I crossed my arms, a thought suddenly occurring to me. “Did Li Fan get the plans to the House of Hahn knockoff bags during one of her secret early morning meetings?”
Xiu nodded. “I believe so. I left for my break, then when I came back, she had them on her desk. She didn’t discuss how she’d gotten them. I just followed orders and saw that the production plans were executed.”
I nodded, and we took our leave. I followed Peter back down the stairs to the sweatshop floor.
As we strolled through the dark, cramped hallways, I jogged to keep in step next to Peter. “You’re right—about not seeing the connection between Li Fan’s and Bel Hahn’s deaths… yet.” I bit my lip. “I think we need to figure out who leaked the purse designs to Li Fan.”
Peter grinned down at me. “I like how often we’re on the same page.” He nudged me with his shoulder. “I think it’s time we spoke to that other designer who was rumored to have done it—Ferdinand D’Lin.”
19
FERDINAND D’LIN
Tracking down a famously secretive and elusive fashion designer proved pretty challenging. But luckily for us, Ferdinand D’Lin’s runway show was scheduled for the following night, which meant he needed space to stage and fit his creations. One of the fashion week’s coordinators, after being threatened with a subpoena, finally broke the “fashion code” and spilled his location.
We tracked him down at an abandoned warehouse in the only part of Bijou Mer even seedier than my own neighborhood—the docks. By then, the moon had risen, full in the cloudy sky, and its light reflected off the shimmery water of the sea. A few of the building’s broken windows glowed with a faint, golden light.
I curled my lip as Peter, Daisy, and I stood staring at it. Waves lapped against the shore, and barrels, lashed to pier posts, clunked together. “Not where I expected to find the kingdoms’ most avant-garde fashion designer, but—” I shrugged. “Maybe he’s going for slum chic?”
Peter cracked a grin. “I hope you remembered your wand tonight. This isn’t a great part of town.”
My stomach chilled, but I tried to get around directly answering his question. I had to be careful with Miss Tattletale along. “Aw, I’ll be fine. I’m from the Darkmoon District, remember?” I waggled my brows. “I’ve got street smarts.”
Daisy let out a low growl. If we get into any trouble, I’m using you as a human shield.
I whined back at her behind Peter’s back. Your bravery knows no bounds.
Silently, we walked past shipping crates and stacks of wooden barrels until we stood outside the double metal doors of the warehouse. Muffled voices sounded from inside.
I shrugged. “So… do we knock or…?”
Peter raised his fist, ready to rap on the door, when it suddenly swung inward. We exchanged puzzled looks, then leaned forward to peer inside. We saw nothing but blackness.
Daisy’s ears flattened, and she whined. I don’t like this.
I whined back at her. You don’t like much, do you?
She growled and curled her shiny black lips back, revealing pointy white teeth. I don’t like your face.
I rolled my eyes. Yes, Daisy, we’ve established this.
Peter gave me a quizzical look, then stepped inside, wand out. “Hello? Police. Make yourselves known.”
Daisy and I followed. As soon as we’d stepped inside, the door magically swung shut behind us. I jumped, the hairs on my neck and arms raised.
“This isn’t creepy at all,” I whispered.
Blue light flashed at the end of Peter’s wand and lit our way. I reached an arm out and touched cloth. I frowned. “This is black fabric.” I walked forward tracing my hand along it, then reached a corner and waved Daisy and Peter forward. “I think it’s a maze… or something.”
We crept on, making a few twists and turns until the fabric ended and we stepped into a mirrored room.
There was tall, broad-shouldered Peter, repeated a thousand times into infinity with Daisy and me beside him. He strode forward and promptly smacked his forehead against a mirror.
“Ow!”
I stifled a grin, stepped forward, and did the exact same thing. I rubbed my forehead, wincing.
A wheezing, whining noise made me look around in confusion until I realized Daisy was laughing.
I glared at her and whimpered. You want to run ahead and smudge all the mirrors with your nose so we don’t run into them again?
She continued to grin, her tongue half hanging out the side of her mouth. No. I’d rather watch you face-plant it again.
“Great.” I sighed and with arms stretched out, we navigated a path through our groping reflections.
Finally, we emerged, disoriented from the maze, into the giant warehouse. Men and women, all dressed in white, bustled about. It echoed the scene at the House of Hahn, with tons of garment racks stuffed with creations, multiple fittings going on, and the whir of sewing machines filling the air.
A man with white hair dressed in a white turtleneck and slacks spun to face us. He steepled his fingers together and looked at us from over the rim of his square glasses. “Well done. You’ve made it through the maze of madness.”
I glanced behind me. The fabric and mirrors formed a structure on the floor of the warehouse. It looked a lot smaller and less impressive from outside. I thumbed back at it. “That thing?”
The man threw his head back and laughed—way too hard—at the ceiling high above. I curled my lip at Peter, but he just stared at the guy, wide-eyed.
He stopped laughing and touched a finger to the corner of his mouth. “Which way is up? What is down? What is reflection? What is truth?” He raised both brows significantly. “What is fashion?”
Okay….
I nodded. “Very, er, convoluted.”
The man bowed low. “Thank you, my dear.”
Was that a compliment, though?
He straightened. “I am, I am sure you know, the Ferdinand D’Lin.” He swept his arms wide. “Welcome to my temporary studio.” He lifted a brow. “Or is it just the illusion of one? What is
