out, confirming her suspicions. 

“Hello, Mina,” he replied, meeting the frostiness sent his way with unwarranted warmth. “And who is this?”

Where her ignorance of his identity could be written off as a consequence of her not looking enough at celebrity news, his lack of awareness of her identity was a relief. She was quickly realizing that she was the sort of woman who did not want to be on a first name basis with Maximilian Fairfax. Moreover, a portion of her brain was now devoted to wondering why Mina was. “I-I’m Patience Clarke,” she introduced herself, not because she wanted to, but because of the demands of the gala. They hung over her, an entire armory of Damocles.  

So far tonight, she had witnessed a wide variety of smiles. Fairfax’s smile struck her as indulgent, the smile one gave a child. “And what do you do, Miss Clarke?” Though he ostensibly asked her, his body angled back towards Mina, as though she was the one meant to answer. 

And answer Mina did. “Patience is a bibliomancer. She works in the library system, telling stories to children.”

“I see,” he said, a study in polite disinterest. “You surround yourself with the most interesting people lately, Mina. I hope you won’t forget about us. My wife misses her chats with you.”

“How could I ever forget your family?” Mina replied in a steady voice. Her hands, covered in black lace, trembled at her sides.

Fairfax reached out and grasped Mina’s shoulder. Some of the feathers crunched under the grip of his hand. “That’s good to hear. Don’t be a stranger, Mina.” As he strode away, the crowd parted before him. They surged behind him, sycophantic to the extreme.

She remained behind. Her eyes were glued to Mina’s trembling profile. Her fingers twitched forward in an aborted attempt at reaching out. “Are.. Are you o-”

A sharp claw jabbed at her sternum. “Don’t. Even.” They stood there, frozen in a display of concern met with seething anger, until Mina remembered herself. “God, I need a drink.”

Am I just cursed to keep going back to the bar? She trailed after her, almost toppling over in her haste. At least there was a bartender this time. He looked vaguely sympathetic as Mina tried to bargain for a dry martini, though he wasn’t turning around to actually fulfill the order either. She rested her elbows on the counter and gave him an apologetic smile. If Mina decided to look at her, she’d try to appear supportive, but she was only half-listening to the plea for liquor. I think Billy would get a kick out of this, she was thinking. If he was here, he’d say something like-

“Gin already, Mina? Which of us was supposed to be raidin’ the place, huh? Hypocrite.”

She jumped, nearly banging her elbows on the wood in the process on the way down. “Billy! You came!” She gawked at him and how he was slouched over, crammed into an oversized, mismatched suit that hurt the eyes to even look at. 

He rolled his eyes. “No shit, Sherlock. You want a medal for solvin’ that mystery?” he spat. 

“Someone please tell me he’s just astral projecting,” Mina groaned like she’d been stabbed.

“You think you’re too good to share a physical space with me? Huh? Come over here and I’ll show you just how real I am.” Billy didn’t wait for any sort of approach or retreat; he just stomped over, closing the space.

Paige left them to it. If they wanted to squabble, well, that was up to them. She wanted no part in it, not here where she couldn’t scold them into getting along enough for a blood withdrawal. Her fingers itched for a book to hold. It’d be nice to sit down and sink into another world right about now. Sadly, her collection didn’t fit in her purse, and no one was working on the problem of making books more portable. She had to experience reality as it was, an arguing duo at her back and the rest of the world surrounding her.

She tried to find Infernus, but he wasn’t where she left him. The Arroyos were gone too, split up to canvass the room. When she did spot him in the crowd, it was entirely by accident. Her eyes landed on Bebop’s imposing frame instead. She stood there, stock still, admiring the fact that he managed to find and attach a bow tie. It took another glance for her to process that Infernus, and not some other man, was the golem’s conversation participant.

I should go say hi! It feels weird to leave Bebop out of the hellos. She took a step forward, intent on her goal. The loud clink of a spoon against glass scuttled her plan, leaving her run aground on the coast. 

“Hello, everyone! Thank you for coming!” Lady Geist beamed from her place, back at the center of everything where she belonged. “If you’d please find your seats, we can begin in earnest.”

“Stick with your placement no matter what it is, right?” she whispered to herself. God, she should have paid attention to the names left by each plate. Then she wouldn’t be creeping around every table, searching for Patience or Paige or anything that indicated her presence was necessary here at all. 

To her bewilderment, she was at the main table. Patience Clarke stood proudly in between someone called Shelly Fisher and… Johann Geist. He was already seated. “Hello again, Miss Paige,” he said. “See? I knew we’d run into each other.”

“Hello!” She nodded at him as she pulled her chair out and settled down in it. “So you did. Did you handle the seating arrangements for your grandmother?”

“Ah, no, no, never. She does everything she can on her own. I just knew because she showed me in advance.” He scratched at his long nose. To her ears, he sounded sheepish, but she couldn’t work out why. What was there to be ashamed of?

To counter it, she smiled at him eagerly, leaning a little closer. “Surely that’s the benefit of having a grandmother who organizes these events,” she said. “You always know who you’re going to talk to!”

He made a drawn out ‘hmmm’ noise, even as he mirrored her expression. “That’s true,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean I always know everyone. Sometimes, I’m seated by people who I still have a lot to learn about.” To top it all off, Dr. Geist gave her a look. She wanted to call it indecipherable, but she was good at reading between the lines.

Faced with that piercing gaze, she flushed and glanced away. Coming up on her left was an old woman with pearls around her neck. She moved slowly yet deliberately, inching along with her cane. “Ah! Do you need any help?” She rushed to rise to her feet.

“Nah, we’ve got it.” Bebop’s voice startled her. It wasn’t like he was quiet or invisible, but she didn’t notice how he was hovering over the other guest, practically at her elbow.

“Thank you though, dear,” said the woman, who quickly proved herself to be Shelly Fisher. Bebop moved about, fussing and dragging out her chair. It was sweet enough to make one’s teeth ache. Paige did her part and kept herself clear of the golem and his bulk, avoiding any collisions. 

A host of thoughts lingered in her mind as she finally got to sit back down. I didn’t think you were that Ms. Shelly was brushed off as asinine. I’m glad to finally meet Bebop’s mom! seemed too familiar. Bebop was very nice to her, and she liked him in the brief moments they had had to chat that day, but she thought — then and now — that he pitied her. Where Lady Geist directly called her a liability, he appeared to keep it to himself. She didn’t think she was offended by it, as he surely meant well, but she also didn’t know how to convey their connection to his mother.

Paige didn’t think of a solution before Lady Geist made her way over. The ‘woman of the hour’, as The Doorman put it, remained standing at the head of the table. In her green hand, her Oathkeeper hand, she held a microphone that she must have procured from some poor waiter somewhere. She raised it up high so that all in the room could see. “Hello, everyone! Welcome to this year’s Emerald Jubilee. I’m so glad all of you could make it… no matter what sort of difficulties that might have arisen since the invitation arrived.” Jeanne’s head dipped to pointedly glare at Billy. Billy’s response was a lazy two-finger salute and nothing else.

“Every year, I think more and more about those in need. There is endless potential out on the streets, potential that is wasted due to pure circumstance. There are hungry people. Thirsty people. Lonely people. Sick people. And we must support them, this host of the vulnerable, if we want a future for the world. I learned that from someone near and dear to my heart. But perhaps his namesake can explain that vision much better. Johann?” 

Dr. Geist looked up from his napkin, his mouth in a perfect O of surprise. “Y-Yes, of course!” He leapt to his feet, abandoning the piece of paper on the table, and rushed to take the microphone from his grandmother. “Uh, hello.”

The crowd murmured in acknowledgment.

“Like Lady Geist here, I thank you all for coming,” he said. “It can be difficult to express just how grateful I am to see everyone here, but I will try. My work is mainly with mago-degenerative diseases. People hear this, and they usually think of magic failing in the body. They think, well, it’s a shame that a witch or two can no longer cast a spell, but what problem is that of mine? Well, it is a bit worse than that. Imagine that the magic within your own body decides it no longer has to listen to you. More than that, it decides that sustaining you is not worth the effort. It attacks every cell, eating you from the inside out. If you’re lucky, you simply die. Most aren’t that lucky.

“The rise in these diseases has meant the rise of spontaneous combustion and transfiguration. It’s meant the loss of parents and children. It’s horrible. Absolutely nightmarish. And it can happen to anyone in this room. So I thank you for choosing to look at this horror head-on. I thank you for understanding that these diseases must be studied and fought at every turn. If you have any questions, my colleagues are throughout the room tonight. We want you to be able to say that you are aware of where all of your hard-earned money is going. We thank you for giving, not merely out of a concern for the self, but also so that everyone here can relax and know that, one day, we will never have to say ‘mago-degenerative disease’ outside of a history book again.”

The room burst into applause. She clapped until her fingers stung from the force of it, and then she clapped some more. “That was wonderful, Dr. Geist!” she gushed once the noise began to die down. “If that’s the work you do, I’m not surprised you might win a Nobel Prize.”

His blush was blotchy. “Anyone could choose to specialize in my field. I don’t understand the fuss, really.”

“Well, I’m happy you chose that specialization,” Ms. Fisher said from the left. “Without you, Johann, I’d be long gone.”

“Oh! He’s your doctor?” The moment she asked it, she knew she was stating the obvious. Still, it surprised her. What a tangled web they wove, from Dr. Geist to Ms. Fisher to Bebop to Lady Geist and back again. 

“Yes, and a sweet one! He actually listens to me,” Ms. Fisher replied. “Anyone can be a doctor, but not everyone can be Johann.”

“Thank you, Ms. Shelly,” he said after a moment’s pause. “You’re always so complimentary.” His eyes crinkled a little at the edges as he grinned. When he was older, she imagined that he’d have prominent smile lines, the same as Ms. Fisher. When she was older, she hoped she’d have the same. 

A pleasant aroma wafted through the air, a scent that cut through the smellscape of cologne and perfume that saturated the air. It emanated from the veritable army of waitstaff that descended upon each table. “For you, ma’am, our starter for tonight,” one said. “Venison Wellington with a side of truffle mashed potatoes. Enjoy.” 

Deer meat? She tried not to let her hesitation show on her face. She knew, intellectually, that people ate deer all the time. One of the books her mother enjoyed involved the butchering of a deer carcass. As experiences, they were far removed from her own life. But everyone else around her was digging in, following Lady Geist’s lead. She had to follow suit.

It tasted… It tasted…! Okay. It tasted okay. It was both like and unlike beef. It had the leanness of some steaks she had eaten before, but it was way more nutty than what she expected. The truffle mashed potatoes were nice as well, though far more in line with what she would have imagined upon hearing those words placed together.

Once she ate to her satisfaction, she wiped her mouth with a corner of her napkin and sat back in her seat. Mina was still eating; her venison oozed blood onto her plate. Bebop had food in front of him that was utterly untouched. She wondered what the workers of the Baroness would do with it, if it’d be tossed out completely or if they’d keep it in the back to feast on later as a reward. Hopefully, they’d do the latter. 

“Are you enjoying yourself so far?” said Dr. Geist from her right. He was looking at her, even as he methodically sliced up the last of his starter.

“Oh, yes, very much so!” As she said it, she wasn’t sure if she was lying or not. So far, she had felt rather awkward, but the glamour of the night could not be denied. She was wowed, and it frightened her. She hoped the fear wouldn’t last. She tried to hold herself loosely, to feign that she belonged here, but she knew she was kidding herself. She didn’t even know if she was using the right fork or not. All of that was tumbling about in her brain as she turned back to him, all that and the things she wasn’t meant to think of tonight. “This is really exciting for me! I’ve never done anything quite like this.”

“Right, but didn’t you—” The waiters rushed by before he could finish. “Ah, yes, I’m done, thank you. Didn’t you participate in the ritual during the Maelstrom? I’m sure this pales in comparison.”

She mulled over the question as they brought out the next course. “Your main, ma’am. Pancetta wrapped pork tenderloin with butternut squash. Would you like wine as well?”

“Yes, sure, thank you,” she muttered distractedly.

“Excellent. I’ll pour you some Cabernet Sauvignon from 1880. Enjoy.”

Only once it was all in front of her did she put her words in order. “I don’t think they can be compared, really,” she said. “This is all so beautiful! But the ritual was hard work. We had to complete all these objectives, and there was this lady who just kept saying I was going to ‘taste the Rattler’ before shooting at me? I like this better, I think.”

He shook his head, not in a disagreeing way, but like he was clearing his mind. “I was surprised when Oma said you did the ritual with her,” he said. “She’s been around a long time. She has a lot of steel. But it must have been hard to get your hands so dirty.”

“I’ve thought the same,” Ms. Fisher piped up. Her own plate seemed to hold some sort of unidentifiable chicken dish. “I’m grateful for you all and what that wish did for me, but it’s regretful. All that violence… I wish there was another way.”

“Me too,” she admitted. She hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. She still didn’t. It made her sweat to remember someone she had killed was still in the building, though he claimed to think nothing of it. But she had to survive then, and she had to shield the rest too. There in the lanes, she had to push past it all, her hang-ups, her ethical code, and focus on what mattered most — surviving to the end. “But I think a ritual that powerful… It always comes down to blood in the end.”

“Were you scared?” Ms. Fisher asked. Her kindly face reminded her of Grandpa.

“The entire time!” She tried to laugh about it. It didn’t land. 

Dr. Geist gently patted the back of her hand. “Well, you know what, Miss Paige? I think you’re very brave,” he said.

His sincerity compelled her to quickly gulp down a quarter of her glass. Later, in her journal, she intended to write down how the night went. She already knew what she’d write about the rest of dinner: The pork paired nicely with the wine, to my surprise. It was better to focus on it and not the handsome gentleman next to me, but I failed at that. I keep asking myself how people so different can be bound together by blood.

Dessert was a carefully portioned slice of vanilla cheesecake. She declined the Moscato Rosa that came with it, just so she could keep her head on straight, but she immediately regretted it. In the stories, the dancing always came next. Getting through it at all was going to be a feat worthy of Malory’s work. The wine, at least, would have loosened her up some.

Oh, God, she thought as she chewed her dessert. Oh, God, she thought as she watched the musicians set up to play. Oh—

A long finger softly tapped her shoulder. “Miss Paige?”

“Yes! I’m fine!”

Dr. Geist blinked at her. She did her best not to wish to disappear, in case it actually happened due to some cosmic fluke or leyline spike. It was the hardest thing she had done all night so far. 

“Alright,” he said, agreeable to an extreme. “May I have this dance?” He extended his hand toward her. She stared at it, uncomprehending. It was a gesture she knew, one she read about in countless books and saw in the few shows and movies she watched, a gesture that didn’t seem to relate to her at all. But there he was, performing it at her. And here she was, watching it happen. 

“I—” What are you doing?!? Say yes already! “Y-Yes, of course!” She blushed, and she put her hand in his.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lady Geist looked triumphant for reasons she didn’t understand.

The two of them stood as one. Dr. Geist led her forward, past the other couples with the same vision and bravery, until they were in a corner closest to the performers. “Do you know how to waltz?” he whispered.

“I’ve practiced it,” she said back, matching his volume. “Not… Not much.”

“That’s alright,” he said. “It’ll be Waltz of the Flowers. It’s always Waltz of the Flowers to begin with when Oma’s in charge. We’ll keep it simple. I’ll match whatever difficulty you set, I promise.”

Sure enough, the sound of Tchaikovsky began to fill the air. They bowed to each other, her own dip a step behind. He approached her, slow enough for her to anticipate it but quick enough for them to start the waltz without much delay. One of his hands laid flat across one of her shoulder blades. She tried to relax into the warmth of it but couldn’t get past the stiffness from being held. Her heart hurt from how hard it was pounding in her chest.

As they began to turn, dancing around the ballroom, the world narrowed to the two of them. Everyone else could have stopped dancing to watch them, and she wouldn’t have noticed. Paige only saw him and his troubled expression. His eyes shone with distress. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” he said. “The entire night, I’ve been wanting to apologize to you.”

“To me? Why?” She let him detach from her to spin her in a circle before continuing. “I don’t think there’s anything you have to apologize for? You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Dr. Geist.”

“Johann. You can call me Johann. And yes, I do. Oma’s been meddling with us.”

She’s been what? I don’t like the sound of that. All of her old fears — that she was here as laughingstock or sacrifice — came bubbling back to the surface. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

Johann grimaced and looked away. “Well… I’m married to my work. It’s not intentional, but when most of my time is with patients and the rest is worrying about Oma’s ward, there’s not much room for anything else. She wasn’t kidding when she said my tie is my only date these days. And she hates that.”

She kept herself from chewing on her lip as she thought, but it was a close thing. “Maybe… Maybe she’s just worried about you?” she offered uncertainly. 

“I don’t know what it is, really,” he replied. “She almost drained me once? So I have no idea what it’s about. I can’t imagine her being worried about my happiness. She might actually want great-grandchildren, all that aside, but I don’t know. I can’t take her at her word. All I do know is that, after that ritual she went through, she started telling me about this fancy young mage that I would ‘surely get along with’.”

The picture he painted was horrible. Her eyes felt like they were bulging out of her skull. Then the implication of his final sentence hit. “M-Me?” she hissed out.

Johann spun her around again before replying. “Yes. That’s why I’m so sorry. Oma comes up with these ideas. Usually, they end up with someone hurt or dead. I wanted you to know, no matter what she might say, that it wasn’t something I asked for. It’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable.”

Once again, she was bowled over by his kindness. He probably felt duty-bound to warn her, but that was all a choice of his. He could have said nothing at all, and she would have been none the wiser. “Thank you.” She squeezed the hand she had in her grasp.

“You’re probably engaged already, and she just doesn’t know,” he sighed. “She’s always getting me into trouble.”

Huh? “I’m not though?”

They stared at each other. They continued to glide across the floor, but neither of them were thinking. They were linked together in a miasma of confusion. “Really?” Johann asked, breaking the spell first.

“Yes, really,” she said. “I’m not… I don’t have anyone.”

For the first time in her life, she witnessed a man scan her over from head to toe. It didn’t feel salacious, not with his expression. Johann looked disbelieving, like she had suddenly started speaking in a long-dead language and he was trying to uncover how. He looked at her like the possibility of that statement being the truth was an absurdity in and of itself. “... Huh!” he said at last. His doubt was so strong that it could have convinced a stage magician to reveal all of their secrets from shame.

“I’m r-really absorbed in my work too, haha!” she spluttered. 

The waltz went on and on. She began to fear she would be trapped dancing to Tchaikovsky forever. Johann’s hand at her back was scalding now. His eyes shone with some emotion. Either sympathy or pity, she couldn’t begin to guess. She didn’t dare. 

“Don’t panic,” he said. It took all of her resolve not to as he dipped her.

“I don’t know what your reasons are, if they’re the same as mine or not. It’s not my business anyway. All I want to say is, if you do get married someday, I’m sure you’ll make a good wife.”

You don’t know anything about me, she wanted to protest. And how could he when she was in no position to tell him? When would be the right moment? During the next waltz? Over dinner? Right before a kiss? When would she be able to say how she listed elaborate fantasies in her journals about everything she knew other women wanted, about gowns and cakes and flowers, but that they were just that? Fantasies. That her parents loved her, but they didn’t expect her to ever leave their house, not as she was. That her younger brother would probably be wed before her, and how she was meant to be okay with that. She almost wanted to spew all of that out now, right here, and see how quickly he’d rush to his grandmother to communicate that this was not going to work.

But then there was the warmth in her, spreading out across her whole body. No one had ever said that to her before. It was such a nice feeling. She didn’t want to let go of it.

That emotion carried her through the end of the first dance and the start of the next. They moved together in silence, letting go and then coming back, but never awkwardly. The quiet soothed her now that his secret was out in the open. I think I could dance with him for a few more songs. Johann made her feel like a seasoned dancer, instead of what she truly was, which was the woman who nearly stepped on his foot twice in less than a minute. She smiled as she pictured a dance card with his name printed over and over.

By the end of the second song though, as the violin faded out into nothing, he led her over to the side of the dance floor. “That was nice,” he told her. His smile was fond. “I’d keep going with you, but Ms. Shelly will kill me. I promised her a dance a month ago, and she’s been trying to collect ever since.”

Paige had to suppress a laugh. “You must really be a great doctor,” she said.

Johann shook his head, chuckling. “No, you all are trying to inflate my ego,” he accused, though it lacked any heat. “I think I see her now. In case I can’t find you later, you were a lovely dance partner, Miss Paige. I hope you feel better about your waltz skills now.”

“Thank you, I do!” she said. This was usually where the protagonist was meant to curtsy. She resisted that idea, pushing it out of her mind. “Actually, I haven’t spoken to Bebop tonight. Why don’t we go over toge—”

Clawed hands landed on her shoulders. “No need!” Mina sang into her ear. “Come on, let’s leave the doctor to his important business. Walk with me.”

She only just managed to say farewell before Mina frog-marched her over to one of the sides of the room. “Mina, what—”

“Here, take this.” Mina shoved a glass of champagne into her hand.

“Mina, I don’t need this.”

Mina arched an eyebrow. “Of course you do! You should be enjoying it as much as possible. When are you going to do any of this again?”

She looked down at the bubbling concoction. “Probably never again,” she admitted. “But that’s beside the point! Why did you bring me over here? I was going to dance with Bebop. I’ve been neglecting him.”

“What, and get grease all over my nice outfit? Gross. Don’t do that to my clothes.” 

Paige just looked at her. People liked to think that they were above the kindergartners she read to, that they’d never fall prey to the tactics that kept little ones in line, but she knew better. A long enough stretch of silence, and anyone would either quiet down from embarrassment or speak to fill it.

“I was just wondering,” Mina said. “What were you doing with that guy?”

“... The waltz?” she replied, perplexed.

“Obviously.” Mina rolled her eyes. “But you were talking to him for so long. What was it about? Your heartbeat was going wild.”

She took a sip of the champagne as she considered her options. There was lying, but she wasn’t good at that. She always stuttered. Also, she had read once that vampires could tell lies, and while she wasn’t sure if that was the Viscount fabricating information to make himself look more politically astute, she didn’t want to take any chances. “Dr. Geist and I were talking about marriage,” she said.

Mina recoiled like she slapped her. “Marriage?!? You’re trying to marry Lady Geist’s son?”

“Grandson,” she corrected idly. 

“He could be her cousin twice removed for all I care,” Mina huffed. “Answer the question! Are you or are you not angling to marry him?”

“I’m not going to marry him,” she said. “It’s just what we were talking about! She wants him to look for a wife. That’s all.”

Mina’s eyes were more intense than ever. “That’s it? Well, okay. I thought it was about you in particular.” 

The disdain in those words made her eyes narrow. “What do you mean? Why would it be bad if he wanted to marry me in particular?” 

“God, I didn’t even say that!” Mina snapped. “You’re so touchy!”

“Okay, well, that’s what saying what you said implies!” All the warmth in her was gone now, leeched out of her by this interrogation. “You can’t stand here and make it sound like a marriage proposal towards me is a curse. That’s just mean! What’s your problem?”

In the blink of an eye, Mina was up in her face. “I do not have a problem,” she seethed.

“Don’t you?” She didn’t flinch away. She only stared. She knew her heart was racing, and she knew Mina and every other vampire could hear it, but backing down would make things worse for her. She knew that. “I know what your problem is.”

“By all means, Paige, enlighten me. Since you’re such a genius catch, go on! Tell me what my problem is!”  

“If you want to marry into the Geist family,” she said, “go ahead! No one is stopping you. He doesn’t have a partner. Maybe you would suit him as a wife. You could get him to stop burying himself in his work. I don’t know. But there’s no point in picking on me over it. I don’t even have a horse in this race!”

Her throat was so choked up from irritation that it hurt to breathe. She pressed her free hand to her chest, willing her body to stop and be normal while knowing that hope was futile. She stood there, trembling, and waited for Mina to say something. Anything. She wanted an apology most of all, but she didn’t expect one. Not when the other woman’s nostrils were still flared and her mouth was pulled down into a furious scowl.

“For a nerd, you really don’t know anything,” Mina proved her right. “I don’t want to be a Geist. I want Lady Geist to look at me and see someone who she wants to be around. I want to make the clothes she wears out into the world. I want to push the needle. Do you get that? I don’t want her to only think of me in relation to her shitty grandson. I am not doing that again!”

“Okay,” she said. “I support you, I do. But, for tonight, you need to leave me alone. Okay? I don’t want you to be a jerk to me anymore today.”

There was no delicate way to put it. Mina looked like she wanted to keep fighting. She braced herself for it; her grip tightened further around the flute of alcohol in her hand. This was bound to be protracted and messy. Luckily, by chance, two of the vampires twirled by. Their dark skirts spun outward, drawing the eye. She glanced at them, admiring the look despite the mood, and Mina followed suit. She could almost see the gears in Mina’s head turning at the sight of them. This was all too public.

“Fine then. Don’t bother coming to find me,” Mina told her. 

Once Mina stormed out of sight, Paige sagged against the wall. Exhaustion sank into her all at once, draining her. She swished around the champagne she didn’t ask for. It was probably one of the most expensive drinks she had ever had, but it made for a poor distraction. The shine of the evening was gone now. There was a brown stain on the ceiling, and rust on the top of one of the chandeliers. She didn’t want to stand around noticing that. It wasn’t the Baroness’ fault. She just wanted to slip out and go home. But it’s too early for that, isn’t it?

The current dance came to a close. The participants bowed to each other, tittering away. She wondered if she looked like them before. Her gaze dropped back to her drink. Pop! went the bubbles. Pop! went her enthusiasm. Butterscotch, she cursed. How am I supposed to stop moping?

A shadow fell over her. “I hope that frown isn’t because of anything Johann did,” Lady Geist said. 

Her body jerked. She nearly spilled her drink onto the floor. “Ah, no!” she said once she got it settled back in her hand. “He didn’t do anything.”

“Well, that’s a relief. As sanctimonious as he is, he is truly gifted at sticking his foot in his mouth. I would handle it if he made you upset, darling.” 

The glint in Lady Geist’s eyes sent a shiver down her spine. “I believe you,” she said.

“How are you feeling then?” To her surprise, Lady Geist looked and sounded concerned. “You look worn down. It’s almost disturbing. You’re always so cheery.” 

She made the effort to crack a smile. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired,” she lied. “I was so excited for tonight that I barely slept.”

“I see,” Lady Geist said, smiling again. “I hope it’s lived up to your expectations, even with the venue.”

“Oh, it’s exceeded them!” she exclaimed. There was a world of difference between reading about galas and experiencing them, no matter how poorly she was feeling now. “The food was wonderful, and I had a great time trying out waltzing.”

“And Johann?”

Oma’s been meddling with us replayed in her mind. She saw his face again, pinched with regret. She saw his sad, doe-like eyes, and she remembered the taste of deer on her tongue.

“Dr. Geist was very considerate of me,” she said.

“I’ve never seen him dance for so long with one person before,” Lady Geist hinted. As she did so, Johann danced by with Ms. Fisher again. The two of them were laughing at some private joke. They were the picture of happiness. 

Paige slowly raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t know that held some meaning,” she said.

“It means different things from him for different types of people,” Lady Geist hurriedly added. “I haven’t been able to speak with him yet, but I have a good sense for how he feels. He enjoyed being around you.”

“I enjoyed being around him too.”

“Did you? That’s wonderful. He’s a good man to know,” said the host. “He is intelligent, of course, which I am glad for. I would love him anyway, but it surely must be agonizing to have a grandson who is a fool. He is always sacrificing himself for one cause or another, so long as a doctor is needed for it. I only wish that someday, someone would be willing to sacrifice things for him in return.”

There was a lot to tug at there, from the dubious idea that Lady Geist would love a foolish grandson to the suggestion of sacrifice (that dreaded word), but one thing occurred to her above all. Lady Geist sounded desperate. The other woman was fumbling with subtlety and dropping it onto the floor, where it’d smash apart into billions of tiny pieces. As she realized that, her smile became more real. Lady Geist’s ruthlessness was unnerving, and her entitlement was hard to watch, but her desperation? It was endearing.

“I think I understand you,” she said. “But does Johann really want to be married?”

“If he had the free time to himself and the right person, I truly believe so,” Lady Geist replied. “And lo and behold! He no longer has to fuss over my ward. It’s the perfect time for him to get serious over his future. Marriage could be just around the corner for him.”

“You have a whole doctor as a grandkid, lady, and you think marriage is what he needs to be a real adult? Just more evidence that you love any institution that controls property.”

This time, she did spill the champagne. “You scared me, Billy!” she scolded him, shaking her head.

“Ah, William,” Lady Geist spat. “I wondered when you might intrude on a conversation of mine with your prattle. You are so enamored with the sound of your own voice, after all.”

“And you have nothin’ to say back,” Billy retorted. “It’s all about tradition with you people. But what answers do you got for people when those traditions get ‘em hurt? Nada. Zilch.” 

Their host sighed, closing her eyes. It seemed clear that she wanted to block out the sight of him entirely. “Let me guess, William. You think that the world would be better off if anyone could marry who they like, when they like, as quickly as they like, and split up as soon as it strikes their fancy. Paperwork and money be damned, we should all engage in a never-ending carousel of fickleness and commitment issues.”

“Sure, that sounds swell,” Billy said. His teeth were showing.

“You’re ridiculous,” Lady Geist said. “You have no sense. My grandson, who I might add, is someone you don’t know and have not cared to talk to. He understands why marriage, no, why responsibility is important. You, on the other hand, can hardly be called a real adult. Your little ideas are meaningless. It’s humiliating to be expected to entertain them at all.”

He shrugged. “Right, right, whatever. We’ll see who’s vindicated in the history books.”

“Vindicated? What an advanced word for you, William!” Lady Geist clapped. “I’m impressed. How long did it take you to get the meaning down?”

“Eh. About as long as it took me to mess with your precious chocolate fountain.”

He jerked his thumb at the piece of decor. The fondue flowed down the various tiers, pooling at the bottom. Partygoers mingled near it, snacking on strawberries and holding their own little discussions. 

Lady Geist’s expression turned thunderous. “What exactly did you do, William.”

“What didn’t I do?” he replied. “Lots of ways to make a statement with chocolate. The ol’ paint switcheroo trick though’s a classic. All those businessmen are really gonna hate their next snack if you don’t step in.”

“Oh, please. That’s a horrendous bluff. The Baroness would never allow you to bring paint inside the walls.”

“True,” Billy said, “which is why I didn’t ‘bring’ it. I’m good at transmutatin’, asshole. Wave your fingers over the thing, rig it to go off with a delay, and bam. What, you think I’m a moron? Who lugs paint buckets to a gala?”

Lady Geist’s eyes bounced from him to the fountain and back again. The more she looked back and forth, the more visibly angry the woman got. “You.” She pointed at him viciously. “If you so much as move from this spot, William, there will be consequences. You do not want to cross me.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Billy said once she was out of earshot. “Come on, let’s ditch these pricks.”

“Huh?” Paige blinked at the hand wrapped around her wrist. It didn’t hurt as he tugged her forward, past the groups of guests, through the doors, and out through the lobby. She didn’t stumble once. 

Still, she wrenched away once they were outside. “Don’t pull me around, Billy,” she said.  

“Jeez, okay,” Billy said. “No need to bite my head off. Just wanted to get us out of there. What a shitshow.” He flopped down onto the steps of the Baroness. He was the picture of casual. If not for her dress, she’d give into the urge to follow suit.

“Did you really mess with the chocolate fountain?” she asked, peering down at him. Her curiosity was boiling over.

“Yeah, ‘course I did.” He sounded completely unfazed. “Why should they get to enjoy their shitty fondue? It’s crazy to be partyin’ because of dead people. The doctors there might care, but the rest of them? Geist? They’re just jackin’ each other off, pretendin’ they have what it takes to be good. They’ll never think about any sick kids again once they leave here, mark my words. Stupid elite assholes.”

What could she say to that? “They might not be doing it for good reasons,” she conceded, “but it’s good for them to give money to help, right?”

“Geist’s probably just gonna pocket it all anyway,” Billy said.

“Johann wouldn’t allow that,” she said, shaking her head. She was certain of that. Watching him with Ms. Fisher and how he spoke about his work made it clear.

Billy threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, it’s Johann now? You’re on a first name basis with him? You really plannin’ on marryin’ that doctor asshole?” 

“What? I only just met him,” she said.

“So? I know guys who got married after a month. It’s not like he’d be loyal to you. He’s probably already in bed with Big Pharma—”

“I’m not marrying anyone!” She flung her hands up. “Can we all just slow down? Why does everyone think I plan to be Mrs. Patience Geist?”

“Okay, cool,” Billy said. “Smart. You don’t need his blood money.”

She pursed her lips at him. “Why do you care so much, Billy? I thought you hated me.” She injected as much suspicion into her voice as possible.

“I never said that,” he lied.

“You definitely did. During the ritual, you said it. ‘I hate you, Paige! Even though we just met, and I don’t know you at all! I need to shove you away and call you a fraud!’” She contemplated adding a faked bleat at the end, but that felt like pushing it a little too far. The goat head wasn’t what she wanted to critique. It was the pettiness of his entire facade.

Billy began to scowl. “We get it! You have a good memory! God! Maybe I just think you can do better than buyin’ into a custom that wants to sap all your time and freedom away!”

“Right. Sure, Billy.” She was too tired to try to dig through his philosophy to the truth lying beneath. “Why did you come? Mina was rude about it, but I didn’t think you’d stop by either. It clearly doesn’t make you happy.”

“To mess with Geist in her own house,” he said at once. “She invited me, but she didn’t want me to come? Who plays with people’s hearts like that? She’s an asshole. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to piss off assholes.”

I think he needs a hobby, she thought. “You could have said you were coming and then not show up,” she pointed out. 

“Yeah, but…” He studiously looked away. “I knew you’d come. And the more I thought about it, the more I went, why should I leave her with these jackasses? You’ve got nothin’ in common with them. You’re probably gonna figure out how to volunteer with those patients in your free time.”

“Oh.” For the second time that night, she gawked at him. “Thank you.”

He scoffed hard enough that smoke escaped his nostrils. “Forget it,” he grumbled. 

“I was actually wondering…” she said before she could think better of it.

“What?”

She opened and closed her mouth twice. “Did the ritual make your life better?” she asked once she found her voice. “We never got to know what you wished for. You got privacy with the Patron.”

“I know that? I was there, Paige,” he said.

“I’m not asking for you to tell me your wish,” she continued. “I just wondered if it made things better for you. I want to think so for me, but I feel like… Well, I don’t recognize my life right now. Is it the same for you?”

Billy kicked at one of the steps. It made a loud enough scuffing noise that she half-expected the Doorman to materialize and throw them both off the premises. “That’s a weird question,” he said. “You got weird thoughts in that head of yours.”

She flushed with embarrassment. “Never mind,” she said hastily. 

“The thing with you is that you think it’s all about rituals,” Billy said. “You make a wish, and then everything is perfect. But that’s never the whole story, and anyone who says so is tryin’ to sell you bullshit. The Patron saved that old lady in there, okay, good for her. But it’s not gonna save the next wave of people like her. Even if we lost, this still could have happened. You could be here, invited, just because Geist felt bad for you after gettin’ your ass kicked in. Or maybe you’d meet that doctor prick at the library and fall in love and have ten babies, and you’d end up here anyway, just older and shackled down. Who knows? Who cares?”

His bluntness startled a laugh out of her. “That’s true,” she said. “Though it’d be adopting ten.”

“Eh?” He tilted his head. She could see him thinking and the exact moment when his conclusion dawned on him. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Adoption’s… It’s… You know, pregnancy is…” He shut his mouth. Whatever he wanted to say was clashing with the sense of tact he just discovered he still had. It made for a funny picture, this garish guy sweating his way through a conversational turn.

She tried to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s funny,” she said, though it wasn’t, not to her. “I had a dream after the ritual where I asked the Patron to give me a uterus. The spells just aren’t there to remake me, but I thought the Patron could. Maybe I should have chosen that instead. If I didn’t have other things on my mind, I might have.”

“Oh, that’s all?” Billy relaxed. “You don’t need some lame god for that. The big guys don’t want you to know this, but you can homebrew organs in your backyard right now. I know some chicks who grew their own ovaries and stuff, it’s totally legit.”

If a pin were to drop at that exact moment, it would have been deafening. “You’re serious?” she gasped. Her hands were shaking. “Would you introduce me?”

“To the girls? Yeah, okay, on one condition,” he said.

Her gaze turned skeptical. “What kind of condition?” she asked.

Billy rose to his feet and stretched. A crack came from him, though she couldn’t tell what body part made it. “I’ll tell you if you buy some beer with me,” he said.

“Beer?”

“Yeah, at the bodega over there.”

“All you want is beer?” she repeated herself. 

“Yeah?” He looked at her like she was stupid. “Those girls are assholes. Everyone I know is. If I’m going to talk to them for you, I want to be drunk first. Best time’s while I’m off blood bag duty. You in? Or nah?”

There were a lot of mistakes Paige had made in her life. She felt certain that accepting this invitation was one of them, and that the effects of her choice would continue to ripple outward in the days to come, jostling everything. Maybe stumbling after Billy into the dark was a mistake too.

Even so, she’d greet the consequences with eyes open wide. She was one step closer to where she wanted to be.