I stumbled to a stop and the black fabric fell away. The audience members nearest me gasped, and I spun to look back at the runway. Blinking, I tried to get my eyes to adjust to the relative brightness in the theater. A blurry shape came into focus on the runway above me and then Aileen’s panicked face. I grinned—I’d beaten her!
Her mouth opened in a round O as another glowing white spell flew past her. Her feet moved too quickly to stop in time, and she leapt off the end of the catwalk. I realized, only too late, that she was leaping on top of me.
My smug grin disappeared as I fell hard onto my back, the petite designer on top of me.
“Oof!” She kneed me in the thigh in her panic to scramble back onto her feet, but I wasn’t letting her go that easily.
I reached up, gripped her top, and pulled her back down. Audience members scrambled out of their chairs, which scraped and clacked as they toppled over. The techno music came to an abrupt halt, the murmurs and cries of the crowd loud now.
Aileen, one of her lenses cracked, drew her wand and pointed it at me. I gripped her wrist, hooked her legs with mine, and flipped her onto her back. Where that move came from, I had no idea.
I dug my knees into her thighs and, still gripping her wrist, slammed her hand down onto the cement floor several times until she cried out and released her wand.
I stayed there, pinning her down with my hands and knees, my chest heaving and whole body aching.
“You got her!” Madeline’s triumphant voice sounded from above and behind me. A flash lit up the room—was that a camera? A thud followed, and a moment later Madeline crouched at my side and plucked Aileen’s wand up off the ground. She pointed her own at the designer, who only moaned and breathed heavily, no longer struggling to throw me off her.
“Aileen Shen.”
I blinked in surprise at the deep voice. I turned to find Peter, pale and grim, pointing his wand at the woman pinned below me. Daisy stood beside him, tail wagging.
She barked. You don’t look so good, Jolene.
I gritted my teeth and growled. Yeah, well, I just tackled a murderer. Not too concerned with my appearance at the moment.
She huffed. Or ever.
Peter’s wand hand trembled slightly as audience members either scrambled to get a better look or fled up the aisles to get out.
“You’re under arrest.”
Finally. I let out a shaky breath and rolled off Aileen, onto my back beside her. I’d lost all my spitfire and adrenaline and now felt unsure I’d ever have the energy to walk again. But we’d gotten our gal—and that felt good.
25
THE CONFESSION
Audience members and witches and wizards from Ferdinand D’Lin’s crew gathered in small groups and gave their statements to various officers. Most of the hundreds of chairs stood empty, and the dark, cavernous space seemed even larger without the pulsing techno music.
I sat on the end of the runway, a magical medic patching up the burn on my left arm while two officers, a man and a woman, stood beside Aileen, holding each of her shoulders. Peter had immediately called for backup, and since fashion week was held on one of the top tiers of Bijou Mer, near the police station, they’d arrived quickly and restored order to the chaos.
“Ow.” I glanced over when an icy-cold blast stung my wound.
“Just another minute, ma’am.” The medic, in blue gloves, spelled my burn with the tip of his wand.
I curled my lip. Ma’am? Not even miss? I was probably only a few years older than the guy.
Aileen’s sobbing interrupted my mental grumblings.
“I thought I’d finally escaped Li Fan and her indentured servitude. But it was the same with Bel.” Her red, splotchy face took on a dark expression. “She ‘hired’ me—as a low-paid intern. I could hardly live off what she paid me, and still had to give Li Fan a cut. On top of it all, Bel was stealing my designs and passing them off as her own.”
Her chest heaved, and her desperate eyes flitted from Peter, who stood in front of her, asking the questions, to Madeline jotting down notes with her magical quill, to me. I kept my expression neutral, though my stomach twisted.
As much as I wanted to judge her, I could understand. I knew the tenacity and grit it took to pull yourself out of the Darkmoon District. And what it was like to realize you never really escaped it. It always had a way of reminding you where you came from and pulling you back down.
I thought of Peter’s story about his mentor, and my own with Ninette. I sighed. Once I’d mingled with the rich and successful as a lawyer, I’d heard it all the time. People would wonder why the poor and disadvantaged didn’t just pull themselves up by the net strings—people who’d never been poor or disadvantaged. What they didn’t realize was that you couldn’t make something out of nothing. And if you had nothing, you needed help from people who had something.
I shook my head. I felt for Aileen. The person she’d thought was offering her help was only another person looking to take advantage of her.
My stomach twisted as another thought floated through my mind. Will had been there, too. When he’d lost it all, no one had been there for him—except Ludolf Caterwaul.
I knew my friend was capable of so much more, which was why it pained me to see him under the thumb of such a sea slug, but I probably owed him an apology. We all needed help sometimes—and weren’t always able to be choosy about where it came from.
Aileen sucked in a shuddering breath, and the officers beside her
