by Holly Hook
“I'm not answering that,” Stanley says from somewhere below, probably the sitting room. Has he even been training?
I get up and head downstairs, eager to see his reaction. Keeping up the false reality of Miranda, I pull open the front door.
“Hello,” I say, unsure what else to do, because the young woman at the door is a Trueblood. She's got auburn hair combed to one side, and a copper ring around each pupil. I smell faint perfume and clay makeup. This girl can't be much older than me, and her checkered skirt and gray sweater make her look like she's come right out of the same Rich Kid Academy that Stella must run in her spare time.
“I'm Kimberly, and I'm here from the High Council to deliver a message,” she says, handing me a tan envelope sealed with wax.
“Thank you,” I say with a small bow. A message in an envelope can't be as severe as the dreaded in-person visit. “It's much appreciated. I'll hand this to the coven master right now.”
“Are you a human or a Nightside?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. Her fingers splay out on the envelope. She's got a strange innocence and despite being a Trueblood, this girl is nothing like Addie.
“I'm a Nightside. New,” I say.
“Oh, that's so cool. I've never met one before,” she says. “Here you go, and I hope to see you at the Convening.” Kimberly hands me an envelope and bounds back to the black sedan she arrived in.
I stand there, stunned at the exchange.
Kimberly's like Riley. She's not a monster.
“See? Not all Truebloods are terrible. Most are products of their covens,” Riley hisses behind me.
I jump as the girl drives away. This is the closest we've stood since returning from Shacklesburg.
“Riley,” I breathe.
“I can't wait to see you again,” he says with a grin. “Soon. We're going to make it. I know it.” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
How can I pull away? “Charm them. I know you can, because you did me.”
And then Riley pulls away, checking the entryway. “You're doing well. Now try manipulating the other Nightsides. Quietly, of course.”
I hand him the letter, and he opens it and nods. “It's a Convening reminder. Official notice. And we're meeting at the Rose Convention Center in Washington state, starting at eight P.M. Social time is from eight to one A.M. Dinner and dance starts at one-thirty. And voting,” he says, pausing, “will be at three A.M, February sixteenth.”
Footsteps march out of the sitting room, and Stanley emerges into the entryway. “Is that about the Convening?”
I balk at how close this was and make sure he still sees me as Miranda. “I had to answer the door, because you said someone else should get it?”
Riley narrows his eyes at the gray-eyed man. “You must act the part of a servant until the Convening is over. And you have not.” Suspicion hangs off his words.
I'm glad we've broken apart in time. Riley just took a risk.
Stanley shrugs, all cool. “I didn't know it was someone from the High Council. That girl was young and didn't look like she's ever been in charge of anything.”
“Stanley,” Riley says. “Answer the door if they knock. That's the rules. Or we could land in serious trouble.”
“So are you saying,” Stanley says, “that even if they look harmless, they could end us?”
I shudder.
Look harmless.
Is he onto me? Did he hear Riley put his chin on my shoulder?
But I stay there, fiddling with my nails as if Stanley hasn't just indirectly suspected us.
“Yes. That's what I'm saying,” Riley says. “She could report back that you failed to answer the door and aren't under control. I hope that girl didn't see you.”
“But she said meeting a Nightside was cool,” I say, keeping that innocent Miranda tone. She hasn't had to kill yet. She hasn't broken.
Riley's not having it. “Go out back and train, Stanley. Right now. And work on looking like less of a rebel.”
Stanley stares at Riley and then lifts an eyebrow like he can't believe this young guy is bossing him around.
He's our suspect, after all. He's just done a good job of dodging us until now. For all I know, he's manipulating our minds right now, making us see and hear things that aren't true, and maybe he was even standing there while Riley showed me affection.
Stanley must have planned to make me answer the door after all. And we fell for it, thinking we had a small private moment.
Now he must know who I really am.
But he keeps his stare on Riley. I blink, trying to see through whatever mental tricks he's doing. “Yes, your royal highness,” Stanley says at last, whirling and walking out of the room.
Riley stands there and listens as he works his way through the back of the house and exits through the maintenance hallway. Then he lowers his shoulders and looks at me. His wide eyes tell me he knows we just screwed up.
But I don't dare speak, in case there's a chance of salvaging this. I nod. Is Stanley really gone, or is he just making us think that he is?
“Go out and train,” Riley orders me, cold and stiff.
“But I just trained,” I protest.
“We all need to work on our abilities. I'm going to call Lily and tell her which convention center we'll be at, and I hope she can go with us. You must help us watch for anyone trying to sabotage our chances of surviving. All of us will need to work together to watch for whoever is plotting against me.” It's a warning to Stanley and a way to tell me the plan.
I nod. “I'll help.”
We have two weeks left. And finally, we've settled on our prime suspect.
And finally, I've weeded him out. Stanley all but revealed that he thinks I'm Olivia, and he's right. Dad said he was old, after all.
“Good,” Riley says with a faint smile. “If we're able to hand the High Council our man, whoever it is, then we'll win their favor.”
I swallow.
We can give them Stanley, reveal his identity as the Originator, and reveal his plan to the entire Convening. But what, exactly, is his plan? He came up with the Prophecy and tried to turn me against Riley. That alone is a good excuse to throw him to the wolves. Also, he tried to make Riley into a monster, not caring that he'd attack a human. Mr. Logan suffered because of that.
He's proven that he's not a good man, and won't have anything good planned. And I'm sure the High Council has heard of him, and I'm even more sure they must fear him.
So that's our plan. If Stanley thinks that looking harmless is dangerous, then that's what I'll do.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The mansion is a buzz of nervous activity on the afternoon of the Convening.
I want to vomit in my adjoining bathroom, but I focus on the blue dress I've chosen for the occasion. Blue is a soft, harmless color, unlike red or orange or royal purple. I look like Olivia in the mirror, but as Miranda, I'll appear almost mousy, especially with that dyed hair that's been slowly growing out since I got here. The dress comes down to my ankles, and I throw on a black, long-sleeved shirt over the top to shut out the cold. It's classy, but not too classy, and I definitely don't need to outshine Riley.
Down on the first floor, people shuffle around, talking in low voices, and I hear the women all huddled and speaking in whispers. Riley marches around in squeaky new shoes, all polished for the occasion, and he reminds everyone that he will walk into the Convening first. The Nightsides are to follow, heads inclined to the floor, and he's sorry it's slightly degrading.
But Riley is in charge.
I should march in there beside him, but I'm going to stay near the back of the procession.
And watching Stanley.
We've got to go in with a surprise gift for the High Council. It's a bribe, but isn't that how the world works?
He’ll confess his crimes against the Truebloods, in front of the High Council. That's our best chance of survival.
And I've been practicing.
Not just with Walton, but in s
ecret.
And I'm going to practice until we get into the Convening and this turns real.
“Okay, Miranda,” I say, straightening my skirt against the static electricity pulling it to my legs. “March down there, mousy and nervous. Don't look like the Prophecy. You're harmless. Easy to pass over.” Except for Stanley. He suspects me, so I need that edge.
And I think that after the last two weeks, I have it.
I've been training not just on animals, but on all the Nightsides.
I've started small. I've made Lola reach for another mug of coffee here, made Becky try a funky type of tea there, and made the others decide to change into a different suit or dress before going out for the night. Then I went bigger. Daeshawn has suddenly gotten an urge to wear cream suits instead of black ones. Trish now wears turquoise jewelry instead of silver at my subtle prodding. Even Walton has ditched his pocket watches for more modern varieties. It's all small stuff, nothing anyone will even notice, but it's held.
I can manipulate the other Nightsides without them knowing. And that’s what I need to know.
And I've been watching for any signs they're trying to control me.
Opening the bedroom door, I head downstairs. Lola waves as I descend into the entryway to join the small crowd waiting under the chandelier. Daeshawn's in his cream suit, hands behind his back. Trish and Becky hang together, away from Stanley, both in matching turquoise necklaces and earrings. The other guys have all chosen plain black suits and black dress shoes, also at my prodding.
“It's about time,” Lola says to me with a nervous smile.
I'm still Miranda. “I had to get everything right.”
“Just don't outshine the Trueblood,” Riley warns me. Is he daring to give me a hint of a smile?
I won't stop practicing my mind control until we're at the Convening. Riley claps, showing we're to move outside, and I let the pressure rise.
I wrap my influence around Stanley, just a little, but not enough for him to notice much. Best to let him think this is his subconscious idea. Using a chisel instead of a hammer will get the job done until the big moment.
Hold the door.
Stanley marches over and pulls open the door, nodding with sarcasm. Yes. It's your idea. Be sarcastic.
We all parade out the door, and Stanley closes it and locks it behind us. We pile into three SUV's, and Walton drives us to the train station. Riley has taken another SUV. We've been super distant since Stanley potentially saw us interacting.
But I have felt no uncontrolled emotional outbursts since Shacklesburg. If Dad betrayed us, then I'm going to use that to my advantage. To get that mental pressure to rise, all I have to do is think of that. It’s a tool and nothing more.
I'll get through this on my own.
The train station is mostly empty, with our passenger train ready to take us up to Washington State. But my heart soars when I see Lily and her parents waiting for us in the lobby. They're seated on a bench together, dressed to the nines, and Lily has her red hair tied back in an elegant bun. She's chosen a green dress that complements her red hair well. Her parents have chosen the same green colors.
Our gazes meet. How did Lily convince her parents to come along, and to bring her?
She grins at me, and I glance away. She's still in my corner, despite me not seeing her for the past weeks. But I'm glad she's here. Something about her smile is reassuring. Does she know something I don't? Do the hunters have a plan to make sure we don't die? They only let Riley go because the coven needed at least one Trueblood to avoid the coven’s destruction.
Riley has bought our tickets, and we board the train fifteen minutes later. We all sit in our booths, fidgeting. The trip is mostly quiet, and I watch everyone for signs of nerves. But the thing is, we're all nervous, so I focus on looking out the train window as the others sip water at their tables and make trips to the bathroom. Lily and her parents sit at the back of our car, away from the rest of us, and I want nothing more than to get up and go talk to her. But I've got to stay here, projecting Miranda to everyone else in the car.
And Riley.
He sits at the front of the car, near Walton and Daeshawn, while the rest of us hang back and squirm. But Riley sits tall, looking all cool and confident, for our sake. He's trying to tell us we'll be fine. He's got to look strong.
I want to sit beside him, because it could be the last time. But I'm glad we finally made love. At least we got to do that, once.
The train rolls through woods and along the coast for hours, and the afternoon grows old as the faint orb of the sun sinks towards the horizon. We'll arrive near the convention center at seven and enter at eight. The Convening will go all night, and then the Truebloods will leave before daybreak, seeking shelter before the sun rises.
This could be my last sunset.
No. I will get through this. Stanley might not know who I am after all, because he hasn't manipulated me, right? Or maybe he's holding back because he knows I'll suspect every outburst I have. He sits two booths away, fidgeting with a deck of cards.
I gulp down my water, feeling as if I can't drink enough.
The light level gets lower and lower, and as we cross the state border, the bathroom is seeing increased use. The air thickens with nerves, and even Riley taps his table with his hand and stares into his water. The closer we get, the more real this becomes.
And at last, the train slows as we enter a large town. A faint grinding noise follows as the gears and wheels roll over the tracks, and I can hear the gravel shaking below us. The light is blue now, and pines slowly give way to low buildings. Rain spits against the glass and a pattering sound follows. One of the train's lights flickers, adding to the ominous mood.
No one speaks.
No one even moves now.
The lights of town make blurs on the glass as we roll up to the station and finally stop near a covered log platform. An employee stands outside, waiting to welcome passengers to Scouton, Washington. And he does as we all get off. Lily and her parents go first, and as she passes me, she dares a wink.
Something is going on. And I don't know what it is, but I'll take that as a good sign.
Riley rises next, and he snaps his fingers. Yeah, that's patronizing, but we all rise like good, obedient Nightsides and follow him out of the train.
Few people are getting off with us, and they quickly vanish into the station to get out of the weather. We do the same, with the hunters walking ahead of us.
I see no Truebloods in the big train station, just models of trains everywhere and newspaper articles behind glass. Our feet click against the floor as Riley and Mike Rivera call for cabs on their phone apps.
I check a wall of fancy clocks the train station has on display. It's seven-thirty.
Daeshawn curses under his breath. We're all thinking the same thing. Riley has reminded us how serious this is, and how there's no room for error.
We enter a series of cabs, five of them, and they carry us through the charming, historical town and onto the expressway. It's a twenty-minute drive, and it's full night by the time we pull off an exit and towards the Rose Convention Center that's just off the highway. We're in such a built-up area, with a couple of department stores nearby and a bunch of gas stations, that I can't believe the High Council chose this place to have the Convening. But it's been this way since modern times began. They're hiding in plain sight, and nothing looks off about the enormous building tonight. It's well lit, with not too many cars in the parking lot, and other cabs dropping people off near the entrance before rolling away again. A few limos sit in a side lot, in a roped-off area reserved for Rich Kid Academy staff, and I cringe as I see Stella herself getting out of one, accompanied by the intimidating men who must be her entourage. She's dressed in a long black coat, and her bun is as elegant as Lily's. The four walk to a side door in formation.
Our drivers pull us up to the front entrance. Two doormen stand at the front, and their perfect jaw lines and proud postures tell me t
hey're Truebloods, probably staff. A human staff member in a bright vest directs traffic, keeping his distance from the predators, and motions for the well-dressed Truebloods of another coven to enter. Everyone looks as if they've arrived at an elegant ball.
“How do they get away with this?” I ask Walton, who sits beside me.
“They must have a lot of human familiars come in,” he says, squinting at the young guy in the bright vest. “The Truebloods have money and influence. I bet this is not the normal staff, and the owners of this place probably know the truth.”
I shudder. Despite some human staff here tonight, we won't have any help.
I hyper-focus on Miranda as we roll up to the main entrance. Our cab driver announces that we're here, and he says something about this looking like a fun event. If only he knew.
We get out and I stretch, stiff from hours of traveling.
So does Walton, and Lola, who got into our cab with us. As we do, a pair of Trueblood women near the door and under the overhang stare at us. They look to be in their twenties, but who knows how long they've been Truebloods? These women could be centuries old for all I know.
I can't read their expressions, but we're being studied. I hope it's just because we're new.
They go inside, and our small crowd, including Lily and her parents, gather near the front door.
Riley ignores me, as he should, and walks up to one of the Trueblood doormen. Thankfully, both lack the red of hunger in their eyes, and I'm hoping everyone has fed before coming. With all these human employees walking around, it would be best for the Truebloods not to blow their cover at such a big event.
“We are the Johnson coven,” he announces. “I am Riley Johnson, and these are my Nightsides.”
The doorman gets out a glowing tablet and scrolls through it. “Formerly Riley Beaumont?” He lifts an eyebrow at our procession.
“Yes. I have forsaken my former father's name. The traitor.” Riley doesn't have to fake his disgust. “We are here for our vote tonight.”
“And I am Mike Rivera, and this is my wife, Ella. And Lily,” Mike says. “We are the hunter guild who balances the Johnson coven. We formerly balanced the Beaumonts, but we needed to drive them out for breaking Trueblood law.”