“Trying my fucking hardest,” he said through gritted teeth as the roadie he didn’t have in hand battered his face with his huge dick.
“What the fuck are you…” I turned to see a large man with a clipboard in his hand was now standing next to me, surveying the scene. He watched the men clamour to get to Bran’s mouth. “You bloody idiots,” clipboard dude said, slapping his burden down on a stack of cases and striding over to the five of them. One hand grabbed a chunk of Bran’s hair and another of Circe’s, to the musical sound of their yowls. He hauled them away, booting one of the roadies when he tried to reconnect with them. He threw them against the wall, the two of them finding each other so quickly, it was as if they were magnets. Slender limbs curled around their sibling’s shoulders, bodies shrunk down to provide as small a target as possible, eyes went big, brown, and luminous.
“Quit the beaten child act. You’re drainers.”
“I prefer the term gancanagh,” Bran said.
“Fuck off. You’re about as Irish as my arse. What’re you? Little drainers that took a bite of someone they shouldn’t?” the man said.
“Well—” Bran started to say with an elaborate twist of his hands.
“Shut up, you. Let’s hear from the girl with the cock sucking lips.”
“House Hazel,” she said, her voice this smoky rasp. “And no, I didn’t want to take enough bites, so our lady tossed us out on our ear. We heard Hartley doesn’t mind our kind.”
“Not when they start chewing on court members. You want to prove yourself? Petition for entry?”
This provoked a reaction from them, and the people in the line. The roadies seemed to come to, shaking their heads, then moving to stop them from surging forward.
“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Bran said, tangling his fingers in his sister’s hair.
“You’re right. One of the bosses does have a soft spot for your kind. If you keep your bites to those outside of Hartley, you’ll do alright. Go on. Keep your fangs to yourself and hit the catering tent, then go to wardrobe to get some clothes.”
“Right you are,” Bran said, sketching a bow and scrambling to his feet, tugging his sister after him. They were a picture of abject gratitude until they got past the man, then they linked arms and strode towards the entrance.
He slowed them down when he spotted me, his pretty eyes taking me in. He steered Circe over in my direction, frowning slightly, then smiling.
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Circe took longer to notice me, her eyes widening slightly when they did.
“Your betters, is what we are.” We all looked up to see Jen standing behind them, her hands on her hips. “How’d you get out here with the petitioners?” she asked me, but she glanced over at the two siblings. “Scat, little crows, go and find something else to pick over, because if I catch you within an inch of Kira…”
“Cool your jets, heir of Rutherglen,” Circe said, shouldering in front of her brother, her body providing a neat shield for them. “We know the way this works.”
She flicked the ragged fabric of her skirt, making her look like a Regency romantic lead rather than semi-destitute, then stalked off with her brother in tow. He shot us a measuring look over his shoulder, but kept on going.
“Shooting the local wildlife?” Jen said, nodding to my camera. “You’ve got to be careful. Some of them should be in cages.”
“Cages seem to be a recurring theme in the conversations I’m having. What the fuck, Jen? Are we really condoning keeping people like zoo animals?”
She blew out a breath. “You weren’t raised in this life, have only just caught a glimpse of the world you’re stepping into. In some ways, I wish you had accepted Marlow, though I understand why that wouldn’t have worked. We could have staged this, kept you at the estate, slowly introduced you to people. Instead…” She cast a quick eye over the people milling around us. “You’ve been thrown into the deep end and…I guess it’s time to swim. Has Johnno talked to you about your power yet?”
“Not mine, just a general thing. How we generate it.” I remembered that little session with Aen with a flush that made Jen laugh.
“Right, well, some of us are great generators, some of us are amazing wielders, some can’t generate any at all, or rather, they generate what they need to lure others closer, so they can drain them. That’s what those two are. They’re dangerous, Ki, seriously dangerous, especially to someone like you. If I had to guess, I’d think you’re a super generator, someone who will keep generating power long after most of us would burn out. To them you’re like a doubled dipped Tim Tam when you’re dieting.”
“When have you ever dieted?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Sometimes Vervain prompts me to go on these juice cleanses for my skin but… I’m digressing. Stay with one of us at all times after the show, Ki, even during. Fae, it’s a dog eat dog world, and I don’t want anyone taking a bite out of you until we’ve had a chance to properly train you on how to use your powers.”
“What are my powers? Everyone keeps going on about them, but I have no idea what they’re talking about.”
“That’s part of working with your preceptor, you work out what you have an affinity for. Mine’s ice primarily.” She performed a little gesture with her hands that created a curling twist of water vapour in the air, that rapidly hardened, then she flicked it, sending the frozen water slamming into the wall.
“Ice.”
“Well, yeah. It’s something I got from my mum, apparently.”
“Ice.”
“I believe that has been established. What’s wrong with you? Did they get a taste of you?”
“You have white blonde hair, big blue eyes, and you can conjure ice from the air.” A big grin spread across my face, something that had her puzzled, then groaning. “Are you going to make me sing it, because I totally will.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean I’m not Idina Menzel but—”
“Shut. Up.”
“Yes, Queen Elsa.”
“How about you stop photographing roadies getting blow jobs and come and see the support act play? They’re called The Devil’s Rejects. Daddy’s considering signing them.”
“Of course, my queen.”
6
“Is the show about to start?” Jen asked Marlow as we arrived at the wings of the stage.
The show? I peered out beyond the curtains and saw it. What had been a cavernous empty space was now packed to the rafters with people. As if my realising they were there allowed me to hear them, I felt the many voices chatting all at once like a wave. While it had obviously been there since before I got here, it felt like the noise just rose and rose and rose, until I could feel it physically pressing against my body.
“You’re glowing,” Jen said with a gentle smile. I looked down, and sure enough, I was. “This, this is our biggest power generator. Older civilisations held religious rites, Dionysus held bacchanals, we hold concerts. Look.” She pointed to the great arch that was The Changelings logo, which was always part of the backdrop to their shows. The huge teardrop of glass that hung from the centre started to glow in response to the energy. “That’s where it goes.”