Ryan Graudin - All That Glows

The bartender’s mouth pinches to the side, forehead scrolling tight with wrinkles. “Why’s a pretty girl like you getting dressed up and hitting the clubs for water?”

I pretend I don’t hear him as he slides the drink into my hands, creating fresh streaks on his bartop. It’s easier than coming up with a lie in this storm of color and sound. “Could I get a lemon with that?”

“Sure, sure,” he mutters, and retreats to the end of the bar. He doesn’t even make it to the lemon tub before he’s distracted by another order.

I take my drink to the edge the dance floor. There’s a long booth in a corner made of shadows, where I can get a full view of the crowd.

The prince is still dancing. Amber liquid sloshes from the top of his beer bottle as he moves from side to side. Although several of his classmates from Eton are also on the floor, the dancing girls have eyes only for Richard. They jostle one another, swarm around him as thick as ants on a piece of picnic bread. I can barely see the prince through the piles of hair and wiggling bodies. Thankfully, none of them look dangerous. None of them are dressed in green.

The sparkling water does wonders for my stomach. I’m halfway through the glass when Breena arrives. The sight of her, with her tight silver dress and stilettos, doesn’t startle me. I felt her aura approaching long before this.

“What are you doing here?” I ask as she slides into the booth beside me. She looks perfectly pieced together, as if the sickness isn’t touching her at all—which would be impossible. Any Fae within a mile would feel the intense thrash of the Darkroom’s electrical equipment.

“Just trying to look out for you.” Breena shrugs. “I thought you could use an extra pair of eyes. Richard’s not the easiest first shift ever. Plus I’m sure this is doing wonders for your stomach.”

“I’ll get over it.” I take another bubbling sip and look over at the prince, who’s taken a break from his dancing to get another beer. I’ve lost count of how many he’s had.

“Of course you will.” Breena pulls some bright lipstick out of her clutch and swathes her lips scarlet. I wonder how much pain this technology is shooting through her body. She shows no signs of it. “Seen any Green Women yet?”

“No. I don’t think they’ll try anything tonight.” The last statement is more of a hope than a certainty. Encounters with Green Women are never pleasant. Especially when they’re hunting.

“Oh, they’ll come,” Breena says. “It’s Friday night. They’re hungry.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re here,” I tell her. It’s assuring to have Breena’s magic, about a century more seasoned than mine, as a backup.

“Yep.” Her brilliant red lips curve into a smile as she glances over the dance floor. “How’s Richard doing?”

I follow her stare. The prince is stumbling off to a table, half dragged by an eager, skimpy brunette. “He’s certainly the life of the party.”

The hair on the back of my neck suddenly bristles. Another immortal is here. Breena feels it too.

“See anything?” I ask Breena, unwilling to look away from Richard.

“Two of them,” she says. “Front entrance.”

For just one second I break eye contact to view the new threat. Two women, tall, blonde, and breathtaking, break through the crowd. Men and women, everyone they pass, stare at their lithe, supple bodies. More than a few mouths drop open.

The one in the pale green dress scouts the room for suitable prey. I can tell by the way her dark eyes widen that she’s caught Richard’s aura. She starts walking; each stride brings her closer to the prince.

“Move,” I grunt, and push Breena out of the booth. My head spins, at the mercy of the club’s stacked subwoofers. I push past the pain, the dizziness. There’s no time for it.

The Green Woman has eyes only for her victim. She doesn’t notice as I slip through the crowd and stop directly in her path. It isn’t until we’re inches apart that she suddenly registers my aura. She stops, her beautiful face wrinkles with disappointment.

“Back off,” I warn in my most threatening tone. My fists are clenched. It’s doubtful she’ll try anything in a room full of mortals. Yet sometimes, if a Green Woman is desperate enough . . .

Her pale pink lips protrude. “Just a taste . . . I promise I won’t kill him.”

My eyes narrow. “There are plenty of other men here. Go seduce one of them.”

When the Green Woman realizes her opportunity at the prince is lost, she bares her teeth. They’re flawlessly white and sharp. Fury clouds her eyes and I get a glimpse of her true form: the dead, gray thing that lurks behind such saccharine beauty. A shudder creeps down my spine, but my face doesn’t flinch. I refuse to show fear.

She saunters off to resume her scouting. A rain shower of relief breaks over me—for a moment the world becomes steady again. The feeling is short-lived, however, when I turn to find that the prince is gone.

Curses form under my breath. I reach out and search for him with my mind. His aura is strong—he’s still in the club. Pins and needles of worry bite into every surface of my body when I realize who else is missing: the other Green Woman.

“Bree!” My friend is closer than I expect. Just a few steps behind me. There’s a wildness in her face. She’s ready to fight. “Did you see where Richard went?”

“He ran off to the bathroom.” The sequins of her dress slink and glow like a wet serpent as she turns, those wintery eyes tearing the room apart. “Go! I’ll take care of the other one.”

I run, faster than I should through a crowd of mortals, in the direction of the bathrooms. Two men in black suits—the prince’s human security—stand outside the men’s room. The Green Woman must have spelled them to stay away. I mutter a short spell and ghost past them, unseen.

The restroom is empty, with one obvious exception. A pair of forest-green stilettos peeks out from the bottom of the final stall. My heart flutters at the sight. I practically fly the distance and wrench the door open.

The prince leans against the side of the stall, head wreathed in obscene graffiti and eyes half closed with the weight of his evening drinks. The second Green Woman lurks close; her pale hair spills across his chest as she leans in. Her head jerks around when the door opens, eyes lit dark with rage. When she sees me, all the beauty of her flesh melts away. Her pink skin withers to a sickly greenish gray, like some corpse frozen in the depths of a peat bog. The teeth beneath her mottled lips grow ragged, meant for tearing tendon from bone. She hisses and grips her prey with long, ratty fingernails.

Although I’ve fought Green Women before, this one’s ghoulish grin is unnerving. I have to look at Richard and see the smooth, unblemished skin of his throat to remember why I’m here.

I launch myself between her and the prince. At the same moment she lunges, grungy teeth aimed for Richard’s throat. I catch the bite with my shoulder, gasping with shock as the pain lances my bone. The force of my body throws the prince onto the toilet, far from the Green Woman’s reach. He blinks slowly; his jaw grows slack at what he sees.