Page 40 of Tracking Snow

I groan, extending a hand to get his attention.

"Oh shit, she's awake."

"Pumpkin Coach Club," I mutter, but it comes out wrong.

"What did she say? Shmumkin Ho Fub?"

Well, that's rude. My head hurts terribly, and I articulated just fine.

I try again, until he says it back. "The Fairy Godmother. She can help."

Exhausted from trying to communicate, I slump back and give in to the dark, restful oblivion again.

I only vaguely process being carried or fluttering my eyes open to catch the neon Pumpkin Coach sign overhead. Then a familiar voice.

"Dammit Snow, why you gotta be a drama queen when you know that's my thing?" a deep voice says from somewhere nearby.

Cool spreads across my forehead, then sinks straight through my skull. The sharp throb behind my eyes lessens. The cotton stuffed in my head thins. I suck in a breath and find myself sitting upright, blinking at the room like someone switched the world back on.

The room has massive vanities, but thankfully only one of them is lit. Otherwise, the rows of bright bulbs would have likely burned my corneas out.

Racks of clothes covered in sequins, feathers, and rhinestones fill every corner. We're in the general dressing room at the back of the Pumpkin Coach Club, and Dame Kiki Eleganza hovers over me as I lie on a fainting couch.

Her false eyelashes are dotted with gemstones, and her wig is piled with almost three feet of perfect eggshell blue curls that contrast beautifully against her wide, warm brown face.

She dwarfs The Seven with her impressive height when she stands, and her strapless dress shows off her incredibly muscled shoulders.

"What in the hell have you been up to, girl?" Kiki demands.

"Oh, you know, I love to party," I say weakly as I get to my feet.

It's only then I notice One standing there, and the dark circles under his eyes and his haunted, wary expression makes him look like he’s aged ten years.

"I would give you such a verbal whooping if I weren't on in five minutes," Kiki scolds. Kiki is the top-billing drag queen at Pumpkin Coach Club, known for her intuitive insight and fabulous fashion. She’s also fantastic for bachelorette parties.

What most people don’t know is that she is a level four healing mage.

But seeing as she is my friend, I'd hoped that she would help me out since The Seven was having a meltdown about taking me to a hospital.

"Duh, I should have thought of it sooner, but maybe you could help him too." The Seven used to be one, but now he's fractured. Maybe it's something Kiki could heal. I'm genuinely impressed by my own genius.

Kiki pops her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow. "Do I look like a paramedic service truck to you?"

"You look like the most gorgeous, powerhouse of a human being I've ever seen, with legs for days," I answer, fluttering my eyes at her.

Her defensive posture softens. "You always know how to butter me up, don't you?" she accuses with no real irritation.

"With skin like yours? Who needs butter?"

She blows a raspberry at me, even as we overhear the emcee announcing The Fairy Godmother as up next. Her eyes flick to One, an intent curiosity and wariness there. Kiki is helpful but not easily trusting.

"Maybe later, my darlings," she says, "The show must go on." Then she whisks out of the room in a tornado of feathers and fabulousness.

One watches the doorway long after the feathers settle. Then his shoulders drop and he looks back at me.

The world swims before my eyes as my stomach defies gravity, and I stumble back onto the couch. One is there before I can blink, helping steady me to sit.

"I'm okay, just a little dizzy," I say, already feeling better.