"Turn right at the next intersection."

Pine-and-amber eyes risked glancing up from the road to meet my own dark gaze, but Juhan said nothing. He brought the car to a smooth halt at the stop sign, then turned right.

I shifted in my seat, twisting to stare out the window. We'd switched cars before we'd left the parking ramp; Juhan had spotted a uniformed employee leaving a beat-up black Saturn. Thievery wasn't normally my style, but a worker at the start of their shift meant the car wouldn't be discovered missing for at least four hours, and perhaps as long as six or eight if we were lucky. By then, Juhan should be outside of city bounds, and I'd be able to drop the vehicle off somewhere where the police would find it.

My eyes flicked back to the road. "Straight through this stoplight."

"You still won't tell me where we're going," he sighed, but he drove straight as the light turned green.

I shot him a bitter smirk. "You told me to trust you, and I woke up with your mark on my body. I think the very least you can do is trust me to give you driving directions in the city where I live."

Juhan winced. "Severine, it was never my intention to claim you as my own Catalyst, I only wanted to—"

I ignored his plea. "Right into the next parking lot."

The car swung into the parking lot, then came to a hard stop as Juhan leaned forward to gawk up at the sign.

"The… Magic Thong?" he queried, then swiveled to face me. "This is a strip club."

I gave no reaction save for the next set of instructions. "Go around back and park in the employee lot."

"…for a strip club?"

"Juhan," I warned.

He put the car back in gear and drove. The building was shaped like an L, with a small private parking lot tucked into the inside corner. With those two sides blocked by the building itself, and the other two bordered by thick hedges, the car would be impossible to spot from the street. This early in the day, the gate was still open.

Juhan parked the car in the first empty stall, then gave me an expectant — and confused — look.

I shrugged, hiking up my skirt so I could start rolling down the opaque tights I'd worn to hide my lack of bruises. Kasimir had been right; Brendan hadn't noticed. Of course, he'd been a corpse, so he wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't worn the tights, either.

There was a strangled noise from Juhan as he turned away from me, pointedly averting his gaze away from my exposed thighs.

"You need to look like someone not wanted by the police," I told him as I balled up the tights and shoved them in the glove compartment. "And lose the blazer, too."

Prisms whirled at the edge of my vision. By the time I had finished smoothing my skirt back down, the man sitting in the driver's seat was one I only barely recognized. Juhan had kept the tight curls, but turned them a sun-streaked blond. His brown skin he'd lightened and warmed to a golden tan. The tattoos had not vanished entirely, but now I only saw a sleeve of waves and tropical flowers, rather than unfinished spells. Even his features had changed, the nose narrower, the lips a little less full, the jaw rounder, giving his whole face a more European look. Only his hazel eyes had stayed the same, the dark green muddied with worry, the golden flecks bright with anxiety. All in all, the effect gave him the look of an unusually high-strung surfer.

"That works," I said, letting my gaze drift over him. Without the blazer, the charcoal t-shirt and dark blue jeans almost looked casual. In the darkness of the strip club, it was likely no one would give him a second glance.

"We're really going in there?" he asked.

My answer was to step out of the vehicle and begin unbuttoning my blouse. I tossed it down on the seat before slamming the door shut. There wasn't much I could do to the silk tank top to make it look less corporate and more appropriate for the venue, but it wasn't like I was about to put myself on stage, either.

I didn't wait for Juhan as I headed for the back door, thumping my fist hard against the metal surface.

"Holy fuck Candy, did you forget your keys ag—" The half-dressed redhead who had hauled the door open stopped, blinking in surprise.

"Is Beverly around?" I asked.

Green eyes narrowed at me. "I don't remember her hiring anyone new."

"I'm not here for a job," I replied, hearing Juhan's footsteps coming up behind me. "Just visiting an old friend."

The redhead peered over my shoulder at him, her nose crinkling. "Fine."

The door slammed closed. Juhan looked at me, brows knitted together. "I don't think we're getting in."

The door swung back open, as if answering my silent prayer to prove him wrong.

"How many times do I have to repeat myself, auditions are Thursday morn—" The tall brunette in the door paused as her eyes landed on me.

It was hard to imagine how gorgeous Beverly must have been in her youth, considering she was still an absolute knock-out in her 60s. Her grey eyes were sharper and brighter than those of women a third her age, and her dark hair fell in perfect, lustrous curls around a heart-shaped face. The high-collar, open-necked blouse and trim black pants made her look ready to pop into a corporate board room at any moment. A huge grin curled crimson lips. "Sevvy-Baby, is that you? Shit, I haven't seen you in, what— six years? What the hell are you doing back here?"

The smile I offered in return was genuine. "I might be heading out of town tonight, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind me hanging out here for a few hours until we're ready to go."

Those grey eyes flicked towards Juhan, and one manicured brow raised high in her forehead. "Family doesn't like the new boyfriend?"

I chuckled. "Something like that, yeah."

"Well, come on in." She stepped back, waving us inside.

Stepping back into the club was like stepping into an old memory. The building's blueprint was as familiar to me as the lines of my own palm: ahead, the narrow hallway. Two doors on the right, one to the employee restroom, the other to Beverly's office. One door on the left, leading into the dressing room where performers prepped their look or relaxed between sets. Straight ahead, then stairs up for the main stage, or stairs down into the slightly sunken main seating area. In the club proper, one long wall was occupied by small, private rooms for lap dances and other services, separated from the main room by a chest-high partition. The other wall boasted a polished bar, stocked with a rich assortment of liquor. At the far end was a tiny kitchen; nothing gourmet, but enough to squeak out a few appetizers to help soak up the booze.

Laughter rang out from the dressing room. It was still early enough in the afternoon that the club hadn't yet opened to the public, and the few employees present sounded happy, relaxed. Faintly, I could hear the rhythmic clicking of heels against the stage; someone practicing the night's routine.

Beverly turned back towards me as she led us down the hallway. "So what's the boy-toy's name?"

I chuckled again, glancing at Juhan. "Justin."

Grey eyes narrowed as she examined him under the humming fluorescent lights. "You know the boy's prettying himself up for you, right?"

The chuckle grew into a soft laugh, even as I felt Juhan's steps come to a sudden stop behind me. "Yes, I'm aware." I looked over my shoulder at him, caught the stunned expression on his face. "Welcome to the city's only magic strip club, where all the dancers — and the owner — are mages."

"I hadn't realized there were such clubs," he coughed out, still staring at Beverly. "You're good, to spot that so easily."

Beverly just shook her head with a merry laugh. "All the dancers use a little illusion magic to spice up their performances. When you've been watching for it for close to forty years, you get real good at spotting it. Yours is pretty solid, I'll say. I'd wager you're a bit more powerful than we usually see walking through these doors."

"I'm…"

"From out of town," I finished for him, though I could tell Beverly wasn't swallowing it. She'd always known when information was being kept from her.

She did nod, though. An unspoken promise not to pry. "Well, as long as you're treating our Sevvy-Baby right, that's just fine. Though if you ever want to shake your stuff in a sparkly thong, you just let me know. We do a boys' feature on Tuesdays, and you're the type the ladies like to tip."

The sudden flush over Juhan's cheeks and neck was absolutely worth it, and I couldn't suppress a small laugh. "I don't think Justin's looking for a new line of work quite yet."

"Ah, well, I had to ask. Always looking for talent." Just as we reached the main club, Beverly paused, a slight frown dancing over her lips. "You know, I hate to impose, but I had two girls call out sick tonight…"

"You want me to grab a shift?" I asked, raising a brow. "No problem. I'll do it for tips and — is there still that amazing pizza shop a few blocks down? I haven't had anything more than a candy bar since breakfast."

Beverly grinned. "Deal."

---

Juhan scowled where he sat at the bar, watching me slice lemons into thin rounds. "You shouldn't have to strip for strangers, Severine."

The look I gave him was not amused. "Not my keeper, Justin."

"I just—" He wisely stopped when I pointed the blade at him.

"Being a stripper is honest work. More honest work than what white-collar types do." I stabbed the knife back into a lemon. "But only mages go on that stage, so I'll just be waitressing tonight. Before I started working for Brendan, I spent three years working a returns counter by day, and serving tables here at night, to keep a roof over my head."

His mouth pulled into a flat line. "I didn't realize."

"No, you didn't." I flicked my gaze up, used my dark eyes to pin him in place. "You were born important, a precious Parkkonen son. You probably started showing signs of magic when you were a toddler, right? And then you were raised accordingly, regarded as a mage probably before you could even form a full sentence." I paused, glancing back down at the lemons so I could start portioning them out into the two garnish stations that would be set up at either end of the bar. "I was a teenager before there was any hint of what I was, and even then, it's not like my family would have cared. It wasn't until after I'd pledged to Brendan that I ever got any sort of special treatment, such that it was."

The sound of Juhan shifting uncomfortably on the bar stool made me look up again, catch the embarrassed look in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said softly, dipping his head. "Pete came from wealth. I didn't think about what it might have been like for a Catalyst growing up in a different situation — not even being a Catalyst yet."

I opened my mouth to say more — then closed it as I saw the actual bartender make a beeline for us, hauling a fresh tub of ice from the kitchen. Ricky was a good guy, and barely even had enough power to qualify as mage, but there were some conversations that weren't meant to be overheard.

"We'll finish this later," I decided before hurrying out from behind the bar to help Ricky with the ice.