“What about these?” Mercy asked, dangling a pair of diamond teardrop earrings in front of my face.
I looked up from the magazine I was reading on her king-sized bed. “They’re okay. I kinda wanted something more plain. Got any studs?”
“Oh, I do! Red ones. They’re the cutest things...” She spun back around and began digging through her jewelry box again.
I flipped the magazine shut and stared around Mercy’s bedroom. I never could get used to how colorful she liked things, red walls with black furniture and all black accessories. Her room was enormous, too. Bigger than even my old bedroom from before.
“So, what’d your dad and step-monster get you for your birthday?” Mercy asked, back still turned.
“I reckon Bitch Face bought my presents this year, but I got loads of clothes vouchers and a new phone.” I pulled it out of my pocket, suddenly remembering it.
Mercy turned to glance at it. “Nice. Oh, and we should so go shopping tomorrow with your vouchers.” She returned to her searching. “Was your dad mad you weren’t spending your birthday with him?”
“Nope. Don’t think he really cares. It’s probably a relief, to be honest. All I’ve done is bitch about this day for months now, but I’m glad we’re doing this. It’s taking my mind off a lot of stuff.”
“Like what? Your mum?”
“For one.” I sighed. “And... I tried to kiss Marshall last night.”
Mercy spun around so quickly, I startled on the bed. “What?”
“I didn’t get very far,” I added. “He doesn’t want to get too close to me because the Sisterhood told him once they find me a mentor, he’s gotta stay away from me. And though he breaks like a million rules, it seems he’s planning to obey that one. Oh, and not to mention he has a life, and I’m not part of it.”
Mercy narrowed her eyes. “That’s bullshit.”
“I know,” I agreed with a frown.
“No, I mean the fact that you believe he’ll do that is bullshit.”
“What are you talking about, Mercy? He turned away from the kiss and told me that he’s gonna leave as soon as they tell him to and go about his merry way living his merry life.”
Mercy plodded over to the bed, hands full of necklaces, bracelets, and earrings. “Hun. You have a little thing to learn about guys. In my mind, he doesn’t want to risk anything with you in case the Sisterhood punishes him or they get you a new mentor quickly. So he’s trying to play it safe. But he won’t be able to stay away for long, because you can tell he likes you.”
“How would you know?” I demanded, folding my arms like an insolent child.
“Duh, I’ve seen it.”
“The two times you’ve ever seen him?” I argued. Deep inside me, hope began to bubble. Was Mercy right?
“I know. You said he was gonna swing by to the party tonight, right?”
“Yeah, but he won’t now. Not now that I told him to stay away from me.”
“If he turns up, it means he likes you. If he doesn’t turn up, it means he’s doing what he thinks is right and staying away.”
“Or,” I countered, “he’s turning up to look out for me even though I told him not to because he’s following through on his word.”
“Same difference,” Mercy said, shaking her head. Suddenly she glanced down at her hands. “There they are! Oh, you’re gonna look amazing. When Marshall shows up, you’re gonna knock him off his feet.”
Sam and Chuck arrived in Sam’s car at ten on the dot. I checked my reflection in the mirror once more as Sam beeped impatiently. I’d been going for sexy, but I wasn’t sure that I was actually coming across that way. It looked more slutty than amazing, to me.
“You ready?” Mercy asked, strutting back into her bedroom. She looked stunning, of course. Part of me wished I’d kept hold of the outfit she was now wearing. Originally, I’d picked it up, but then we both decided Mercy would look better dressed as Snow White, with her pale skin and dark, black hair.
So, I’d gone as Little Red Riding Hood instead. My dress came to the middle of my thigh, and had a checkered red and white corset that started below the bust and flared at the waist coming just short of the white dress below it. Mercy and I both wore knee-length white stockings and killer high heels. Mercy’s outfit was topped off with a bag in the shape of an apple. My outfit was finished with a red silk cloak, and a hood that came down to the length of my dress.
“You don’t think I look like a hooker, right?” I asked, trying to pull down my dress.
Mercy swatted my hand away. “You look incredible. At least your butt’s not hanging out.”
“I feel like it is.”
Mercy ignored me and stretched out to shut off her light. I grabbed the bag she’d loaned me and followed her to Sam’s car outside.
Chuck wolf-whistled as we climbed in.
“Nice,” Sam agreed. “Snow White and Red Riding Hood.”
“And what are you supposed to be?” Mercy challenged as Sam pulled away from her house and headed to the gates at the end of her long driveway.
“Erm, duh. I’m Spock,” he answered.
Mercy and I exchanged looks of confusion.
“Who?” I asked.
“Spock. From Star Trek? Tell me that you’ve seen Star Trek.”
We both shook our heads.
“Can’t say I have,” Mercy said with a shrug. “It just looks like you’re a weirdo in a yellow jumpsuit and big ears.”
Chuck laughed from the passenger seat. “Well, you all know who I am.”
“A vampire. How original,” I scoffed.
“The girls love a vampire,” he said, sliding in some fake fangs. “I vant to suck your blood. Muhahaha.”
“Talk about jump on the vampire hype,” Mercy said, but I could tell she was secretly digging the vampire version of Chuck. His hair was slicked back. I was pretty sure that this was the first time that I’d seen him wear a tux. Even if it did have fake blood on the shirt.
“I can’t believe you don’t know who Spock is,” Sam whined.
“I can tell you now, my man, that you’re not scoring any action tonight wearing that,” Chuck said, patting Sam sympathetically on the shoulder.
Mercy and I giggled.
The party was already in full swing by the time we arrived. None of us had the initiative to bring a map, so we got lost quite a few times before Sam finally agreed to ask for directions from someone walking their dog.
Mercy hadn’t been exaggerating when she said the house was big. It was at least four stories tall, with acres and acres of land that stretched back towards a huge forest. The driveway went on for miles, and every space that could be used for parking was taken. Cars had resorted to parking on the grass and across perfectly tended flowers. Doing the same, Sam parked behind a cute convertible Mini, and we climbed out, invites at the ready.
The pumping bass coming from inside of the house was going in time with my thumping heartbeat. I couldn’t tell what song was playing, but whatever it was sounded fantastic. Leading us as if we were lost sheep, Mercy stepped up to the front door and pressed the bell. They’d changed the tone for the occasion, and instead of a regular chime, a creepy, shrill scream echoed through the house.
The door quickly swung open, and a guy dressed as Frankenstein stood in the doorway, clutching a beer and a girl in a maid’s costume.
“Invite only,” he said, taking a swig.
Mercy shoved our invites at him. “We got ‘em.”
His eyes roamed over the writing and then he bent one of the invites before nodding and stepping aside to allow us entry. “Gotta check these weren’t photocopied, you know,” he said, shoving the invites in an overflowing bin bag full of other invites.
“You gotta tell them the rules,” the auburn haired girl whined. “I love when you say the rules.”
“There’s rules?” Chuck repeated incredulously.
“Not many, but yeah, there are,” Frankenstein answered. “Firstly, stay out of the garden an
d don’t go up any of the stairs. The alarm’s set, so if you’re caught, being thrown out won’t be the worst thing we’ll do to you.”
Chuck snorted.
“Secondly, if there ain’t a drink in your hand when we look at you, you forfeit to doing two shots of a spirit of our choice. Don’t like it? Get the hell out. Thirdly, you party downstairs and you come upstairs to chill. Parlor room is open if you wanna, you know, talk to a lady friend away from the loud music. Two bathrooms available and the kitchen is where you’ll find food and more drink. But there’s plenty downstairs. Got it?”
I nodded, not quite understanding why we needed to hear that, but going along with it anyway. Frankenstein stepped aside revealing a long stairwell leading down. Ah, a basement party. I hadn’t been to one of those in a long while.
Being careful not to trip in my massively high heels, I followed Mercy, Chuck and Sam down. The music got louder with every step. At least now, I could recognize it. The basement was positively huge. It stretched below the whole house, and decorated for the party with fake cobwebs, hanging plastic spiders, bowls with fake eyes, and skeletons that popped out of coffins and grabbed at you. I loved it.
“I’m gonna get a drink,” I shouted to Mercy. “Want anything?”
“Yeah. Get me a glass of wine,” she yelled back.
I nodded and pushed my way through the crowd to the long table set up with snacks and drinks. I was pleased to notice I wasn’t wearing the sluttiest costume by far. Girls had shorts that looked more like thongs than outerwear, or tops that showed more boob than they covered. I’d forgotten Halloween was an excuse to dress up like a whore for some girls.
I grabbed two clean plastic cups, and set them upright before reaching out for the wine. I wasn’t much of a wine fan myself, but I was looking to get totally smashed tonight. I deserved the right not to be sensible for one night, even if the voice in the back of my head kept asking me: what if?
“I wouldn’t drink that one,” a familiar voice warned from behind me.
I turned, the wine bottle still clutched in my hand. It was Hayley – one of Sarah’s witches. Dressed as Cleopatra, she looked stunning. She certainly had the skin tone and figure for the outfit she wore.
“What’s wrong with the wine?” I asked.
“Someone drank from the bottle earlier, couldn’t handle it, and spat it all back inside. So yeah, I’d open up that new bottle there.” She pointed to a cluster of other bottles.
“Oh, thanks.” I reached over for a bottle of white wine.
“Amerie,” she said, tapping me on the shoulder. “Can we go upstairs and talk in a bit? I know we’re not exactly friends, and I know we don’t like each other, but I kinda need a favor.”
“What favor?” I demanded. It was such a shock that the wine missed the cup altogether and poured over the white tablecloth.
“I know you’re good at English, and I’m really stuck with our coursework. Some tips would be great.”
I didn’t want to give Hayley anything. All she’d done for my whole time at Maxwell Academy was act like a total bitch. Her and her two stupid friends. But standing in front of me, looking so beautiful it annoyed me, I realized I was better than that. I nodded, and she smiled gratefully.
“Thanks, Amerie.” Then she froze. “Oh no.”
I narrowed my eyebrows and following her gaze, spun around. Sarah and the other witch in their trio were making their way over. Unlike Hayley, they didn’t look beautiful. They looked like prostitutes on the prowl for their next customer.
“Hayley!” Sarah called, her voice sickly sweet as always. “There you are!”
She slipped a skinny arm around Hayley’s shoulder. “Sorry. I was just getting a drink,” Hayley said.
Sarah smiled, showing lipstick on her teeth. “No problem! I just missed you, babe.”
As the trio sauntered away, Hayley looked back and gave me a pointed look. I knew she’d be back at some point - once she got away from her prison guard.
I filled my cup half way with wine and quickly downed it in one gulp before filling it up again. I couldn’t do that conversation with Hayley sober. I gulped back another drink and then filled both cups, ready to take one back to Mercy.
Then Sam appeared.
“Don’t mind me,” he said over the music, bopping his head out of beat. “Just wanted a beer.”
I shoved one at him. “Have fun with it.”
Grabbing both plastic cups, I turned to walk away when he snagged my arm and pulled me back.
“I never got to say happy birthday. I also never got to say how glad I am that you learned to trust me and let me in your group, Amerie.”
I pointed to my ears. “Now’s not the time for a heart to heart,” I shouted. “But thanks for the happy birthday or whatever.”
He looked disheartened. “You’re not the most approachable person, though. When can we talk?”
I felt sorry for him. “Call me tomorrow?” Then I strolled away.
“God,” Mercy complained when I handed her the drink. “Talk about take forever.”
“Sorry,” I took a sip of the disgusting wine. “There was a queue for drinks.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Damn You
Four cups of wine later and I was on my way to tipsy land. Beside me, Mercy sang at the top of her lungs to the music and thrashed her curly hair about, almost hitting me in the face with it. The strobe light flashing through the room made her look deformed as she jumped up and down, her mouth moving wildly.
I downed the remainder of my cup, and staggered through the crowd, to get a refill. As I went, I scanned the basement, looking out for the one person I knew wouldn’t show. He didn’t want me. The asshole didn’t bloody want me. I’d show him.
I slammed my empty cup down on the table with a little too much strength. The cup crumbled in my grasp and cracked down the side. Screwing it up in a ball, I threw it and reached for another one.
And then, as I poured another drink, the coldest of shivers ran down my spine, making all the hairs on my arms stand on end. I froze. One of them was here.
I slowly turned around, my eyes frantically roaming through the crowd of horny, drunk teenagers. There was no way to spot them. Everyone was in costume, and there were too many strangers for a plausible guess.
Staggering forward, I pushed my way back through the crowd, looking for my bag. My Blessed weapon was in there. Judging by the cold turn of my stomach, there was more than one Damned in the basement. And they were here for me. I wouldn’t let them attack first. I needed to draw them out and fight on my own terms.
“Where you going?” Sam asked, clamping a hand on my shoulder.
Instinct warring with reflexes hindered by drink, I turned and snapped his hand back before I could stop myself. He cried out and stared at me in confusion.
“What the hell, Amerie?”
“Sorry!” I slurred. “I thought you were...never mind. Sorry, Sam.”
“You okay? You look wild like you’re all hyped up for a fight.”
I found my bag and swung it over my shoulder. “I’m fine, Sam. Look, I might head back with a friend. So, if you can’t find me later, I probably caught a lift with them.”
“A friend, like a friend -friend? Or a friend, like a boy-friend?”
“Does it matter?” Without letting him answer, I pushed past him and made my way for the stairs. I tripped a couple of times but made it to the top in one piece. Frankenstein and some other people blocked the door, trying to keep out a group of gatecrashers. Obviously not my exit. Had to be the garden then. Screw the rules.
Not that I knew where the garden was.
I ended up in the parlor room surrounded by couples on the sofas, huddled in corners, lying on the floor. All with no shame. The square room had a large fireplace against the far side and a whole wall of windows opposite me. Maybe there was a door there too, or even a window I could climb through to escape.
“Excuse me,” someone interjected as I ru
shed over to the window.
I spun around. Something heavy connected with my face, and it knocked me backward, through the wall of windows. The glass shattered all around me. Tiny shards cut at my skin, and I threw my hands up, trying to protect my face. I landed on my back on the patio with a hard thud, and straight away, I rolled to my knees and ran towards the forest.
Not only were my heels not made for running, but also I was sure I had a mother-sized gash on my leg that stung like a bitch. Feet pounded behind me, and I could hear the commotion of confusion back inside the house. Keeping my breathing steady, I kept running, reaching inside my bag for my weapon.
I had just barely made it into the forest, when something jumped me from behind. I dropped to my knees under the weight, spinning around and blocking a punch. A fat, longhaired man stood over me, and another guy rushed up behind him. I could take on two. No problem.
I jumped to my feet, kicking the fat one in his neck. He staggered back. By this time, the skinny one was there to take his place. He swung a punch at me that I dodged. I punched him back, following it with a roundhouse kick. Fatty yelled a vulgar word at me before charging forward. I grabbed his wrist, pulled him so that his back was against my chest, and bent his arm backwards. I didn’t stop until I heard something snap, then I pushed him down to the ground. I cow-kicked the one coming up behind me, and plunged my dagger straight through the fat one’s back.
One down one to...
I turned around, but he was gone. The smart thing to do would have been to leave it and cut my losses – I wasn’t exactly prepared for this fight - but the Hunter thing to do was to hunt him down and send his soul right back to Hell. Thus, began my hunt.
Knife clutched tightly in my hand, I edged forward, my whole body tense. He was around here somewhere. I could feel him.
Something rustled. I spun around. There he was, standing behind me as if he’d been waiting for me this whole time. I froze, wondering what his game was. Why was he standing out in the open?
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