Free Tear You Apart by Sarah Cross

to go up it. So she went up.
    When she rounded the top of the hill, she saw an old beggar woman standing outside the club, picking her teeth with a sliver of bone. Her face was withered but her eyes were sharp and bright.
    A fairy
, Viv thought.
Waiting to test me
.
    Well, she wasn’t going to walk into that trap.
    “Took you long enough.” The old woman flung her toothpick to the ground. “All this time and that’s how you’re dressed? I was told you’d need help, but I’m not a miracle worker.”
    Viv forced a tight smile. “It was kind of you to wait so long.” Being rude to a fairy was one of the biggest mistakes you could make. They loved baiting people—then dealing out “just” punishments when you told them off.
    “Damn right it was. Can’t imagine why someone would want
you
all dressed up. You’ve got no figure to speak of—your ass is as flat as a squashed cockroach.”
    That was a new one. “Sorry. I don’t know, either. Someone hired you?”
    “You think I’d bother with you for free?” The old woman fished a thin gold wand out of her sleeve, and Viv stiffened as the fairy aimed it at her.
    It wasn’t like she’d never had magic used on her, but she’d been an infant then. It was different when you were old enough to know what was happening.
    A flare of heat started at Viv’s hips and moved up her chest. When she glanced down and saw that her pajamas were burning away, she let out a startled cry—but the fire didn’t burn her. Her pajamas blackened, then crumbled to ash. And then the ashes swirled in the air like they’d been caught in a cyclone, and re-formed as a black velvet dress studded with pinpoints of light: blue-white diamonds whose glow faded and blazed, twinkled and winked out, like stars. It was as if someone had made a dress out of the night sky.
    The stones she’d been walking on rolled up around her feet, coated her heels and her toes; then with a burst of heat, they transformed into high heels made of black glass.
    The old woman came closer, scowling. “You couldn’t be bothered to dry your hair?”
    “I almost drowned.”
    The fairy touched her wand to Viv’s forehead. Heat flared again, and Viv’s wet hair unplastered itself from her head and neck and settled onto her shoulders in silky black waves. Cold metal teeth sank into her scalp. She glanced at the reflective black walls of the nightclub and saw that her now-dry hair was crowned with a tiara made of stars.
    “That’ll have to do,” the fairy said. “Try not to embarrass yourself in there.”
    “Thank you,” Viv said, managing an awkward curtsy on the stones.
    The old woman groaned like that had
not
reassured her, then started down the hill toward the shore.
Thank god
, Viv thought. She’d made it through the trial unscathed.
    There was no one guarding the entrance so Viv slipped into the shadowy alcove that led to the door. She wondered who had arranged for her to have the dress.
    Wondering made her clumsy. She stumbled on her way in, one of her ankles almost twisting in the black glass heels, and she had to grab hold of a man’s arm to keep from falling. He glared at her, dark gray brows furrowing—and she apologized and clunked away, every wobbly step making her nervous, every glance around the room making her feel less like she belonged.
    Everyone else was wearing silver—it was the dress code, just like the boatman had said. And they all seemed to know one another. The dancers pressed close together, spun in unison, and traded partners like what happened tonight happened every night.
    The floor was made of glossy black tiles and the walls were black mirrors. Silver disco balls spun light onto the dance floor, turning the room into a dizzying swirl of reflected light—like scattered moonbeams, or sped-up raindrops.
    Plush black velvet benches lined the walls but Viv didn’t want to sit down. She needed to find the person who’d invited her so she could find out what this was all about. The