Lucy: A Paragon Society Novel (Book 3)

by David Delaney

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she sneered. “I was just almost killed and had to run for my life. Stopping for a proper party dress wasn’t an option.”

  That’s when Marcus had offered her a drink to calm herself. Now that Lucy had stopped shaking, she realized that snapping at Marcus was the silly little girl thing to do.

  “I’m sorry for freaking out. I was upset—not at you. I was being childish.”

  “Tell me what happened,” said Marcus.

  So, Lucy gave him the blow-by-blow. It scared her all over again when she told him how the cops had turned into monsters.

  “Are they . . . is that what a shape-shifter is?” Lucy asked when she’d finished the tale.

  “I’m curious, how you know about shape-shifters?” Marcus asked.

  “Piper, she didn’t tell me, but when I looked at her I saw a leopard. It was like a picture that gets double-exposed, you know, where you end up with two faces. She knew I’d seen it and she told me what she was, but those things with the tentacles, they didn’t look like any animal I’ve ever seen.”

  “No,” Marcus agreed. “What you describe is definitely not a creature found anywhere in nature. So, that means they were not shape-shifters. But the muscular man, Orson, that’s what you said he called himself, he sounds like a classic shape-shifter, although it has been a very long time since I have heard of a shifter with such control.” Marcus paused, his gaze looking somewhere in the past. “You are certain his hands turned into claws?”

  Lucy nodded and then jumped when the phone rang. Marcus patted her knee before answering the call. After saying hello, Marcus was silent, listening.

  After several minutes Marcus said, “I understand. I have decided to move up the letting.”

  Letting? That was an odd word. Lucy tried to read Marcus’ expression, but his face remained calm and collected.

  “Yes, this evening,” continued Marcus. “Follow the instructions I provided and there will not be an issue. Make sure everyone is informed.” Marcus hung up the phone and stared at the receiver, an uncharacteristic frown on his face.

  “Is everything okay?” Lucy asked.

  Marcus looked up, his smile returning. “Yes and no. I sent a colleague to the Hollywood house and it has been completely destroyed.”

  Lucy felt a pang of guilt. “I am so sorry.”

  “Lucy, sweet one, it’s not your fault. The destruction was extensive and witnesses concur with everything you have told me. You are very lucky to be sitting here.”

  “Was it some kind of attack?” Lucy was worried, it seemed like she was being hunted. “Is someone after me? Someone who knows I can do magic?”

  “Shush now,” Marcus said. “Nothing can hurt you while you are a guest in my home. There are many things I need to explain to you about the world we live in. There are some unsavory characters that are jealous of people like us, and they can sometimes be very dangerous. I thought because you were so new to this world that you would remain unknown to them. I made an error in not having you come straight to me. I hope you can forgive me?”

  Forgive him? All he’d done since she met him was make her life better.

  “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, reaching out to stroke his arm.

  Marcus folded her hand into his and gently squeezed. “I’m afraid, however, I cannot call off my guests for the evening. They will begin arriving shortly. But if you do not feel up to it, you can remain resting and I will make apologies.”

  Lucy considered taking Marcus up on his offer to skip the party, but she could see in his eyes that it meant a lot to him if she would agree to be there. Lucy figured a hot shower and a change of clothes was all she needed.

  “I don’t have anything . . . pretty with me,” she said.

  “That’s the spirit,” Marcus said, beaming. “Do not worry, I have everything prepared.”

  Marcus led Lucy through the mansion, up the grand staircase, and to the biggest bedroom she’d ever been in. It felt more like the hotel suite from Caesars than a bedroom in a house. An amazing, white leather dress was laid out on the massive bed. Lucy held it up against her body. The hemline would only barely cover her butt. Oh well, Marcus had picked it out just for her. She would wear it and wow his guests.

  “Everything else you will need is in the bathroom, just through that door. If you find that you need anything else, just pick up the phone and one of the servants will be able to help you.”

  Marcus surprised Lucy by pulling her into an embrace. He buried his face in her neck and gave her string of gentle tiny kisses. Lucy’s knees went weak.

  “I will be downstairs, do not keep me waiting too long,” he said.

  “Okay,” squeaked Lucy.

  Marcus strode from the room, leaving Lucy breathless.

  Lucy collapsed back onto the bed, grabbing and mashing a pillow to her face to mask her excited scream.

  “I can’t believe my life,” she sighed.

  Lucy allowed herself a few more self-indulgent moments of lying there fantasizing what her future would be like spending her days and nights with Marcus and mastering the intricacies of magic. She was living a real-life fairytale. Lucy rolled off the bed, peeling her clothes away as she headed for the bathroom. She caught her reflection in a huge, ornate mirror and paused before stepping into the largest shower she’d ever seen. Like always, she performed a brutal self-assessment.

  “That bitch, Cinderella, doesn’t have anything on me,” Lucy smirked, winking at herself.

  An hour was a new record for Lucy when it came to getting ready, but she didn’t want to keep Marcus waiting. She gave her hair a few more spritzes of hairspray. It was one of her best features and she had learned how to style it for maximum impact. She checked her make-up, unhappy with the choice of eyeliner but making do, and she looked sufficiently Cosmo cover-girl worthy.

  Lucy stepped out into the upstairs hallway and listened for party noises—or any sound for that matter, and was greeted with silence.

  “Maybe, no one’s arrived yet,” she whispered.

  The house was huge, like Dynasty huge, so Lucy wasn’t sure if she was heading in the right direction for the stairs. After making yet another turn only to discover no staircase Lucy was starting to get ticked. She was just about to turn around and wind her way back to her room when she heard voices. They were coming from somewhere up ahead. Lucy continued forward. The hallway ended at a door, the voices coming from the other side. Lucy raised a hand to knock, but then thought that if she was now Marcus’ girlfriend, knocking sent the wrong impression. She wasn’t a guest, she belonged here. Lucy pushed open the door, projecting as much attitude as she could—and was at last confronted by stairs. The door stood at the top of a narrow staircase.

  Well, at least the stairs were heading down and that was the direction she wanted to go. Lucy descended as quickly as her heels would allow. When she reached the bottom she found herself in a kitchen which was easily the size of the entire downstairs of her parents’ condo.

  “Why is he rushing it? The girl is here, why not take the time to make proper preparations?” The voice came from somewhere deep in the kitchen where Lucy couldn’t see.

  The girl? Was she the girl and what was being rushed? A small prickly sensation tingled along Lucy’s neck and shoulders. What were they talking about? Instead of calling out that she was lost and needed help, Lucy crept closer to the voices, being careful not to let her heels clack on the tiled floor.

  “The master knows what he’s doing, we need to trust him,” a second voice answered.

  Master?

  The prickly feeling turned into full-blown goose bumps.

  Lucy’s attempt at being sneaky ended when her hip bumped a wheeled cart, sending it banging into a cabinet. In the silence of the kitchen it sounded like a gunshot.

  Lucy grimaced and tried to cover her eavesdropping. “Hello . . . um, is there someone here? I totally got turned around. I’m trying to find the party?” She sounded lame even to herself.


  A shuffling sound preceded a short man who stepped out of what looked like a walk-in pantry. He had a pinched face and didn’t look happy to see Lucy.

  “Oh, hello,” said Lucy. “Sorry to bother, but I’m kind of a dingbat and got lost looking for the main staircase.” Playing the stupid card was a tried-and-true tactic. Of course, Lucy had only ever used it on silly boys, not short and unattractive men, so she gave him her biggest, dopiest smile.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” snapped the ugly-dude.

  “Yes, I know, I’m sorry. If you could just point me to the party, that’d be great.”

  The little man eyed Lucy with a disgusted look on his face. It was really rude of him and Lucy was starting to get angry. Lucy tilted her head, raised her eyebrows and started clucking her tongue. A wicked grin spread across the ugly-dude’s face and for a moment Lucy was sure she had made a critical error in judgment.

  “Come on then,” said the man, stepping past Lucy.

  He led her through another maze of twists and turns that finally led past the main staircase and Marcus’ study—the only other room Lucy had been in—to a beautifully carved set of wooden double doors. The intricate wood relief the doors were adorned with caused Lucy to pause. It was a hunting scene that was depicted, but the hunters didn’t carry guns or other weapons, instead what looked like flames emanated from their hands. And the hunters quarry were a pack of very large wolves and what appeared to be some kind of jungle cat.

  Shape-shifters? Were the hunters hunting shape-shifters? The artwork gave Lucy a tight, uneasy feeling in her shoulders.

  The ugly-dude cleared his throat and gestured that Lucy should continue on through without him.

  “Thank you,” said Lucy.

  The little man didn’t respond. He just turned and headed back the way they had come. Lucy smoothed her dress, considered knocking, but once again decided against it—she belonged here.

  As Lucy turned the knob a fleeting thought rushed through her mind. Why would Marcus require his staff to call him Master? And hadn’t Marcus called them servants, not staff? Lucy was no expert, but she was pretty sure the word servant wasn’t cool anymore. It sounded way too much like slave.

  “Keep it together, Lucy,” she said.

  Lucy convinced herself there had to be reasonable explanations for the weirdness. She took a deep breath, banishing all thoughts of hunters and shape-shifters and ugly servant-dudes, it was time to have fun. She pushed open the doors.

  A ballroom.

  A polished marble floor, high ceiling, wood-paneled walls with carved columns and trim, and the requisite grand piano tucked into a corner—a ballroom. This ballroom, however, contained no musicians or twirling dancers, only Marcus and about a dozen other people. When Lucy entered, the others were standing in small groups around the room and engaged in quiet conversations. Lucy’s presence brought the talking to an end as all eyes turned to her—oh boy.

  “Lucy, my sweet,” Marcus’ voice boomed around the room. “Please, come in, everyone is very excited to meet you.” Marcus held out a hand to Lucy, inviting her to join the gathering.

  It wasn’t a party, Lucy thought. More like a get-together of close friends. It was odd, because except for the piano there was no furniture in the room. Everyone was just standing around staring at her. Even after she joined Marcus and he’d slipped his hand around hers reassuringly, Lucy was still a jumble of nerves—something felt off.

  A glass of wine was placed in her hand and Lucy took a long sip, hoping it would help calm her down. The other guests created a loose circle around her and Marcus. Each of them introduced themselves, but Lucy couldn’t focus on their names. It was their faces that had her attention. There were five women and seven men, so twelve in total—Marcus made thirteen—and all of them had an eager, excited look on their face.

  No, not eager.

  Needy.

  It was the best description Lucy could come up with for the small crowd surrounding her. They seemed anxious and impatient and . . . and hungry. And every one of them kept coming up with an excuse to reach out and touch Lucy. It felt creepy and wrong.

  There was no food.

  The thought popped into Lucy’s mind uninvited.

  There was no food in this room and, because of Lucy’s unintended tour through the kitchen, she knew there was no food being prepared. The prickly feeling was back and it had brought along a friend—a stomach full of butterflies and not the good, I’m about to be crowned Homecoming Queen kind.

  The wine wasn’t helping calm Lucy. Instead it was starting to make her head feel thick, which was weird because Lucy’s reputation for drinking any and all challengers under the table was legendary, of course she was new to wine drinking, maybe her body reacted differently to different kinds of alcohol.

  “Marcus,” said Lucy. “Where’s the powder room?”

  “Friends,” said Marcus. “Give the young lady some space, she’s new to our little circle and I fear she is feeling a tad overwhelmed.”

  Marcus understood, thank goodness. The group backed up a few paces and Lucy breathed easier. She didn’t know why she was overreacting, she felt ridiculous. Of course there would be food. Marcus had probably catered the party and the caterer was setting up somewhere else, maybe outside in the garden or by the pool. All of these Bel Air mansions had pools.

  “This way, my dear,” Marcus said, leading Lucy toward a door at the back of the ballroom.

  The others started murmuring behind Lucy. She couldn’t make out anything specific.

  Lucy decided to fish for information. “Will we be eating soon? I think I’m feeling woozy because I’m hungry.”

  “We are waiting on three more guests,” Marcus said. “As soon as they arrive, the festivities will begin, I promise.”

  Lucy nodded. “Great.”

  Marcus ushered her through the door into a large half-bathroom. He gave her a peck on the cheek and left, closing the door behind him. Lucy didn’t want to ruin her make-up, so she dampened a small towel and pressed it against the back of her neck.

  The cold compress did nothing to help the thick-head feeling. Lucy took another sip of wine, thinking that if she drank enough it would loosen her up. Under the bright bathroom lights Lucy noticed a ring on the inside of her wine glass. She rubbed a finger over it and felt a gritty residue.

  Her wine had been drugged. Lucy began to panic. Why would Marcus drug her? It made no sense, he wanted her, Lucy could feel his desire every time he touched her.

  But, why did he desire her?

  Lucy’s memory flashed to the phone conversation from earlier, Marcus had said that he was moving up the letting. At the time Lucy had thought how weird that word sounded, she knew that Let was a tennis term, but that wasn’t how Marcus was using it. What else could letting mean? Instinctively, Lucy knew it was important, but didn’t know why?

  He meant bloodletting of course, silly.

  The thought casually passed through her mind, almost like an afterthought, but Lucy knew it was the truth.

  Marcus wanted her blood.

  Everything Morgan told her about Marcus and blood-magic came flooding back into her mind—sacrifices, missing girlfriends, and murder. Lucy dropped down in front of the toilet, jamming her fingers down her throat. She vomited up as much of the wine as she could, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  A magic cult, that’s what it had to be. It wasn’t a dinner party or a friendly get-together, it was a psycho cult meeting and Lucy was going to be the main course. But why would Marcus pretend to like her? Why would he lie and tell her that she could move into the mansion?

  Maybe he wanted to keep her for a while, bleed her slowly, over days or even weeks.

  Lucy needed to get out, but the bathroom only had one door and no windows, and now that she thought about it, the ballroom didn’t have any windows either. What kind of fancy, mansion ballroom had no windows?

  A fancy, mansion ballroom that was actually a murder
room, Lucy thought.

  She was so screwed.

  Lucy checked every drawer and cabinet. There was nothing she could use as a weapon. Of course, anything less than a tank would be useless against a man who could conjure fire. Lucy’s gaze fell on the half-full glass of wine and she smiled.

  She would need to be as convincing as possible. Luckily she was scared out of her mind and both anger and fear were strong enough emotions to bring tears easily. Lucy thought about her family and how horribly she had treated them, and the very real possibility that she might not ever see them again. The sob that escaped her lips was genuine.

  Here goes nothing.

  Lucy dumped the wine down the front of her dress, letting the glass slip from her fingers to shatter on the floor. Lucy let out a scream that would have the people in the other room scrambling.

  Marcus burst through the door.

  Lucy fell into his arms, crying and jabbering. “My new dress, the wine, I’m such a spaz! I’ve ruined it. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Lucy held her breath as Marcus took in the scene. She didn’t dare meet his eyes, not trusting herself.

  “There, there, my sweet,” Marcus told her. “It’s just a dress. I will buy you a thousand dresses. Come now, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  Lucy hiccupped. “I need to go upstairs and change.”

  Marcus huffed impatiently and checked his watch. “Our last three guests will be here momentarily.”

  “I understand, but I can’t spend the evening in a wine-soaked dress,” Lucy pouted.

  “All right, but you must hurry,” Marcus said. “I will have one of the servants bring you a change of clothes.”

  Lucy didn’t miss Marcus’ use of the term servants again—he was definitely some kind of whacked-out cult leader.

  Marcus asked, “Can you find your way?”

  “Yes,” Lucy lied.

  Marcus walked Lucy through the ballroom. All eyes were upon her again, but they weren’t staring at the stained dress, they were staring at her, that needy, hungry look on their faces.

  Once she cleared the hallway to the ballroom Lucy started to run. Her balance was off, more proof that she’d been drugged, and she used one hand pressed against the walls to stay on her feet. If she could locate Marcus’ study, she could find the front door. Lucy ran for what felt like minutes, which was impossible—the house was big, but not that big. Finally she turned a corner and spotted the study through an open doorway. The front door was just down the hall to the left.