New Rose: Harmony
My hands were pressed against the glass, watching the skyscrapers pass as the train pulled toward the station. In Cypress Hollow, the tallest thing was a church steeple. And sure, I’d been to Charleston a few times throughout my life, but this felt like entering a whole other world. Even Wrenford didn’t have any buildings more than three or four stories tall.
In Cypress Hollow, everybody knew everybody. The nights were actually dark. New York was enormous. Alive. Hungry. I could immediately sense traces of magic in the city. Not active spells. Just residual energy.
Millions of people were living, loving, dreaming, dying. This was a city soaked in stories.
Xai was practically vibrating in the seat next to me. He hadn’t stopped talking since DC. He was carrying an absurd itinerary filled with college brochures and a list of Broadway theaters he wanted to visit. I already regretted letting him make the schedule.
“We have exactly thirty-seven minutes to check into the hotel before our reservation at Sardi’s,” he was saying as we stepped off the train.
“Normal people don’t schedule vacations like a military operation,” I laughed, finding my suitcase.
“Normal people don’t run a haunted tea shop,” he countered.
“It isn’t haunted.”
“You literally sell tea to ghosts.”
“It was one time! And I didn’t realize it was a ghost.”
The cab ride to the hotel felt longer than it actually was. Xai and I both watched the buildings pass by. My phone buzzed in my bag, and I pulled it out.
The text was from Elliot: Welcome to New York. Don’t let the city eat you alive.
I smiled while I typed out a reply. Thanks. Still up for a tour of the city?
His response came almost immediately. Of course. See you tonight.
The taxi came to a stop at a light near Greenwich Village. My gaze landed on a man in an expensive suit. He had a perfect smile. His cell phone was pressed to his ear while everyone walked around him, unbothered.
Yet, I felt something deeply wrong. Not magical. Predatory. The man briefly locked eyes with me, then disappeared into the crowd. I frowned slightly, unsettled.
The cab pulled forward, and the feeling was gone just as quickly as it had come.
“We’re gonna miss the reservation,” Xai complained as we finally entered the hotel lobby.
“It’s not the end of the world. We’re here for a week,” I pointed out as I approached the counter.
We checked in, got our keys, and headed up to the room. It was surprisingly spacious, despite not being a suite. A small closet space stood open next to the luxurious bathroom. Two full-sized beds stood against the wall across from a massive dresser. A large TV sat on top of it. In one corner, there was a mini-fridge, two armchairs, and a low table.
Xai threw his bag on one of the beds and immediately started unpacking. I was only half-listening while he talked about Juilliard, NYU, Broadway, and different acting programs.
Even though that initial wave of discomfort had vanished, something still felt off.
I moved toward the glass sliding door, and stepped out on the balcony. The sun was already sinking, and the lights of the city were beautiful. The city itself was almost overwhelming. Electric.
Somewhere down below, I could hear music. Faint. Punk rock. Not from a passing car or a nearby bar. It was somewhere deeper. Like a heartbeat beneath the city.
I stepped back into the room, closing the door behind me. “Okay,” I said, clapping my hands together. “Ready to eat?”
“We missed our reservation.”
“There’s hundreds of restaurants here. Thousands, probably.” I grabbed my purse. “Come on.”
We re-entered the city, and every block felt different. Ancient wards were woven into brick. Forgotten blessings clung to churches. Tiny accidental spells lingered around bodegas and apartment windows. Most people probably never noticed them. I couldn’t stop noticing them.
“You’re doing the thing again,” Xai said.
“What thing?” I asked, brows pulling together in confused amusement as I looked at him.
“The staring.”
“I’m sightseeing.”
“You almost walked into a mailbox.”
I glanced at the mailbox beside me. “Okay, fair.”
Xai looked entirely too pleased with himself.
We ended up ducking into a crowded Italian restaurant three blocks from the hotel. It wasn’t Sardi’s, but it smelled amazing, and there wasn’t even a reservation in sight.
“This,” I said as we were seated, “is how normal people eat.”
Xai looked wounded. “One missed reservation and suddenly my artistic vision means nothing.”
“You made a spreadsheet.”
“It had color coding.”
I sighed.
Before I could argue any further, my phone buzzed. Elliot.
I’m outside.
I looked through the front window, and immediately spotted him. Elliot was leaning against a street lamp, hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of brown trousers. His brown hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him. He looked, somehow, more New York than I remembered. He smiled when he saw me.
The strange flutter in my stomach annoyed me immediately.
“Your boyfriend is here,” Xai announced.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You looked at your phone and smiled.”
“People smile.”
“Not like that.”
I kicked him under the table.
A minute later, Elliot slid into the empty seat next to me. “Hi, Xai.” Then, to me, “It’s good to see you, Harmony.”
“You too.”
Xai looked between us. “Oh, this is painful.”
“What?” I asked, brow furrowed.
“Neither of you has figured it out.”
Elliot sighed.
I buried my face in my hands.
“So college tours?” Elliot asked, thankfully changing the subject.
Xai immediately launched into a monologue about all of the things he wanted to do by the end of the week.
By the time dinner ended, the streets outside had transformed completely. The city wasn’t slowing down. It was waking up.
Neon signs painted the sidewalks in impossible colors. Music spilled from open doors. Crowds flowed through intersections like rivers.
Elliot led us through Greenwich Village while Xai peppered him with questions about colleges and theaters. I drifted a few steps behind them. Something kept tugging at my attention. Not a voice. Not exactly. A rhythm. A pulse.
The same distant punk rock beat I’d heard from the hotel balcony. Faint. Persistent. Like it was beneath the city itself.
I stopped walking.
The music vanished.
Then it returned when I took another step.
“Harmony?” Elliot asked.
I blinked. “Sorry.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” The lie came too easily.
The father we walked, the stronger the sensation became.
Eventually, we reached a crowded avenue lined with bars and clubs. People filled the sidewalks. Laughter. Music. Taxi horns. Life.
And underneath all of it — that same beat. My chest tightened. Without realizing it, I’d turned toward a building across the street.
A black sign hung above the entrance. A line of people stretched halfway down the block. Red light glowed behind darkened windows.
For a moment, the entire city seemed to narrow until that was the only building I could see. The heartbeat beneath New York was coming from there.
Elliot followed my gaze. His expression changed instantly. “Absolutely not.”
I looked at him. “What?”
“That place.”
Xai’s attention was caught now. His eyes lit up. “That’s a nightclub.”
“No,” Elliot said firmly.
Xai scoffed. “Why not?”
“You’re not even twenty-one.”
“But I am technically an adult.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re eighteen.”
“Legally an adult.”
“You haven’t graduated high school yet.”
“Please Harm,” he took my hands. “Wouldn’t you rather my first nightclub experience be here with you instead of three months from now by myself? Or with people of questionable morals?”
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to prevent myself from groaning. He made a good argument. Or at least, good enough. I looked at Elliot, eyebrows arching slightly. “One hour.”
“Ten minutes,” he negotiated.
“Forty-five.”
“Thirty minutes. Exactly.” Elliot looked between us. Then, “You are both making a mistake.” Elliot muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Then he led us across the street.
The closer we got, the louder the rhythm became. Not through my ears. Through my bones.
The line outside the club moved surprisingly fast. A massive bouncer stood by the door, dressed entirely in black. He looked more like a bodyguard than a nightclub employee. I expected him to stop us.
Instead, his gaze landed on me. His expression changed. Just slightly. Then he stepped aside. “Enjoy your evening.”
Elliot immediately looked concerned.
The heavy doors opened. Music crashed into us. Not the distant heartbeat I’d been following. Actual music. Loud enough to shake the floor.
The staircase descended beneath the street level. Every inch of the walls was covered in signatures, stickers, and artwork layered on top of each other. The air smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, old wood, spilled beer, and sweat. A band was playing somewhere deeper inside the building. Not through speakers. Live. Not polished pop. Punk. Raw. Loud. Angry. The kind of music that felt less like entertainment and more like a declaration of war.
As we descended, I took note of some of the posters. A lot of them looked like they’d been accumulated over many decades. Some advertised bands I’d never heard of. Others appeared old enough to belong in a museum.
Neon graffiti crawled across exposed brick. Black-painted steel beams cut through the ceiling overhead. The club itself looked less like a business and more like a controlled act of rebellion.
The dance floor was filled with leather jackets and dyed hair. Instantly, I understood why Elliot didn’t want to come in here. In his trousers and button-down, he looked out of place among the patches and denim.
The bar was backlit and lined with red LED lights that pulsed in time with the music. At the center of it all was a man in an oversized and severely distressed black sweater. The sleeves gathered at his elbows as he mixed drinks and popped bottle caps, and slid glasses toward customers.
For a second, I couldn’t understand why I kept looking at him. Then I realized half the room was doing the same thing. Not openly or obviously. But constantly.
Every conversation seemed to drift back toward him. Every glance eventually found him. Like gravity. Like the entire club revolved around him without anyone realizing it.
The strange rhythm I’d been following since I arrived in New York suddenly became louder. Not the music. The feeling beneath it. The heartbeat under the city. And somehow, I knew it was coming from him.
He laughed at something a customer said. The sound disappeared beneath the music. Still, people nearby smiled. The effect spread outward through the crowd like ripples in water.
My stomach tightened. “What is this place?” I asked quietly.
Elliot followed my gaze, and immediately looked annoyed. “Seward’s.”
The man looked up. For the first time, I saw his face clearly. Sharp cheekbones. A jaw that looked carved from stone. Black hair hanging around his shoulders. And his eyes…
Wide, silver-blue eyes that seemed almost luminous beneath the red lights. The moment they landed on me, he smiled. Not surprised or curious.
It was like he’d been expecting me to walk through the door.
“Oh my God, I love this song,” Xai said as the music shifted, breaking my attention away from the bartender. He disappeared onto the dance floor before I could stop him.
Of course he did.
I closed my eyes for a second, sighing.
“This was your idea,” Elliot teased, leaning in close so he could be heard over the music.
I rolled my eyes playfully.
“Do… um…” he started. He shifted, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you want to dance?”
I smiled back at him. “Sure.”
Elliot offered his hand. “Come on.”
“I thought you hated this place,” I called over the music as he led me to the dance floor.
“I do.”
“Then why are you dancing?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned toward me, his other hand resting tentatively on my hip. “Because you’re here.”
I couldn’t help the smile that formed as I stepped in closer to him.
While we danced, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I searched the crowd for Xai. It was surprisingly difficult to find my six foot, purple velvet-clad brother in the sea of spiked mohawks and brightly dyed hair. When I did finally spot him, he was near the stage, already a part of a group. Of course.
I smiled, letting my attention shift back to Elliot now that I knew where Xai was. Over his shoulder, I noticed the bartender still watching me. Not constantly. Not in a way that felt invasive. Yet every time I looked back toward the bar, those silver-blue eyes were already there.
As the song came to an end, I leaned closer to Elliot. “Do you want a drink?”
“I… I don’t really drink,” he answered.
“Oh.”
“If you want one, I’d be happy to wait.”
“Then let’s get a soda,” I suggested. “What do you want?”
“Whatever doesn’t taste like regret.”
“That’s not a drink.”
“In New York it is.”
A grin broke across my face as I laughed.
Elliot grinned too. “I’ll find us a table.”
I nodded and stepped back from him. The smile was still firmly in place as I moved toward the bar.
A guy with waist-length red hair wearing a mesh shirt moved away from the bar holding two beers, and I took his spot.
The bartender’s gaze instantly found me. At the same time, a chill ran down my spine. The kind that I didn’t want to think too hard about. “Enjoying New York?” he asked as he moved toward me.
I nodded. “So far.”
“First night in the city?”
“How can you tell?”
He smirked, and something glinted in his eyes that made me feel like he knew more than he should. “You just have that look,” he answered, but something in his tone felt like a lie. “I’m guessing your friend,” he nodded toward Elliot, “is the local, and you talked him into a tour of the nightlife.”
“You’re incredibly perceptive,” I commented. “It was actually my brother that talked him into it.” I pointed at Xai, who was now dancing with a girl in a pink skater dress patterned with bats. Her black and silver hair was pinned into space buns, and the two of them took turns twirling each other on the dance floor, laughing the whole time.
The bartender followed my finger. “The one in velvet?”
“Unfortunately.”
“He seems fun.”
“He’s exhausting.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
I nodded. “It’s his world, I just live in it.”
The bartender laughed, a wide smile spreading across his face. The sound was almost musical, kind of boyish, and honestly felt out of place here.
I blinked, watching him. He suddenly looked younger than I would’ve assumed.
“So what can I get you?”
“An amaretto sour for me,” I said, fishing out my ID, “and a Coke for my friend.”
He nodded, not even glancing down at my license.
After a second, I put it back in my purse, watching as he poured the drinks. “So… are you from here?” I asked after a second.
The bartender shook his head. “Egypt, originally. But New York has become home.”
“That’s a long way from home.”
“Not as long as you’d think,” he said, sliding the Coke toward me first.
“How long have you lived here?”
He considered the question. “A while.” I watched him pour the amaretto. “So what brings you to New York?”
“College tours.”
“For your brother?”
“Yeah.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
My brows pulled together slightly. Then I answered, “Getting to see an old friend was just a bonus.” I nodded back over my shoulder toward Elliot again.
He placed the amaretto sour in front of me, then dropped a cherry into it. “This was a good choice.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the drink. “You say that to everyone?”
“Only to the people who order it.”
The corners of my mouth twitched as my brows pulled together. My gaze moved from the cherry to his silver-blue eyes. “How much do I owe you?”
“First drinks are on the house,” he smiled again, his eyes lingering on mine just a second too long.
I swallowed before offering him another smile. “Thanks.” I paused. Then, “What’s your name?”
“Malakai.”
“Thank you, Malakai.” I picked up the glasses. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too. Harmony.”
My fingers tightened around the glasses. I hadn’t told him my name. The music thundered around us. The crowd moved. Someone laughed too loudly behind me.
Malakai only smiled. Like he knew exactly what I’d just realized.
I forced myself to smile back. “Right,” I said. “Nice trick.”
“Is it?”
I turned away before I could ask another question.
