“Hope your probation works out better than mine did.”
Inaya directed us to the studio’s main entry gate; there was enough room to pull in out of the main flow of street traffic before stopping in front of the unmanned guard booth and drop arm. There was a smaller pedestrian gate to the side; as soon as we stopped, Inaya hopped out and pulled out a set of keys, trying one at a time in the lock. I carefully maneuvered myself into the front passenger’s seat of the van so I could watch and listen.
An energetic young blond guy approached her almost immediately. “Ms. West,” he said with a playful salute. “What brings you here at this hour?”
“Hmmmmm,” she said, considering him. “Can you keep a secret?”
Caryl shifted in the driver’s seat. “Millie—”
“Trust the lady,” I said.
The guard was leaning against the gate in what I imagine he thought was a suave pose. “Keeping things safe is my job, Ms. West.”
Inaya gave him a slow, sly grin. Foxfeather must have recently sprinkled her with fairy dust or something, because even from my angle, that smile set loose a cascade of butterflies in my stomach.
“I’m having a . . . private party for some friends here tonight,” Inaya said. “But we might be doing some things that aren’t strictly, you know—” She paused to make a puff-puff gesture with her elegant fingertips.
“Right,” said the guard.
“I don’t want you guys in trouble about it, so I’m giving you the night off, full pay. Can you radio the others? I want everybody gone till morning. That should give us enough time to clean up, and we can all just pretend this never happened.”
The guard gave her another salute. “Sure thing, Ms. West.”
“Can you lift up the gate for us?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Caryl called out to her.
Inaya looked confused but sent the security guard on his way. I retreated from the front of the van as she climbed back in. “Okay,” she said. “What exactly are you planning to do with the van?”
“I was hoping you would drive it away for us,” said Caryl.
“If you think I’m not going to help set those poor people free,” Inaya said, “you are out of your mind.”
From behind me, I heard a derisive snort from Tjuan. It was comforting to see that Teo was right; Tjuan apparently found everyone irksome.
“Inaya,” said Caryl calmly, “I need you to drive the van away from here. It is huge and all but glows in the dark, and stealth may be required. We will call you when we need you to bring it back.”
“Tell me you did not just Miss Daisy me.”
Caryl and Inaya locked eyes. I could almost see the sparks of Inaya’s steel striking Caryl’s flint. If it had been a movie, they’d have lunged forward and started kissing, but instead Inaya sighed and threw up her hands.
“It’s your show, I guess,” Inaya said. “But you and I are going to have words later.”
She let us through the pedestrian gate before climbing back into the van and driving away. We all slipped on our fey glasses and scanned the darkened lot.
“Teo, stop fidgeting,” said Caryl dryly. “Millie, do you see anything? Feel anything?”
“I don’t,” I said.
“Then just start walking.”
I sighed, vastly uncomfortable. The last time I had let my intuition guide me, it had guided me off a roof. At the moment I felt nothing in particular, so I picked a random direction.
“Squeak, squeak,” said Teo.
“What?” I snapped.
“We’re a bunch of lemmings headed for a ledge.”
“Oh, I thought maybe my knee needed oiling.”
“Are you seriously critiquing my lemming sounds?”
“Are you seriously making falling-off-a-ledge jokes?”
Caryl’s gloved hand landed on the back of my neck, hard, and from the sound Teo made, I could only assume her other hand was on him somewhere. “Stop it,” she said, and then took her hands away quickly. “If you persist in bickering,” she said, “so help me I will give you both cancer.”
I looked over at Teo in alarm and mouthed, “Can she do that?” He just nodded, eyes wide. We both elected to shut up at that point.
By luck or fate, my general direction turned out to be correct. As soundstages go, stage 13 wasn’t particularly large, maybe a hundred by two hundred feet, and thirty feet high, topped by a gently peaked roof. Its main distinguishing feature was the intricate fractal web of Unseelie magic that pulsed and writhed around it. Even from a distance, even knowing what I was looking at, it took every ounce of my self-control to resist the siren call of Move Along, Nothing to See Here.
“Thirteen? Really?” said Teo.
“Most lots don’t even have a Stage Thirteen,” I said.
Caryl was studying Vivian’s spellwork so intently that even without expression it was easy to read her admiration. “I think that’s sort of the joke,” she said absently.