Page 4 of Fairies Never Fall

I need to see, to understand, even if the outcome of the search is beyond my control. I need to ground myself in words and be assured someone looked them over and confirmed them to be meaningless.

Maddox hands over the stack of paper and ushers me out of the office. “I’ll tell you if I hear anything. I promise.”

I hold the papers tight and sign out on Aster’s sheet. Outside, Orion is waiting for me in his car. I give him a tight nod as I climb in.

Four flaming eyes go to the papers I’m clutching.

“Ready to go?”

I’m glad he has the tact not to inquire. “Yes, thanks.”

The scenery rushes past my window at foreign speeds. Vehicles still make me faintly sick, but I swallow it back.My wings press uncomfortably into the seat, restricted by the ridiculous strap Orion makes me wear.

I only have to stay in this human city until I’m reunited with Elsabeth.

3

EZRA

The place Maddox sent me isn’t just a bar. The modest sign above the door with the nameThe Sanctumin gothic script tells me it’s gotta be some kind of upscale club. Frosted windows are set into a brick facade and the curtains are drawn, blocking my view of the inside, but I have no doubt it’ll be all leather upholstery and chrome accents.

Do I really seem like a guy who’d fit in here?

I triple check the address — unfortunately it’s right — and ring the bell.

I haven’t set foot in this kind of club since I was arrested. Jasper used to take me to all the gay cruising spots — High Life, Jungle, Liberty, the clubs with the loudest music and the longest bathroom lines. Those nights were for fun, not business, so he’d sell a bit, then pick up a guy and bring him back to our place. Sometimes I was high enough to watch. Sometimes I stayed in the living room and felt sick. I don’t do that — any of that — these days, but as I step back from the door, a familiar wave of nausea sweeps through me.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

It’s too late to back out. A shadow appears behind the glass and the door opens. The guy on the other side has a skin-fadeand an overgrown mohawk tied up in a bun. He’s wearing a t-shirt that says KISS ME, I’M THE BOGEYMAN. A wide silver chain with a pendant hangs over his collar.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh.” I shake off my hesitation. “Owyn Maddox sent me. I’m here about the job?”

He does a double take. “The bar job?”

“Yep.” I hold out my hand. “Ezra Pine.”

“Orion.” He shakes it. He’s still looking me over — not in a flirtatious way, but not in a judging way, either. Just… assessing. It makes me itchy. Finally he lets go of my hand. “Syril’s not here yet, so I’ll get you set up.”

“Set up?”

“For the trial run.” He holds the door open and I follow him inside.

It’s exactly what I expected — private booths, high standing tables, and an elegant free-standing bar in the middle of the room. But with raw wood beams running across the ceiling and plush burgundy velvet instead of leather, the vibe is totally different from a place like Jungle. No wall to wall dance floor, no glassed-in VIP loft lounge. The knot between my shoulders eases.

“What about the interview?” I ask.

“Syril figures it’s better for a new guy to jump right in. You get to decide if you like it, and we get to see if you can keep up.” He grins over his shoulder.

“I can’t work unpaid,” I tell him cautiously.

“No way!” he says loudly, startling me. “We don’t operate like that. It’s all above board. We put you on the payroll for three weeks, and after that you can sign a permanent contract.”

“Okay,” I reply quietly. A reflexive “Sorry” leaves my lips before I can stop it.

He shakes his head. “You’re alright.”

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