We followed the corridor until we reached the staircase. Tara looked down to check that no one was coming up. My curiosity intensified. I even raised an eyebrow despite myself.

“I posted the whole thing on Youtube,” she began, referring to the video we’d recorded together. “As I expected, it didn’t get much attention, so I tried to forget about it. However, when I looked at it again last Friday, I noticed that it had over a million views.”

I had taken a look at Tara’s social media. She wasn’t very popular, so it surprised me that she’d gotten that many views in less than a week, or ever. Even if her video had been stellar, with the highest production quality, it would never gain that many views on its own. “Black Bird Memories” wasn’t a popular song either, so that couldn’t explain the success of the video.

“What happened?”

A huge grin took over Tara’s face. Or rather, it wasn’t that huge, but since I rarely saw Tara smile, it looked huge on her. “Do you know Midnight Pirate?” she said.

Oh, crap. I didn’t like where this was going. “I’ve heard of her.”

“She shared my video on Twitter.”

My jaw almost fell to the floor. I should have known. Jayda’s sudden idea of adding “Black Bird Memories” to her concert hadn’t come out of the blue. She’d seen the video, knew it was me playing piano, knew I was coming to her show. She’d intended to taunt me with an orchestral version the song.

So much work just to piss me off.

“I’m sure everyone in the company saw it. No one said anything though.”

I detected disappointment in her words. The success of the video might bring positive attention on her, or it might further set her apart from the others. Tricky.

Tara leaned in closer. “Jayda contacted me. She said that she wants to release a new version of ‘Black Bird Memories’ and have me dance in the music video. The only thing is that she also wants the same pianist for the recording.”

Of course. This had all the appearances of a trap. “Well, that’s too bad.”

Tara’s tone became more insistent, even though she tried to keep it down. “A bunch of people commented that they want to know who you are. They say it’s the most beautiful thing they’ve ever heard. You could build a career as a pianist!”

“Tara, that’s not necessary…” I didn’t need career advice from a 19-year-old brat.

“I don’t understand how someone talented like you can be happy being a piano teacher!”

That was rude to a lot of piano teachers out there. Not every skilled musician in the world ends up becoming a superstar.

“I don’t want to discuss this.”

She crossed her arms and looked away. It probably frustrated her that she didn’t have the monopoly on stubbornness. She pondered, “Being featured in a Midnight Pirate music video might make me more popular.”

It sure would. Jayda had the magic touch, metaphorically speaking.

She continued, “The director might see it as an occasion to attract a new public to the shows. He might even cast me in a principal role, knowing that Midnight Pirate’s fans will come just to see me. All this with little effort from you.”

This was quite a grandiose way of imagining a possible chain of events. I scratched my chin. If only Jayda wasn’t involved. If only it didn’t require me to play. “Why don’t you let me do my job,” I finally advised her.

The dagger-throwing glare made a comeback. I ignored it and directed my attention on Tara’s hair. She had a bunch of flyaways that wouldn’t stay tucked in her short ponytail. She dodged when I raised my hand toward her, but I still managed to pluck a strand of hair.

She winced, “Why the hell did you do that?”

“I’m just doing my job, Tara.”

I placed the hair carefully in my jean pocket and preceded Tara back into the studio.

What a wake-up call. If I didn’t make progress on Tara’s case soon, she might take things into her own hands and I would end up involved in one of Jayda’s schemes.

***

The stealth spell may sound great in theory, but it’s pretty crappy overall. Hence, its status as one of the most used spells for tier C contracts. It was fine as long as I kept my interactions to a minimum. In that regard, it didn’t have the practicality of an invisibility spell, which is self-explanatory, or of a mingling spell, which allowed a freelancer to fit in a crowd as though they were everybody’s best friend.

Therefore, when I headed to see the ballet mistress to ask her for more information about Tara, I resorted to using the “friend-of-the-family” spell. This spell was generally used to extract confidential information about someone else. It required me to carry something belonging to the subject of my interrogation. In some cases, this might pose some problems, but since I wanted to ask questions about my client, it was easy to pluck out one of Tara’s hair.

I had gained a lot of information about Tara’s situation within the MBT by observing her during my first week. The next step was to gain inside information about the kind of future the company had in mind for her, things they wouldn’t necessarily communicate with her directly.

I cornered Martha Cuthbert, the ballet mistress, after a rehearsal. She was a tall, older lady with a bob of silver hair. She had been chatting with the pianist as the dancers trickled out, and I finally got a chance to have a private talk before she left the studio. “Hello, Martha. Do you have a minute?”

She made the same face as the security guard at the opera house. She couldn’t tell whether she was having a momentary blank or if she genuinely had no idea who I was.

“What is it?” Martha responded with a warm smile despite her confusion.

“I’d like to talk about Tara, if you don’t mind?”

Martha started to get wary of me. “I can’t seem to remember who you are…”

“I’m a friend of the family.”

Here we go. The spell acted a bit like hypnosis or whatever. I’ve seen vampires do stuff like that in movies while looking straight at their prey. Their eyes usually turn red to suggest that some weird stuff is going on. This situation was pretty much the same thing, minus the red eyes trick. Too tacky for my taste.

“Don’t you think she seems a bit off?” I initiated.

Martha’s wariness evaporated. “Who knows what’s going on in Tara’s head these days.”

“Oh?”

“She always had trouble getting along with the others. On top of it, she’s been very distracted lately.”

That much I already knew from my observations. “Why was she hired in the company, then?”

Martha let out a sigh. “She did the Prix de Lausanne three years ago. Her performance of the Esmeralda variation was breathtaking. We offered her to start as a trainee shortly after that.”

She took out her phone and searched for something. She then turned the screen toward me and played the video of a young ballerina, dressed in a black costume and holding a tambourine. It was Tara, full of confidence and smiling at the audience.

“We tried to give her time, because she’d shown promises. But the director is thinking of letting her go.”

My blood froze. “Letting her go?”

Martha nodded. “He’s been on the fence about her for a while. After next summer, I doubt he’ll renew her contract. She should consider herself lucky, because if it wasn’t for her friend, he wouldn’t have been so patient.”

“Her friend? What friend?”

That was one question too many. According to the spell, I wasn’t allowed to ask questions about anyone else but the person whose object I carried. Martha suddenly looked at me up and down. “I can’t seem to place you. Do you mind reminding me your name?”

Dammit, the spell was broken. I had to think fast. I let out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m the new assistant of…the,” I paused. Director? Janitor? “…the secretary.”

Did that even make sense? Martha’s face morphed as she processed my claim. “I see.”

“Sorry for taking so much of your time. I need to go back and…do desk things.”

I waved my phone as though that proved anything and hoped the stealth spell would hold on five more seconds, so that I could get out of her view.

The situation was more dire than I had thought at first. How could I get Tara to spring back from this?