Page 1 of Glimmer and Burn (Unity #1)

Chapter One

A waning moon lit Miranda’s clandestine path through Legacy Park.

The Fells sat just beyond the sculpted greenery and meticulous lawns.

As she neared the border of the park, movement rippled between the row buildings and voices carried on the breeze that disturbed the empty stillness.

She was crossing worlds, though it was just a few acres of lawn that separated them.

Lantern flame feathered the edges of shadows as Miranda breached the boundary between the upper-class nobles of the Garrison and the Fells, where, despite the late hour, beings of every race mingled freely, prostitutes propositioned passersby, and drunks slumped on stoops.

Revelry danced with vice as fae embraced humans and immortals fed on willing hosts.

Miranda wore a black cape and long gloves, hoping to become another shadow tonight.

She had put great effort into concealing every feature society had come to admire in their “princess,” or so she had been dubbed by the nobility.

She actively hated the epithet and the image it evoked of her as some perfect reflection of society’s ideal.

Her golden curls were scrunched under a raven wig.

The charming olive brown dimples of her smile were buried under salacious amounts of rouge and her features smothered in heavy kohl and colored powder.

Her body, however, she flaunted. Charm was going to be her weapon tonight, a real-world test of all the training her mother had drilled into her as a child. Though, that training had been meant for tea parties and social gatherings, not subterfuge.

Head down, Miranda navigated the unfamiliar streets until a body fell across her path.

A great oof of air left the fae’s lungs as he hit the ground, his hair not quite concealing the pointed tips of his ears.

Miranda froze as a woman with small, fine pointed horns and purple skin rummaged through the unconscious fae’s pockets.

The thief locked gazes with Miranda for a heartbeat, her one iris red and the other a pale blue, before she leapt from the scene and disappeared around a corner.

A demon. A rare sight outside Demon Row, their refuge in the city.

Heart in her throat, Miranda reached down for the fallen fae and checked for a pulse.

He was alive, at least, just unconscious.

In a moment of hesitation, she nearly caved to her parents’ constant conditioning of honor and integrity.

A guardian was bound to the service of those in need.

But, right now she mascaraed as a human and her mission required she not give her power away needlessly.

With no other recourse, Miranda gingerly maneuvered the fae against the rough brick of a building.

She brought a specific amount of money and couldn’t afford to lose a single coin.

Still, she slipped a copper piece into his pocket.

Tucking her shaking hands into her cloak, she side-stepped the victim and pushed on.

She did not typically run around the Fells in a dress reminiscent of a prostitute, though her costume was carefully hidden beneath her cloak for the moment.

Her sister needed rescue, but Miranda was the only one who knew that she needed rescue.

Their parents, society, Cordelia herself were all blind to the very real danger they faced.

Enveloped in the vibrant hum of the Fells, she let her hood of black velvet fall to expose her face and grant her a better field of vision.

A scent lingered in the air, grease and spice.

Fried foods sizzled in carts as vendors prepared orders.

The gutters of the dirt streets were damp and sludge collected in the corners.

Bins were overfull of trash, mountains collecting at their base and haloed by flies.

Unity was broken into distinct districts, remnants of its original segregated design before it was rechristened Unity, in honor of a more unified ideology.

The Garrison was home to the humans and guardians, where she had grown up mixing with the elite of the city’s inner Ring.

The Fells held no distinction of its own, where the morally disinclined gathered in a melting pot of debauchery and vice.

This was not Miranda’s first time venturing beyond her backyard, though never so far.

Growing up, she’d been curious and drawn to the unfamiliar, to adventure and the promise of something new.

Yet, her knowledge of the Fells’ twisting streets was not extensive and she needed precision tonight.

Miranda had studied her father’s maps of the city so she could find her way quickly and efficiently.

She only lost her way once, trying to orient the bird’s-eye-view map with her first-hand view walking the actual streets.

Her destination: a pleasure club of some renown, sat on the northern most edge of the Fells, near the border with Demon Row.

The Black Heart was not the most popular club in the Fells, but the most notorious.

One could truly “escape from the world” there, as the slogan went.

The sign was visible the moment she entered the street, with flocks of people milling about the doors.

Patrons coming and going. Workers hoping to take advantage of the crowd for some easy scores.

A place of secrets. The shuttered windows and large black doors concealed the activities of its patrons. One didn’t advertise going inside and Miranda hoped no one recognized her. If her parents found out she was here…well, their disappointment would be the least of the consequences.

“’Ello, darling. You look a might nervous.” A woman ambled closer and Miranda steeled her nerves. She would not flinch. She would not show any weakness. She was a guardian, after all, and she could more than handle herself.

“Meeting an old boyfriend,” Miranda lied, her smile lopsided and her posture relaxed. Blend. She needed to blend. That meant not being intimidated or showing hesitation. She had to be confident or someone was going to figure out that she didn’t belong here and decide to test if she were easy prey.

The woman, her face narrow and a slight point to her dark ears nodded in understanding. “Oh, honey, we’ve all been there. Best o’luck to you.” With a wave of her hand, she left Miranda to her business.

With a deep, silent breath Miranda climbed the five steps to the Black Heart and pulled on the doors.

Raucous music, laughter, and the clashing scents of perfumes and sweat assaulted her as she entered.

Low lanterns encased in specialized glass emitted different spectrums of light in the grand foyer, creating deeper shadows and illuminating other colors.

There were bodies everywhere, some clothed and upright, others in various stages of undress and intimate positions.

Miranda’s eyes skimmed over the writhing bodies, and though she liked to think herself immovable, a hint of red colored her cheeks.

She fought not to hear the grunts and moans undercutting the small orchestra on the stage.

Archways opened to other rooms, with other sorts of activities.

She clenched her jaw as she moved with grace toward the archway farthest to the left. The gaming room.

Her informant instructed her to meet here. Getting this chance had been a lucky break and she was running out of time. Her sister’s wedding was in two short months and if Miranda had any hope of stopping it, she needed outside help.

In this room, the music was quieter. The flicker of lanterns was a touch brighter and warmer in tone.

They lit rows of felt tables where people sat in the midst of various games.

Cards. Dice. Knives. The scent of alcohol and tobacco smoke was stronger here.

Miranda wove through the tables until she found the one in the far corner, near the potted bromeliad. As instructed, she sat and waited.

She scanned the faces around her, women in heavy powder laughing and drinking.

Men either serious and stoic in their games or boisterous and handsy.

A kaleidoscope of eye colors, dull or luminous.

Smiles bared fangs. Pointed ears jutted from various hairstyles.

Smoke collected above their heads like an ominous fog.

A waiter with a jagged set of horns offered to take her order.

Miranda politely declined and returned to scanning the room.

A pair of eyes caught hers, pulling her attention from her task.

Even from afar, with the waft of smoke and flurry of activity, there was no mistaking the striking blue of that gaze. It captured her, as she was unmistakably the focus. The man appeared human, though she would bet anything that he wasn’t. And he moved closer, snaking through tables toward her.

Miranda tensed. Was he her informant? She prayed to the Divine her staring hadn’t been perceived as a threat or suspicion. She shifted her thoughts from his appearance to a more analyzing stare.

She had never seen her informant in person, so it was hard to be sure, but as the stranger moved closer her focused study never wavered.

He was not wearing a cravat or coat, just an elegantly embroidered dark red vest atop a black shirt.

The top buttons were undone, which may have been normal for the middle of the night in a pleasure club in the Fells, but was not for her.

And he was handsome. And worse, it was clear from the swagger in his step that he knew it.

Arrogance was the worst sort of vice and Miranda bristled well before he reached her.

He stopped near her table and gave her a small bow of his head.

Miranda huffed and looked pointedly away, though her pulse raced. She returned the nod with feigned ease.

“May I help you?” She offered, a curt edge slipping through her intention for civility.