I don’t really know anyone here besides my friends, nor do I care to, so I spend a lot of the party by the snack table, indulging in the fatty foods that Michael refuses to buy. I lost sight of everyone soon after we arrived; they all seem to know how to interact at these sorts of things. Somehow, I’m the wallflower of the group. So when I notice that I’m thirsty, and reach for one of the cups lined up on a table, it comes as a shock when Landon slaps my hand away. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he shouts over the booming music. “Those potions could mess you up if you don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Potions?” I look down at the cups, their contents rippling innocently with every beat of the song.
“Yeah. There are a few witches here, they came with a few special brews. I’m not sure what they do yet.”
I thank Landon, and stare down at the cups lined along the edge of the table. On closer inspection, some of them are steaming, even though they’re freezing to the touch. Others are sparkling with a strange gold dust that shifts on its own, as if there’s a current running under the liquid’s surface. I heed Landon’s warning, and explore the house in search of a water bottle.
I push past throngs of people standing in doorways, in hallways, in my way, and try to be courteous despite their drunken lack of concern for my presence. Unfortunately, I don’t know my way around the house, so it takes a few tries to find the kitchen. When I finally do, I reach into the fridge for a drink, and take a few sips before looking around. I don’t recognize any of the people around me, save for the bald demon, and I’m not about to strike up a conversation with him. So I push my way back towards the rest of the party, hoping to find a friendly face. The only one I can find, however, is Nick, talking to some girl that I don’t recognize.
It’s stupid, I know, but I’m immediately jealous of her. She’s tiny, shorter than even Alyssa, with features so slender that I worry she’s underfed. She has a thin face that ends in a pointed chin, and wild purple eyes with catlike irises that make me certain she isn’t human. I don’t know what she is, exactly; I read her energy with my second sight, but find that she isn’t like anyone I’ve encountered before. She feels reminiscent of a spellcaster, but with unrestrained power, pouring from a network that she shares with others. I take a guess at what she is, but it isn’t until she giggles, and sprouts thin, gossamer-like wings from her back that I’m absolutely sure. She’s a faerie, one of the more elusive varieties of metahuman.
Part of me longs to claw her face off. I’m surprised by how strong the urge is, and it would be so easy… but the rational part of me knows I’m just being selfish. I can’t begrudge Nick this one conversation with someone he’ll probably never see again, especially after how horrible I’ve been to him. He can have his faerie girl. I’ll just have to deal with it.
I’m just about to find a different place to awkwardly stand, when someone throws their arm around my shoulders, and points in Nick’s direction. “You’re not special, honey!,” Rachel shouts at the faerie girl. “You’re not the only one at this party with wings!”
I shove Rachel off of me, and ask, “What are you doing?”
“I’m showing this skank who’s boss!” She’s drunk, which is mildly surprising. Rachel isn’t normally the type to “let loose”. She lifts my hand into the air, and says, “This girl right here has a set of wings you wouldn’t believe!”
“Rachel, stop-“
“Come on, show them! We’re all friends here!”
“It’s not a fucking party trick.”
“Everyone stand back, she’s gonna do it!”
I sigh, and wait for the other partygoers to clear a space for me. Rachel’s already opened her big mouth; I can’t disappoint them now. Once there’s enough room, I set my wings free, wincing as they tear through the fabric of my clothing. The crowd oohs, and several of them ask if they can touch my wings. I shrug, and let it happen. At this point, I don’t care. They’ll all forget about me in five minutes.
The faerie girl watches me unblinkingly, and it’s hard to tell if she’s impressed or not. She whispers something to Nick, then casually makes her way over to me, tiny wings fluttering just quickly enough to keep her an inch off the ground. “Are you a Nephilim?,” she asks sweetly, her melodic voice catching me slightly off guard.
“Yep,” I respond quickly. I’m not sure what this girl wants, but I don’t plan on keeping up a conversation with her.
“That’s amazing! I’ve only met one other guy with wings.”
“Guy?” Okay, now she has my full attention. “What do you mean, guy?”
“Yeah, we met in L.A. about two years ago. Tall, blond, short hair, works at In-N-Out. Do you know him?”
That doesn’t make any sense… Lily’s lived in New York City all of her life, and to the best of my knowledge, has been solidly female all her life. This girl’s story can’t be possible. “Look, um…”
“Amy.”
“Amy. I don’t know what you saw, but… There’s only one other person like me out there, and she doesn’t fit your description.”
“Hmm. Oh well.” Amy shrugs, and says, “Maybe I was mistaken.”
“Maybe. You should probably get back to your friend over there, he looks pretty lonely.”
Amy looks over her shoulder at Nick, then giggles, and whispers to me, “He’s no friend. He’s tonight’s entertainment.”
“Right. Well, even so.”
“Suppose you’re right. Nice meeting you, Heather.”
“Yeah, you too.” Amy turns, and flits her way over to Nick, who’s fixing me with an apologetic stare. It isn’t until he breaks his gaze that I realize I never told Amy my name. I shrug it off as I walk out of the room; stranger things have happened. What I’m more concerned about is Amy’s supposed Nephilim sighting. Could she have met someone in Los Angeles with angel blood in them? Or was she mistaken? There’s no way to know.
I pass by Rachel on my way to a quieter part of the house. I “accidentally” bump her with an outstretched wing, and mutter, “Thanks,” before slipping out of sight.
Thus far, I’ve avoided exploring the second floor of the house. When I did the math in my head, I found the combination of drunk people and unoccupied bedrooms could only lead to one thing. But it’s the only place I haven’t been yet, and I’d like to put some distance between myself and Nick, so upwards I go. It’s dark up here, and relatively quiet; maybe there aren’t as many people up here as I had expected. I pass by a pair of vampires making out in the hallway, but they appear to be my only company.
I’m getting bored, and considering heading back downstairs when I notice the one door left ajar. I tentatively push it open, only to find that there’s no room beyond it. Instead, the door opens onto a balcony that wraps around the back of the house. I step outside, shivering a little as a late summer breeze crashes against me. Autumn is just around the corner. If New York City hadn’t been expunged of all its life, I’d be in school already, taking classes I don’t care about to earn a degree that means nothing to me. It was a simpler life. But was it a preferable life? I’ll take adventure over monotony any day, but this is not what I had in mind.
A short strain of musical laughter erupts from below, and I look down at the massive backyard. At first, I don’t see anyone, but before long, Amy’s slender figure darts into view, running barefoot through the grass with Nick in tow. She’s leading him into the woods, for God knows what. I watch them for a moment, then look away, relieved that I won’t have to hear them doing whatever it is they plan to do in a nearby bedroom.
A cool hand touches my arm, and I look beside me to see that Alyssa has appeared out of thin air. “There he goes,” she says with a sad smile. “The poor guy has no idea what he’s getting himself into.”
I turn away from the backyard to face her. “What do you mean?”
“I dated a faerie once. They don’t look at love the way we do, at least not when it comes to pairing up with a mortal. They’ll butter you up, and use you
for a good time, but there’s no real connection there. And when they get bored, they vanish.”
“Good to know.” I shrug, noting how my wing and my shoulder make the elliptical motion simultaneously. “He’s an idiot, but he’s free to do what he wants.”
“Can you blame him? You weren’t exactly fair to him.”
“Oh, what do you care? It’s not like you wanted us together.” Alyssa doesn’t respond, and when I turn to face her, I realize how harsh I must have sounded. “Sorry, that came out wrong.”
“No, it didn’t.” Alyssa clears her throat, and says, “And you’re right. I did kind of hope this day would come, but… It’s just a little bittersweet. Especially now that I sort of think of him as a friend.”
“If this is what you were waiting for, then why did Lily even happen?”
“Honestly? I only dated her to make you jealous. But I screwed up.”
“How so?”
“I actually fell for her.”
I watch Alyssa carefully, unconsciously stepping towards her as she speaks. “What about now?,” I ask, stopping myself before I close what little distance is left between us. “How do you feel about her now?”
Alyssa looks up at me, and not for the first time, I marvel at her walnut brown eyes, her pupils ringed by a halo of green. Her lips part, and she whispers, “A couple of nights before she screwed us all over, I realized that she was no you.”
I step forward, and Alyssa watches me nervously, but doesn’t back away. She doesn’t even flinch when I place my hands on either side of her face. I lean in, and press my lips against hers, and that’s what it takes to get a reaction out of her. Alyssa’s hands wrap around my middle, and she pulls me closer, her lips drawing mine in, as if she’s trying to meld us into one. I grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it as our tongues collide, and I press her against the balcony’s railing, leaning us over the backyard as the sweet scent of her perfume floods my nostrils. This is nothing like the first time we kissed; that was just body parts touching. This feels right. The same way kissing Nick always has.
Without warning, Alyssa breaks away from me, and pushes me away, breathing heavily. She wipes her mouth on the back of her hand, and says, “I can’t do this… not now.”
“What, are you kidding me?” I run my fingers through my hair, and ask, “Why not?”
“You’re still not over Nick, and you’re hurting because he’s off in the woods fucking someone that isn’t you.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Alyssa and I have been drawn to each other for nearly two years; how could she possibly be turning me down? She may be partially right, but she doesn’t realize that I’m trying to embrace the feelings for her that I’ve kept buried for so long. “Allie, this isn’t about Nick-“
“It is.” Alyssa straightens her top, and looks me dead in the eye as she says, “I want you, and this, more than anything. But I am not a rebound girl, or a consolation prize. I respect myself too much. And I expect better out of you.”
I try to explain myself, and what I’m actually feeling, but Alyssa won’t hear any of it. She pushes past me, walks through the balcony door, and slams it shut behind her.
9
For what feels like a long time, I stand on the balcony alone, trying to process what just happened. Alyssa, the girl who’s been in love with me for the better part of two years, the only girl to have caught my interest thus far, turned me down. I can’t understand it. I’m not sure I want to. I wonder if kissing her might have been a mistake. But then I remember the warmth of her touch, and I suddenly can’t imagine a better idea.
When I finally manage to shove the incident from my mind, I decide to head back downstairs. I need to distract myself, and quickly. The speakers in the living room blast a beat that matches my footsteps as I come down the stairs. A few of the people present when I spread my wings earlier cheer as I come into view, but I pay them no mind beyond giving them a small wave. I was hoping they’d have forgotten all about me by now.
With a little searching, I find the snack table, and the row of red Solo cups arranged along the edge. There are only a few left; the other partygoers must have imbibed some in my absence. I pick up a swirling, golden-flecked cup of witch’s brew, and hold it tightly as I back out of the room. I nearly bump into Alyssa on my way out, and she glances down at the drink in my hand. A second later, she asks, “What are you doing with that?”
I push past her, and call back, “I’m getting trashed, man. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”
Alyssa grabs me by the wrist to pull me back, but I wrench free of her grasp before she can. Instead, I turn back to face her, and raise the cup high as a toast to her before taking a long sip. Surprisingly, the potion doesn’t have an offensive taste; the flavor is reminiscent of Sierra Mist. It doesn’t even burn my throat like alcohol would. Instead, a soothing cool pumps through my veins, and I feel the stress of my daily life simply melt away. I down the rest of the drink, and the golden flecks once in my cup reappear on my skin, glinting in the light as I watch. I slam the empty cup down on a hallway table, and march past a dumbfounded Alyssa to grab another.
By the time I’m done with my third cup, nearly every inch of my skin is shimmering. Am I really turning gold? Or are the potions effecting my psyche? I’ll have to ask someone, because I can’t be sure. I giggle a little as I watch the gold patterns shift with every movement I make. A round of cheers erupts from the other side of the room, and I grin enthusiastically, not knowing or caring whether they’re for me or another. Why not cheer? In this moment, everything is alright. Maybe a little more than alright. And lately, that’s all I can ask for.
The rest of the party passes in an enjoyable blur. I don’t allow myself a single thought of Nick, or Alyssa, or even Lily. I just sway to the music, watch my shimmering skin, and enjoy the company of people I hardly know. They don’t silently judge me for what happened in New York City. They don’t question whether or not I’ve lost my mind. They don’t worry about me. They just know me as the angel girl. That one chick with the wings. Oddly enough, in the company of strangers, I find the peace of mind even my oldest friends can’t offer.
Some of my new friends and I break away from the main party, and find our way onto the roof, laughing and talking about nothing as we stare up at the moon. One of them, the spellcaster with the color-changing hair, starts bragging about his numerous mystical feats. It’s amusing; he seems to think he’s one of the greatest spellcasters to ever live, in spite of the fact that he’s only a few years older than I am. He even goes as far as to say that he should have been a Conduit. That’s when I start paying close attention to what he’s saying; Conduit is the modern term for Nephilim, and he’s nowhere near deserving of the title.
Someone else questions his skills, and the neon spellcaster says, “If you don’t believe me, just watch. I bet I can outmatch anyone at this party.”
“Yeah?” I roll over onto my side, and take a long look at the upstart. “How about me?”
The spellcaster laughs, and says, “Alright, bird brain. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The two of us rise to our feet, the others in our little group laughing and placing imaginary bets on which of us is stronger. They seem to favor the low-class spellcaster with the neon hair. They don’t know just how wrong they are. He grins, and lays out the terms of the challenge. “We’ll use the shed in the backyard as our target. Two spells each. Winner is the one who can impress the crowd the most.”
I look out at the tiny shed, and wonder just what on earth he thinks he can do to it, and mutter, “Got it.”
My opponent goes first. He screws his eyes shut in concentration, and holds his hands up in front of him, as if he’s conducting an orchestra. Seconds later, the shed’s paint job shifts from light blue to shocking pink. Our little gang of onlookers applauds as he reverses the spell, and the bright color drains out of the shed. He bows to the crowd, then gestures for me to make my move.
I’ll show him. I’ll show them all. I’ll just lift the shed and place it on the roof, then put it back where it once was. I extend my hand, facing my palm out to the backyard, and amass the power I think I’ll need for the spell. Instead of lifting off the ground, however, the shed explodes in a shower of earth and broken wood. It wasn’t at all what I meant to do, but at least it leaves my audience speechless.
I look down at my hands, trying to figure out what happened. Sure, I haven’t cast many spells in the past couple of months, but have I really let my control over my power slip so far? Maybe not; earning my wings involved breaking the third, final seal on my power. The first two seals revealed enormous torrents of energy that I never expected myself to have. The third seal must have unleashed far greater power than I ever expected to have. I just don’t know my own strength anymore.
With my second spell, I bring together the pieces of the shed I destroyed, and arrange them so that they’re all together again, and in the right shape. It looks as if nothing happened, but there’s already a growing crowd of partygoers from inside the house, trying to figure out what happened. One of them looks up at the roof, and shouts, “Will you guys cut that out? And get down from the roof! You’re gonna get yourselves killed.”
One of my new friends shouts back, “It’s a party, bro! Calm your tits.”
I look down at the crowd, and recognize Rachel and Alyssa standing out among the faces I cannot place. Alyssa catches my eye, and pleads with me, “Come down, Heather. I’m sorry, okay? You can stop acting like an idiot now.”
I step onto the edge of the roof, despite gasps of concern from behind and below me. “You want me to come down?,” I reply. “Then fine. Here I come!” I lean forward, and let gravity do the rest of the work, plummeting to earth amidst the terrified shouts. I don’t know why they’re all so worried; I know exactly what I’m doing. I only let the fall last a split second before spreading my wings, and angling upward to soar above the backyard. And just like that, I’m flying away from the party, fighting the cool night air for altitude so I can avoid the trees.
Scarred (the Spellbound Series Book 3) Page 7