“We know Li Fan was garnishing your wages. She probably thought Bel Hahn was paying you boatloads.” I grinned as Aileen’s eyes widened. I was on the right track. “But she wasn’t, was she?” Another thought occurred to me. “Why are you working Ferdinand’s show?”
Madeline lifted a brow at me.
Aileen balled her hands into fists. “He, uh… he hired me. So what?”
I nodded. “The other day I spoke with him. He said Bel Hahn’s designs had gotten a lot better recently—since about the time she hired you, I’m guessing.”
Aileen blew her bangs out of her eyes. “So?”
“So, maybe you were the talent Ferdinand wanted to poach. Because you were the talent behind the new and improved designs.” I grinned. “Bel was taking credit for it, wasn’t she? And paying you badly on top of it.” I grimaced and shook my head. “That’s enough to make anyone feel a little murdery.”
The young woman’s nostrils flared.
“Maybe you went from Li Fan to Bel Hahn—one tyrant to another.” I grinned. “I get it—you wanted your freedom.”
She shook her head. “No. You’re wrong.”
I shrugged. “Easy enough to find out.” I raised my brows. “I’m sure you remember Officer Flint and his lie-sniffing dog. We’ll just get them right over here to see if you’re telling the truth.”
Aileen’s arm shot out, pointed right at me, and I gasped as I realized she’d drawn her wand without me noticing. The end glowed red, and I had just enough time to lurch to the right as a ball of flame flew straight at my chest.
“Ah!” I cried out as I tumbled to the floor. A searing pain burned my upper left arm.
Aileen sprinted past, and Madeline dropped to a crouch beside me.
“You okay?”
I nodded, and she helped me upright. I glanced over and found a stripe of angry pink skin on my arm. I scoffed. “She burned me! That little witch!”
Anger replaced the fear I’d felt just moments before and Madeline and I took off after the murderous designer.
24
RUNAWAY ON THE RUNWAY
“Move!”
The models turned to me, wide-eyed, then hopped out of the way just before I would’ve barreled into them. Madeline sprinted right by my side. Our footsteps pounded to the beat of the techno music blaring on the other side of the backstage curtain.
I craned my neck right and left, trying to keep an eye on the fleeing Aileen. With the dense hubbub backstage and the hundreds of audience members outside, it’d be easy to lose her in the crowd. She took a hard left and disappeared behind a garment rack.
Heart thundering in my chest, I gritted my teeth and willed my burning legs faster. No way did this beach burn my arm and get away with it—not to mention the two other women she’d successfully murdered!
Madeline and I banked hard at the clothing rack. A line of towering models in impossibly tall shoes, wearing creations formed of what appeared to be trash (which I chalked up to Ferdinand’s avant-garde aesthetic) waited in line in the eaves, ready to strut their stuff.
Madeline and I slowed our pace.
“Where’d—-she go?” The reporter huffed. Hands on her hips, she scanned the room.
“Oof! Hey!”
I jerked my head toward the voice. Near the front of the line, a model staggered back, hands thrown in the air.
“What the shell?”
A coordinator, one finger pressed to his earpiece, shrieked, “You can’t go out there!”
Aileen spun to face us, her eyes wide, mouth agape, before dashing through the curtain that divided backstage from the runway.
“She’s on the catwalk!” I pointed in the direction she’d gone, and we sprinted after her, arms pumping.
“Out of the way!” Madeline shouted, wand drawn.
We barreled through the curtain, and the reporter fired a glowing white spell after Aileen. It flew over her shoulder and she spun, for just a moment, before running forward. She was quick—but the stilettos she wore hindered her. The crowd gasped, then tittered and gave quiet, polite claps.
I frowned. They thought this was part of the show? Then again, the models were sporting dresses made of old bottles and scraps of butcher paper, so who could blame them?
My chest heaved as I watched Aileen approach the middle of the long runway. If only there was a way to head her off. I glanced down at my feet and remembered the space below the catwalk.
I crouched down, planted a hand on the hard black surface of the runway, and swung my legs to the ground. I landed directly in front of a woman wearing a hat with feathers and a man in a scarf and monocle. They leaped up out of their seats and scrambled back away from me.
I shot them a frown. Really? I mean, I knew it was unexpected, but was I really that frightening?
Then I remembered my task and dove under the black skirt that hung around the catwalk. The techno music continued to blare as I dashed through the scaffolding. I shoved a guy in a beanie out of the way and hoped it was Chad.
Aileen had a head start on me, but with luck, her shoes would slow her down and maybe Madeline would manage to stun her before she escaped. It was dark, and shadows of people and cables and scaffolding flew by in a blur. Still, I pushed myself faster, despite the burning in my chest.
When I could shift, I was in good enough shape to fly around the island all night long. Now I could barely run a few hundred feet? I shook my head at myself as I pushed on—time to start working out again, Jolene.
I ducked, spun, and dashed forward until all I could see in front of me was black—the end of the runway and the skirt that shrouded it.
