Pavon sat on a steel shelf in his bunker and stared at a blank invitation card. He had tried a dozen names. Each one sounded wrong. The Feather Den. Plumewing's Hideaway. Every phrase made his lair sound like a cheap tent at a fair. No rich man would sail across the water for a joke. He tapped his pen and waited for a better idea. A soft scraping came from the dark end of the bunker. A small figure waddled into the light. It had a round pink body, a dark red cap, and tiny hairy feet. The mushroom boy climbed onto the shelf and pointed one stubby arm at the wall. Pavon followed the gesture. He saw a long crystal rod leaning in the corner, twin cherries glowing at its base and a gemmed crest on top. "You want me to look at that?" Pavon asked. The mushroom boy nodded fast. Pavon lifted the rod. Along the upper gem ran a fine etched line, like falling water. Where the crystal met the light, tiny sparks drifted through it. He turned it over and saw one word cut into the silver band: LUXE. The mushroom boy clapped his little hands. Pavon breathed the name aloud. "Luxe." It sounded like money. It sounded like marble halls and yachts. He wrote it on the card, then paused. A name alone was not enough. A place like Luxe needed a face. A guest so beautiful that rich men would kill to stand near him. As he thought it, the shadows shifted. A figure stepped out from behind the crystal rod, as if the word had called him. He was small and perfect, built like a carved statue, with dark horns curling from his hair. A single fig leaf hung at his hips. He looked at Pavon with lazy red eyes and smiled. "You said my name," the stranger said. "Damien Luxe. The little incubus. And you needed a face for your hall." Pavon's mouth went dry. Here was the answer to both problems at once. "You heard all that?" "I hear every man who wants what I have." Damien walked a slow circle around Pavon, studying his rainbow tail. "This place could work. The name works. But it needs me in it, or it stays a cellar." Pavon spread his feathers wide. He knew a bargain when it stood in front of him. "Then stay. Be the jewel of Luxe. I bring the rich men down. You make them want to come back." Damien touched one cherry on the crystal rod and let it swing. "I'll stay. But I don't work for free, peacock. You'll owe me." Pavon wrote LUXE across the top of every card. The lair had a name at last. The invitations would fly. But now he owed a debt to an incubus, and he did not yet know its price.

The invitations had flown, and now Pavon waited below in Luxe for his first rich guests. But Damien found him first. The little incubus leaned against the crystal rod, tracing one horn with a lazy finger. "You called me your jewel," Damien said. "A jewel has a price, peacock. I think tonight is a good night to talk about your debt." Pavon fanned his tail wide, a bright wall of rainbow feathers. "We open in three days. Ask me after the rich men come." "No." Damien pushed off the rod and stepped close. His red eyes did not blink. "I want a taste now. Something to hold. Or I walk up your hatch and out, and your hall stays a cellar with a peacock in it." Pavon's throat went tight. Without Damien, no wealthy man would sail across the water. The whole seduction he had planned depended on this beautiful face staying in the room. He needed to give Damien something real, and he needed to give it fast. He thought of the far tunnel, the one the mushroom boy had shown him. "There's a spring back there," Pavon said. "Down the dark passage. I'll show you what this place truly holds. Come." He led Damien past the shelves into the black end of the bunker. The floor sloped down. Then the passage opened, and Damien stopped. A white geyser burst from the stone. Thick, foamy liquid rose in a shimmering plume and fell in creamy sheets. It pooled across the rock and glowed faintly. The whole cave smelled sweet. Damien stepped forward, and his lazy face changed. He looked hungry. "Moonmilk," Damien breathed. He crouched and dipped one finger into the pool. He tasted it, and his shoulders shook. "This feeds me. Do you know what this is worth?" "It's yours," Pavon said. He kept his voice steady, though his heart slammed. "That's your first payment. Drink from it whenever you like. The debt shrinks by that much." Damien knelt at the geyser and drank deep. When he rose, the sharp edge had left him. He wiped his mouth and laughed low. "Clever peacock. You found the one thing that keeps an incubus loyal." He touched Pavon's cheek. "I'll stay. The jewel stays in your hall." Pavon let out his breath. He had kept his face for Luxe. The rich men would come, and Damien would be waiting to make them want to return. But Damien turned back to the geyser and drank again, and again, faster now. His eyes stayed hungry even as he swallowed. Pavon watched the plume shrink, just slightly, and understood. He had not paid off a debt. He had fed something that would only want more, and the spring would not last forever.