Page 1 of Cruelly Fated
One
ALLIE
The half-troll’s sour breath washed over me. His massive hand latched onto my ass and gave a squeeze hard enough to pitch me forward, my hips slamming into the edge of the table. If I had a dollar for each grab-ass stunt, I would have left the low fae district yesterday, my grandpa and dignity in tow.
I inhaled through my nose, deep and steady, flicking my gaze to the ceiling.Can’t hit the patrons,can’t assault anyone whileon the job…
Juggling empty beer bottles by their necks, I faced the shit-faced brute, flashed a toothy smile, and stalked off. I’d avoid the table for the next hour, enough time for the beer to invade the half-troll’s remaining brain cells and turn him into one gigantic baby. I might take my revenge then… A permanent marker tattoo on his forehead would do.
Or I could let our newest bouncer, who often struggled with self-control, deal with it. I rose on my tiptoes, locating the eight-foot minotaur in no time, and raising my hand, I pointed at my last table. The guy grinned in the darkest way possible. Even his nose ring glimmered like it was winking at me. Then he peeled off the wall, cracking his knuckles. I grimaced. Perhaps I overreacted. Oh well, it’s too late to stop the monster on the prowl now.
Leaving the minotaur to his fun, I weaved between packed tables, dodging elbows and sloshing drinks. Today was the last open night of the week, a Saturday. I couldn’t wait for the next three days away from the noise and rowdy clients. In fact, I looked forward to a chess rematch against Grandpa, our Sunday tradition. I mentally rubbed my hands.
Stage lights faded in and out, and I winced.Hurry up, Allie, before the club explodes into mayhem.
As I dodged through the throngs of fae, the club’s announcer roared over the speaker, “Give it up for the one and only—Luna!” The crowd’s favorite with curves made to torment and flame-red hair strutted out to a bass-heavy beat that rattled the floorboards.
Hoots cracked like thunder. Whistles shrieked. Someone bellowed in my ear, and spittle sprayed across my face.Eww…
I quickened my steps and reached the swinging door of the backroom in ten seconds flat—possibly my new record. I breathed heavily by the time I got there, but the reward of muted noise and a space void of fae screaming into my face was worth it. I leaned my back against the entrance and pushed through.
Lance, the other busser, saluted me, then kicked a crate in my direction. “Hiya.”
It had been such a hectic day, I hadn’t found a moment to chat with my favorite partner in crime. He took one look at me and stuck out his lower lip in a show of pity. “Rough day?”
“Ugh… That’s not how I imagined my eighteenth birthday.” I blew a raspberry and set my load down into the crate he’d slid my way.
The low fae shifter offered a sympathetic smile, hoisted five neatly stacked crates of empty bottles into his wiry arms, and headed toward the back.
I waited five beats, peering around the corner, to make sure he was out of the building. Then, I fished a wrinkled paper from my back pocket—the art scholarship flyer I’d picked up at the school fair. I carefully smoothed out its edges as I had done countless times before and read over the words promising scholarships to a select few applicants from my district for the Avari Institute of Art, AIA. I kissed the paper and folded it neatly again before Lance could see.
I hadn’t told anyone I’d passed phase one of the selection process yet. They’d scheduled my interview for next week and encouraged a letter of recommendation from my current employer. I needed to speak with the club’s manager tonight, but thinking about it made me feel queasy. Cold sweat slicked my palms. As stingy and volatile as Larry was, he could fire me tonight just for hinting I might leave. Loyalty meant little around here.
“Help…” A dancer burst in, face flushed and breath short, her red burlesque-style outfit swaying with feathers. Oh no. She was the next act and should have been backstage right now.
I jammed the paper into my back pocket and jogged towards her. “What’s wrong?” Another handsy customer, maybe?
“He’s here,” she gasped, pressing herself into a corner as if trying to disappear. Understanding dawned on me. I peered into the club. The girl’s stalker, a mole shifter with a prominent nose, prowled around the venue, likely trying to sniff her out. Ugh. What had begun with a private dance had morphed into an unhealthy and creepy-as-hell obsession.
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself. “I’ve got this.”
I stepped into the club and brushed past the man. His beady black eyes met mine for a fleeting second—enough to ensnare him in an illusion: the same club, the same bustling scene, but with Larry, not me, telling him that the girl had quit and he had no information about her whereabouts. I thrust all my gift juice into the illusion and spun away before it dissolved so he wouldn’t recall seeing me.
I strolled into the back room, staring straight ahead. A strange twinge settled in the back of my head. I massaged the spot, frowning. I never had any physical symptoms when using my gift.
“Did it work?” I asked the girl, now peeking into the room.
Lance rounded a corner, dusting his hands off, and craned his neck to peer into the club as well. What a goof, he didn’t even know what was happening. He’d figure it out soon, though. He’d witnessed me using my gift on a few occasions.
She squealed. “He’s leaving! I don’t know what you did, but it worked.” She threw her arms around my neck in a quick hug and bounced off on her light feet.
Lance arched an eyebrow. “Nifty trick there, mind-bender.”
A small smile touched my lips. “It’s nothing. I can’t even control it for five minutes straight.” True. Low fae like us rarely possessed any of the fae gods’ gifts, and those who did wielded only a smidge of what a high fae could do.
“Need six vodkas, stat!” a bartender hollered from beyond the swinging door.
“You got that?” Lance asked, balancing another heavy load in his arms.
