She beamed, and Will spun to face her, then gawked at me. “And what am I? Fish detritus?”
But I didn’t answer. I just dashed out into the lobby, then back out into the warm, humid night. Aileen had said that exact same thing the other day—a phrase only people from the Darkmoon District used.
21
POACHED
It was late afternoon of the next day before Peter, with Daisy in tow, could swing by my place and take time off his usual patrol. But I forgave him because he came bearing gifts—namely a hot cup of coffee. I took it black—like my soul.
We trekked back up the winding cobblestoned streets of Bijou Mer to the high fashion street and the House of Hahn. I curled my lip as we stepped inside the cold, modern space. People still stormed across the open floor plan, shouts and footsteps and the clack of sewing machines echoing off the high ceiling.
I glanced up at Peter. “Think it’s always like this?”
He shook his head. “It’s pure chaos.”
I adopted Ferdinand D’Lin’s semi-German accent and rolled a wrist. “Fashion is chaos.”
Peter chuckled, but Daisy growled at me. He’s just laughing out of pity.
I pursed my lips, considering it, then let out a low whine. Whatever. I’ll take what I can get.
She huffed and turned to face forward again. You disgust me.
I grimaced. Ouch. That might actually hurt if it weren’t coming from someone who’s terrified to have her nails trimmed.
She whirled on me and barked. It’s scary! They nick me sometimes!
I snorted as Peter spun to her, then plastered on a serious face when he turned to face me.
“What’s gotten into Daisy?”
I raised my fingers to my temples and pinched my brows together in concern. “I’m getting something about fleas… biting her… she really needs a bath, I think.”
Daisy barked again, the force of it making her whole body jolt. What are you saying to him?!
Peter clicked his tongue and dropped to a crouch in front of her. “Oh, poor girl. I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.” He rubbed her cheeks in both his big hands. Her ears swiveled back, though she kept darting dark looks at me. “We’ll get you a bath ASAP—and with that special potion for fleas.” He ruffled her head, then stood and faced me. “She hates baths.”
I pressed my lips tight together to keep from giggling and ruining it.
He raised his brows. “If she’s thinking she needs one, it must be pretty bad for her.”
I nodded solemnly, while the German shepherd glared.
We walked down the marble stairs and headed for Aileen’s office. I’d filled Peter in on my hunch. If Aileen knew that phrase, there was a good chance she’d lived in the Darkmoon District at some point. She might be our missing connection between the sweatshop and the high fashion world.
When we made it past shrieking models and rolling carts of clothing to Aileen’s glass-encased office, we stopped at the door.
“Uh—excuse me?” Peter cleared his throat.
A young man, his red hair hanging over one eye, looked up from the desk Aileen had stood behind just the other day. “Yes?”
“We’re looking for Aileen Shen?”
The guy let out an exaggerated sigh. “Look, for the last time, she’s not here. I’m in charge now.”
Peter and I exchanged looks. Had Aileen fled the island? My heart picked up its pace.
“Do you know where we can find her?” Peter’s voice held an edge of urgency.
The red-haired guy dramatically tossed his head, briefly flipping the hair out of his eyes, before it slid back into place again. “She’s a traitor. She got poached by Ferdinand D’Lin.” He raised his brows, black eyeliner ringing his wide eyes. “His show’s tonight, so I imagine she’s backstage.” He scoffed, annoyed. “Lucky witch.”
“Right.” I clapped my hands together. “Thanks for that. Best of luck to you in your new endeavor.”
We quickly backtracked and jogged up the stairs toward the exit. All the shows were taking place on the same stage where Bel Hahn had had hers—and died.
IT TOOK A BIT OF CONVINCING, but after Peter flashed his badge and spoke to the head of security, we were allowed backstage. I caught a brief glimpse of the runway and the packed house through the curtain. Nearly every seat was already full, and the murmur from the hundreds of guests was deafening.
If I’d thought it’d be easy to find Aileen backstage, I’d been sorely mistaken. Dozens of models paraded about, practicing their walks, while others were being fitted, and still more were being herded around by assistants dressed all in white. Hair and makeup witches and wizards worked their magic, and it seemed like every couple of seconds someone cried out for assistance.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my heart thundering in my chest. “Wow. This is wild.”
Peter nodded. “It was one of the main reasons I decided not to pursue modeling. Too much stress.”
I shot him a quizzical look. “You were almost a model?”
He grinned. “No. Just kidding.”
I rolled my eyes at him.
His throat bobbed as we continued to scan the crowd. Mirrors, racks of clothing, and makeshift changing rooms divided up the space, making it difficult to see far. “I don’t like to say this, but maybe we should split up—we can cover more ground that way.”
I nodded, though I pinched my brows together. It made sense… and yet if Aileen or Ferdinand D’Lin or both of them together were our killers, I’d stand little chance against them without any magical powers. I opened my mouth, trying to think up some excuse for us to stick together.
“You’ve still got the communication device I gave you, right?” Peter raised his brows.
“Uh—yep.” I patted my pocket, where the gumball-sized device rested… completely useless to me. “Got it right here.”
“Put it in your ear and be ready to use it.” He gave me a tight-lipped, encouraging nod. “You get eyes on Aileen, you call me, and I’ll be there right
