Chapter 3: Chapter Two : Friends Old and New

“You need to move out of this…this… den of wretched whores! I can’t stand to leave you with her. Yes, you! You, you, you…. devilish harlot! You’ll never know the embrace of the Father! Hazel, come with me. Let us be rid of this place.”

~~~

Hazel banged down the gankplank onto a busy dock, mwaking gulls briefly hopping away before languidly returning to their posts. Edelweiss grumbling and cleaning his face from within the oversized birdcage. She offered to let him ride on her shoulders, but as soon as his horde-filled cushion began rattling around, he darted through the wire door and double checked the seams. Around the pair of them, people hurried about, loading and unloading and just milling about, smoking a stinking leaf rolled in butcher paper. The water sloshing under the dock barely looked better than it smelled, dead fish floating in heaps of weeds and brown scum. But she could still smell it each time she breathed, the heat and humidity making the stink oppressive.

The dock connected to a wide pier, stairs and the terrifying elevator cutting up the cliff. Well she wasn't going to risk that contraption, not that it looked like it was used for people. It seemed only heavy cargo was hauled up and down the cliff via lift, pausing as each platform came level with top and bottom. Nor was she going to fly; she didn’t know the laws here, but in Vivania, personal flight was forbidden without a permit. And besides. Sharing airspace with the swooping flocks of gulls seemed… less than ideal.

So she took the stairs. Multiple sets zigzagged up the cliff, which from a glance seemed about ten stories high? More? It was difficult to tell with platforms and the bottom of buildings blocking her vision. She just went for the closest set, and despite dozens of people trailing up and down stairs as wide as an avenue, she marvelled that the boards barely wobbled at all. She tapped her foot against it experimentally, and it felt as hard and steady as stone. She wondered if it was the wood, construction, or some spellweave… but figured it wasn’t important enough to stop and ogle.

It was nice, actually. Working out the kinks and aches in her body as she ascended at a slow pace, her trunk bouncing off the steps behind her. She stopped to take a breather at the first landing three stories up, the first one lined with multiple shops and flooded with milling people. It was so crowded the gulls kept themselves almost entirely to the roofs, which they had covered in their own brand of filth.

She stood by an empty bench and caught her breath, stretching her stiff legs and arms. The sounds of the city floated around her, the low murmur of hundreds of people talking, laughing, shouting, echoing off the cliff and falling down to the sea. The boats below, mostly retrofitted sailing ships, grew to the size of toys, a blanket of white sails fluttering in the gentle wind.

But as she rested, she watched the people. There was a surprising variety of clothes, of shapes, of sizes. In Vivania they wore doublets, waist cloaks, trousers and skirts almost exclusively. And while she saw some of that here, he also saw people in oversized ponchos or togas covered in zigzagging patterns. People in long monocolored robes, or with robe-like shirts over slacks. Lots of people went shirtless, including some women with flat, sagging breasts. And of course, skin and hair colors of all affinities mixing, from the pale whites and yellows to the vibrant blues, reds, and greens, to the darker shades of brown and black.

She wondered where all these people were from. Who were locals, and who weren’t? The signage was in two languages, Lingua Franca from the Southern Continents, and a pictographic text she didn’t recognize. But dozens of languages floated around her, not even half of which she knew.

She slowly realized that a loud whistle was cutting through the noise, repeated over and over. She backed up against the bench in case it was the watch. But soon after, she realized a few voices were shouting,

“Witch!” “Witchy lady!” “Up here!” “wiiiitch!”

Hazel looked around, puzzled, then looked up. Cheers erupted from the upper balcony of the tavern across from her. A motley crowd of men in salt and sweat stained togs erupted in cheers, pounding sloshing mugs and slapping hands together in camaraderie.

“Give a wave!” one shouted, spilling his mug over the railing as he near toppled over it, grinning madly.

Hazel smiled crookedly. This was certainly… the strangest catcall she’d been subjected to. But she wasn’t one to walk about the taverns after dark. She chuckled and gave a weak wave, collecting up her things as the men gave another cheer.

When she finally reached the top, huffing and puffing from her flight, it was almost an entirely new and different city. Where the boards below were a mess of poverty, wealth stood atop the cliffs.

She had arrived in an orderly neighborhood of identical three storied buildings, built of stone in a classical Southern Continent style — all stone arches and carved pillars. But the filth of birds had not entirely encrusted the buildings, all painted a variety of pastel colors. The cobblestone streets were lined with scraggly, thin-trunked trees she didn’t recognize. Some bore little white and pink flowers that looked like big buttercups. But the petals were mostly scattered in wet mats on the ground. Hazel supposed it was towards the end of the flowering season. There was no grass, the trees sitting in sandy, dusty soil. Beyond them, and hazy from a distance, she saw glimpses of grand homes, dazzlingly new, constructed of shining white limestone. In a moment of morbid humor, Hazel thought it was like the cliff's corpse had been mined and repurposed to human edifice.

Hazel’s home country would be celebrating the first day of summer, and the Northern Continent was currently in the first day of winter. But she didn’t get that feeling from what she saw. The plants were still vibrant, the air still warm and a little muggy. Bird calls, as well as swarms of annoying little insects, still filled the air. She wondered if it snowed here… she had no particular love for winter, but delighted in the changing of the seasons. If it was just a bland vibrancy all year long… Well, she didn’t know if she would get used to that or not.

She pulled out the little map and directions she had, then kept her head down and hurried on. She finally found Zinnia’s place just as the sun was dipping below the horizon. She had passed from the stately, if cluttered streets into a district full of small manors. The streetlights were popping on between the short trees as the sun dipped low. Hazel could tell they were manalamps; the lights popped on automatically as it grew dimmer. After a long day baking in the sun, a manalamp would radiate the heat they collected as light.

Zinnia’s place was larger than Hazel expected. It was two stories and spread out over a large area. The white limestone walls were accented with dark chocolate wood, the roof black tiles. The design had a strange charm to it, with nooks and windows placed erratically and artfully beneath a blanket of ivy. Orange light shone out from nearly every window, though she couldn't see anyone inside.

She popped the lock on a waist-high metal gate set into a low white stone fence. A path of white pebbles led to the front door, cutting through a full garden of lavender, geraniums, and dozens of other flowers Hazel didn’t recognize.

It was very nice and all. But all Hazel could think is that there was no way Zinnia maintained all this by herself. How rich had her friend gotten to be able to afford such extravagance? Didn’t she say she was an actor now? Was she really so skilled that she could afford all this?

Hazel felt a little… overwhelmed. She wasn’t poor, by any means. Frugal, yes, but she held… formerly held… a respectable position and had accumulated a decent amount of coin. But seeing her friend living in such a nice house, a part of her felt inferior to her frivolous friend. Like she had failed.

She bit her lip and exhaled out her nose. She reached under her hat and tugged the anxiety away, but her heart still thrummed. She had a lot to get used to.

The birdcage rattled as Edelweiss climbed atop it and leapt for Hazel’s shoulder. Beside her ear, he asked, “Is this not Lady Scarlet’s place?”

“It should be,” Hazel answered. “Her name was on the placard out front.”

Edelweiss rose on her shoulder, stretching, long talons digging into her cloak and pulling at the cloth. It hurt, but Hazel was used to it — he never let her trim his nails after all. Suddenly his head cocked, and slitted pupils went wide. Hazel braced herself as Edelweiss lept from her shoulder and dove into the lavender, a great poof of petals, pollen, and disturbed fluttering insects bursting up around him.

“You don’t want to say hi to Zinnia?” Hazel called.

His little head popped out, coated in yellow pollen. He huffed a sneeze out his nose then dove back in, loud rustling his only reply.

Hazel rolled her eyes and headed to the front door. She couldn’t really control the little dragon, and it was only by his choice that he stuck around. No matter how far he wandered away, somehow he always found his way back to her.

The front door was made of the same dark wood as the trim. She wondered if she should knock, then she saw a hemp rope attached to a large bell. She reached up and rang it, the sound clear and sharp in the air. Then she just stood around feeling awkward, wondering if she should ring it again or knock or…

She jolted up straight as there was a click of the locks, and a flash of green as what she assumed a security spell disengaged. Then the door opened, releasing a cool breeze and —

‘Heavenly Father, that is a naked man.’

An impossibly handsome and dripping wet man smirked a closed-mouth smile, leaning against the doorframe. He was that kind of pretty that went beyond traditional beauty and dove straight into the uncanny valley. He had unnaturally flawless pale gray skin that spoke of flesh weaving, every last mole, wrinkle, and imperfection scrubbed away until he could be mistaken for a marble statue.

“Yes?” he said, voice low and sultry. “Ah, you must be Hazel… it’s a pleasure.”

“Yup!” Hazel squeaked. Hazel tried to meet his eyes but stopped at his chin. He had a towel around his waist but it was far too low and revealed far more than Hazel wanted to see. “You uh, Zinnia’s…?” The words escaped her.

“Her date tonight,” he emphasized.

“Date?” Hazel squealed.

“Aurelius, you dirty scamp!”

Her friend came thudding down the stairs into the foyer. She slapped her ‘date’ on the shoulder with a crooked grin.

“I said I was getting the door!” she said.

“You know I do hate to keep a lady waiting,” he replied.

“You’re not even dressed, you goof!” Zinnia waved a hand towards Hazel. “Look at her, you’re intimidating the poor thing!”

Hazel laughed nervously, trying to slacken her taut shoulders. “I’m fine, it’s fine, just surprised. Not used to seeing um…” she trailed off.

Zinnia rolled her eyes and pushed Aurelius towards the stairs before pulling Hazel into a tight and squeezing hug.

“Welcome to White Cliffs, roomie,” Zinnia mumbled into Hazel’s ear.

“Thanks,” Hazel said, hugging her back. “You look um… good.”

Zinnia had mottled skin from her conflicting affinities of Water and Fire; she was primarily purple, but it had faded to pink across her face and belly. She had leaned into the image, highlighting the shift with red makeup around the edges. Her loose white tunic hung off her shoulders, a tight bodice pushing up her breasts and cut off above her belly button. Bracelets and bangles ladened her wrists, her slacks weighed down by a heavy jangling belt of oversized coins, just inches above revealing her womanhood.

And of course, reflecting her education if not her current career, a massive oversized witch’s hat sat on her boyishly short purple hair, sagging with jangling rings and bells. The massive thing nearly knocked Hazel’s own hat off as Zinnia hugged her.

Zinnia was that kind of bisexual nightmare who brought home multiple flings, yet always offered to share. At first Hazel had left their dorm room and sat out in the hall, ears red, listening in, yet too much of a “good girl” to join.

Eventually, her pride failed her. She slept with Zinnia. Well, more cuddled, but with extra touching. After a taste, Hazel decided she would much rather sit in the hall. Zinnia was fun, but maybe too much fun for Hazel.

What followed was an uneasy friendship forged in the fires of being stuck rooming with each other. Zinnia offered Hazel a glimpse into a loose party girl life that, frankly, terrified yet fascinated Hazel. And Hazel offered Zinna the stability of having minimum expectations, dragging her by the ear through the school year.

Okay maybe it wasn’t a great friendship.

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

But Zinnia did have something nobody else had : an excuse for Hazel to move an entire continent away from her old life. Somewhere nobody knew her, where she could rest her head and unpack what had become of her life.

Hazel patted Zinnia’s arm, “Thanks, Zin… you can let go now!”

Zinnia took a deep breath and released Hazel, holding her at arm’s length. She looked around Hazel’s shoulders.

“Wait, where’s Edelweiss.” She gasped. “No! He’s not dead is he?!”

Hazel laughed and motioned vaguely to the garden. “He’s enjoying the flowers. The smell of the docks bothered him… but it's not so bad up here.”

“The flowers help,” Zinnia said. “Now come in, come in!”

Zinnia grabbed Hazel's trunk and Edelweiss’ travel cage, dragged it in, and dropped it by the door. Hazel disengaged the spell with a click of her fingers, and the trunk thudded heavily to the floor. Hazel herself was barely in the door when Zinnia puffed up proudly. “Nice place, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes!” Hazel said before she even looked around. “I’m impressed”

They stood together in the small foyer as Hazel halfheartedly poked her head into a few of the open doorframes. A staircase cut up the right wall and a door to a backyard patio was straight down the hall ahead. The walls were pure white, the trim and cross beams on the ceiling the same chocolate black as outside. The lamps in the home were bright and shining orange mana lamps; Fire infused into glass to provide a stronger and more steady light.

Hazel could look into a few rooms from where she was, and saw a dining and sitting room. The furniture was a little eclectic, fabrics of different colors and patterns tossed together in a jumble. And the decorations ranged from fine Northern Imperial lacquerwares to tapestries all the way from Southern Liam. A pair of swords in black sheaths rested above a collection of instruments, from an upright piano to a cello to three different kinds of drums. The home smelled of new plaster and spicy potpourri.

What really hit her was how cool it was in the home. When she ducked her head in a room, it seemed like the temperature dropped by ten degrees. It didn’t take long for her to figure it out. The chocolate trim extruded outward in the dining and sitting room, the tops apparently planter boxes filled with a blue-green moss.

“Is that… Soppmoss?” Hazel asked, peeking back around the doorframe.

“Clever, innit?” Zinnia said, puffing up proudly. “Really helps keep the whole house cool. And trust me, once summer hits, it’s a bloody godsend.”

“Is it tough to maintain?” Hazel couldn't help but ask.

“Just a repotting every year or so,” Zinnia explained. “Oh, unless you count the trimming. And checking the drainage, since it sucks up a lot of water. But that’s kiddie stuff. It’s real easy to take care of.”

Hazel again wondered who was keeping all this clean. Zinnia herself? Did she have hired help? The manalights alone needed daily changing. And the place was massive, far more than Zinnia alone needed.

“Okay that's enough gawking!” Zinnia said. Hazel was grabbed by the shoulders and pressed up the stairs. “We’ve got to get you ready!”

“Uh, for bed?” Hazel said with a weak laugh. She felt like she’d pass out the moment she touched a pillow.

“No, for the party!” Zinnia cried. “Aurelius —“ as they reached the upper landing, Zinnia waved into the open door of the first bedroom. The marble-skinned man was pulling on a doublet with a plunging neckline and trousers that looked a size too tight. At the mention of his name, he gave a small bow with a twirl of his hand. “— has got me into one of the biggest shindigs of the year! This is my chance to shmooze the upper crust. And your chance too!”

Hazel groaned. “I’m exhausted, Zin! I am not in the headspace to schmooze…”

“Schmoozing waits for no one, Hayzee!” Zinnia said. “You think your weird and special magic is going to sell itself? That I’m going to sell you, for you? No, girl, this city runs on connections you forge in the fires of really fancy shindigs! Now let's get you gussied up!”

Hazel groaned. She barely wanted to worry about a party, but a party where she had to drum up a clientele? That was even worse.

She was pushed into the master bedroom, saw Zinnia’s wide and fluffy four poster, and wanted to fall face first into it. But then she was pushed into a closet exploding with colorful clothes and instead collapsed face first into silk and lace.

Hazel begrudgingly picked a relatively modest dress. A long red silk dress with a scoop neckline so low the material practically hung off her elbows. But she could pair it with a shawl, and it didn't have terrible and excessive hoops. She’d just have to wear a petticoat for a bit of volume.

Zinnia offered to do her hair, pulling at it roughly with a brush and rubbing oil in. Hazel was sat in front of a bureau, but there was no mirror atop it. She looked around the eclectic, mismatched furniture of the bedroom. It was nice and all, especially with the Soppmoss cooling the air over her head. But there was no standing mirror either. She wished she could see herself as her hair was done. Instead she just stared at her lap and fiddled with the stiff floral patterns embroidered in the silk.

“I landed a catch this time, Hazel,” Zinnia babbled. “My date is Aurelius Asphodel! His family is one of the richest, oldest families in the whole city! Now he’s a bit of… you know —” her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, “— a manwhore —“ and went back to full volume. “Doesn’t ever settle down, and I don’t expect him to with me. But I’ve been breaking into high society, Hazel! He’s already introduced me to the local opera group with the highest regard!”

“Good for you, Zinnia,” Hazel said mildly. “I must say, you’ve taken an… interesting career turn for a witch. You’re an actress, of some kind?”

“All kinds,” Zinnia replied. “I dance, I sing, I play four different instruments, all augmented with some quick and dirty spellweave. Take a look if you want!”

Zinnia pulled over her purse and popped it open. Her preferred medium was paper and ink, her wand quite literally a paintbrush. Bottles of fabric-dense ink rattled in side pockets, infused by magical plants or the blood of monsters. The bulk of the purse was stuffed with parchment paper woven with spells.

Hazel reached for them questioningly and Zinnia nodded. Hazel flipped through them, eyeing the skillfully drawn looping patterns. It was a collection of about six spells drawn in ink, all with minor differences. Mostly illusion spells to summon sparks and stars, sometimes illusory animals, and things to amplify her voice or make her skin ripple with fake fire. All so incredibly basic Hazel cringed that her friend had spent four years at university just for this. But then Hazel quirked an eyebrow at the last spell.

“Push?”

“For keeping the creeps off me,” Zinnia said as she braided Hazel’s hair.

“Okay…” Hazel frowned down at the paper. “But the values are really high… what do you expect to push, an elephant?”

”Oh, they’re meant to be high.” Zinnia grinned wickedly. “One word and bam! Send ‘em flying straight off the cliffs.”

Hazel balked. “That sounds ah… really dangerous for a simple push spell?”

Zinnia rolled her eyes. ”I’m exaggerating. But seriously, unlike Vivania, this is a dirty city filled with dirty hands. So you want a couple copies?”

Hazel laughed nervously. “I can pull something together myself.”

“Ha! Of course you can, little honor student!” Zinnia slapped Hazel in the bare shoulder. Hazel winced. It actually stung a little. Her roomie still hadn’t fallen out of that old habit…

Zinnia braided Hazel’s hair tight to her head, with extra bobby pins to keep the fraying strands in place. Zinnia tutted and said she’d give Hazel a proper haircut later. Hazel was about to stand up, but Zinnia pushed her back down.

“No, no, wait here! Makeup next!”

“I don’t really…” Hazel started, but Zinnia was already out of the room.

Hazel sighed and slumped back in the creaking wooden chair. Could she just go to bed now?

Zinnia was back quickly, holding a heavy makeup case in one hand, and dragging another chair in the other. Her date…. Aurelius was it? He trailed in after Zinnia, giving Hazel a small smile and a short wave. Zinnia dropped the chair beside Hazel, told her “scoot scoot!” and, not waiting a moment, bodily grabbed her and spun it around until the chairs faced one another.

Aurelius sat opposite her with practiced grace. He delicately opened up the makeup kit, and with only a few glances Hazel’s way, began preparing a line of paints and powders.

“I don’t have a foundation in that tone…” he said. “However… yes. Let me see what I can whip up.”

“He’s a genius, Hayzee,” Zinnia insisted, giving her shoulders another shake. “He’ll make you look lovely, and definitely not dead on your feet.”

“Yeah, alright…” Hazel mumbled, feeling more and more dead as the process dragged on.

Aurelius gave her a warm smile. He brushed a cool hand past her cheek, tilting up her chin.

“Chin up, darling,” he said.

“Haaa….” Hazel said, smile crooked as she tried not to stare at his exposed chest.

Hazel was forced to stare the ‘manwhore’ in the face as he delicately powdered and painted her skin. Whenever his hands brushed her face, he was icy cold, though Hazel could attribute that to a cold bath. She could certainly go for a dunk in ice cold water to wake her up a little.

Hazel guessed he was handsome, if you liked that sort of thing. He had bright red eyes ringed with brown, which made them especially piercing. His white hair was a middle-length wave of soft curls.

But even up close, the uncanny effect was pronounced. Did the man even have pores? If Hazel had to guess his affinities, it would be a massive clash of Life and Death. He had the angular face and long ears that spoke of the Fabric of Life, but he had the sunken eyes, thick nails, and fang-like teeth that spoke of the Fabric of Death. It was a little rude to guess a person’s affinities, but Hazel figured it was harmless as long as she didn’t judge anyone for something they couldn't help.

“Mere exposure is valuable, you know,” Aurelius said as he was carefully applying her mascara.

“Huh?” Hazel said as she shot up. She had been slouching. Aurelius yanked the brush away to stop it from poking her in the eye, and gave her a mischievous smile.

“You don’t need to talk more than necessary,” Aurelius said, voice low as he leaned back in. “Simply being at the party will be enough to garner attention. In fact.” He paused, as if in thought. “Yes. I can make sure to get you a personalized invite, if need be. It will impress the people who care about such things.”

“Oh,” Hazel said. She could feel herself blushing. “Thank you. You don’t have to go that far for me…”

Aurelius shrugged and leaned back. He washed the brushes in a cup foggy from paint and began snapping shut the makeup cases.

“Think of it as investment, darling. You get what you want—“ He held out his long fingers towards Hazel. “— And in return, I get something I want.” He splayed his fingers on his chest.

“And what do you want?”

“Well. First…” He reached into the bureau and pulled out a small hand mirror, handing it to Hazel. She took it, and was genuinely surprised. For someone who apparently took beauty tips from a statue, she did look… lively. The makeup was applied gently, not too flamboyant, but just enough to hide the clear exhaustion she felt.

Aurelius gave a mischievous grin. “Now I get to attend a party with a beautiful woman on both arms.”

“Stoooop, you slut!” Zinnia slapped him on the arm again. Aurelius shrugged, holding a sly and uncaring grin.

As they headed downstairs Zinna whispered in her ear, “He’s a god in bed if you wanna go thirdsies, Hayzee.”

Hazel groaned. “Not the time, Zin!”

When they at last headed out the front door and into the garden, night had fully settled in. It was cooler, though not nearly as cool as inside Zinnia’s place. The moon was out, and the stars were brilliant even above the glowing city streets. Apparently a horse-drawn carriage had been arranged (thank the gods, Hazel could steal a nap in there) and Aurelius walked ahead to have a chat with the driver. Hazel tried to remember the last time she had seen a horse; they had been all but replaced by motorized vehicles in Vivania. Zinnia locked the door, a flash of green Earth fabric snapping back into place, securing the home.

Hazel called out. “Edelweiss!” and the tiny dragon came bounding towards her.

“You changed your clothes,” Edelweiss said, scales covered in leaves, mud, pollen, and petals. “And painted your face. Are you off to seek a new mate, Lady Webb?”

Zinnia burst out laughing. “Yup, that’s Eddy alright!”

Hazel sighed. “We’re heading to a party, Edelweiss. It might help me get a job here in White Cliffs.”

Edelweiss perked up, “A human party you say? Will they have delightful vittles? Like fish eggs? I do love fish eggs…”

“They won’t have anything for a messy dragon,” Hazel said. “Clean yourself up, will you?”

Hazel blinked. The garden alighted in the fabrics of Life and Earth, Air and a bit of Water rippling through the leaves. She pulled at the threads in the air around her and wove a simple cleanliness spell. As the threads settled into a complete, gauzy spellweave hovering in the air before her, Edelweiss leaned forward and snapped them into his jaws. Hazel blinked back, and watched as the dragon shivered violently, and all the muck and debris shivered off with him.

“It is done,” he said. “Though the foul smell returns, I will tolerate it.”

“Your nose is rather sensitive, Eddy!” Zinnia said.

Edelweiss turned his beady head up to Zinnia. “You may have forgotten, Lady Scarlet, but I am Edelweiss. You will address me as such. Also this is a different kind of stink than the one of the sea. It smells of Death. Of blood and rats.” He shifted on his feet, turning his head this way and that. “It lurks. It is close.”

“Don’t be creepy, Eddy… Edelweiss,” Zinna said, chuckling. “It’s a city. There’s lots of nasty things lurking in the dark.”

But Hazel shivered. She instinctively blinked back into her second vision. She felt herself sink slightly, the Fabric of Earth softening under her feet. She had missed it, looking over the garden. But at her feet, she saw the black shadows of Death lingering on the path. Footsteps, to and from the door, hazy threads clinging to the Earth, and slowly peeling off as they spun and drifted away.

Her insides went cold. That kind of lingering clarity in the Fabric only happened for serious magic — or powerful monsters.

Suddenly Edelweiss’ head shot up. His back arched, wings unfurling as he let out a loud snake-like hiss.—

—At Aurelius, who looked down at the dragon with his hands in the air.

“The carriage is ready?” Aurelius said uncertainly. “By the gods, isis that a dragon?”

“What the hell, Edelweiss!” Zinnia snapped. “Don’t be rude! Hazel, tell him to cut it out!”

But Hazel was frozen to the spot. Her exhausted body was suddenly stirred into a pure flight response that she was desperately fighting against.

Aurelius had not a hint of Life in his affinities. He barely had any of the dazzling colorful affinities that all living things exude. Instead, he was pure green and black, a swirling mass of Earth, of Death. Even people with a Death affinity didn’t lack the other fabrics entirely… she had only seen this kind of aura swirling around “risen labor” — zombies, corpses raised to perform jobs nobody wanted to take.

And, most terrifying of all, his head was almost entirely within the grip of a massive hand made of black and green threads. It dug into his hair, his cheeks, his eyes, bony fingers with too many joints digging into his skull, and clutching at his brain.

Aurelius leaned down. The hand went with him, shifting atop his head, the edges swirling up into the air. She couldn't see his eyes. His mouth quirked into an empty smile.

“Sorry… I must have spooked your little dragon,” he said in his same smooth and sultry tone. “Do you still want to come to the party? I would ever so love it if you did…

“It’ll be a night worth dying for.”