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Chapter One Hundred Nine

LUNA

Pixie is there with her iPad.

“You have an accepted bid.” She smiles and holds out her hand to help me down. “Come this way.”

“So,” I say, “something came up. I’m really sorry. I have to take a rain check.”

Pixie ignores me with her thrall-smile and leads me to a door. Now I can see a dark room with a single draining chair. This is the second one I’ve seen. I had no idea they existed outside the stone building between Carmine’s house and the Stregas’.

I have to deal with him and getting out of here, but it takes me a second too long to tear my attention away from the chair. My fingers and cheeks tingle from everything that’s ever happened on it. All I feel is the strength of the energy, not whether it’s mostly negative or positive.

That was my mistake. I thought I had seconds I did not have. I thought this was supposed to be fun for the donor.

The hands on me are too many, and they’re pushing me into the room.

The ambient music is cut off by the whup of a soundproof door closing.

I kick and punch, scream and yell. Men’s voices speak a language I don’t recognize, much less understand.

There are too many, and they’re bigger and stronger.

The valence lines are everywhere and so is my fucking brain.

I can’t concentrate enough to use my wimpy little powers.

“Stop,” I plead when two men lift me off the floor. “I want to go home.”

They take my bag from my shoulder and lay me on the chair. I fight, but once they strap down my arms, my legs lose their range and the kicking loses half its force.

“Please. I changed my mind!”

They strap me to the chair with my legs open. One efficiently and coldly cuts open my underwear. Another pushes a button on the wall that moves the chair to spread my knees apart, while a third taps on an iPad, ignoring me.

“I mean it! Stop it!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

No response. I’m not even here. They’re probably in thrall. If their masters told them to not hear donors, their ears will shut out my voice before it even reaches their brains.

There’s a sign on the wall. It says:

GLAMOUR ONLY

NO THRALL

Donors will be checked on the way out.

Violators will be eternally barred.

Small comfort.

I shake my head no as far as I can against the strap holding me still, but there’s not even a disembodied voice to tell me to stay still.

Without a word to me, the iPad is hung on the wall, next to my pretty orange satin bag, and they leave me alone.

I try to close my legs, but can’t. I wish a bit of fabric were there to cover myself, but my imagination isn’t strong enough to make me feel anything less than completely vulnerable.

Mom was right. I’m so stupid.

“Shit.” I sob. “I’m sorry, Serafina, if anything keeps you from having sixty minutes with Orlando.

He seems really nice. He tried. A+ for effort.

I should have just let him take me where he promised.

I’m sorry, Sam, for wasting your kindness.

I’m sorry, Carmine. I ruined everything.

I should have stayed home. I should have stayed in thrall.

I was protected. I hope you forgive me and I hope I take your example, because I don’t know how to forgive myself. I’m sorry for being so stupid.”

And what I can’t say out loud—I’m sorry to myself for not realizing I don’t always have power to change my fate.

But I do have power.

I plucked a utility knife out of Orlando’s belt.

I turned an elevator lock I couldn’t see.

I pulled a full-grown man out of liminal water.

The straps are clicked in, but it’s not a buckle I recognize.

Think.

Relax.

How?

“ Happy birthday to you, ” I sing softly, focusing on my breath and the way my lips move over my teeth. “ Happy birthday to you. ”

I bend my wrists so my palms can feel the prick of the valence from them. They move, but I can’t get the mechanism right because it’s hidden under a slick modern casing that’s supposed to feel expensive and stylish.

“ Happy birthday, dear whoever .”

It’s there though. Something moves. All I have to do is relax and let my consciousness feel around the matter.

“ Happy birthday to you. ”

There’s a click from the door opposite the one I was brought through.

Someone is here.