Flicker (39 page)

The liqui
d was warm, thick and
spicy. It made his throat tingle and his thoughts turn slow and sticky. He felt warm and drowsy. He tried to tell her that he didn’t want to sleep, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

“G
o to sleep, Filo,” she murmured. “It’s early. Just go back to sleep.”

* * *

Filo jerked awake. He blinked light fur
iously from his eyes and sat up with a groan
, trying to shake off the dream
.
His whole body was sore and aching.

“Mornin’, Filo. Sleep okay?”

Filo started at the sound of Jason’s voice. Jason was leaning on the window sill, grinning. Filo glanced at his watch, but the fac
e was cracked, the
hands frozen; he must’ve
fallen on it last night.
“What time is it?”

“Almost nine.”

“Damn.” Filo couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so late. Most days, he was up at dawn or earlier, as per his routine. Get up early, stay up late. “Why are you still here?”

“
Blame Lee. She talked Nasser into staying for breakfast.”

Filo made a face. “Nasser’s an idiot.” He stood and crossed to the window, sniffing the air. “Breakfast. I take it that’s what I smell?”

Jason nodded. “They’re making oatmeal.”

Rolling his eyes, Filo looked out the window. The world outside was wet and blue-gray, blanketed by steely clouds. The air smelled peppery. “It’s raining.”

“I can see that.”

“Good. Y
our eyes work.” Filo
stalked toward the bathroom. “Now close the damn window.”

* * *

Nasser grinned as he carried four bowls and spoons to
Lee
, then set them on the counter. He stood behind her as she slopped oatmeal into the bowls. When she finished, she turned to him, leaning against the counter. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Nasser brushed a few strands of hair away from her eyes, his fingers lingering over her cheek, and for the moment that this skin touched hers, her vision was
bright
with color. His touch made her
giddy, remembering holding hands with him last night, of working with him like they were a unit, a team.

She wanted to tell him th
at she had slept well for the first time since she came to Flicker
, and that maybe it was because she’d known he was there. She wanted to tell him that he made her feel safe
.
“Nasser
…
”

“Yes?” He smiled a little. She liked his smile. She really did.

“C
an you
…
sense
what I’m feeling? I mean
, d
o you feel it, too?”

He let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-
sigh. “I feel a lot.
Right now, I’m having a hard time separating what’s me from what’s you.”

“Don’t separate us, then.” Lee moved up onto her toes
, threading her fingers through his belt loops to pull him closer as
he bent his head. Lee’s eyes fell shut as their foreheads touched. The darkness behind her eyes hummed with soft color.
She tilted her face upward, waiting—

Jason chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen, his hands in hi
s pockets
. “If I’m interrupting something,” he said loudly, something in his tone suggesting that he probably hoped he was, “I’ll gladly leave.”

“The only thing you’re interrupting is me burning the oatmeal,” Lee said hu
rriedly, her cheeks flushed. Nasser stepped obediently away from her as she
turned back to the stove and shoved the pot onto the rear burner. Then she passed Jason a bowl and spoon without looking at him, willing the blood to drain from her face. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Jason left the kitchen. The moment he was gone, Nasser and Lee turned
to each other. Nasser raised an eyebrow
. That was all it took.

His small smile broke into a
grin, and then he was laughing,
loud and genuine. Lee braced herself against the counter and giggled helplessly. It felt so good to stand there in the kitchen and laugh together. Lee felt grounded and real.

“You know he did that on purpose, right?” Nasser asked
breathlessly
. “I can just see him on the other side of the door, waiting for the moment to strike.”

“Maybe not. Your Spidey Sense wasn’t tingling, was it?”

“I co
uldn’t
concentrate,” Nasser protested. “You were distracting me.”

“
I
was distracting
yo
u?
”

“Absolutely. You always distract me, Lee.”

She
bit down on a smug
smile
as Nasser picked up a bowl. Lee picked up the fourth bowl in her free hand and followed him into the workroom.
At the large table,
Jason
had
rearranged
things
so that there was enou
gh space for
them to sit.

Filo sat opposite him, dressed in a dark blue sweater and faded jeans. His face was scratched and bruised, and he had a nasty black eye. Though he still held himself as if he was in some degree of pain, he still looked less tired than he had on all those other mornings.

“Hey,” Nasser said
pleasantly
, taking a seat
and shoving a bowl across the table to him
. “You survived.”

Filo scoffed. “Go figure.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re making me do all of these,” Nasser complained teasingly. He was industriously washing the buildup of dishes in Filo’s kitchen.

“It’s not like you’re not doing it by yourself,” Lee said. “I’m helping.”

“You’re
drying
. I’m doing all the hard work.”

“Don’t knock drying,” Lee said, brandishing her washrag. “Drying is serious business.”

“But you have to admit—”
Nasser broke off
. He swayed on his feet, his eyes suddenly unfocused. The plate fell from his hand, shattering on the tile, and he crumpled to the floor.

“Nasser?” Lee dropp
ed to her knees beside him
. Hi
s eyes had rolled back
and his body was
convulsing
, just like last night.

As she opened her mouth to call for
Filo and Jason
, Nasser’s whole body
went rigid
and he took a
gasping breath, like he was surfacing from underwa
ter. Blinking rapidly, he pushed himself upright
. His expression was pained.

“Are you okay
?” she asked. He nodded, but when she placed her hand on his arm
to steady him
, she real
ized he was shaking
. “Nasser, what’s wrong?”

“Get Filo and Jason
,” he
panted
, his gaze riveted
on a piece of shatte
red plate
, all sharp edges
. “
She’s here.”

* * *

The dryad was in the shop. Filo could feel her presence, even from the workroom: an earthy, summery sort o
f aura. The aura was
glamour-dulled, but it was there.

“Do you feel that, Nasser?” he asked. “Downstairs. Is it her?”

“It’s her,” Nasser confirmed. “She
’s covered herself with glamour
to mask herself. But it’s definitely her.”

Lee frowned. “What are we going to do?”

“
We
are not going to do anything,” Filo said firmly. He glared at each of them in turn as he started toward the door, silently daring them to try to stop him. “
I
am g
oing to handle this
.”

“Filo—” Nasser started.

“Relax,” Filo told him. “It’s just a dryad.”

“A dryad with enough brains and connections to find this shop. A dryad who’s in good with Umbriel. Don’t act so casual about this.”

“Oh, don’t even talk to me about casual!” Filo snapped. “You’re the one who forked over your name, casual as you please. And for what?”

“I’m just asking you to be careful,” Nasser said quietly. “Or, better yet, let me go talk to her instead.”

“No. This is
my
shop, Nasser.
I’ll
deal with
any problems, even if you caused them.”

“Wait, Filo—”

But Filo didn’t wait.
Without a word, he pu
shed up his sleeves and stepped
into the front room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

* * *

Lee pushed on the door, willing it not to creak. From this angle, she could see the door and a small patch of the surrounding area. Behind her, Nasser and Jason hovered nervously, trying to peer through the gap themselves.

“Dryad,” Filo called as he approached the door, his voice carrying down the corridor and the stairs. “If you have business here, then bring it to me. I don’t like faeries skulking around inside my shop.”

After a minute, an unfamiliar girl appeared on the other side of the door. The girl was short and plain, and wore a long matronly dress. Her hair was straight and dark.

“State your business or get out,” Filo growled. “And while you’re at it, drop the glamour. It’s a waste of energy if no one can see it.”

The girl frowned in distaste, and she melted.

The brown color of her hair rippled and flowed downward, revealing tresses like a pile of autumn leaves: The strands were pale orange at the top of her head, deepening into darker oranges and reds further down. The ends of her hair were such a dark red they were almost brown. Her eyes became bright amber; her features were suddenly beautiful, though sharp.

Like a shed skin, the girl’s dress sloughed off. Underneath, she wore a dress made of autumn leaves, but no shoes. She was taller now, willowy. Blood-red, leaf-like wings arched from her shoulders, threaded through with dark veins.

Lee realized she’d been looking at Byrony all along; she simply hadn’t recognized her glamoured form
, and she had certainly never seen her like this before
.
The Byrony
in Lee’s memory wore the colors of summer, not autumn
—but her facial structure was identical to the Byrony Lee had known
.
Lee dr
ew the necklace from her pocket
and pulled it on. Her heart pounded.

“You aren’t
Nasser Rew
.” The dryad sou
nded disappointed. “
Do you know him, Seer?”

“Depends on why you want to know.”

Byrony pulled a
leather-bound book from behind her back. She held it flat across her palms and Filo peered down at it. “Where did you get this?”

“Nasser Rew,” she repeat
ed simply, and set the book on the floor
. “Do you know him?”

Shrugging, Filo
lied smoothly,
“I haven’t spoken with
him
in weeks.”

“You must have means of contacting him.”

“I do,” Filo acknowledged
coolly
. “
I could contact him now if I wanted. But
I don’t deal with Court fey
. G
et out of my shop.”

When Filo turned away from the open door, Byrony moved to follow him into the apartment, but her foot stopped at the threshold, as though halted by some invisible barrier. Her cheeks flushed brightly.

“I will stay until you locate Nasser Rew for me,” Byrony said firmly. “And you will, even if I have to come in there and force you.”

Filo’s expression darkened. “Good luck getting through those wards.”

“Let’s see, then.” Her expression tight with concentration, she pressed he
r hands against the door frame.

Lee felt a brief, strong pulse of magic at the doorway. Then the wood at the top of the frame cracked and split audibly, the cracks spreading down both sides
, ruining the white chalk etchings that lined the door
.

Then—the wards that had kept her outside now as cracked as the doorframe—Byrony stepped into the apartment.

* * *

Filo backed quickly away from the dryad. It was a reflex. He’d learned long ago to keep out of arm’s reach whenever possible.