Page 58 of Strange Familiars
But then all of a sudden, he shoves me away from him and stumbles a few steps back.
I reel, somehow managing to keep my balance. “Briggs? What’s wrong?” My voice is unexpectedly steady; I sound less panicked than I feel.
He doesn’t answer immediately. Between us, the air congeals, turning frigid, until goose bumps prick down my arms.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes glazing over. Then he turns and pushes through the crowd, fleeing far away from me.
25
Gwendolynne
For a long time, all I can do is stare at the empty space where Harrisford had once been. Dancing couples continue to sweep and sway around me, but I barely notice. My pulse is roaring in my ears and my body is shivering and pricking tears are needling my inner eyelids.
Fucking bastard.I cannot believe I just did that. I let him kiss me. I kissed him back. And then he…
I resist the urge to scream. My theory was right: Hehadbeen playing me. I’d heard of him and his womanizing ways, and I’m so foolish to have thought it might be anything but.
Nothing has changed in my surroundings; the only thing that has changed is me. But now, everything has lost its luster. The lights are garish; the colors clash; the music is a cacophony of painfully discordant twangs. A roving magician conjures a fire, and one of the lantern-toting faeries meets its bitter end.
My shock is giving way to fury, and I bunch my fists in my skirt, lifting the silky folds so I don’t stumble as I run off the dance floor. I try my best not to cry, but my traitorous eyes do it anyway. On my head, the feathers of my mask give a few feeble flaps, and in a fit of fury I rip it off and crush it inside my fist.
A sob heaves out from someplace deep within my chest. Tears detach from my lower eyelashes, splattering all over my dress.
“Gwen!” The shout comes from behind me. The hall is loud—what with all the voices, music, and the occasional drunken shout—so I can’t quite hear properly. For a second, I think it’s Harrisford and unthinkingly turn around, before realizing that he never calls me Gwen—only my surname, Chan.
Someone squeezes between two dancing couples, and then the last of my resolve gives way and I break down into ugly tears.
It’s Heloise.
“Oh my god, Gwen, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” She puts both of her arms around me and folds me into a hug.
I can’t even choke the words out, can’t bring myself to admit how ridiculously stupid I’ve been. So I just cry into her shoulder until my sobs gradually peter out and I allow her to lead me away.
When I take notice of my surroundings again, we’re in a gallery filled with taxidermied birds. Heloise and I are sitting on the floor, leaning against a paneled wood door, next to a display of stuffed white swans. I sniff and dab at my eyes with my skirt. Harrisford’s glamour spell is getting weaker, and some of my mascara is flaking off.
“Percy was right,” I wail, fresh tears welling. “Harrisford is shit at glamours.”
From a distance, Percy’s voice echoes.I am always right. You should know that by now.
There’s a pause. Then he adds, his voice gentler this time,Do not fret over that man, Hairless One. He isn’t good enough for you. And trust me when I say I am right about that, too.
My tears are gushing out by now. Percy’s kindness is unexpected,and too much for me to handle; I cry even harder, burying my face in my hands.
Heloise rubs my shoulder. “Gwen, what did that arsehole do to you?”
Now that I’ve put some distance between myself and the dance floor, I almost feel ashamed to admit what had upset me. There’s no sense in pining over Harrisford-fucking-Briggs. Or reading too much into the way he held me, the way he kissed me, or even the way he laughed. Our business here tonight was purely transactional—I’d agreed to help him find the source of the surge, and he’d agreed not to tell Dean Kaur about Percy if I did so. It was my fault I gave in to the whims of my body and kissed him right there on the dance floor.
Not to mention, I don’t even like him! He’s an annoying, arrogant, blackmailing git, and for the sake of my fucking future, I should stop forgetting that. I need to stop being such a baby, gather my wits, and hold up my end of the bargain…if only so he will hold up his.
I force myself to stop crying and dry off the rest of my tears. “It’s okay, Heli,” I reassure her. “I was up all night on a call, and I barely got any sleep. I think—it’s all just catching up to me.” I wipe at my eyes again. My lips sting with the sharp taste of salt.
Heloise’s mouth turns down. “Honestly, the on-call rota is barbaric. I don’t know of any other industry where we’d be forced to stay up all night, and then turn up to work a full day the next morning.”
“It’s only a few weeks until exams,” I say faintly. After graduation, most mag.fam students end up working day shifts—unless you specifically opt to work in a twenty-four-hour center. Myth.creat vets, though, wind up being on call a lot, mainly because their hospitals are more often located rurally. And of course, I’m still hoping to be top of class, because that comes with the job at the Ministry. Cushy hours, better pay, and better opportunities for advancement.
And also a chance to save my family.
Heli shakes her head in wonder. “Can you imagine? We’ll be done with on-call. Forever.”
