"If it gets to the point where I'm fighting, everything will come off anyway. I'm a werewolf, remember.” As if I could forget.
I tried to ask her more, but she changed the subject and set about rummaging through her closet. Twenty-minutes later, I was dressed and gawking at my image in the mirror.
I was dressed in a black, sleeveless ball gown. Yep. I said ball gown. It was beautiful, in a gothic sort of way. I felt like the Corpse Bride. My pale, practically translucent skin a stark contrast to the raven material.
The skirt of the gown puffed-out in a Princess meets Fright-Night poof. I felt ridiculous even though part of me felt like spinning in circles just to watch the skirt swish. Rigel's sudden tuxedo-clad appearance squelched the impulses of my inner six-year-old. He grinned at me and I braced myself for a smart-ass comment.
"Well. You look very…” He flicked his fingers as if thinking of something to say, "…very, uh, Mistress of the Night,” he said. I narrowed my eyes and wished I had the power to hurl him across the room Carrie-style. Fawne laughed and I turned my evil eye on her.
"Why am I dressed like this anyway?” Fawne and Rigel exchanged a look.
"It's sort of a costume. We need you to look the part you'll be playing,” Fawne said. Her arms reached behind me to fasten a huge, antique silver cross around my neck.
"And what part will I be playing. Gothic-girl Barbie?” I said gesturing to my blonde hair that Fawne had twirled into spiral curls.
"We're going to perform a glamour spell on you to make the vamps think you're a high-ranking vampire named Dionysia.”
Oh, crap.
"Should I be wearing a cross then? I mean, vampires are allergic to them. Aren't they?”
"Some might be,” Rigel said. "But not any I've ever dealt with."
"Most vampires aren't allergic to the cross. Dionysia wears one as a sort of status symbol; she has ever since Stoker's book became popular,” Fawne said.
"And, um, you guys will be there to back me up, right?” I asked.
"We'll take care of the big, bad stuff.”
"Yeah. Your job will be to find your sister. That's it.” Fawne said.
Oh. That's it. Just find my imprisoned sister while impersonating a well-known vampire in a club filled with bloodsuckers. Great. For a minute there, I was worried.
* * * *
Equinox was a lot more exclusive than The Crimson. Only guests of The Royal Valerian family were admitted, and even they needed to be on the list. Rigel held a card out to the door attendant who clapped him on the back and used a hand-held metal detector.
"Whimbrel. It's good to see you, man,” the door attendant regarded Fawne and I with curiosity. Rigel picked up a pen connected to the clipboard placed on a small kiosk.
The pen made a clicking noise and Rigel grimaced, swishing his finger over a metal disk.
A green light above the door blinked.
"He's got to scan you before we go inside. Fawne, you know the drill,” Rigel said. Fawne stepped closer to the door attendant who used the metal detector on her. Fawne went through the same motions with the pen, placing her fingertip over the disk just as Rigel had.
The door attendant stepped so close to me, I got a whiff of his after-shave. As he drew the metal detector slowly over my arms, I became aware of his attention on the bodice of my gown. I harrumphed and stomped the heel of my shoe into the ground. I was getting sooo tired of guys looking at me like that. It made me feel weird and uncomfortable, like I was doing something wrong. When the metal detector went over my skirt-covered legs, I took the opportunity to "accidentally" trip and mash the creep's toes. Fawne hid a smile and called me over to the clipboard.
"This is just to make sure you're not a vampire. It's like a lab test,” Fawne said. I reacted too slowly to her words and by the time I'd caught their meaning, Fawne had pricked my index finger with the "pen" and was smearing a drop of my blood on a thin silver disk.
A needle. The pen had a freaking needle inside it!
I snatched my hand away from her and cradled it to my chest. The light above the door flashed green several times and I followed Rigel into the club, Fawne's heels clickity-clacking just behind me.
It was hard to see much of anything unless I stood under the candelabra mounted on the walls. There were flowers and plants everywhere. The bar to my left was covered in vines of ivy and some other plant I didn't recognize. Every surface was crowded with daisies and tulips, roses and carnations. In fact, the only place that didn't look as though Mother Nature had regurgitated over it was the DJ booth to the right of us.
"Equinox is divided into two floors. Autumn and spring. Guess which level where on now,” Rigel said. I rolled my eyes and he snickered.
Techno music pulsed in rapid thrums, a throng of writhing bodies twisting with the music. I've never liked House music or techno stuff because you can't dance to it without looking like a spaz.
A huge maypole stood in the center of the dance floor. Behind it, the blossoming branches of an apple tree reached towards the ceiling. Vibrations from the stereo rained white petals over the crowd. My hands were freezing, though my face and neck felt fever-hot. I swayed on my feet and held my palms to my temples.
"We'd better go downstairs. She's going to pass out,” Fawne said.
"I'm fine. I just…need a second.”
Rigel placed his hand on the small of my back and herded us through the crowd. The black of his tux mixed with the shadows and smoke until it seemed like he was just a floating head. The illusion unnerved me and I glanced away, allowing him to steer me through the path he'd cleared.
We approached a staircase leading down. It was guarded by three bulky men. He left me with Fawne and I was, again, stuck with the impression that I was being babysat. Rigel talked with them for an instant and then waved us over.
"Warlock secret-service,” Fawne whispered. I rubbed my temples, trying to sooth the ache that had settled in. The guards moved aside to make room for Rigel. We descended the staircase and I frowned when I saw it stopped in front of a red door.
"Why not just build a moat?” I asked. Fawne smiled wryly and gave me a little punch in the arm. Turning her focus back to Rigel, I saw a lusty look wash over her. Someone was in lo-ove. Rigel stretched his palm against a scanner on the side of the door. A sound like a deadbolt turning was followed by the door popping open.
Rigel pushed through the small entryway, Fawne and I at his heels. I glanced at Fawne who was all but drooling over Rigel's new Bond look. The giddy urge to tease her filled me, but went away just as quickly when I remembered the girl filed her nails with her teeth.
"Whenever I come here, I feel like I'm in the middle of an episode of MTV Cribs,” Fawne said. She was right. I couldn't tell if we were in a lounge or an office. I could tell that whoever work/lounged here was "well-to-do" as my Grandma would say. That is when she wasn't using the word "bling" which destroyed its coolness. I love it when adults try to be cool- it's just so…cute.
"Make yourselves comfortable while I tell Prince Daray we're here,” Rigel said. I slid my high-heeled-feet across a thick, white shag carpet. After several valiant efforts to smooth down my poofy skirt I gave up and plopped onto the couch. The black lace of the gown surrounded me like some itchy fabric warden
"I thought you said Equinox had two levels,” I said. It sure didn't look like fall in here. The interior of the room held no framed photographs, no cheery decorations, and no plants. It was almost like an ad in a furniture catalogue. Only, the furniture was all white and weirdly constructed with a strange metal that reflected the lighting above us.
"It does have two levels. These are the royal family's personal rooms.” Hissing noises came from behind me, followed by the growling grumbles of an angry cat.
"I used to love cats,” Fawne said.
"Cats?” I looked over her shoulder at the desktop and coughed in surprise.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me,” I said. A crystal ball sat next to a cauldron conta
ining, what looked a lot like, kitty litter. A slender, white cat perched in front of the cauldron and was in the midst of, well, a hissy fit. The cat held its paws up, ready to throw down it seemed. Fawne reached for the cat and growled when it did its Freddy Krueger, claw slash.
"When you say you used to love cats…"
"I had them as pets when I was a kid. Their names were Mittens and Fluffy."
I made a face at the clichéd names and Fawne scowled.
"Hey, I was five when we got them. Be glad I didn't name them Poopie and Cooties.” The cat slapped at Fawne with its paw in three rapid movements.
"What's wrong Kung-fu Kitty?” I asked.
"I think he can tell what I am; can sense it.” Her face was sad.
"I'm sure he just doesn't like strangers. See, watch.” I reached forward to pet the cat, silently wishing he'd smack me, too so Fawne wouldn't feel so bad. Instead, the cat head-butted my palm and rubbed his chin over my fingers. "He smells my cats.”
"He senses your power,” a lightly accented voice said. Fawne quickly fell into a curtsy and nudged me to do the same. I gathered my skirt and imitated Fawne's motions. My gaze was aimed at the floor. It wasn't a respect thing because he was royalty; I was just too nervous to look anywhere else. “The cat is Cadmus and I…I am Prince Daray Valerian, Son to Dunlin Valerian, Prince of the Warlocks."
His hand reached towards me and tilted my chin up to stare into a pair of silver eyes. I stood, feeling more out of place than I'd felt in my life. Daray took my left hand and sandwiched it between his own, his eyes watching me in a way that made my cheeks flush. A blue, lightning-looking thing shot out of and over his hands, sending painful spikes through my fingers. I yanked myself away, stumbling backwards to get as far away from him as possible. What had he done?
"Give me your hand,” Daray said.
"But, that hurt. What did…?"
"Give me your hand.” He spoke like he was used to giving orders and even more used to having them obeyed.
"Why?”
"I'm channeling my energy to help you unleash your powers,” Daray said. I hesitated, but extended my hand to him. If I did have powers, I wanted to know. Daray took my hand in his and the same electric-blue energy crackled over my palm and up my arm. It snaked up to cover my neck and sizzled over my cheeks and into my eyes. I freaked out and tried to pull away, but Daray wouldn't let go of me. His silver eyes turned black as the pupils eclipsed the startling sterling of his irises.
The blue light burned my skin and I shrieked as huge, gross blisters began to rise on my skin. I tried to look away from him, but his eyes seemed to hold me to the spot. Transfixed, I stared into Daray's eyes, which were black as the magic ripping through my body. As the minutes passed, I became aware of the fact that those alien eyes would be the last I'd ever see. The knowledge didn't make me sad or even scared. No, I was just really pissed.
I was angry with the freak-of-nature tearing my life away and I was mad at myself for being too weak to do anything about it. This… monster thought he could just kill me, just snuff me out like I was no more than a flame on a candle wick. I thought of Gemma, alone in a dark coffin. I thought of my mother returning from her trip to find her daughters missing and pictured her frantic conversation with my terrified grandmother.
And why had this happened? Because this guy was powerful. He was stronger than me. He was a warlock. He was royalty. He was…
"Dead,” I answered through gritted teeth.
I unclenched my jaw and screamed. I cried out through the pain I felt, but, even more, I cried out with the need to escape the terror, the hopelessness and the magic that held me. An explosion of light flashed in front of me before a calm wave washed over my body. I shivered with in relief. The energy felt so cold. I felt something icy in my hands.
"Ascher!"
Who said that? Spots danced across my vision as the room refocused.
"Reverte Aurora.” It was a guy's voice, the same one from before. I couldn't understand what he was saying. I looked down at the frigid object in my hands and gasped. A sphere of red light, the size of grapefruit, circled in the palms of my hands. The crimson light was crackling over my skin, the horrible blue light fading away. "Ascher!”
Ready to fight my way out of there, I held my palms outwards and watched in amazement as the red sphere left my palms and flew at Daray. When the fiery circle reached him, it burst into flames, sending ash and smoke through the air.
Rigel tackled Daray to the ground, using his tuxedo jacket to smother the blaze. Fawne rushed over to the sprawled duo, a green vase in her hands. She emptied the vase, flowers and all, over Daray and the fire died. Rigel and Fawne continued to move around, using nearby objects to fight the tiny fire kindling throughout the room.
My fire. The fire I'd made and controlled. All at once, I knew it was true. I knew I was a Warlock. I knew I could conjure fire. And I knew I could never wake up from this nightmare.
Chapter Sixteen
All Work and No Play
After changing out of his smoldered, wet clothes, Rigel returned to the office with a less cocky attitude- and a leather bag full of weapons. He apologized to me for "using magical means" to awaken my powers, diving right into a round of target practice with me.
I was still mad at him for using the blue light on me. He'd made me think I was dying. A ruse spell, he'd called it. I had to admit though; his "magical means" were what brought me into my powers, giving me the ability to help my sister.
The Prince and I took turns attacking each other and warding off blows. He faced me, his hands out in a crouching tiger fashion as I threw balls of fire at him. All I had to do to conjure the fire was to think about it and the fireballs, sort of, emerged from my palms. It didn't even hurt. My hands just felt like they were cold. Very cold, with that kind of freezing that was so cold it was almost hot.
Daray dodged my fireballs, diving to crush them in his hands. I think he was trying to keep the damage to the furniture minimal. He caught the fire, which flared purple before extinguishing. Using his blue-light magic on them, no doubt.
"How do you do that?” I asked, throwing two fire balls at him. Daray batted one away, forcing Rigel to run after it with a small fire extinguisher.
"I am an Energy shifter,” he said.
"Um. Could you, like, elaborate? I've been a warlock for forty-eight hours, remember?” Daray flicked his hand at me and blue light snaked towards my face. I tossed a fire ball at the light and they collided, purple smoke puffing in the air. I guess he wanted me to switch to defense.
"I can tap into both the natural and magical elements of the earth and use them to thwart my enemies.” I snorted back a laugh. Who uses the word thwart?
After what seemed like an eternity of sparring, Daray stopped and told me to put down my dukes. Of course, he didn't use those words because that would require him to have some type of personality.
"We should move on to vampire self-defense. And I think you should change into something less…flammable,” Daray said. Rigel snapped his fingers and I was wearing stretchy black leggings and matching scoop-neck top.
"What are you, a wardrobe shifter?” Rigel just smiled at me with that "I-know-something-you-don't" look in his crinkled blue eyes. He plopped himself on the sofa next to Fawne who panted from the job of volunteer fire-fighter.
"Now, Ascher. The first thing you…” Daray words choked in his throat and he stopped speaking. He froze like a Madame Tussaud’s wax figure.
"The first thing I…what?” I asked. When he said nothing, I took a step towards him. "Are you okay? Prince Daray!” I waved my fingers in front of his face. "Hello!” He didn't budge. "What's his deal?” I asked, turning to make a face at Rigel and Fawne. Both were held still as if we were a movie and someone had pressed "pause."
"Hey, guys…” I started, but they were equally silent. Behind them, the cat was suspended in mid-leap. This was sooo not good.
"Hello Ascher.” I spun and hurled a fire ball at
the dark figure lurking in the corner of the room. The fire melted into the darkness and Elliot Ambrose emerged from the shadows.
"You!”
"Anise Curry, the maiden witch of the Bruer Coven contacted me on your behalf. I'm here to rescue you."
"You're here to rescue me?” His lips parted in a smile. "You're about two seconds from knowing how a marshmallow at a campfire feels like, buddy!”
"I speak the truth. The witch used the bloodstone ring I gave you to summon me. It seems she wanted to…” Elliot paused as if searching for the right word. "…help you, but is not permitted to because of her position."
"Her position?” Curious in spite of myself, I took the bait.
"She is the granddaughter of the Witch Crone and you're a warlock. Let's just say they have their differences."
"Why should I believe you? You're working with the vampires. What, is this, like, their lame attempt at getting me to switch to the dark side or something?” I asked. Elliot folded his eyebrows in a frown.
"Dark side?"
"Yeah, you know. ‘ Luke, I am your father' and all that.” I said. His frown deepened. This guy was so not a movie-buff.
"Forget it. Just undo whatever it is you did to my, uh, to them and bail."
"I will do as you've asked, but first, I must tell you what I've come to say.” I nodded and gestured for him to go on. "Anise has discovered that someone in the ranks of the Warlocks has been spying on you and your sister since the events of a few weeks ago when Gemma came in to her powers as a feline-shifter,” Elliot said.
How did Elliot know about how long Gemma had been shifting?
"The witch does not yet know who has been following you and your sister, but Warlocks seldom use such human tactics as spying on those with powers, so she feels you must be of some significant interest to them. Specifically, to Prince Daray."
"Look, all I know is that Prince Daray is helping me get my sister back from you and your suck-head friends. I…” Elliot was on me in the blink of an eye, his hands gripping my arms and his eyes two dark pools of anger.
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