“Savannah, listen to me,” he pleads. “She seduced me. What was I supposed to do?”
“I actually believe you.” I chuck the lid at him. “But that’s no excuse.”
“Sure it is,” he insists. “I didn’t cheat on you willingly.”
I laugh. “What did she do? Roofie you?”
“Well . . . no.”
“Then I’d say you did this willingly.” I peer into the box, finding a necklace with a heart pendant. A plastic tag still on the chain tells me that it is made of fourteen karat white gold. I rip the necklace from its display and curl my fingers around it to make a fist.
“Shit, Sav. Take it easy. That was expensive.”
“Was it?” I smirk.
“You know how I feel about you.” He glances into the car quickly before dropping his head to mine. His voice lowers to a whisper. “Really, Sav. What did you expect me to do?”
“Why? Because I won’t sleep with you?” I wait as he gives a shrug. It looks like a cowardly way to say, “Well, yeah” to me.
I reel my arm back and pop him on the nose. Once, hard. “Fuck you!” I yell at the top of his head when he doubles over, holding his pretty soccer-star face.
I stomp away from the scene of the crime, but I don’t go inside the house. Not yet. I’m not ready to hear all the whispers and laughter and be the focus of everyone’s scrutiny. I’ve had enough of that since I first moved to this little town, where everyone has known everyone else since their preschool years, and strangers are not exactly welcomed with open arms. I’m convinced the only things that has kept me from being a complete outcast through the unbearable high school years is my friendship with Vienna and the fact that the boys seem to like how I look.
But when someone like me is publicly shamed by someone like Steve, with the assistance of someone like Jill, the vultures descend, and they can be merciless. I would rather avoid it even if it means abandoning my own birthday-slash-costume party.
I make it to the corner of the driveway, before I remember that Steve is a certifiable idiot. I whirl around to find him standing outside the car. Blood drips from his nose, ruining the expensive shirt that I told him he looked good in, but in all honesty, it makes him look like a door-to-door salesman. Unsurprisingly, his brows are furrowed in confusion.
“In case that wasn’t clear enough for you, I’m not your girlfriend anymore.” I push open the gate leading to the backyard before I stop and look over my shoulder one last time. “And I’m keeping the necklace.”
I leave him and the evil sister in the driveway. With any luck, they’ll leave and go somewhere else to finish up their business. I don’t care as long as it’s nowhere near me.
I march across the frost-covered ground, immune to the cold air that blasts my exposed flesh—and there’s a lot of it. That was a requirement of Vi’s in our trade-off. I got to dress as Little Red Riding Hood, and Steve as the big bad werewolf, if I made my costume “sexy.”
All it took was a cheap, secondhand, red dress and some creativity. With Vienna’s help—and a pair of scissors—I look nothing like an innocent girl delivering cookies to her grandmother. Steve said he liked it but obviously not enough to keep his dick in his pants.
“That’s the last time I think about him,” I mutter to myself.
I will not let him, or Jill, ruin my birthday. My armor is strong. I am strong, but I still need a minute.
Maybe two.
It’s quiet in the dark corner of the backyard, as far from the house as I can get without venturing into the woods that line the property. Back here, the stars are always bright.
I look to the sky as I have done often since the day I lost my mother. I think someone told me she would always be looking over me, and to my six-year-old brain, that meant she was in the sky with the moon and the stars. The habit of looking up for her has stuck with me for twelve years.
Like always, I don’t see my mom. But I see . . . something.
I stare at the beam of light above me as it drifts closer. Floating. Falling. I blink, but it’s still there. It’s not a trick of my mind or an illusion. Something shiny and bright is dropping out of the sky above my head.
My mouth hangs open as I watch it. I’m equally mystified and curious. A little scared because things aren’t supposed to appear out of thin air like this, and that’s exactly what happens. The light turns into a silver piece of paper. It flutters down to me, landing perfectly in the palm of my hand.
I rub my fingers over the thick parchment, mesmerized by the brilliance of it. Despite the darkness, I can easily read the elegant calligraphy.
“The Monster Ball?” Flipping it over, I read aloud the phrase on the back. “Just as the moon has brought me to you, so shall the moon bring you to the ball.”
Underneath that is a date and time. October 31st. The Witching Hour.
That’s tonight. Anyone driving by our house would know that Halloween is my favorite holiday from the prolific decorations Steve called “a little too much.”
Fuck him. Whatever this Monster Ball thing is, I’m game.
Even if I can’t explain how I received an invitation.
Chapter Two
I turn and take several steps toward the house, and the driveway where my car is parked, before I realize I don’t know where this new party is. I inspect the parchment closer—no location is given.
“Well that’s . . . odd.”
I’m back to square one.
An excited squeal erupts from the house, followed by cheers and shouts. A few gigglers dart around the side of the garage, likely trying to sneak a peek at all the action going on in the driveway. I wonder if Steve and Jill are back at it as if I hadn’t caught them in the act five minutes ago.
“I need to get out of here.” I say the words, but I don’t move. I have no plan. I don’t know where I will go or how I will get there.
“Perhaps I can help.”
I whip around toward the unexpected voice behind me and find a lady emerging from the trees. She looks like she’s on her way to the party. If Vienna decides to come up with a “Best Dressed Fairy” award, she would totally win.
She’s stunning with platinum hair streaked with light shades of blue and purple and a dusting of glitter on the bridge of her nose and cheekbones. The contacts in her eyes pop a vivid indigo color. As I admire the exquisite details of her sparkly ivory gown and matching shoes, a warm, calming sensation washes over me.
I can’t place her, and there’s something about her that tells me she’s not from Castien Valley, but I feel as if I know her.
“Have we met?” I ask.
She smiles. “Our meeting has always been intended for this night.”
“Okay.” I know I’ve been drinking, but I don’t feel drunk. It’s not me; this lady is strange.
“Is this what you have chosen to wear to your first ball?” she asks.
“Umm . . .” I look down to inspect my bordering-on-inappropriate costume.
“I have something else in mind, something more fitting for a lady of your stature,” the fairy wannabe tells me. Her voice is as beautiful and soothing as she is. I can practically hear angels singing melody behind her.
“Wait. My . . . stature?” I blink rapidly as if to release myself from whatever spell I have fallen under. “Who are you?”
She smiles, and it makes her even more mesmerizing. “My name is Gwendolyn. I am your godmother, and I am here to escort you to your coming out appearance at the ball.”
I laugh. “As in fairy godmother? Did Vi put you up to this?”
“I’m afraid I do not know what a Vi is.” She extends a delicate, glittery hand highlighted by the single best manicure I have ever seen. Thin chains lined with shimmering jewels wrap around her fingers and extend up the length of her arms where they meet her dress.
For reasons I do not entirely understand, I find myself reaching out to her. Her hand is warm when it wraps around mine, and I think I would probably let her take me anywhere. Even back to my own
party. Even to the driveway where Steve and Jill may or may not be having sex again.
I don’t find out one way or the other. Gwendolyn takes me no farther than the garage, and we enter it through the rear door without a word of explanation as to what we are doing here. Then, surrounded by my dad’s classic Firebird and all of his tools, something unbelievable happens.
A spectacular light swirls around my feet, warming my toes with a rush of heat. It drifts up my legs, catching the skirt of my costume and causing it to fly out à la Marilyn Monroe. I don’t care that I’m flashing my undies to some strange lady I don’t know. For starters, this warm breeze feels that good, but even more startling are the hallucinations I’m now having.
My cheap Red Riding Hood costume is gone, replaced by a silky blood red dress covered by a fine layer of black lace. The skirt barely comes to my knees in the front, but is longer in the back with a short lacy train. On my feet are black knee-high boots. Thin bands of black lace hold the dress up from my shoulders and plunge into a deep V-neck that shows all the cleavage I have to offer—which isn’t much. Catching a glimpse of myself in the window’s reflection, I see a sparkling black tiara sitting on top of my head. My blonde hair falls in waves down my back.
“Holy shit.” I shoot a wide-eyed look at Gwendolyn. “I must have had more to drink than I thought.”
“You are a vision, Princess.” She gives a little curtsy.
“Princess? Right.” I touch the tiara and twirl around in a circle, marveling at how the moonlight glances off the silky sheen of the dress. “I am so drunk right now.”
“You are ready for your first ball,” Gwendolyn tells me.
“If you say so. I’m going to enjoy this as long as the booze is in my system.”
Gwendolyn extends a hand to me. “Ready to meet the Prince?”
“Prince?” I take her hand with a shrug. “Why not? Is he cute?”
Gwendolyn smiles like she’s hiding a secret, and my heart flutters.
I answer my own question. “Of course he will be cute because he will be my creation. This is my inebriated subconscious at work here.”
Gwendolyn leads me out of the garage and toward the edge of the yard where we first met—where I left my sanity and sobriety behind. The sounds of the party behind me fade as we approach the tree line, and for that, I’m grateful.
“Is there really a ball, or did I hallucinate that too?” I wonder.
“There is a ball,” Gwendolyn answers.
“Where is it? Castien Valley isn’t exactly a big party town, and I have no desire to see a bunch of people I see every time I make a run to the grocery store for Dad.”
Gwendolyn flashes me a warm smile. “You shall see, dear, but I guarantee you will not run into your neighbors at this event. Now close your eyes. Your first trip can be a little unsettling until you get accustomed to it.”
“Accustomed to what exactly?”
Her hand flutters over my face, forcing my eyes shut. I feel a rush of air as if a trap door has opened beneath me, and I am falling through a black hole. Deafening silence surrounds me despite the fact that my mouth is open, and I’m pretty sure I’m screaming.
Then, suddenly, the sensation of falling stops. My feet hit solid ground. I can hear again, but the eerie silence suggests that I’m no longer in my backyard. I doubt I’m in Castien Valley anymore.
“Lovely choice for this year’s festivities,” she says. “Don’t you think?”
I peel my eyes open to find an old stone castle looming over me. “Umm . . .”
Gwendolyn takes my hand in hers. “Come, dear. We are a little late.”
“For what?”
“The ball has started, of course.” Gwendolyn flashes me a smile. “The prince is waiting.”
“Oh, right. The ball. The prince. How could I have forgotten?” I let her lead me through an archway. We follow a stone pathway surrounded by fog on both sides. Purple lights twinkle out of the mist. “You know what, Gwen—can I call you Gwen?”
She bows slightly. “If you wish.”
I look from the mysterious purple lights to the large veranda that awaits us. The two massive gargoyles flanking the arched entrance shift, transforming into two identical African American men with dreadlocks and goatees. Both are dressed in skinny black jeans and sneakers. One wears a shiny red suit jacket, while the other wears all black.
“I don’t think I’m drunk enough for this,” I mutter.
Gwen stops to show the gargoyles-turned-men the parchment that materialized out of thin air earlier this evening. Smiling impishly at them, she tells me, “You are not drunk, dear. You are merely experiencing the effects of the glamour.”
“Glamour?”
“Magic.” She nods at the two imposing men. “Bronx. Lex. Pleasure to see you again.”
“Evening, Gwendolyn,” the one on the left says in a thick New York accent.
I can’t help but giggle. This earns an eyebrow raise from the one on the right. I’m still not sure which one is Bronx and which one is Lex.
“So this is her?” He glances from me to Gwen. “You sure she’s ready for this?”
“The decision wasn’t mine to make,” Gwen answers. “The prince insisted.”
He folds his massive arms over his chest as a grin slides across his lips. “This should be interesting.”
“The glamour will work,” Gwen responds. “All will be well.”
“Best get on with it then.” The two men move to the side, revealing another opening lit by a bright-blue light.
I’m drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Despite the uncertainty that awaits me inside, I walk into the tunnel. Empowered by the knowledge that Gwen is by my side, I press on even as the light fades. In its place, darkness swallows me. Music bounces off the narrow walls, growing louder and louder, until light appears in front of me once again. My pace increases as I walk toward it, and I emerge into a grand room.
There, I stop. Blink. Blink again.
“This can’t be real,” I murmur under my breath.
“Though glamour is used to enhance the experience, I can assure you that this is all very real.” Somehow over the music, Gwen’s voice is distinct in my ear. “Welcome to your first Monster Ball, Princess.”
Chapter Three
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I spin around, but Gwen is gone.
I’m alone at a raging party filled with people I don’t know in a castle that I doubt has a Moone County zip code. I’m not sure if this is really happening, or if I’m passed out in the back yard and having a drunken hallucination. Only one thing is for certain: I have stepped way out of my comfort zone.
The host of this event, whoever it may be, has spared no expense. The large ballroom is lit by a canopy of twinkling lights of every imaginable color while a thin layer of smoke rolls over the floor. Couches and chairs are spaced along the walls on either side of me and are currently occupied by groups of guests, ranging from sweet and innocent looking to downright terrifying. I get the impression that this is a costume-themed party, though some have taken the concept to a level I could only dream of.
I peel my gaze off a guy wearing bright-blue contacts and dressed head to toe in black in the center of the dance floor as he withdraws his plastic fangs from the bare shoulder of the girl he is dancing with. My gaze lands on a tiger as it streaks across the floor.
I blink. “This can’t really be happening.”
At the center of all the madness is a band, named Dastardly Deeds according to the name written on the drums in purple neon lights. I’ve never heard of them, but they’re good. Their blue-haired lead singer has a magnetic voice that pulls me further into the large room. My eyes drift over the werewolf playing guitar to the red-haired drummer maintaining an impossibly fast beat, and my pulse accelerates to the pace of the music.
The dance floor is filled with gyrating bodies shrouded in darkness. The few faces I glimpse give me pause, and I retreat to the bar behind me.
Glow
ing purple shelves on the wall highlight the variety of drinks available. Two bartenders whip up cocktails behind the counter. I find a gap beside a woman who flashes me a dangerous smile emphasized by two long fangs.
I gawk at her teeth. “How did you get them to look so real?”
She tosses back a shot of red syrup I assume is a prop meant to be blood. Whoever these people are, they really get into character. As a Halloween fanatic, I could get into this—if I had been more prepared. For the moment, I’m a little overwhelmed.
Vampiress shifts her gaze back to me. She stares a beat, and my pulse quickens in response to the wildness I see in her eyes. Then she darts a glance at the tiara on my head and smirks.
“Stupid shifters and their royal—”
“Careful what you say, night walker.” A deep, gravelly voice cuts her off. I turn to find one of the bartenders leaning halfway across the bar. His emerald green eyes cut to me. “We all have our traditions.”
She sets her shot glass on the counter with a huff and walks away. The bartender is still leaning against the counter, staring at me with intense eyes. As uncomfortable as his scrutiny makes me, I get the sense that he’s an all right guy. His lips curve up on one side, and I realize he’s cute—in a gruff sort of way. He extends a hand, and my gaze falls to the tattoos meant to look like scales marking the length of his arm.
“Name’s Dec,” he tells me.
I shake his hand. “Savannah.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Princess.” He shifts to grab a glass. “What can I get you?”
I ignore his question to ask one of my own. “Why did you call me that? Why is everyone calling me that?”
His gaze flicks to the tiara on my head. “That is what you are, correct?”
“So everyone plays their part?”
He stares at me for a long moment. Then he shrugs. “Sure.”
I observe the suspenders over his shoulders. Combined with a head of blond hair and a scruffy beard, his costume isn’t obvious to me. “So what are you supposed to be?”
His lips twitch. “The busy bartender.”
The Monster Ball: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 56