tilted her head, regarding me with interest. “Are you a dancer?”
“I dance,” I said modestly. “I haven’t done full stage performances in a very long time, though. I’m out of practice.”
Bastien scoffed. “That’s nonsense. Fleur can pick up any routine. She used to bring the dance halls of Paris to their knees.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A long time ago.”
“Are you interested in being in it?” asked Phoebe, face serious. “They’re still scouting. I can get you an audition. Although . . . you might want to make yourself taller.”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I mean, my transfer doesn’t take place until next month. . . .”
Phoebe was unconcerned. “I don’t think Matthias would mind. He’s the company manager. In fact . . .” She glanced at her watch. “He’ll be around in another hour or so. I can take you to meet him.”
“She’d be happy to,” said Bastien.
“I’m sure she can answer for herself, monsieur,” replied Phoebe tartly.
I chuckled at seeing Bastien dressed down again. “I’d love it. That’d be great.”
Phoebe left us as our food began arriving, promising to return at the end of our meal. Everything she’d ordered for us was amazing, and I fretted over eating so much since I wasn’t entirely sure if this meeting with the company manager would turn into a full-fledged audition.
“Lovely, isn’t she?” asked Bastien.
“She is,” I agreed. “You were right.” What I found more astonishing than having the chance to dance in a Las Vegas show was that Phoebe was responsible for orchestrating it—and had seemed genuinely happy to do so. In my experience, succubi would jealously guard those kinds of positions, keeping out the competition.
“I have no doubt you’ll dance your way right into this Matthias’s heart,” Bastien mused. He gave a mournful sigh. “Would that I could dance so easily into Phoebe’s heart.”
“She’s too smart for you,” I said. “She knows your tricks.”
“Of course she does. I’d think that would be half the appeal.” He paused to finish off the last of his cocktail. “Speaking of bizarre attractions . . . I’m totally behind in what’s transpiring in your Northwestern world. Are you still joined at the hip with that introverted mortal?”
“Literally and figuratively,” I told him. Thinking of Seth diminished some of my earlier good mood. “This transfer . . . it was kind of a shock. I don’t know how it’s going to affect our relationship.”
Bastien shrugged. “Bring him here.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Not if he wants you badly enough. Here.” Bastien waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Have another round with me. That’ll fix everything.”
“Not when I might have to dance soon!”
But I shared the round anyway and found my cheerfulness returning. It was hard not to with Bastien. I’d known him for a long time, and there was something so easy and comforting about being in his presence. We swapped stories and gossip on immortals we knew, and I got the scoop on some of the more colorful ones I’d eventually be meeting here in Las Vegas.
Phoebe returned just as we were paying the bill, having swapped her work attire for casual dance clothing. She led us back through the labyrinthine glitz of the casino and into the quieter and much more subdued back halls of the building. They in turn led to a backstage door to the casino’s theatre, which wasn’t yet open to the public. We found the vast space empty, save a couple guys installing tables in the seating area. The pounding of their hammers echoed through the room. A moment later, I did a double take when I saw a man sitting off to the side of the stage, so still I’d hardly noticed him. He glanced up from a sheaf of papers at our approach.
“Phoebe,” he said. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” she said. “Matthias, these are my
“I dance,” I said modestly. “I haven’t done full stage performances in a very long time, though. I’m out of practice.”
Bastien scoffed. “That’s nonsense. Fleur can pick up any routine. She used to bring the dance halls of Paris to their knees.”
“Yeah,” I said. “A long time ago.”
“Are you interested in being in it?” asked Phoebe, face serious. “They’re still scouting. I can get you an audition. Although . . . you might want to make yourself taller.”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I said, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I mean, my transfer doesn’t take place until next month. . . .”
Phoebe was unconcerned. “I don’t think Matthias would mind. He’s the company manager. In fact . . .” She glanced at her watch. “He’ll be around in another hour or so. I can take you to meet him.”
“She’d be happy to,” said Bastien.
“I’m sure she can answer for herself, monsieur,” replied Phoebe tartly.
I chuckled at seeing Bastien dressed down again. “I’d love it. That’d be great.”
Phoebe left us as our food began arriving, promising to return at the end of our meal. Everything she’d ordered for us was amazing, and I fretted over eating so much since I wasn’t entirely sure if this meeting with the company manager would turn into a full-fledged audition.
“Lovely, isn’t she?” asked Bastien.
“She is,” I agreed. “You were right.” What I found more astonishing than having the chance to dance in a Las Vegas show was that Phoebe was responsible for orchestrating it—and had seemed genuinely happy to do so. In my experience, succubi would jealously guard those kinds of positions, keeping out the competition.
“I have no doubt you’ll dance your way right into this Matthias’s heart,” Bastien mused. He gave a mournful sigh. “Would that I could dance so easily into Phoebe’s heart.”
“She’s too smart for you,” I said. “She knows your tricks.”
“Of course she does. I’d think that would be half the appeal.” He paused to finish off the last of his cocktail. “Speaking of bizarre attractions . . . I’m totally behind in what’s transpiring in your Northwestern world. Are you still joined at the hip with that introverted mortal?”
“Literally and figuratively,” I told him. Thinking of Seth diminished some of my earlier good mood. “This transfer . . . it was kind of a shock. I don’t know how it’s going to affect our relationship.”
Bastien shrugged. “Bring him here.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Not if he wants you badly enough. Here.” Bastien waved to get the waitress’s attention. “Have another round with me. That’ll fix everything.”
“Not when I might have to dance soon!”
But I shared the round anyway and found my cheerfulness returning. It was hard not to with Bastien. I’d known him for a long time, and there was something so easy and comforting about being in his presence. We swapped stories and gossip on immortals we knew, and I got the scoop on some of the more colorful ones I’d eventually be meeting here in Las Vegas.
Phoebe returned just as we were paying the bill, having swapped her work attire for casual dance clothing. She led us back through the labyrinthine glitz of the casino and into the quieter and much more subdued back halls of the building. They in turn led to a backstage door to the casino’s theatre, which wasn’t yet open to the public. We found the vast space empty, save a couple guys installing tables in the seating area. The pounding of their hammers echoed through the room. A moment later, I did a double take when I saw a man sitting off to the side of the stage, so still I’d hardly noticed him. He glanced up from a sheaf of papers at our approach.
“Phoebe,” he said. “You’re early.”
“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” she said. “Matthias, these are my
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