Lailah (The Styclar Saga)

by Nikki Kelly

  He was so sweet, I didn’t want to disappoint him by wallowing, so I forced a smile as he hoisted it onto his shoulder and carried it through to the living room.

  An hour later, the entire household—Brooke included—was well under way with the decorating; though we had spent the first thirty minutes arguing about the color scheme of the tree.

  Brooke felt that the tree should be contemporary and elegant, which meant no tinsel and just the one color: silver. Jonah had strangely suggested a two-tone scheme of black and white.

  I, on the other hand, was just desperate to layer it with everything we had.

  “You’re making it uneven!” Brooke snapped at me.

  “Hey, the bottom’s my area, you worry about your own,” I said.

  “Now, now, girls,” Ruadhan said. “It’s looking grand!”

  I wasn’t so sure. Unable to reach a compromise, we had split the enormous tree into three sections to decorate as we each wished. Given they were Vampires and they could jump ridiculously high, I’d ended up with the bottom layer. On the plus side, it was the widest compared to Jonah’s, who’d pulled the short straw, getting the very top.

  Ruadhan had opted out of having his own section. Instead, he had the pleasure of selecting an ornament for the highest point, which he had yet to reveal.

  While we worked, he made up some mince pies and mulled wine to get us in a festive mood. Given that I was the only being in the house who actually ate regular food, I had a feeling I was going to end up disliking mince pies once I’d forced down the large batch that he was halfway through creating.

  Decorating the tree, coupled with the sweet smell of mulled wine drifting from the kitchen, reminded me of the only Christmas I had ever spent in any company.

  A few years ago, I had been traveling through Scotland, and I’d been lucky enough to meet Mrs. Kynoch. She was the proprietor of a B and B, and had been kind enough to give me a job cooking and cleaning in her establishment during the busy seasonal period, in exchange for full board.

  I’d decorated the tree there with an eight-year-old girl who was staying with her parents. She had enthusiastically rammed every last ornament and piece of tinsel onto the green branches that she possibly could. Through the eyes of a child, that tree couldn’t have been more beautiful. But it was the joy she’d shown as she dressed it that made it truly special to look at. For every piece that twinkled only reflected the happiness of the girl who had placed it there.

  On Christmas Day, I had sat down with the guests and eaten a full turkey dinner with all the trimmings. We’d pulled crackers, sung songs, and danced like no one was watching. It was the only Christmas, until now, that I hadn’t been totally alone.

  While I hadn’t expected to be spending Christmas this year with a group of Vampires, I was suddenly grateful that I was. No matter how strange, they were a family. And as long as I was with them, I was part of that, part of something. Just as I had been, once before.

  “I’m done!” Brooke chirped victoriously, bringing me back to the task at hand. Brooke stood back to admire her middle layer, and I had to admit, it was pretty.

  “Hmm, Ruadhan, you got any more of these clear fairy lights?” Brooke asked.

  “Maybe. There’s another boxful in my room, have a rummage.”

  She was gone in a split second.

  Jonah plopped down on the floor, his legs crossed, observing while I crammed star shapes and reindeer—two at a time—onto the lower shoots.

  “Not sure what look you’re going for, beautiful. I’m starting to think Santa’s workshop exploded and somehow landed on your part of the tree!” he teased.

  I laughed, and I was surprised that I had managed to put my concerns and hurt feelings to one side, for a few moments. “I don’t know how they do it across the pond, but in the UK, well, the more Christmassy the better!” I said.

  I reached down to pick up a piece of red tinsel and brushed Jonah’s hand accidentally as he passed it to me. A short, sharp shock tingled under my skin, but I ignored it and carried on.

  “Thanks,” I said quickly, scrambling around the tree, bobbing and weaving the long strip through the foliage.

  Dusting myself off, I stood and admired the conflicting decor.

  Jonah’s baubles were dangling neatly and I tilted my head as I pondered his choices.

  “Dark and light can be a striking contrast. Don’t you think?” he said, crossing his arms and standing beside me.

  “I guess; looks like it’s a bit undecided though, the way it’s all mixed up. Why don’t you split it into two halves, so when you stand behind the tree it’s black, and when you’re in front it’s white?”

  “I don’t know, I think it takes a certain eye to appreciate the two blended together—”

  “We’re out of fairy lights!” Brooke zoomed back into the room and stomped her feet.

  “Ah, never mind,” Ruadhan called from the kitchen. “Come, let’s put the finishing touch on the very top.”

  He slammed the oven door and strolled over.

  Reaching into a small cardboard box, he lifted out an ornament of an Angel dressed in white, complete with a wire halo above its head. I raised my eyebrows, surprised.

  “You don’t like it, love?” he asked.

  “No, no, it’s not that. It’s just funny, with the halo and wings and all … it’s not really … accurate.” I stopped myself. If Ruadhan believed the Bible, then to him, this was how he saw things. So I veered off. “Just thought you might pick something else.”

  “Well, now. I think in this family it’s only right we have an Angel. After all, we have our very own to thank for us all being here, together.” He gestured over to me, so I stepped toward him and he handed me the ceramic figure. “And, as the newest addition to our little family, I think you should be the one to place it on the top, sweetheart.”

  I turned to the towering tree, which nearly brushed the ceiling, and considered that we couldn’t possibly have a ladder tall enough for me to climb in order to reach it.

  Bear-hugging me from behind, Ruadhan leapt into the air, hanging off a beam on the ceiling, and I remembered I had something better than any ladder.

  Unfortunately, as I attempted to pop the Angel on the top of the tree, I leaned over too far and unbalanced the both of us. As Ruadhan lost his grip on my waist, I fell headfirst into the pine, knocking it over as I went down with it.

  “Ahhhh!” I screamed, plummeting.

  Jonah, as ever, was the fastest to react. He jumped into the air, meeting me halfway to the floor, and landed on his back with me on top of him.

  I gawked in horror as the tree came crashing down.

  Brooke was speedy, just about managing to stop it from hitting the flat-screen TV on the wall and saving some of the decorations in the process.

  Before I knew it, I burst into laughter. Ruadhan was still hanging one-handed like an uncoordinated monkey from the beam above; Brooke was struggling to balance the enormous forest tree, shouting profanities; and Jonah had me sprawled out on top of him, pinning him to the floor. I rolled off his chest and cried with hysteria.

  “What is so freakin’ funny? You’ve ruined my glass snowflakes!” Brooke wailed. She only made me laugh harder.

  Ruadhan landed on all fours and helped Brooke pull the tree back up to a standing position, observing the Christmas massacre strewn everywhere. He glanced at me wiping my eyes and started bellowing a deep, hearty laugh. Even Brooke started to giggle, though she moved her hand over her mouth to try and mask it, trying her best instead to maintain a deep scowl.

  Jonah sat up and, for the briefest second, his hard bad-boy exterior faded away as he looked at me. Shaking his head, he laughed in a way I had never heard him laugh before. It was a beautiful, happy sound—one I was sure I would never be able to forget.

  “Well,” Jonah said, gathering himself. “If anything I think it’s only improved your section of the tree!”

  * * *

  SEVERAL HOURS AND FAR TOO
MANY mince pies later, I lay on the sofa, hand on belly, trying desperately to come down from my sugar rush.

  Ruadhan finished drying the plates and bobbed over to me. “You certainly enjoyed those mince pies, love!” He beamed as I nodded. “I’ll make you some more!”

  I suddenly wished I hadn’t looked so satisfied. That would cost me later, I was sure.

  “Listen, Jonah’s got to go out this evening,” Ruadhan said, his voice quieting. “He needs to … well, he needs to refuel. And I was thinking of going to the Église de rupestre de Vals. It’s a remarkable church in a small village, about forty minutes from here by car. This near to Christmas there’s a midnight Mass and I thought perhaps you’d come with me?”

  I understood. Ruadhan didn’t want to risk even a remote possibility of me being alone with Jonah.

  “Actually, I think I’d rather just stay in if you don’t mind. No need to worry about me, I’m fine. Jonah can go out, Brooke and I can just watch a movie. I promised I’d call Gabriel later this evening as well,” I lied.

  “Hmm. Well, as long as Jonah’s out. And you’ll stay indoors, yes?”

  “Yup.”

  “No more midnight strolls?” His words hung in the air for a moment. He knew I had left the house; nothing seemed to get by him.

  “If you insist.” I smiled.

  * * *

  BROOKE AND I SAT ON THE SOFA sorting through the massive DVD collection, when Jonah appeared from nowhere. I did an internal gasp when I saw him. He was dressed in dark jeans that were turned up at the bottom, showing off military-style boots; a deep V-neck T-shirt that allowed his collarbone to jut out; finished with a rich leather belt, which sat low on his waist. His jacket was black leather, and he wore several cross-shaped pendants on long worn cords around his neck. He hardly looked ready to race through the woods.

  Leaning in to Brooke, he handed her a business card and shook his phone at her. She huffed in reply.

  “Cessie, I’ll be back in a few hours.” He winked at me and several DVDs dropped off the coffee table and hit the floor as a gust of wind blew through the door when he left.

  “What’s on the card?” I asked Brooke, who was already on her feet.

  “Oh, in case of emergency. Only the name and address of the club Jonah’s gone to.” Springing over, she yanked me from off the sofa. “Come on, we need to get ready!”

  “I thought he was going out to, you know … feed?”

  “He is, he’s gone to a club to find some dark souls, and we’re not gonna sit here and let him have all the fun! Besides, Ruadhan won’t be back till the early hours, he’ll never know. Now go take a shower, you’ve got fifteen minutes and then we’re out of here!”

  She left me to contemplate my options, though I doubted I had any choice in the matter. So I made my way to the basement; as I did a message buzzed on my phone.

  ROOK ON THE RIGHT FOUR SPACES FORWARD. I MISS YOU

  Grudgingly, I moved the piece on the board but didn’t reply to his message. The hurt that I had briefly burrowed away hit me with full force and suddenly I felt rebellious.

  Ten minutes later Brooke was in my room, eyeing up my jeans-and-white-top ensemble. “No! No! No! We’re going to a nightclub, Cessie! Here.” She flung a pile of clothes down on the bed and said, “But first we need to sort out your makeup.”

  Within minutes she had painted my face, caking me in a layer of white foundation and creating a smoky look across my eyes by adding thick eyeliner and layers of mascara to my lashes. She smudged just a hint of blush on my cheeks and colored my lips with a bright red liner and lipstick to match. She let me leave my hair down but straightened my bangs, making them sweep across my eye so that I could barely see.

  I didn’t protest. I’d let her have her fun; at least that’s what I had decided until I saw the clothing she had selected. “Oh, no, come on!” I protested. “I don’t want to look like a dominatrix!”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, adjusting her own leather outfit.

  “Trust me, the type of clubs Jonah goes to, you’ll look out of place if you don’t wear what I’m giving you!”

  I looked over the low-cut black top that gathered just below the belly button (with no back to speak of), the tiny leather skirt and stiletto heels, and shook my head. “Compromise: I’ll wear the top, but can’t I wear that other skirt you got me? You know, the floaty black one?”

  She rolled her eyes, but found it for me anyway. It was short, maybe seven inches at the front, but it did have a longer, transparent train that wrapped around the back and sides. I reached for a slip and she snatched it off me in disgust. “As I said, less is more, believe me.”

  “But…”

  She’d grabbed me before I had a chance to move, tugging my T-shirt over my head. I grasped my bare chest as she began tying the two strips of the plunging halter top around my neck. She paused for a second as she brushed my hair out of the way of the sueded silk. “Crap. How’d you get that?”

  She didn’t give me a chance to answer.

  “Doesn’t matter, your hair covers it anyway. We don’t have time to argue, you’re wearing it and that’s that.”

  I was momentarily grateful that Brooke was so impatient and self-involved; at least I didn’t have to explain myself. Throwing me the pair of six-inch patent black Louboutin stilettos, she was quick to remind me of her earlier statement. “Like I said, you’ll thank me later!”

  She allowed me a quick glance in the full-length mirror in her room, and I was taken aback to see my reflection. This was so not me; I felt uncomfortable in such an outfit, and I could barely walk in the shoes. But Brooke was going to get her way.

  I slipped my iPhone, credit card, and ID into a little black patent clutch, and then we were in the bumblebee car, speeding down the road.

  “So where’s this club?” I asked her, fidgeting uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

  Brooke handed me the card from the dashboard. The top line simply read: LE BARON, LIMOUX.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I TOTTERED NEXT TO BROOKE as we made our way from the car to the entrance of the club. The line to get in was long, but that didn’t faze Brooke. Walking straight up to the doorman, she whispered in his ear and locked eyes with him. Whatever she had said did the trick; he let us straight through, unhooking the black velvet rope and ushering us inside.

  We wobbled down a corridor. Well, I wobbled, until blaring music filled my ears. It was a large space for a club outside the city. In front of me were a hundred bodies crushing each other on the dance floor and a layer of fashionable women and trendy men up against the bar.

  Brooke pushed through to the front of the bar, every man in view staring at her. She was certainly something to behold—her petite figure hugged lovingly by the skintight leather, her flaming red bob tickling her jaw, and her perfect white skin creating a striking contrast. She made her way back to where I stood. I wondered why we were dressed so scantily.

  Brooke handed me a Bloody Mary and said, “Cheers!”

  “We’ll never find Jonah in here!” I shouted, trying to be heard over the Lady Gaga remix.

  “Oh, he’s here. He’ll be in the basement,” she bellowed back, scanning the talent around us.

  “Basement?”

  “Yup. There’s a strip club below for members.”

  I thought maybe I had heard her wrong.

  It didn’t take long before a couple of local guys made their way over to us, offering a top-up on our drinks. Nodding, Brooke allowed them to buy us another round.

  For over twenty minutes, she flirted and laughed, seemingly taking a liking to the dark-haired boy who was in his early twenties and dressed too trendily in an open black shirt and designer jeans. She soon abandoned me to go to the dance floor with him, leaving me with “the friend.”

  “What? Sorry, I can’t hear you!” I yelled back at him while bouncing to the beat. He tried again, but I only feigned interest.

  Making my excuses, I strolled away, looking
for some sort of entrance to this basement Brooke had told me about. Maneuvering around the gyrating, sweaty bodies, I finally settled my eyes on a tall, stocky man in the far corner. He was suited, booted, and guarding another velvet rope, only this one was a deep red. Fluffing my hair, I attempted a confident swagger over to him, though it was more difficult given the height of the heels I had been forced into.

  “Membres seulement,” he said, not even looking at me.

  “Sorry.” I cussed myself for never learning French. “I need to go inside.”

  I finally caught his eye and he studied me for a moment. Then he lifted the rope and ushered me through.

  Carefully, I walked down the large concrete steps. When I reached the entrance I was taken aback. Brooke had been right; the basement was definitely a private member’s area. Music was humming and beautiful girls—dressed in corsets and thongs—were giving lap dances to elegantly dressed men.

  The bouncer at the bottom of the steps regarded me, and I thought for a moment that he was going to refuse me entry. Instead, he collected a glittering eye-mask from behind him. It shimmered with the red and white diamanté encrusted all over it. He gestured for me to place it over my face. I didn’t refuse. Feeling now a little like a sparkly version of Catwoman, I made my way to the bar.

  Next to the bar was an elevated stage with a pole in the middle. A girl with legs up to her armpits was twirling around it, topless, showing off her finely toned midriff, her long brown hair flowing down past her bare bottom. I don’t think her thong actually knew what a thong was.

  Casting my eye around the space, taking in the grand double vaulted ceilings, I quickly realized that all the women were wearing masks of different colors.

  Leading to the stage was a small dance floor with a silver disco ball that caught the light, making me squint as it bounced back at me. Beyond the dance floor stood a grand piano, which was, for now, absent of a pianist. An abandoned full-face mask sat on its lid.