by G. Bailey
Only the best for the Hall family.
“We’re here!” Anne cheers as the limo comes to a halt.
I swallow the rest of my drink, grab my hat and broom, and follow the others out.
The white-bricked mansion has been decorated in all things Halloween, from skeletons and pumpkins to six-foot spiders and illuminated ghosts on the front lawn. We walk up the gravelled driveway that is lined with pumpkin-shaped lanterns. Thick black webs surround the porch, wrapping around the pillars like monstrous spider legs. I think this is the first Halloween party I’ve actually wanted to go to. Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to go trick or treating, or celebrate Halloween at all. Mother said it’s an American tradition and we shouldn’t encourage it. I’ve always thought it was a bit of fun. Plus, it is a time when everyone, not just me, gets to hide behind a mask.
Lucas reaches the door first and turns the handle. He gestures me to enter, and the second I do, music engulfs my senses. The entryway is overflowing with girls and boys dancing mindlessly to the music, their costumes partially hidden by the fog streaming out of machines attached to the ceiling. Little orange fairy lights crawl around the butterfly staircase, leading up to rooms that already appear occupied. I’m impressed by whoever this Wilson is. The guy clearly knows how to put on a wicked house party.
Anne takes my hand and drags me through the crowd. I spot Ethan dancing, his tongue thrust down a petite girl’s throat. One of his hands twists through her hair and the other grabs her fluffy bunny tail, pulling her against his groin. All the other students are grinding in a similar fashion, completely intoxicated and lost to the music.
Joshua, Hunter, Nathan, and a few other guys are playing beer pong in the kitchen. Joshua looks up when we enter and misses his shot, much to the delight of his opponent.
“You forgot this,” Lucas says to Anne, handing her a bottle of lemonade.
“I’ll take one of those, too, please.” I prefer not to drink alcohol when I’m with Anne, and I’ve already had one glass of champagne on the way here. I need to stay sober so I don’t mess up tonight’s plan.
Anne and Lucas go to the kitchen island. While Lucas chats with a red-haired boy I recognise as Malcolm, Anne pours us both a glass of lemonade, and I notice her hands are shaking. I wish I knew how her scan went yesterday. It’s obviously not good news. It’s difficult because I don’t want to invade her personal space or smother her in any way, yet I also don’t want to lose her.
“Look who decided to show up.”
I peel my gaze off Anne and look up at Joshua. He’s wearing a dark leather trench coat that spills down to his ankles, a heavy black vest, trousers, boots, gloves, and sunglasses. When he crosses his arms, the coat seems to meld against his enormous muscles. I know straight away who he’s supposed to be.
“Let me guess,” I say, lifting my chin. “Blade?”
Joshua grins, hinting at a pair of fangs that look startlingly authentic. I certainly wouldn’t mind sucking his…
“You’re a Marvel fan?” Joshua asks, running a hand through his braided hair.
I raise my own hands. “Guilty as charged.”
He appears more surprised than anything. “I didn’t peg you for the kind.”
“What? Because I’m a girl and I like girly things?” I huff through my nose, pointing a thumb over my shoulder. “The nineteen-fifties just called. They want their sexism back.”
He nudges me playfully. “I didn’t mean it like that. So, what are you? Wicked Witch of the East?”
“No. I’m the Wicked Witch of the West, actually,” I correct him, “and I’m here for your heart.”
Joshua chuckles. “You’re ten years too late, babygirl.”
I keep my eyes on him, unsure exactly what he means by that.
Also, babygirl? What happened to his condescending use of ‘darling’? I should be happy about this change in dynamic, since it means he’s beginning to like me, but there’s something about the nickname that makes me uncomfortable. Then I remember… He used to call me his babygirl. I can’t believe I forgot that, but everything about him seems to disappear now and it makes me ache to remember more.
“I thought that chick was green,” Nathan jumps in, appearing beside us.
“Jesus! Where the hell did you come from?” I scowl at him, not particularly happy about how silently he keeps sneaking up on me. I give his costume a quick once over.. “Vampire? Really?”
“I was on a time crunch,” he argues, brushing a hand down his crimson waistcoat. “You’re one to talk. Wicked Witch of the West is green.”
“Oh yeah? Come back tomorrow when I’ve got a hangover,” I reply, adjusting my pointy hat. “We ran out of time, too. Terrible traffic when you’re flying on brooms, you know.”
“More like you and Anne decided to binge-watch How To Get Away With Homicide while giving each other mani-pedis,” Lucas interjects, handing me a plastic cup filled with lemonade. “I watched eight whole episodes with you two and I still don’t know what was going on.”
“That’s because you weren’t paying any attention.”
“How could I with Anne giving a running commentary?”
I laugh at that, sniffing my drink before taking a sip. I still don’t trust anyone in here apart from Anne. Hell, I’m beginning to not even trust myself anymore with how my train of thoughts that has been going on. I shouldn’t want to kiss my victims or pity them or want to spare their lives. But I do, time and time again. Well, most of them. Hunter Cross is going to die tonight one way or another.
That I am sure of.
“Who’s coming with me to the Haunted Maze?” Anne seizes mine and Lucas’ arms.
“I’m not really a fan of haunted things,” Lucas says, flicking the brim of Anne’s hat.
I grin at him. “What’s wrong, Georgian? Afraid of ghosts?”
He snorts, reaching over Anne to flip my hat off. “Have you seen it?”
I catch my hat before it falls, and look to where Lucas is pointing out the kitchen window. The entire garden is a sea of hedges floodlit with crystals and spooky decorations. A giggling group of girls jump back from the entrance before forcing each other into the maze. I can hear their screams from here and it makes me smile. I wonder if Hunter would like to take a stroll through the Haunted Maze with me?
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I squeeze Anne’s arm and turn toward the back door. “But if anything jumps out at me, I can’t be held accountable for any injuries they’ll sustain.”
“I pity the ghoul that tries to scare you,” Lucas mutters, following us out. “Do you have your lemonade, Anne?”
She stops in her tracks. “Oh, gosh. I put it on the island.”
A loud cheer erupts between the guys playing beer pong. Anne flinches and hesitates.
“I’ll grab it,” I tell them, ushering them through the patio doors.
I watch them step outside and approach the start of the maze, then I turn to get the bottle. Just as I do so, someone blocks my way and I fall into them.
Nathan.
And the drink he was holding spills all over his fancy cravat and waistcoat.
“Damn it, new girl!” He glares down at me, wiping his wet clothes.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t look sorry.”
I hold my broom against my shoulder, curling the edge of my lip. “How does one look sorry, Nathan?”
“They start by fetching me something to soak up the damage.”
He does have a point.
While he fusses over his spoiled outfit, I grab the bottle of lemonade off the table, where I just so happen to find some kitchen roll on the floor. It must have been left there by someone who half-assedly tried to clean up a puddle of beer. I bend down to grab it, but Nathan’s voice booms over me, no longer containing the mirth he showed before.
“Don’t even think about it!”
Whoever he’s cautioning doesn’t bother listening, and a firm slap lands on my arse, the searing impact pushing m
e off balance. I grab hold of the island for support, admittedly stunned as well enraged at whoever just signed their own death wish.
“I don’t know, gentleman. Her arse feels just as frigid as the rest of her looks.”
Hunter laughs, because of fucking course it had to be him who slapped me.
Two can play at that game.
His beer pong buddies burst into laughter while I pick up the kitchen roll, straighten off the floor and toss it to Nathan. He catches it, his mouth slightly agape, and I train my gaze on his dick of a brother.
Hunter’s dark green eyes tumble up and down my body, his mouth pulled into a derisive smirk. “Maybe your pussy will feel better around my cock.”
My blood boils.
This guy is just begging me to slit his fucking throat.
“In your dreams, Cunter. You’ll need a real cock to start off with, not one of your momma’s vibrators.”
This receives an even louder cheer from his comrades. I hold out my broom, jabbing Hunter in the stomach with the end, but also providing a safe barrier between us. It’s not that I can’t take him. Far from it. I just don’t want to make too much of a scene when I know by the end of the night, he won’t be breathing.
Hunter’s face turns purple with anguish. He steps forward, and by his stance alone I can tell that he’s going to strike me. I don’t think he’s used to girls standing up to him. Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? I jab once more, this time causing him to wince.
“I suggest you bibbidy-bobbity the fuck out of here, or I’m going to make this broom disappear up your arse.”
Nathan grabs his brother by the scruff of his neck and hauls him to the side. I can’t hear what Nathan is saying but his face is nearly as red as Hunter’s, though if I suspect from rage instead of embarrassment. I slide Hunter’s pack of hyenas a venomous glare, and their smiles suddenly vanish. They quickly avert their gazes, apparently more focused on the kitchen decor than his friend sexually harassing me.
When I train my eyes back on the motherfucker in question, he’s no longer standing in front of Nathan. I watch Hunter stalk out of the kitchen, losing himself in the crowd of people dancing, but instincts take hold of me and I go to seek him out.
Nathan blocks my path, holding his hands up in supplication. “I’m really sorry about that.” Not buying it, I try to sidle by him but he catches my arm, adding, “Really, I am. That was so uncivilized even for my brother.”
“Then why do you hang around with him?” I counter, briefly pausing in pursuit to hear Nathan’s lousy excuse.
Hunter’s friends creep by us, giving me an awkward smile as they do so. I glare back at them.
“He’s my brother,” Nathan answers after a moment.
“And that’s a good enough reason to excuse his behaviour?”
He furrows his eyebrows, his somewhat lighter green eyes fixed on mine. “Nobody’s perfect.”
I huff at him. “That’s just another bullshit excuse. Besides, not everyone likes to blackmail others into being with them.”
Realisation is swift to dawn on him.
“Imogen…” he whispers, his eyes darting to where his brother fled. “You know about her?”
I simply nod, gazing up at him in silence. It’s strange how alike the Cross Brothers are, and yet the more time I spend with them, the more I’m beginning to see how vastly different they are. Nathan definitely has the brains of the two. Hunter just thinks his with his dick, and I bet it’s no bigger than a fucking monkey nut.
“Regan?”
I jump at Nathan’s voice, too busy thinking of all the ways I’d like to kill his little brother. “What?”
For the first time since I met him, a soft blush rises into Nathan’s cheeks.
He runs a hand through his short, slicked-back hair. “Wanna walk through the maze with me?” he offers, biting his bottom lip.
It’s hard not to find that attraction.
“Sure,” I hear myself say. “I’d love to.”
Only because it’ll help me get to know you and figure out your sin.
I keep telling myself that as I follow him out into the garden.
Anne and Lucas are waiting for me at the entrance of the maze. Anne gasps when she sees who I’m with and tugs Lucas’ arm, whispering in his ear. Before either of them get the wrong idea, I open the lemonade and refill Anne’s cup. The little grin on her face conveys exactly what she’s thinking. She opens her mouth to speak but I cut in.
“Ready to go?”
And with that, we enter the haunted maze…
“That was insane,” Anne squeals, clutching my arm as we finally leave the maze. “Now let’s go dance!”
I must admit, I’m surprised it took us so long to find the way out. What surprised me even more was the look Lucas gave me when we decided to split up and Nathan chose me. I was more than happy to go with Nathan since it meant time alone with him, and while that did give me a great opportunity to kill him, I figured it’d be better to focus on his brother. I decided to chat with Nathan instead. Did I learn anything of importance? Not really. Daisy pretty much told me everything Nathan did.
Except for the part about Imogen.
“Hunter and Imogen have been childhood sweethearts for as long as I can remember. When Matthew entered the picture and took her away from him, it broke my brother’s heart. They had a huge bust-up one night. My brother is a lot of things but he’s not a killer. He never meant to hurt Matthew. He was just heartbroken over Imogen.”
I played along with Nathan’s story despite that I know the real version.
And I still believe that one; even if I didn’t it’s not going to stop my plans tonight.
One thing is for certain, Nathan is covering up for his brother because he, too, has a sin he doesn’t want me to know. I’ve got a strong hunch it’s something to do with murder. Why else would he try so desperately to cover up for his brother? It makes me suspect that Hunter knows what Nathan did, or at least has a clue.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and I turn to see Lucas. The moonlight shining down catches his eyes, and my breath hitches in my throat.
“Do you dance?”
“Are you asking me to?” I smirk, watching Anne drag Nathan inside to dance.
“Yeah, I’m asking.”
“Then let’s go!”
I grab his sleeve and pull him back into the house. We join Anne and Nathan dancing on the middle of the floor. The heat, the perfume and sweat cloying the air, is a little overwhelming. It feels like forever since I’ve danced, let alone with someone I totally shouldn’t have a crush on. But I let myself have this moment to just forget about everything —Truth, his list, my secret and my past, being an assassin, my parents, the Veil Council—and I move my body along with the music. Just like with books, music has always been an escape for me, and I need it now more than ever.
The song changes, and Lucas is tugged into Anne’s arms and I end up dancing with Nathan. He holds me closer than Lucas, letting our bodies move in sync to the music.
“You’re like this song,” he whispers into my ear as a dance remix of the song Dance Monkey plays. His lips brush the tip of my ear, his breath tickling me. “A monkey playing the game of the rich, stuck in their webs. You aren’t all fake despite playing their games. You’re real as me, under a perfect picture.”
“You don’t have to make so much effort to see into my soul, Nathan.”
“I don’t want to fuck the fake version of you. I want to own the real you. It’s something I’ve recently decided.”
“You have no idea who the real me is,” I warn him. Knowledge is deadly, after all.
“We all are hiding something, my dance monkey. The world makes us this way and we thrive in it nonetheless. The real, the fake, it all mixes into one sometimes, and honestly, I forgot what it was like to see anything real until I looked into your eyes.”
“And now what?”
“I’m going to own you,” he murmurs, brushing h
is lips against my cheek as he pulls back and the song ends. “And you are going to beg me to never let you go.”
Anne grabs my hands and tugs me back onto the dancefloor with her, and when I look back, Nathan is gone.
Countless songs later, we stop to get some drinks. Me and Anne stick with the lemonade while Lucas grabs a bottle of beer from the fridge. I ask him where the bathroom is and he points me to the door beside the main entrance.
My heels stick to the stained carpet as I make my way through the writhing sea of dancers. I catch Nathan dancing with another girl, and his words whisper through my mind again despite how much I want to forget them.
When I reach the bathroom, it’s locked and my bladder isn’t fond of waiting for much longer. I climb the stairs up to the first floor. Surely must be some bathrooms up here? This mansion is huge. Students fill the hallway, some of them walking in and out of rooms. Even with the music, I can hear people having sex and someone vomiting. I pass by them and walk down a small hallway that leads to another set of stairs. I don’t fancy intruding or using a bathroom stinking of vomit.
I place my hand on the mahogany banister and climb the stairs to what I assume is the third floor. Once I reach the top, it’s a lot quieter with only remnants of the music vibrating the floor and the photographs on the walls. My poor bladder is about to explode, so I rush to the nearest door, and to my relief it opens. I enter what appears to be the master bedroom. The ensuite is off to the side of the massive bed, and I hurry over to it, quickly locking myself in the bathroom.
After I’m finished, I wash my hands with the most delicious smelling bar of soap I’ve ever come across. It smells like cupcakes and candyfloss. How the hell that’s possible, I have no idea, but I want it. I dry my hands on one of the towels, taking note of the soap’s name before walking out while pulling my gloves and ring back on. I might be an assassin but I’m not a thief.
I do have some morals left.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a low, superficially calm voice mutters.
Before I can do anything, a heavy impact hits me in the stomach, driving the air from my lungs. Tears sting my eyes and as I struggle to breathe. Hunter drops a baseball bat onto the bed, but I’m quick to regain my strength. Since his foot is the nearest thing to me, I reach out and grab his ankle. He clearly underestimated my strength because I pull him right off his feet, knocking him onto his back.