by Holly Hook
“Miranda?” Lily asks.
At least I've remembered my disguise, but will it help us? The High Council will know how dangerous we Nightsides are and will sacrifice an entire new coven to destroy the threat. They'll know one of us could rock a new look.
I've got to get to Riley. I weave around tables of talking Nightsides, and my senses stay sharp to survive. And I notice the gazes sneaking towards me and then away again. No one else would perceive the irises barely moving, the postures stiffening when I pass. Yes. It's an open secret and I have to tell Riley.
The rest of the coven deserves to know we're scheduled not to make it out of here tonight. The timer has started on our lives.
But how do I pull Riley aside? I stop halfway through the tables, Lily hanging near me, and her wide eyes tell me she knows I've heard something disturbing. But we can't exchange words here. Small crowds of Truebloods stand around everywhere, and servants, now both human and Nightside, walk around with more glasses and even snack trays. I watch as a servant man ventures over to a long counter that now stands near the front of the tables, and it's covered in snack trays and more glasses.
Idea.
Riley will know what I'm up to.
I let out a breath, urging my pulse to slow. And I walk over and grab a tray, leaving Lily in silence. I put a few blood glasses on like an obedient servant and then balance it on my hand like the other servers, and I search for Riley. He's on the other side of the tables, near the edge and speaking to another Trueblood man, a silver-haired one turned in his late sixties, and the older Trueblood is shuffling with discomfort as he congratulates Riley. Yes, he knows we're doomed, and he's probably taken an oath of silence.
I weave over to Riley, leaving Lily behind. She can't follow me for too long without looking suspicious, and a glance back reveals she's walking over to stand with her parents.
“Master. I brought you some refreshments,” I say in my best, mousy servant voice as I reach Riley.
“Ah. Perfect,” Riley says with a strained smile.
He's picked up that something is wrong, too.
Now to get us away from the crowd. I tip the tray just a little, allowing one glass to fall to the black carpet.
It topples, spilling blood, and Riley's eyes widen as he backs away.
The glass shatters.
And blood goes all over the carpet, splattering Riley's pointed shoes.
I gasp and back away as gazes turn in our direction.
“I...I'm sorry!” I say, projecting the image of horrified tears to everyone standing around. Truebloods whisper and even Walton, who is standing by Stanley, lets his jaw drop.
“What have you done?” Riley shouts, face reddening. “Miranda. I brought you into this coven and got you off the streets, and you spill blood on my shoes. Put the tray down. Now.”
If I thought Riley was real, I would shudder. Slowly, I place the tray down on a nearby table, and another servant woman retrieves it and takes it away with skill. She's the one with fresh bite marks.
Riley seizes my wrist. “I'm sorry, Benjamin. I have to step aside for a moment.”
Benjamin, the silver-haired Trueblood, just nods and backs away.
“What did I tell you about grace?” Riley asks as he pulls me away from the Convening, keeping his voice low, but audible to the other Truebloods. “You just embarrassed this coven.” He pulls me not towards the podiums and the lobby where the High Council is discussing our fates, but around the room dividers that separate the Convening from the empty parts of the convention center. It's silent over here and empty. Once we're alone, Riley turns to me and softens his gaze. “What did you see or hear?” He releases my wrist.
“The High Council. They've bribed the other covens to vote against us because they got an anonymous tip that the Nightside from the Prophecy could be in our coven. They want to destroy the threat before it can overturn Trueblood society, I guess.” I'm shaking. I want Riley to hug me, but he can't here.
“Shit.” Riley pales and rubs his hand through his hair. “So Dominic got to them. Or someone else did. Word spreads. They must have heard about the battle. Shit.” He clearly didn't expect this. “I knew something was wrong since I got here. Olivia, our only chance is to gift them the Originator before they can vote. What else did you hear?”
“They said the Nightside from the Prophecy was double-dominant. As in having two copies of the Nightside mutation, and it's never happened before.” Could I be that person? “You never contacted my mother, did you?”
“Of course not,” Riley says. “I've always kept my distance, just in case. And I've been extra careful since this happened to you. But if you are double-dominant, you must do everything you can to stop them from killing us.” Riley hugs me, holding me tight. “That means you could survive. At least some of us can get out of here alive. We can't rely on the hunters to help us out, and if they want to keep their truce with the Truebloods, they won't intervene.”
Yes. Keeping the society together and secret comes first.
I swallow over a lump in my throat. “I could get through the High Council's mental barriers a little, but there are more of them now.”
“Try. I'll fight beside you.” Riley releases me just enough to kiss me for real. Who cares if we get caught at this point? They're planning to kill us no matter what. Then he smiles as we stand inches apart. “I'm glad we made love, even if it was on that beach on a bed of pine needles.”
I smile. “I'm glad, too. We’ll fight, then. We'll still offer our gift as a token of our loyalty, but after that, all bets are off.”
Riley smiles and runs his hands down my bare arms, sending good tingles along my skin. “You're stronger than you think.”
“I could get corrupted.” I gulp.
“I don't think you will, Olivia. You've come a long way,” Riley says. “Trust yourself. Use what you've got. Maybe you have these powers for a reason. The Truebloods need to learn to respect Nightsides. You've seen that tonight.”
“I must kill.” My heart's pounding and my teeth hurt from the stress.
Riley nods. “Sometimes, you have to, and that's okay. It just needs to happen for the right reasons.”
I glance at the bare, concrete floor. It's just me and Riley back here, discussing our fates, alone. I can't see any good way to come out of this alive and not corrupted, but I've got the other Nightsides to worry about. This isn't just about me, but about Riley and every other Nightside living as a vagrant or a slave because of this system. “Then I'll fight, then. It's time to play my role.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When I return to the key area behind Riley, I project the image of Miranda struggling to hold back tears. That’s easy. As soon as we re-enter the throng, Riley snaps his fingers at me as if I'm a dog, and I sit at the end of our table.
Zaza walks past, snickering at me. How mature. But I try not to look at her as she vanishes into a small group of well-dressed Trueblood women and joins a conversation about fashion and necklaces. If only I could relax like that. But here, I'm at the bottom of the totem pole by far. In fact, we Nightsides are lower than the human servers. The human servers have cut a deal with the Truebloods and had a choice about being here.
Not us.
No one comes to sit with me, and I watch as Trish picks up a snack tray and offers it to Riley, but not without a sneer. Stanley has vanished into the crowd as well, and I worry that he's off plotting something, or escaped through a side door. But all the side doors have a Trueblood in a suit with a radio strapped to his hip.
Yikes.
And just when my stomach is turning, I spot Stanley talking to Walton over on the far side of the mingling area. Phew.
I sit for a while as Riley continues to pretend that nothing is wrong, moving from group to group and suffering through more banter. I don't watch too closely, and as the hours slowly creep past, Lily dares a few glances at me as she keeps her place at the hunters' table, which has slowly accumulated members all night. I
pick at snacks. Little fancy rolls. Fancy crackers. Exotic dips. This could be my last meal, and I can't eat.
In a short time, I might become the monster of the Prophecy. I might go too far, destroy the High Council, and subdue the Truebloods after all. If that's going to happen, it'll be at this event.
And the Originator will win in his plan to use me to rise to the top after all. In fact, he might make me go too far, turning the Prophecy into a self-fulfilling one.
At last, as the clocks creep to one A.M, an announcement comes over the speaker system and drones through the convention center, echoing off the walls. It's Stella herself, sounding bored.
“Attention, all Convening guests. Dinner will begin in fifteen minutes. All servants are to report to the food prep area, on the far left. All other guests, seat yourselves. The dance will now begin at two A.M and Convening matters will begin at three. Please, continue to enjoy your evening.”
I rise, along with the other Nightsides and human servers. A scattered flood of people walk towards the area Stella just mentioned, and as I follow everyone else, Lily appears beside me, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What's happening?” she hisses.
I quickly tell her, not daring to make eye contact. “We're going to have to fight,” I finish.
Lily's careful not to let her shock onto her face. “I have no weapons. They don't allow them in.”
“Then find some,” I blurt, hating myself.
“That's why I'm going to the food prep area,” Lily says. “The hunters always go, to ask the human servers how they're being treated. They monitor their welfare. Truebloods don't go into this part of the Convening, to honor the truce we have.”
That's good. No one cares about the Nightsides, then. We're just here to be kept under control.
The kitchen area is in another divided part of the center, and it's got no carpet, but lots of makeshift prep areas and food everywhere. Extension cords run to industrial ovens. Metal counters stand in rows. And food. It's everywhere. It's regular food, and I remember that Truebloods sometimes eat to enjoy the taste, even though it's all empty calories to them. Riley does, sometimes. And it's fancy food, too. Swordfish. Artisan breads. Steamed vegetables covered in spices. Human cooks have been slaving away all night, and I spot Lily eyeing the cookware. Long knives. Utensils, all metal. Pots of oil, still steaming, on ranges. Literally everything here is a weapon, but the Truebloods are so obsessed with luxury they've allowed a weak spot into the Convening.
Already, the Riveras are talking to a pair of ladies in white aprons, who smile and assure them that everything's fine, that they're being paid well. Other hunters mingle with the cooks in the space, and servers push around everyone, trying to reach the platters spread out on the counters.
Lily flashes me an evil grin, as there isn't a single Trueblood in here to spot it. “I might be a Rivera, and a hunter, but I'm a hunter working on my own now. The others won't help you, but I will.”
I snap my gaze to her. “You will,” I breathe. “But that's dangerous.”
“I'm my own person now,” she half-growls. “There's a lot wrong with the hunters. Letting my friend die is not my plan. I think I'll stay in here for a while.”
How can I argue? Lily's green eyes glint with some plan, and I know Riley and I will need all the help we can get. If less of the work is on me, I'll cut my chances of going bad like the Prophecy says.
And I know I can't stop her. Nothing else has, so far.
“Lily. Thanks,” I whisper.
“Just keep up your image.” Lily nods to the kitchen equipment and then studies the Nightside servers, the only servers not wearing gray uniforms. Already, a line is forming near the exit of the kitchen area, and everyone in it is holding a covered platter. “And drop nothing again. Don't look too clumsy.”
And with that, she vanishes into the throng.
I grab a tray for Riley while the other Nightsides of the new coven seize trays as well. An older human woman dressed in gray barks orders at us from the roped-off exit. We're to parade out and place our trays in front of a seated Trueblood, any seated Trueblood, and while they're eating, we're to return to the kitchen to find leftovers for ourselves. Easy enough.
I just wish I knew what Lily had planned.
Dinner goes as planned, and I place my tray in front of the guy who was nice to Riley earlier in the evening. Then we retreat to the kitchen and out of sight while the elites enjoy their meal. Lily still won't talk to me, but flutters around the room like a green butterfly, striking up conversations with the Nightsides of other covens. I ignore her and wait for the dance to begin, and I spy on the dinner itself through a crack in the barrier. Classical music plays over the intercom while the Truebloods eat together, covens mixing with one another, and Riley sits with his back to me.
“Just like old times,” I mutter, thinking of his distance after we first met.
And then Stella announces, once again without showing her face, that the dance will begin in fifteen minutes. Once again, she sounds bored, as if she's trying to lull us into a false sense of security.
“The Nightsides set up the chairs for the voting while that’s going on,” Lily tells me. “Just stay on the sidelines. The human servers stay in the kitchen for that and talk to each other.”
“Riley already told me,” I hiss, staying at the side of the kitchen area. So far, this Convening is going as normal. Maybe we will get through this, if Riley presents his case well enough. The High Council might have asked the other covens to be difficult as a precaution. They've only ripped apart new covens twice in history, after all. They might vote us in after all.
And the sky is orange.
Whatever happens, we won't get off easy.
Dinner ends, and we clean up the trays and take them to the kitchen to wash. The human servers and some Nightsides get to work scrubbing dishes in makeshift sinks, probably left over from food stalls that used to stand here, and I listen to the clicking shoes of the Truebloods as they make their way to the dance floor, which is to the right of the High Council podiums.
The thought of Riley dancing with someone else makes the pressure start in my chest, but I swallow.
I exit the kitchen with the other Nightsides and get to work setting up rows of fancy folding chairs, all with black cushions, before the podiums. The place feels like a courtroom. No one speaks as we arrange the chairs in neat rows, just like in the diagram left for us on the smallest podium. Walton doesn't speak, though he looks at me with sympathy. Trish and Stanley stick together, and the two younger guys from our coven don't speak to anyone. Only the Nightsides from the other covens socialize with each other in quiet, but relaxed tones. This is just a night out to them. And once we're done setting up over thirty rows of chairs—hundreds of chairs—some Nightsides retreat to the kitchen area.
There are probably three hundred Truebloods here tonight.
Some guests are Nightsides, but even they might take part in killing us just to wow their masters.
I stand outside the kitchen, surveying the Truebloods way over on the dance floor. Fancy lights shine down on elegant suits and dresses, and Riley vanishes in the crowd as a few people dance and the others socialize around the perimeter. Three hundred? We'll have no chance, unless my power can grow to a godlike level. I see no weakness here, nothing I can exploit.
Stanley has also retreated to the kitchen where Lily and the other hunters are ignoring them and asking the human servers how life is working for a coven. The injustice of it burns through me, and I ball my fists and let the power come. I'll need it in a flash, when no one is looking.
Now is not the time to shove it down.
“Attention, guests. The last part of the Convening is about to begin,” Stella announces. “Please seat yourselves in the official zone as soon as it is convenient. Human servers and hunters remain off to the side. Nightsides, you are to sit with your masters in your assigned row.”
An ice spike shoots up my chest.
It's time.
But Stella's not done.
“Johnson Coven, you are in Row A,” she announces.
I gulp. A, on the diagram, is the row in the very front, closest to the podium and in front of every other coven.
They want us cornered.
My legs carry me to the front row, before the still-empty podiums, and I sit not on the end, but near the middle as Stella continues to assign rows. I want to be near Riley if these are our last moments. The other Nightsides sit beside me, and Riley appears last as part of the trickle from the dance floor. He sits down beside me, crossing his legs and reclining as if this is no big deal.
“Is this normal?” I whisper.
He just nods, almost imperceptibly. Of course they'll seat us up front with everyone looking at us.
I glance long enough to see Stanley seated at the end of the row beside Trish, and he pays me no attention. He just watches the closed door behind the podium, waiting for his prey, the High Council, to appear.
Silently, others seat themselves, and Lily stands off to the side with the hunters and human servers. They're all one unit, and spectators only. Can she really help? Will she really do the biggest act of rebellion in her life? If Riley and I fail, then Lily could die. No, she will die, and the hunters are so hypocritical that they might let the Truebloods kill her and her parents, too.
I wait for Riley to tell me he's sorry for this one last time.
But he doesn't apologize. It’s done, and we've got to make the best of it.
At last, once everyone sits, and there are hundreds of Truebloods behind us, ready to spring in for the kill, the side door opens. A doorman holds open the way for a pair of Trueblood men, whose movement screams power. They fan out, taking the podiums on either end of the semi-circle. The lowest ranking High Council members are emerging first.
And it builds from there. Ursala and one of the blond men who visited the mansion come out next, and then a woman and the other blond man emerge and take their podiums, leaving the middle, and the tallest three, empty.