“The dream,” I explained to the group, “had three elements. The silver cupid’s bow, the flashing lights, and the giant teddy bear with a big yellow bow. I’ve seen the bow and the lights, and I have this gut feeling that if we find the bear, I’ll find Zev.”
I was grateful and a little surprised my companions didn’t look at me like I was crazy.
“Do you think the hunter lied?” Carver asked. “About the hexogenist,” he added for clarity. “That seems oddly specific and elaborate.”
Martel, who remained silent for the whole explanation about Zev and my dreams, said, “The hunter is a high lord of the fae-folk. He can bend and stretch the truth, but he can’t tell an outright lie. If he says your ifrit came seeking a hexogenist, he probably did.”
“I thought Shay was an Egyptian god,” I said.
Martel laughed. “Many fae high lords were idolized as divine beings. Their formidable magical talents are eclipsed only by their vanity and arrogance. They think they’re untouchable, but their ego is their weakness.”
“Check. Shay is fae, not god.” I hadn’t believed he was a god, but it was good to have confirmation. “He’s still a problem. I’m sure his blue baboons are scouring the city for us.”
“And more,” Martel agreed. “Shay may be a spoiled brat, but he is also the most powerful creature in Natheria. No one will cross him, apart from the Brownies. He doesn’t worry about them because they aren’t strong enough to take over the city. Like I said before, fae high lords have huge egos. He’s wrong to ignore them, but he lets them do as they will, and they stay out of his territories.”
We’d gotten off-topic, but I was glad to learn more about Shay. Know your enemy and all that.
“So, if he can’t lie, then he did find a hexogenist for Zev,” Carver said. “He also said Zev left the island six months ago. Do we assume that’s the truth?”
I shook my head in emphatic denial. “He didn’t say Zev left Natheria. He said that he hadn’t seen Zev since he sent him on his way. He didn’t specify where he sent him, either. Just that he sent him.” My palm started to prickle as my anger escalated into fury. “Zev is still on Natheria. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Your bones are smoking,” Ryker said. “Please don’t set Martel’s store on fire. I like him, and I like his place.”
“Aw, babes,” Martel cooed. “I like you too.”
Ryker flashed a pleased smile but then got right back to business. “Get your fire under control.”
I shook my hand out and flexed my fingers. After a few deep breaths, the smoking stopped. “I don’t know how to control it,” I said. “Good for the people of Natheria because if I could, I would burn this whole place down to find Zev.” I closed my eyes, fighting back frustrated tears. “I don’t mean it, Martel. I’m just so angry right now.” I opened my eyes. “And scared. Not just for me but for us, and mostly for Zev, because I feel like he’s in serious trouble.”
Carver pulled me into a sideways hug, his arm a reassuring weight around my shoulders. “Your feelings are valid,” he assured me, his voice steady and comforting.
“Thank you.” Sometimes, having all these strings of thoughts and constant connections running through my mind made me feel nuts. It was nice to be validated. “I appreciate you saying so.”
“Feelings are great,” Ryker observed, her voice soft amidst the tension. “But they aren’t going to get us downtown unseen. Shay will have eyes everywhere.”
Carver glanced at the orc, contemplating. “Maybe Martel can show us a backway to get there. With a local guide, we might make it unseen.”
“Could you?” I turned to Martel, hoping for a positive response.
“Sorry, no can do,” Martel replied briskly, shaking his head. He gave Ryker a sympathetic look. “I love this little package of dynamite.” His tone shifted to serious. “But I still gotta live here. If the hunter finds out I’m helping you, that will be the end for me and my business.”
My expression fell at the news. “Well, that’s a bummer.” I waved my hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’ll wear a hood or something to cover my face.”
“It’ll still be suspicious—three people, roughly the same height, two sticks, and one—” Martel paused.
“Hey,” I interrupted, giving him a watch-what-you-say-here death glare. “One what?”
“One hourglass,” Martel finished succinctly, his gaze flicking around nervously. “You’ll be spotted right away.”
“Doing nothing is not an option.” Frustration edged my voice. “I’ll go alone if I have to.”
“There is something…” The orc turned on his heel and headed into his shop. We followed him to the shelves where I’d seen the glowing orb. He opened the box next to it, retrieving a small handful of what looked like lapel pins in a variety of colors.
“What are they?” Carver asked, leaning in for a closer look.
“They’re glamour buttons,” Martel replied as he examined the pins. “They change the wearer's appearance after you recite the incantation.”
This was a shop of broken items, making me cautious. “What’s wrong with them?”
Martel wiggled his brow. “Nothing, as long as you don’t mind being … less than attractive. I believe every creature is beautiful, but these buttons press the limits of even my grace. The woman who paid to have them crafted didn’t specify to the witch that she wanted multiple attractive personas. She asked for the glamour to get her noticed.” He chuckled. “The witch did her dirty with these. Still, it was in the letter of the law for the agreement, so she had to pay for them. I took them off her hands for half the price.” He smiled. “I was going to fix the glamour to resell, but I put them in this box and forgot about them.”
“Does that happen often?” I asked.
Martel mused quietly for a moment, then said, “Yes. I should go through my shelves and drawers sometime and do inventory.”
“But you probably won’t.” I smiled knowingly. Like recognized like. I had so many bins, jars, and baskets around my house full of items I didn’t remember. Out of sight, out of mind.
He shook his head and chuckled. “I probably won’t.”
“No matter,” I assured him. “I don’t need to be pretty, just unrecognizable. I’ll take a pin.”
“Same,” Carver chimed in, his voice laced with determination.
With a playful glint in her eye, Ryker teased the orc, “Will you still want me if I’m grotesque?”
“Aw, honey,” Martel replied with a charming smile. “That’s what the light switch is for.” He punctuated his words with a wink.
We all burst into laughter, easing some of the tension in the room.
Martel held out the buttons, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Pick your poison.”
“I’ll take yellow,” I said confidently, scanning the array. “It looks great on my skin tone.”
Carver reached for the green button, nodding in approval, while Ryker opted for pink, her choice made with a smirk.
I deftly pinned the button onto my sweatshirt, and my friends followed suit, attaching theirs as well.
“Now what?” I asked eagerly, anticipation lacing my voice. “What’s the incantation?”
“Always seen, jellybean,” Martel declared with a grin.
“That is so mean,” Ryker commented, her tone playful.
I arched a brow at him. “So, we just say it and poof, we look like other people?”
“Pretty much,” the orc confirmed, a hint of amusement in his deep voice.
“And what’s the incantation to drop the glamour?” Carver asked.
“Damn.” Martel sighed dramatically. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask.” He gestured with his chin toward Ryker. “This one never sticks around. I was hoping she’d have to come back before she left again.”
Ryker playfully went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back, ya big dork,” she promised, her words filled with affection. “So, what’s down at the end of the flashing colors? The red light. What are we getting ourselves into?”
“All the buildings have colored lights to indicate what’s for sale and what services can be provided,” Martel explained, his gestures emphasizing the bustling streets outside. “My place is a blue for generalized goods. I trade, buy, and sell magical and non-magical items that need fixing or that I’ve fixed. I’m a tinker by trade. Yellow is for accommodations, green for food, and red, well, that’s the fantasy district. Sex, drugs, and all kinds of kink.”
My stomach started to churn at the mention of the fantasy district. “But Zev...”
Carver placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “We don’t know anything yet.”
“And we won’t as long as we’re standing around here,” Ryker interjected, her tone firm. “Let’s get to it.” With determination, she touched the pin and recited, “Always seen, jellybean.”
My eyes widened in horror as Ryker transformed before me. She morphed into a grotesque man with an oozing sore on his bald head, a couple of inches above his ear. Neck rolls swallowed his neck, and his yellow, nasty teeth were turned every which way in his mouth.
I couldn't help but cringe as I instinctively stepped back. “No offense, Ryker, but yuck.”
“Your turn,” Ryker said, her voice distorted by the transformation and sporting a strange accent. “Get to it.”
I exchanged a grimace with Carver, silently debating our next move. “Together?” I suggested.
He nodded, his expression mirroring my unease.
“Always seen, jellybean,” we both said in unison.
“Oh my gawd,” Ryker exclaimed in shock. “What the actual hell?”
“Is it bad?” I asked, my voice high and airy. I looked down at my hands, which were covered in sores, my nail beds caked in dirt.
“So, so bad,” Carver said, his voice nasally. I gasped at his glamour. His new persona was four feet tall and with moldy green skin. His bright yellow teeth added to his sickly appearance.
I turned my hands over and Zev’s mark was still there. It was the only part of me that hadn’t been covered in the illusion spell. “Uh oh.”
“We’ll put a bandage over it,” Ryker said. I promise no one will pay attention to your hand.”
I turned to a window where I could see my reflection and couldn’t believe what I saw. My jaundiced skin was mottled with patches of oozing red sores. Jagged spikes protruded from my chin, and reptile scales were on my arms. My brown eyes were now sunken into hollow sockets. “Who hurt this witch?” I spat, the words dripping with venom. “The woman needs serious psychotherapy,” I muttered, my growly voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “Hell, I’m going to need psychotherapy.” I shook my head, the image burning into my mind like a brand. There wasn’t enough brain bleach in the world to erase the monster from my brain. “The trauma is real.”
The orc had retrieved a plaster bandage large enough to cover the symbols etched into my skin. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” I replied, pressing the bandage against my palm. I was relieved it stayed in place, considering all the open sores. “Perfect.”
“Good news,” Ryker chimed in. “I don’t think anyone is going to recognize us.”
“Bad news,” Carver added, “I’m not sure anyone is going to let us into their establishments.”
“If your money’s good, they don’t care,” Martel quipped. He gave a low whistle as he looked us up and down. “You all are a sexy bunch.”
Ryker playfully punched Martel in the chest. “A kiss for luck?” she teased, puckering her lips.
Martel blew a kiss from a safe distance. “Luck,” he declared. “The reverse phrase is For all the haters, see you laters. And yes, laters had an s at the end.”
Ryker's grin, filled with crooked, gnarly teeth, sent a shiver down my spine. “Anyone who gets in our way better watch out,” she proclaimed, rotating her bulbous hips and enjoying her glamour way too much. “They won’t see us coming.”
“That’s the point,” I interjected, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all. “Let’s hope no one gets in our way.”
“Damn straight,” Carver's diminutive persona exclaimed as he pumped his tiny green fist in the air with unexpected enthusiasm.
This was either genius or the worst plan in the history of plan-making. “Let’s go,” I declared, steeling myself for whatever twisted fate awaited us.