by RJ Blain
The man’s fear was bitter, sweet, and made my mouth water. I swallowed. Then I smiled. “I’m going to a party tonight, Mr. Manwich, and I need a necklace.”
Mr. Manwich made a horrified noise.
It took American Express less than twenty minutes to send a concierge. Samantha Morrison grinned at me, slinging a shiny black leather purse over her shoulder.
“Oh, god. They haven’t fired you yet?” I moaned, making a sign to ward me against evil.
Samantha laughed. “Are you kidding? I’m the only woman in this city who can handle you, Ms. Ferdinan.”
“A-L-L-I-S-O-N spells Allison,” I replied with flippant disregard to Amex’s rules on addressing clients, glancing down at my watch with a grin. “Twenty minutes. It’s a new record.”
“What can I say? When you’re good, you’re good, and I’m good.”
An hour later, I took pity on the manager. I bought the ruby and diamond necklace.
The full moon was rising, and I had bigger game to hunt.
~*~
“I still can’t believe you did that, Allie,” Samantha muttered around a mouthful of McDonald’s fries. At least the fast-food joint hadn’t questioned the use of my credit card.
I guess I really could have it my way once and again. Either that, or Samantha’s glare frightened them into cooperation.
“Did what?” I asked, looking up from my ritualistic slaughter of my hamburger. What can I say? Old habits died hard, and hamburgers didn’t exactly classify as hors d’oeuvres.
“You took that manager for a ride,” she replied. “And I don’t mean the good type of ride.”
I stabbed a piece of the burger with my fork. “Oh, Sloppy Joe? Yeah. He deserved it. Give me some credit, Sammy. I bought the necklace, didn’t I?”
“At over a fifty-percent reduction. That was slick, girl. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
I grinned. “Old dogs can learn new tricks. Didn’t you get the memo?”
“And speaking of tricks, what are you doing here tonight of all nights? Are you insane? Don’t tell me you decided to join the circle.” Samantha stared at me with wide blue eyes.
That got a snort out of me. I shook my head. “Owed a client a favor. He needed a date for a party.”
“You are insane. What if…” Samantha glanced over her shoulder before leaning towards me. “What if someone finds out?”
“Don’t worry,” I said, stabbing at another piece of my burger. It lasted all of five seconds before I gulped it down. A lady, after all, didn’t talk with her mouth full. “I have a large enough insurance policy to cover my card, even with that pretty shiny necklace burning a hole in my wallet.”
“Is ‘pretty’ a new word for ‘gaudy’? And anyway, I’m not worried about that, you idiot. What if they find you, Shimmer?”
I flinched at Samantha’s use of my nickname. It was a throwback from well over a hundred years ago, but it still made its rounds through the supernatural community with the same virulence of a cold. “Sammy, what do you think will happen? We’ve been around a long time, girl. If they find me, well, it’s because I’ve lost my touch in my old age.”
“You aren’t that old.”
“Says the seventy-seven-year-old masquerading as a thirty-something mother of two,” I grumbled.
“We all have our flaws.”
I wrinkled my nose and eyed the remains of my burger, stabbing one of the last pieces of meat. It lasted almost half a minute. “I’m going to need a purse.”
“Okay,” Samantha replied, shaking her head. The look she gave me wasn’t promising. A talk loomed on the horizon, and it’d be at least three days before I could escape New York. “Color? Type?”
I gestured at my beat-up leather coat. “I may be ancient, but I’m no fashionista. That’s why I have you. My dress is white and red. I even have heels. They’re red.”
“You’re wearing heels? What the hell kind of party are you going to, and why wasn’t I invited? The purse is easy. Kate Spade and we’re done. There’s one nearby. Let me do the talking this time, please.”
“You got it, Boss,” I replied. I eyed my plate.
I abandoned the fries. My wolf wasn’t hungry for deep-fried rabbit food. I cringed and drew several deep breaths. One of these days, I’d stop referring to my inner beast as my wolf.
She was me. I just didn’t want to admit it.
“Are you going to be okay? Don’t you usually head out west when this happens?” Samantha fidgeted and glanced at her watch.
“I’ll manage, somehow.”
“If you need my help, call me. You know I’ll do anything I can.”
“I know. Any luck on my new ID?”
Samantha sighed. “It’s ready when you need it. We still need to go over your options, but that won’t take long. It’ll take twenty-four hours to finalize, though.”
“Good,” I replied. With luck, I wouldn’t need it, not for a few years. “Everything’ll be fine.”
Then again, it was a full moon on Halloween. What could go wrong, would. There were too many strange, dangerous things in the world for it not to.
“If you’re sure…”
I smiled for Samantha’s sake. “I’m sure.”
With a little luck, it wouldn’t be a lie.
Chapter Two
Trading my leather jacket and my worn jeans for rubies, diamonds, and a pearl-encrusted ball gown was not a satisfactory exchange. Cinderella, at least, got a prince worth keeping, if you happened to believe the perfect fairy tales Disney offered. I bet the real Cinderella had snapped her pretty neck when she lost her glass slipper. Either that, or she had wised up and shoved it up Prince Charming’s ass.
Samantha didn’t leave until the hairdresser had finished torturing my scalp. Apparently perfect curls were in, and my determined stylist was going to work magic on my untamed mane of hair, like it or not. If Mark wasn’t surprised by the transformation, I was going to eat my damned necklace.
I suspected Samantha helped by cheating, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Unlike me, Samantha was good at using her witch powers for small but useful tricks. I was almost jealous of her. While I classified as a witch too, I couldn’t do anything like Samantha could. Mine was a difficult-to-control power I buried, hoping it would never resurrect.
I showed up at the Plaza by limousine at ten until nine. A crowd of costumed figures stopped and stared. A man dressed in a classic black-and-white suit with graying hair hurried to open my door, offering me his hand.
I kept my touch delicate, emerging from the safety of the limo.
“Are you here for the gala, ma’am?” he asked.
I inclined my head. He snapped his fingers, and a bellhop appeared with a clipboard. “Your name, ma’am?”
“Allison Ferdinan,” I murmured.
“Ah, excellent, Miss Ferdinan. We’ve been expecting you. Mr. Dupree is waiting for you inside. This way, please.”
I followed the man inside, careful not to step on the hem of my gown. The hotel’s foyer, the definition of wealthy refinement, was layered in cottony spider webbing. The lights were dimmed, and candelabra-lined paths led to the registration desk and other parts of the hotel. I pulled my jeweled fan from my brand-new purse and fluttered it over my face to hide my grin. Men in faux-fur werewolf masks flanked the doors leading to the grand reception hall.
A peacock stood nearby, leaning against one of the walls, his costume complete with a long tail of brightly-colored feathers. Mark grinned at me, most of his face obscured by a halo of blue.
My brows rose. “You’re a chicken who got trapped in a paint factory. It suits you, Mark.”
“And you, my dear, look radiant,” he replied, pushing away from the wall to take my hand. “What have you done with my Allison?”
I let his possessiveness slide—this time. “Killed her. I threw the body in the Hudson. The sharks looked hungry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
He grinned at me, reaching out with his other hand to touch the necklace
hugging my throat. “Is this real?”
Ladies didn’t snort. They didn’t snicker, either. I smiled instead. “Of course not,” I lied. “What can I say? Pretty impressive for a cheap knock-off, isn’t it?”
If I told him the truth, I suspected he’d try to find out where I had stolen it from. When he found out I hadn’t stolen it, he’d spend the next several months trying to figure out where I’d gotten the money to afford it.
“You never cease to impress me. So, who are you?”
“The love child of Cinderella and Dorothy, of course. Who else could I be?” I lifted my skirts enough to show off my red heels. “Ruby slippers and everything.”
Mark stared at my feet. “Please tell me you didn’t mug Dorothy for her shoes.”
“Oh, Mark. Don’t be silly. That’s far too much work. I bribed her using your credit card.”
His laughter drew the attention of both the werewolves and guests loitering in the lobby. “You little bitch.”
“That’s no way to speak to a lady,” the trembling voice of an old woman scolded from behind me.
I think it was to my credit that I didn’t jump, whirl around, or grow a tail. I did, however, make a mental note to put my back to the wall as soon as I could.
I turned around.
The Wicked Witch of the West grinned at me. Green eyes stared down the length of her beaked nose, complete with several warts. Her pale skin matched Mark’s, the candles giving her a jaundiced appearance.
My eyes widened.
I couldn’t really feel the woman’s power, not like some Jedi playing with the Force could, but my heart skipped several beats before fluttering in my chest. I felt something, though, and it made my insides shiver.
I hid behind my fan. “A good All Hallow’s Eve to you, Great Witch,” I murmured.
“And to you, child. Mark, baby, won’t you introduce us?”
Mark bobbed his head, and the plumes of his costume wreathed his face. “Mother, this is my girlfriend, Allison. Allison, this is my mother.”
If I remembered correctly, the woman wasn’t Mark’s real mother. She had died when he was little. I glanced at him, but he was too busy staring at his mother to notice me. I settled on an oldie but a goodie.
I curtsied. “I’m charmed, Mrs…?”
“Livingston. But please, call me Olivia.” The Wicked Witch of the West focused her full attention on Mark. “Such a charming girl. Why haven’t you brought her home sooner? You should be ashamed of yourself, boy.”
“I—um—I mean, we’re both busy people, Mother. It’s hard to get away from work,” my friend mumbled.
If my eyes widened any more, they were going to pop out of my head. Mark, a man capable of wearing a peacock costume in public, was afraid of his mother?
“Allison,” Mrs. Livingston purred. I fluttered my fan and turned my attention to the witch. “However did you meet my son?”
“He kept failing his calculus tests in college, ma’am. One of my professors begged me to help him pass.” I grinned behind the shield of my fan. “He’s hopeless with numbers.”
The old woman cackled. “So you appreciate math? How rare. I feared he’d never get a degree. He’s always been more interested in other pursuits.”
I glanced at Mark. He paled. He never divulged the nature of his income to me, providing receipts and bills using numbered inventories instead of named line items. Did his current work relate to those other pursuits?
Interesting.
“He does well enough. He’s smart enough to keep me around.”
That earned me a hair-raising cackle.
Some people, like me, wore costumes or put on masks for Halloween. Others took them off.
I knew one thing for certain: I didn’t want to test Mark’s mom. Werewolf or not, I doubted I’d come out as the victor. I had learned early on there were always bigger, smarter, and stronger predators out there. Or, as the case likely was, a more powerful witch. It was a rule. Power balanced power. If that balance was disturbed, there’d be an Inquisition.
I smiled, nodded, and conceded defeat.
With luck, the woman wasn’t aware of that fact. I don’t think she realized I’d seen through her lack of a mask. At least I hoped not. I wanted to live to see the morning.
Somewhere in the hall, a clock chimed nine.
“Ladies and gentlemen, ghouls, zombies, and vampire lords, distinguished members of the fae courts, demons, devils, haunts and specters, witches of renown and lovely princesses! Welcome,” a deep voice boomed from hidden speakers. The crowd hooted and clapped. “May this All Hallow’s Eve prove terrifying.”
A cold wind gusted through the room and the candles went out. Startled cries rang out, followed by the titter of nervous laughter.
“It was a dark and stormy night,” the voice rumbled, pausing in the overly-dramatic fashion favored by far too many of the wealthy.
“Really? Does it get any more cliché than that?” I muttered. Thunder boomed from the sound system, and lights flashed overhead.
“Hush, child,” Mark’s mother chided.
“The mists of the ether world part, for just this night, allowing mortals and immortals to mingle. Will you gamble your soul away to a devil in disguise? Will you join the Wild Hunt? Will you dance beneath the light of this full moon and join the creatures of the night?”
The silence sent shivers racing through me. I drew deep, long, and steady breaths to smother the need to answer the full moon’s call. The darkness made the desire worse.
The night was for wolves, and it was for me.
I clasped my hands behind my back. No tail. I hadn’t changed. I wasn’t going to change.
I kept telling myself that until some of the tension flowed out of my muscles.
“When the light pierces the darkness, prepare yourselves, revelers of the night. This All Hallow’s Eve is a night for masks, a grand masquerade of men, monsters, and beasts. Some among you may vanish to reappear as something more—or less—than you once were. Tonight is a night for mystery. Enjoy, and do not believe your eyes, for they may deceive you.”
A single candle illuminated the darkness. Shadows twisted away from the candelabras as they were lit.
Mark was gone.
For some reason, I wasn’t terribly surprised. I fluttered my fan in front of my face to hide my frown.
“That naughty boy needs punished,” the Wicked Witch of the West said. Then she cackled.
I shivered. “Indeed.”
“M’lady,” the deep voice of the narrator murmured at my side. An old man, bent and crooked, held out a glittering mask. “You are to wear this.”
I stowed my fan in my purse and took the mask. It was designed to cover the eyes, nose, and forehead. White ribbons hung from each side of it. The style was plain, but hundreds of clear jewels studded its surface.
“Oh, how lovely. Let me tie that into place for you, dear girl.”
I was really starting to feel like Dorothy, except she had a loyal dog to keep her out of trouble. Good girls wanting to please future mother-in-laws cooperated, I reminded myself. I turned to let the witch tie the mask in place.
The satin lining was warm against my skin. As the Wicked Witch of the West secured the ribbons around my head, I felt a faint tingle.
A good girl wanting to please a future mother-in-law who was likely a witch did not react to the presence of magic. I waited until the woman finished tying the mask in place before I turned around.
“How does it look?”
“You’re beautiful, child,” Mrs. Livingston said, patting my cheek.
Her touch numbed my face.
“Enjoy your evening, m’lady,” the old narrator said before stepping away to disappear into the shadows.
For some reason, I doubted flippancy was going to work with Mark’s adoptive mom. I swallowed back the need to be sarcastic, retrieving my fan. “Mark didn’t tell me much about the party,” I admitted. “He just said to come in costume.”
; I fluttered my fan.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat, darling. What better for a party than a little horror and mystery with a chaser of the spooky and fantastical? How like Mark. He always did like his surprises.”
“It’s part of his charm,” I murmured.
I was definitely planning some horror for Mark in the very near future for getting me involved with his witch of a mother.
“Come, dear. Let’s get out of the entry.”
I smiled because it was expected of me, clasped my hands in front of me, and followed the old woman into the shadowed room.
~*~
The mask was definitely doing something to me. I felt way too good for someone stuck with Mark’s mother, forced into acting like his girlfriend without the satisfaction of having the relationship and its perks. To make matters even more unnerving, I was aware of the full moon rising, but the need to transform and embrace the night wasn’t there.
Had the witch detected what I was? Like my wolfish nature, I tried to smother any signs of my other abilities. Out of sight and out of mind was what I preferred. Sometimes, years went by without me remembering that I, like the Wicked Witch of the West, was something more than a regular woman. I kept my talents on a very short leash, so others wouldn’t notice me.
What did the mask do? Something like that took time to prepare. There were rituals. Sanctifications. Each stone required purification. Was it meant to protect me from the things Mrs. Livingston and her circle of witches knew would be at the party?
Mark couldn’t have known about my nature. Then again, I never had suspected, not even for a moment, that his adoptive mother was a witch.
Did he know? It was possible he didn’t. Witches weren’t like werewolves.
They didn’t have a tendency to bare their fangs and start howling at the moon. They didn’t, to my knowledge, think of members of the opposite gender as food or mates during the winter, either. I held my breath, waited for my lungs to burn, then released it in a slow sigh.
The air reeked of perfume, sweat, wine and other spirits.
Without the mask, I would’ve managed somehow. Some wolves, like me, learned to control themselves. Most wolves had their pack to help them when the need to change grew too strong to resist.