Stephanie Gallo was large in both height and build, and all of her was intimidatingly gorgeous. She wore her black hair in a styled beehive with flicks of her natural tight curls peeping out round her neck like an elegant necklace. Rumour was that hidden away beneath her shirt, only visible in private, was a secret garden of floral tattoos. While the other members of the Artistocracy were the children of models turned actors turned philanthropists, and heirs to organic superfood brands that were only affordable to the wealthiest clean-livers, Stephanie was different. The story went that Stephanie’s mother was an ex-Bollywood star from Jaipur, who had the most beautiful voice in the world, capable of creating music that could make the toughest man fall madly in love. She’d made her fortune by marrying a string of wealthy men who’d mysteriously died in tragic and unexpected ways. Ellie doubted the story was true, but Stephanie certainly walked around with enough confidence and flare that it was easy to believe she’d inherited her mother’s golden tongue and could talk herself out of any situation.

‘I always wondered when you’d pay me a visit.’ Stephanie’s voice was deep as the sea and equally as mesmerizing. ‘You know, you’d fit in pretty well with us. We’re all queer and angry too.’

‘I’m terrible at art,’ Ellie said coolly.

‘No one’s terrible at art,’ Stephanie chided, fixing her hair in a clamshell mirror. ‘I hear you want one of my henna tattoos.’

Ellie nodded, trying not to be drawn in by the push and pull of her voice.

‘You have payment?’

‘I do,’ Ellie said, crushing the screaming doubt in her mind.

‘We’ll see about that,’ Eyebrows cackled, taking a spot on a purple beanbag.

‘That was Gem and Paris who greeted you at the door,’ Stephanie said, gesturing for Ellie to take a seat in the wooden chair next to her. ‘And this is Max. They’ve told me lots about you.’

‘They’re in my maths class,’ Ellie replied inanely, giving Max a little wave. She was relieved when they returned the gesture. Having someone she recognized was a small comfort.

‘So, what’s your payment?’ Stephanie asked, leaning her plump chin on her hand, her smooth sapphire-painted lips pursing with anticipation.

Money is boring to people who already have an endless supply of it, so Stephanie Gallo offered tattoos for payment in kind. What Stephanie wanted was secrets – and Ellie had the perfect one.

Reaching to her chest like she was reaching for her very heart, Ellie grabbed the locket that usually sat on her bedside table and, ignoring the static that stung her skin when her fingers brushed her wolf pendant, she freed it from under her shirt. ‘Open this.’ Looking away as if she were committing some unspeakable act, Ellie dropped the locket in Stephanie’s hand.