by Louisa Lo
Dad seemed puzzled. “You got invited?”
Sounded like Dad already knew about the ball, had probably received an invitation himself. And like typical Dad, he’d decided to stay in with Mom.
“How?” Clef and Boone asked at the same time. “You never get invited. Ever.”
“Madeleine Abrianna Lex,” I blurted.
“That stuck up? Why? What does she want?” Ty crossed his arms.
I was digging myself into a hole, and I knew it. Damn, I had no idea why Madeleine’s name came out of my mouth. I panicked, that was why. “She…she invited me. The house of Lex is helping with the ball’s decorations and she wanted me along. We’ve become friends this semester. She’s actually not that bad. We even work out together.” Could someone kill me to stop my babbling, please?
“This is wonderful news. You must hurry then.” Mom nodded in joyful enthusiasm. She was forever encouraging me to get involved with vengeance society. “I always knew she'd come around.”
“I don’t know.” Dad hesitated. “It might be a bit too stiff for our Megan.”
“Don’t be silly, Nick. It’ll be good for her to spend time with her friends and family on the vengeance side.”
My trickster mother was one of the happiest people I knew because she didn’t hold a grudge. Despite the cold way she was treated by the entire Aequitas clan, she never ceased to want me to have a good relationship with Grandma.
But her being treated in a crappy manner was a big part of the reason I didn’t want to play nice.
Hearing about my attendance at the ball, my other half-brothers were all making gagging gestures when my parents weren't looking. But Fir gave them a long I'll-tell-you-later look, and they stopped.
“So what is it that you're here to pick up?” Dad asked, sounding resigned. He knew the futility of disagreeing with Mom in the long-standing matter of Megan vs. vengeance society.
It was a good thing that I already worked out what to say in the event of being asked. “Our dresses and hair combs.” The Blue Unicorn had given us the instant makeup transformation, so all that was left was the hair, clothing and accessories.
“Come on, girls. Let’s go to your rooms.” For the second time that night, Fir led us towards a staircase, this one with only two risers, effectively avoiding further questions from my parents.
Whew.
Chapter Six
THE LAST TIME I was at Grandma Aequitas’ mansion, I was eleven and it was her birthday.
As per tradition, Grandma gave vengeance practice dolls to all her granddaughters to celebrate the occasion. Humans gave their little girls Barbies to try out hair and fashion on; vengeance demons gave theirs practice targets to test out the various torture methods. The dolls were enchanted to give off the appropriate screams and curses and stuff.
Everybody got a proper doll except me. Instead, I got a G.I. Joe. Not only did Grandma give me a human toy, she didn’t even bother to find out that it was a human boy’s toy.
I told my daddy right then and there I’d never return to the mansion unless I was being dragged by a dozen hell stallions. And I’d stood by my words.
Until now. Funny what desperation could make a person do, I reflected dryly as I stood in front of the mansion with Esme. The estate was so vast it would’ve taken us a full five minutes to walk to the front door from the lot where cars were being parked. Fortunately there was valet parking. The mansion’s lawn was manicured to within an inch of its life, and the looming Jacobethan structure would’ve put Downton Abbey to shame.
The widowed matriarch’s main residence was located in the parallel dimension of Rosedale, an affluent Toronto neighborhood of old money and social connections. The demonic version was pretty much the same, except in here the gloom-and-doom talk was all about the bailout of the spending fairies, and nobody thought that the hellhound teacup Chihuahuas were cute.
“Come on.” Esme gave me a nudge. “It’s not going to be that bad.”
“Ha, walk a day in my outcast shoes, Little-Miss-Grandma’s-Pet.” I snorted.
“No, I’m not her favorite. She doesn’t play favorites because it’s against the rules,” Esme protested. “And you might want to watch your manners once we’re inside. No more unladylike sounds coming through your nose—it’s like you’re a bleating goat.”
So the social norms in these events hadn’t changed at all since I was last here then. I expected as much. The men and women in the magnificent lobby were dressed in black, or off-black, as if they were attending a funeral. All those serious and haughty faces—it was like being in the Addams’ Family, but without the humor.
There was a reason why tricksters thought vengeance demons were killjoys.
They were.
Esme wore a dark purple gown that complemented her wine-red hair. Her comb was bejeweled with dark amethysts that accented her carefully coiled hair bun.
I was dressed in the same color as Esme, but as a sign of quiet defiance, I chose a hair comb of brilliant yellow topaz. Granted, it was completely hidden by my oversized bun, but it was a statement done for my benefit, not anybody else’s. My thick hair threatened to escape even under five million magically enforced bobby pins, but I admitted it was fun having Mom doll me up. We didn’t do that very often anymore.
Aidan, the stone-faced butler, announced Esme’s name in a grandiose tone, then blew through mine like an embarrassing afterthought.
Upon our entry into the gilded ballroom, the sound of live orchestra music greeted us with classical tunes from a variety of planes. A dozen giant crystal chandeliers, each flicking with real candle flames, added to the majestic feel of the whole place.
Guests milled around the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries in low murmurs. The guest list tonight was full of supernaturals of the “respectable” type. There were vengeance demons from other large houses, reapers, representatives from the four major witches’ unions, and M.A.D.D., Monsters Against Drunk Demons.
I even spotted a few banshees, reporters of breaking supernatural news. Even in the demon world, it was imperative to be on good terms with members of the press.
The Three Fates—retired auditors of regulated destinies—sat on a satin bench with Death and Fairy Godmother, sipping elven wines and reminiscing about the good old days when both happily-ever-afters and tragic ends were pre-determined and guaranteed.
Not everyone preferred to live in the past though, as there were plenty of opportunities to wheel and deal in the present. At a pillar close by was Santa Claus, chatting with a colleague of Dad’s. Santa’s annual naughty list was worth a fortune to the vengeance demons, since it served as an early indicator of future wrongdoers. Desperate for funds to buy gifts in this generation of iPhones and tablets, Santa was known to sell his precious list, very much like a human dentist might sell his clients’ personal information to telemarketers.
All in all, it was a ballroom filled with movers and shakers, but no actual dancing at all. Wild party this was not, but at least “O Fortuna” from Carmina Burana had just started playing. Yes, it was popular in supernatural high society too. Though hearing it always reminded me of those silly human beer commercials. Tonight they even had the forty-plus-member male choir wearing full monk costumes for the event. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were paying homage to the ads.
Esme tilted her head. “Strange, the choir doesn’t sound right.”
“What do you mean?”
“The singers aren’t evenly distributed in skill.”
I shrugged. It sounded just fine to me, but then again, I wasn’t the one who’d minored in Cross-Dimensional Music.
As we walked through the ballroom, the guests parted like the Red Sea for me, not out of respect, but as if I had the latest human bird flu. There were appalled faces, dirty looks, and plenty of whispers behind closed hands. Among the crowd, I saw Enid raising her glass in a tiny salute of acknowledgement.
My first instinct was to duck, thinking that Enid had found out what hap
pened with Dan Pillar. Silly, really, as students had a few days before a co-op assignment was due, and mentors generally left us be until then.
My second reaction was to feel a little touched. Enid was the only one here who didn’t look unhappy to see me. I gave her a small nod before moving on.
Esme and I found a spot at the farthest corner of the ballroom, away from the crowd that soon forgot about me.
“Wait here. I’ll go ask Grandma for an audience,” Esme said before dashing off.
I got comfortable on the burgundy silk settee and took in the surroundings that I’d become all too familiar with as a pre-teen loner.
Every physical detail was the same as before, from the two-story French windows, to the Gone-With-The-Wind-style staircase, all the way down to the fresco on the ceiling depicting the forty-nine classic methods of vengeance. The only new things were the six golden lost-soul retrievers on display in the corner closest to the entrance.
Due to their location right in a blind spot, guests wouldn’t see the dogs upon their entrance unless they turned their heads ninety degrees to the side. That was smart, as the animals were better observed from afar.
Confined in a circle of hellfire, the retrievers were playing tug-of-war with the balled-up soul of a serial rapist. All of these shiny-coated beauties were barely past their puppy stage. Guess they didn’t want to depress the patrons with sad-looking, tired, and close-to-retirement dogs, even though such animals would be the real beneficiaries of the donation. It was no different from human models in their twenties doing advertisement for anti-wrinkle creams they didn’t need. Public image was important, no matter what plane one was on.
My quiet tranquility, watching the rapist’s soul being ripped up, didn’t last long.
“Megan, is that you? I was so sure I misheard the announcer. Didn’t think you’d get an invite, or have anything other than rags to wear to this type of event.” A guy around my age with blond locks and wearing a dark grey dress shirt approached me with a smirk.
Yep, the pre-teen memories were most certainly coming back, including Cousin Fred’s jabs. Mister-I’m-So-Popular was as annoying as ever.
“Hello, Fred.” I smiled in defiance, knowing how much he hated having his name tricksterized.
Fred’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very funny. Hey, a little bird told me you failed your first co-op assignment. Run, Megan, run, before Enid hears about it.”
My heart rate began to increase like a galloping pony. How did he know about the assignment? Had Esme said something?
No, I decided. Esme might be stuck up, and she looked way better in a paper bag than most people would in a red-carpet gown, but she wouldn’t betray me like that. Up until a day ago, I would’ve been tempted to doubt her, but that little bit of herself she’d left behind when she’d recharged me made me believe.
“No, your info is wrong. I’m doing pretty well, thank you very much.” If I asked Fred about his sources outright, he’d play coy and milk this for all he could. If I simply denied the truth, maybe he’d feel the need to prove himself right.
My little strategy worked.
“No, you aren’t. Grandma said the Council is still waiting to hear from you. If you’d succeeded, you would’ve reported back already.”
Ah, so that was his source. Our own Grandma dearest. Great.
“The assignment isn’t due yet,” I reminded Fred. “Some of us like to do proper recon before going in, guns blazing.”
Fred laughed, seeing through my lie without effort. “Did the human prove to be too much, or did our favorite little trickster run amok, foam at the mouth, and burn down the target’s home?”
“I’ll foam you at the mouth…” Stupid Grandma and her honorary member status on the Council, and her tendency to complain to others about my failures. I was in the middle of getting up from the silk settee when Fred was joined by Madeleine Abrianna Lex. Great, now I had two of them to handle.
Madeleine was in a little black cocktail dress and in full networking mode. She didn’t come over to socialize with me, though. “Frederick Maximilian Aequitas, you must leave our Megan alone. The poor dear is one of the most pathetic wallflowers I’ve ever seen, and she doesn’t need any more grief from you.” Madeleine’s sugary voice purred.
“Technically, nobody’s dancing. So everybody is a wallflower,” I countered.
“Keep telling yourself that, you dirty blood.”
“Wrinkle-winged,” Fred added.
“Flickering light bulb.” Madeleine did a one up on Fred, throwing him a flirtatious glance. Great, two nasty people in my life bonding over insulting me. Gag.
“Miss Lex and Mr. Aequitas, I’m sure you’re aware that our university has just implemented a zero-tolerance policy on verbal assault and bullying.” I had no idea how long Enid had been standing behind the two banes of my existence, but there she was.
Madeleine and Fred jumped guiltily. Fred opened his mouth to argue, but one frosty look from Enid and he thought better of it. So long as they were in the vengeance co-op program, they were under Enid’s management and dared not cross her.
A string of mumbled excuses and hastily retreating footsteps later, I was left standing alone with Enid.
“Thanks,” I said wholeheartedly.
“Don’t mention it.” That was strange. Enid’s voice sounded so…young. Young, cheerful, and familiar.
I did a double take. Enid winked at me, and the voice of Serafina came through. “Payment for the horseshoe incident, my friend.”
“How did you do it?” I was impressed. Serafina’s skills were on par with any trickster worth his or her salt. The glamour she executed was precise to absolute perfection, I could’ve sworn the person before me was indeed Enid.
Except the voice, but only because Serafina allowed me to hear the difference.
“I didn’t grow up with changelings without picking up a thing or two.” Serafina smiled modestly. “Now I’d better go. The real Enid just came out of the powder room.”
I looked in the direction of said powder room. “How did you know? The entrance is blocked from view by a spell of privacy.”
Serafina giggled. For tonight at least, gone was the harried, shy girl who was dodging from one embarrassment to another. I had a feeling this was a Serafina more in her own skin, though she was wearing somebody else’s. Or maybe she was more comfortable for precisely that reason. “The changelings have this spell that acts like a human GPS tracking device. How else were they able to perform the ultimate switcheroo, century after century without the parents intervening?”
“My brother Ty would kill to have a date with you,” I called out as Serafina walked away, then I was horrified when I realized what I’d just done. To the rest of the ballroom, the lady I just tried to set up was the straight-laced middle-aged Enid, who happened to have the power of pass or fail over me. Ouch.
Esme appeared by my side. “Grandma will see you now.”
Great, now it looked like I was being called upstairs for the offence just committed.
***
“No,” Grandma said in utter, devastating simplicity. A woman of short stature, she was only a few inches taller than me, even though I was sitting and she was standing. Nevertheless, her commanding presence always made vengeance demons forget her size the moment they met her.
“But you didn’t even hear the whole story.” My voice sounded a bit whiny, even to my own ears. My chest tightened and my jaw clenched despite my best effort to relax them. I was starting to get rather pissed off, to be honest. I’d walked into her private study less than thirty seconds ago and already the old crone had refused me.
“I don’t have to know the whole story, Megan. I know what matters.” Grandma turned her aristocratic nose up in disdain. “One, you failed at your assignment. Two, you came to my event stinking of human and Blue Unicorn, with your trickery urges recently sated. Three, you have the said trickery urges. What more do I need to know?”
“But—”<
br />
“Aidan will show you out.”
The butler held open the door pointedly. I thought I saw a tiny hint of sympathy in his eyes, and somehow that cut me deeper than his indifference. Not that I’d foreseen a positive result. In fact, Grandma’s response was pretty much expected. Then why was I feeling so shitty?
“Fine,” I bit out, knocking my sofa chair back with a loud screech as I stood.
I headed towards the entrance of the private study with a straight spine. Play it cool, Megan. Just put one foot in front of the other and keep walking. She could make your life miserable if you shoot your mouth off. Well, more hellish than now, anyway.
At the threshold I turned around and opened my mouth, then shut it with a snap.
Good girl.
I slammed the heavy oak door. It felt good. For only about five seconds, but it shouldn’t be discounted.
Bad girl.
The walk from the private study to the grand staircase was less than twenty feet, but it felt much longer than that. My heart was heavy, my spirit crushed, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. That was strange. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was seriously bummed out. But I couldn’t be, because there was never any love lost between Grandma and me.
Then why was every snub from her such a surprise, every single time?
As I started down the grand staircase, I saw something else that was surprising.
Esme. Semi-hidden in the shadow of the floor-to-ceiling curtains by the French windows. Kissing a boy.
I repeat. My murderously brilliant, romantically inexperienced half-sister was kissing a boy. Like, five seconds after meeting him. I knew that with absolute certainty because I’d never seen him before, and she would’ve mentioned him had she met him before this evening.
This was so unlike Esme. Did some of my trickery tendencies get transferred into her, or was the Blue Unicorn to blame?
I paused at the top of the stairs, ignoring the butler’s not-so-subtle cough to ask me to move on. There was something off about that boy. Granted, everything about him fit right in this place, from the dark grey tailored suit to his jet-black hair, a trademark of a vengeance demon from an old family. But something was off, nevertheless.