He snorted, then stepped back as Madam Helena came down the stairs. They were, as usual, on the ground floor, which held the larger dance floor and tables. The kitchens and dressing rooms were downstairs, with the bar and stage upstairs. Madame Helena’s private office and rooms were on the second floor, with a lift tucked into the back of the building for her use, and occasionally also for a few special guests.
The club owner was impeccably dressed. Of course, she always was, with a good two dozen gowns she rotated, depending on season, mood, and day of the week. Tonight’s, for Wednesday, was a shockingly bright blue, with a deeper blue sapphire at her neck and wrists. Vega had never had a chance to look closely enough to figure out if they were trulygems or excellent paste. Honestly it didn’t matter. The effect did everything needed.
“Good evening, good evening. Usual order tonight. Please be ready. We’ve two birthday celebrations, one arriving around half-ten, the other expected around midnight. It’s a Wednesday, so likely not the young men. But I gather we might get a party in the first half of the evening after a supper out, some sort of minor diplomatic gathering. Wilkes, at the Ministry, let me know, of course.”
The Crystal Cave was the best of London’s magical night clubs. There were two others that had far less in the way of entertainment, only one or two performers on any given night. As such, if there were meetings in London that included both magical and non-magical sorts, the magical ones often ended up here. It worked well whether they needed a celebration or to drown their sorrows.
The Ministry folks, both the men and women, tended to be easy to deal with. If they drank too much, they were morose rather than combative. It was far simpler to stick a napkin over her shoulder to protect her frock and let someone cry on her shoulder than to let Madam Helena’s doormen deal with the problem.
No one in the loose circle spoke up with any concerns. It was a quiet night, or at least looked to be. A good way to ease back into the swing of things. And of course, the joy of a nightclub was never knowing who might walk in the door. Madam Helena glanced around, then nodded. “Excellent. Off you go. We open the doors in thirty minutes.”
Just enough time for everyone to finish their cosmetics and charms, and to do whatever warmup they required. Vega went promptly off to her dressing room, drank half a glass of water, and then went through her own preparations. When the chime sounded to let her know the club had opened, she was readyto begin, settled on the sofa with her feet up until time for her first set. She could hear the jazz band start up above her, a comfortable warm sound that set the tone for the night.
Chapter 2
THAT EVENING
The first set went well. Vega was pleased with how her voice was tonight. Just a bit of a pleasant burr on the low notes, the sultry tones that kept young men— and a number of others— coming back. Madame Helena appreciated that a great deal. Vega retreated to her dressing room for some sparkling water and a chance to put her feet up, but at eleven, she was back out on stage.
The room was near enough full, a pleasant surprise on a Wednesday. As Vega made her way through the tables, the charmlight illuminating her, she glimpsed entirely familiar faces at one table. They were with a group of women, friends who came in regularly, but that was absolutely Aunt Ancha and Uncle Thuban. She didn’t do more than nod as she went past. First things first.
The second set was better than the first in every way. The band was glorious, especially the improvisations. Benjy, the trumpeter, had a gift for not having the trumpet shout over the other instruments, which meant she’d been able to hear Kevin Stafford, the guitarist, clearly. Always the last name, with the Kevins, there being two working at the Cave right now. He’d been a relatively recent addition, a few months before Vega hadstarted. But he’d fit right in, and the band took his suggestions seriously.
Vega herself was in full voice, her entire range, sliding from pitch to pitch with perfection. And the illusions were absolutely exquisite. Vega heard the oohs from the crowd, and the way the conversation went quiet. That was the highest compliment in a club like this, when people paid attention to the performance out of all the other options in the room.
This set was drawing from a tradition of magical ballads and gesturing at a dozen pieces of folklore and myth. She brought the last note to the end, then wriggled her fingers. “I’ll be out again around midnight for the last time tonight. Do have a delightful time, darlings, but stay to see me, do!” There was an art to being direct without being uncomfortable.
She half-danced her way back, pausing behind the curtain from the staff stairs to see what happened next. One of the dance mistresses— her name was Holly, Vega didn’t know her well yet— stopped by the table her aunt and uncle were at. Uncle Thuban passed her something, and Holly came straight back toward the stairs.
Vega took another step or two down to make some room, only for Holly to squeak when she ducked through the curtain, “Pardon, Miss Vega. Erm. That gentleman, did you see? Is this the sort of thing I ought to take to Ed?”
Ed was one of the doormen. Vega laughed and shook her head. “That’s one of my uncles. I’ve no idea what he’s doing here. Was that a note? Thanks for checking, though. You can never tell just from how someone looks, if one of us wants to talk to them. Or you, too, I’m guessing, the way the boys looked last Sunday.”
Holly ducked her chin. “Ed had to shoo two of them out. Oh, and that Fred called by, said he’d be by at the usual. I know Jacktook the note back to your dressing room. He and I were just chatting when it came in.”
“Oh, excellent. He’s a reliable cabbie, if you need one. Keeps his hands to himself, likes having a fare who won’t be difficult. He goes to visit his mum, some seaside town, so he’s been away for a week or so.”
“Coo, you do know them all. Oh. They’re starting up. Beg pardon!” Holly ducked her head, then disappeared out the curtain again. Her heel kicked up behind her as she stepped out and picked up the steps of the dance for some of the partnered dancing. Her job was to draw young men up into a dance without leading them on to expect more than they ought. At a place like this, with people keeping an eye out, it was a good job if one could keep people happy enough to tip a bit.
The note said more or less what Vega suspected. They’d like a word, when she was done for the evening, if convenient. Or tomorrow during the day, if tonight was impossible. Staying in town, apparently, though neither of them mentioned which hotel. Vega went and rummaged for paper and a fountain pen, writing a note to ask them to come back after her last set. The late hour wouldn’t be a bother for them, at least. They were used to being up into the wee hours. The next waiter to come by took the note for her, and she saw Uncle Thuban glance at it, nod, and sign briefly that they’d do so.
The prospect of having someone back meant that she went and asked for a tray with something to drink and something to nibble on, to be brought once she went out for the last set. And she had a good tidy of her dressing table, so everything would be ready for tomorrow. Her family approved of having one’s tools in order. It meant Vega only had ten minutes to sit down at the end, but no matter. It was the end of the night and early in the week, she’d manage.
The third set went swimmingly, people swaying a little at two faster songs, then leaning back and listening at the intense one. She finished with something cheerful and hopeful, putting a little edge of magic into it so people would leave in a good mood. It seemed a small thing, but a bit of hope and sunny good will went a long way some nights. Nothing false, that was the trick. Just following a thread of possibility where it might lead.
Once she got back into the staff hall, she waited, and just as she expected, her aunt and uncle were shown along promptly. “Aunt Ancha, Uncle Thuban. Do come down to my dressing room? No problem with the stairs?” Vega wanted to make it clear there would be no discussion in the public spaces, by sheer force of will. Other than the pleasantries, her aunt and uncle followed her lead.
She led them into the dressing room, then turned, pulling up the warding and the privacy charms. “We’ve an hour comfortably, a bit more if I let them know. Will that be agreeable?” Vega turned to pull on a dressing gown, then to step from the heels into slippers, and she couldn’t quite repress the sound of pleasure. The heels were as comfortable as magic could make them, which was to say, very. But she also loved the moment where her feet could bend and arch on their own.
“That should be more than enough for a moment. We don’t wish to put you out.” There was a tiny hesitation before he added, and she thought honestly enough, but as if he were a bit surprised, “We’ve not had a chance to hear you before. And the club seems well-run.” Uncle Thuban was making every attempt to be pleasant, and it was succeeding, of course. Vega knew perfectly well he was even more expert in the arts of incantation than she was.
“Not that we’ve a wide range of experience, but one hears stories,” Aunt Ancha agreed.
“The owner, Madam Helena, she handles all manner of details smoothly. And honestly, it’s tremendously helpful that we’re entirely magical. We’ve not nearly the worries about police raids or what have you that the non-magical clubs have.” Those were about drugs more than anything else, and the challenges of the magical community were a bit different. “She owns the building. We’ve steady guests. There’s a membership fee, though obviously, people can pay at the door for a night.” As they would have done. “And the rare times there are problems, we’ve more ways to handle that. Mostly, it’s someone with wandering hands or no sense of manners.” Then her chin came up. “It was rather a triumph, becoming top of the bill here.”
“You’ve obviously earned it.” Her aunt’s voice was warm now. “Actually, we are here because we are hoping you’ll be in London for a bit, with perhaps some time for a small quest.”
“Quests are never small, Aunt Ancha,” Vega said as clearly as she could.
