Keeper of the Moon - By Harley Jane Kozak Page 0,16
was a social creature, keeping friends in residence, foremost among them Rhys Gryffald, Sailor’s grandfather, for whom he’d designed Gwydion’s Cave. But whereas Rising Sun was welcoming even in its current state of semi-decay, the House of Illusion was modeled after the haunted Carisbrooke Castle on the Isle of Wight. It was meant to evoke chills, and it generally succeeded.
Tonight, though, her chills were from another source. Whatever Alessande had given her was fast leaving her system, taking with it energy, heat and mental clarity. The temperature had dropped twenty degrees since sunset, and Sailor couldn’t stop shivering, although the wound on her chest was now hot to the touch. She’d covered it with a gauze pad and buttoned her black velvet waitress dress up to her throat to hide it. It hurt, but pain she could handle. This weakness was another story.
Tough it out, she told herself, as she tied on her apron and reported to her manager, Kristoff, to be assigned a station. He was staring at his table chart and barely acknowledged her. “You’re late. You’ve got station two, but Lauren’s busy with a bachelorette party, so take the four-top for her and the deuce next to it.” Then he looked up. “What on earth?” he said, and she instantly looked away. “What’s going on with your eyes?”
“Yes, sorry, Kristoff, had trouble with my contacts tonight.”
He frowned. “Are your pupils completely dilated? Are you on something?”
“No, just colored lenses. My cousin talked me into them.”
“Black? Black contact lenses?”
They weren’t black, they were green, but in combination with the scarlet of her irises they resulted in a shade of mud. She’d borrowed them from Barrie, and while Barrie’s prescription was mild, it was enough to make Sailor nauseous.
“Dark brown, actually. Yes, okay, not my best look.”
“It’s a terrible look. Customers will think you’re a drug addict.”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t much care, as long as they tipped her, but flippancy didn’t go over well with Kristoff. “Sorry,” she said. “You really don’t want me working blind. I’d be walking into walls.”
He shook his head. “We’re wasting time. Get to work.”
She breathed deeply, trying to adjust to the noise, pace and stress of the restaurant, an atmosphere she ordinarily found bracing. Tonight, though, it felt like an assault. She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes until the second dinner seating, which preceded the midnight magic show. A half hour from now she would either be working at a fever pitch or falling hopelessly behind, and the latter could cost her her job. Kristoff wasn’t her biggest fan.
There were no other Elven on staff, thank God. And if any came in as customers and Kristoff seated them at her station, she would just have to get Lauren to switch tables with her. Lauren was her friend, but a mortal, so Sailor would have to come up with some plausible excuse.
But first she had to stay awake.
She was taking the drink order at the deuce when she overheard a snippet of conversation behind her. “...only thirty-three. Her whole career ahead of her. I heard it was food poisoning,” a man said, to which his companion replied, “I heard it was a parasite picked up on location. Both of them were working overseas.”
She knew they were talking about the dead actresses, but when she cast her eyes around the candlelit room, she couldn’t figure out which table she’d been listening to. The vampires at table six? Ivan Schwartz had been, among other things, a ventriloquist, so he’d played with acoustics when building the House of Illusion, with results that were sometimes magical and sometimes maddening.
The dead Elven. Her heart hurt to think of them, had hurt all week, because she was tied to them in ways she didn’t even understand. But now her conscience hurt, too. She should have been more proactive. Even believing their deaths were from natural causes, as had been reported, she should have asked questions. Now that she knew they were dead precisely because they were Elven—Gina and Charlotte, and the other two, the acting student and the talent agent—she was appalled at her earlier inattention. How irresponsible could she be? For the first time she was glad that her dad was on the other side of the world, because she couldn’t bear to see his disappointment.
“Hey, sister. Y’okay?” It was Julio, her favorite busboy, clearing plates from the table next to her.