by Lily Velez
He snapped once. I looked down at my arms, my hands, touched my face. I inspected Jack as well, but he was the same as ever. “Did it work? Nothing’s changed.”
“You can’t see it with your own eyes, but if you must know…” He produced a gold hand mirror from nothing, baroque trimming wreathing its edges.
I gazed at my reflection, still not seeing the difference. At least not until I tilted my head. My ears were elongated, ending in tipped points. I marveled at them for a few long moments, hardly believing my eyes. Beyond that, my cheeks had a sharper edge to them as well, and my eyes were silver like star dust. I was a true Otherworldly creature, and no one would have reason to doubt that tonight.
When it was Jack’s turn to look into the mirror, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek. The mirror displayed a similar creature with breathtaking eyes and an altered bone structure, but Kai had added something else. Black ram horns sprouted from the top of Jack’s head, rising in broad arches before curling back toward his jawline.
Jack shook his head, his fingertips ghosting over the ribbed exterior of the horns. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
Kai’s grin was bright in the dark. “What? You don’t like them? I rather think they suit you.” A solitary trail of smoke curled down the length of his arm. When it touched the mirror’s handle, the object disappeared in a quiet puff of air. “You’d be wise to steer clear of the Dark Fae, however. They’ll be positively bewitched.”
With that, we made our way into Nightfell.
I wasn’t sure what I expected.
Not this.
Glamour, luxury, and decadence greeted us at every turn inside Nightfell. I had prepared myself for an interior that matched the somber façade of the castle. Instead, we stepped into a space as extravagant as the finest of opera houses, its three levels rising to meet a dramatic, frescoed ceiling. From this ceiling, aerial artists slowly rotated in the air on silks, their movements poetic and riveting. They performed their acrobatics around a colossal chandelier. It was shaped like a blossoming, multi-tiered, crystal flower, and it rotated in place as its petals opened and closed, creating a dappled effect across the floor.
Under its dazzling light, a great number of Morrígan’s guests waltzed, flashes of color spinning dizzily on the floor as couples zipped past. The music was like something out of a dream, with rises and dips and twists that made you feel like a kite borne aloft on a carefree, summer breeze. And it came from instruments bare of musicians. Harps, violins, cellos, a piano—they all played themselves.
After leaving our cloaks with the appropriate staff, Jack gently took my hand and threaded his way through the crush of supernatural beings. Without Kai’s mirror, he appeared to me the way he always did. Try as I did to see beyond the glamour, his ram horns eluded me.
I’d known glamour spells could make things look different. Zoe’s clan used them to alter the appearance of secret libraries, disguising them as ruins or abandoned buildings to protect the grimoires and other magical texts they housed. But I hadn’t known glamours could be put on people. It was one more item I’d have to add to my ever-growing list of things to learn as a new witch. Once I got my magic back, of course. Which I most certainly would get back.
As Kai predicted, a number of heads turned as Jack passed, intrigued whispers passing between his onlookers. Dark Fae, I guessed. Their ears and cheekbones were similar to ours. According to Jack, they were an immortal race that lived here in the Otherworld with powerful magic in their blood.
Fitting that Jack should command attention even in the non-human world. Beautiful as a boarding school student and rugby star. Beautiful as a witch. Beautiful as a would-be, immortal creature.
It was easy to see who the gods and goddesses were. They were slightly taller than everyone else, with commanding presences that exuded authority and power. But it wasn’t just their stature that held my attention. It was their impossible beauty.
They were living works of art, spellbinding in every way, such that I could’ve spent hours staring at them, ensnared by their unfathomable magnificence. They flaunted flawless skin in every imaginable color, including those unheard of in the mortal world. A god with skin that changed shades like a chameleon’s strode past, briefly catching the red of my dress before reflecting a kaleidoscope of other hues. The tenors and baritones of the men were rich and enchanting, the musical laughter of the women like a symphony. They were such an alluring group that I reconsidered my stance on The Wild Hunt. Maybe it wasn’t so bad a thing to be spirited away to the Otherworld by gods.
As elegantly as I was dressed, I paled in comparison to the goddesses in attendance. The gowns on display were unlike anything human minds could’ve ever conceived. In many cases, they were alive. One goddess topped her gown with a fur-lined cape adorned with lavish, gold filigree. Planets and moons were embroidered onto the cape’s lengthy train, and the heavenly bodies actually moved, orbiting about the way they would in any solar system.
Another goddess wore an elaborate gold headdress that reminded me of the kind of sunburst crown saints often wore in religious iconography. Except in this goddess’s case, the rays of her crown shimmered and waved like tongues of fire.
My eyes jumped from deity to deity as I tried to absorb it all, this carnival of colors, this parade of opulence and over-the-top grandeur.
Jack located a quiet nook in the ballroom, and we tucked ourselves into its shadows. I released the grip on my skirt layers, letting the folds fall around me. I’d been afraid someone would step on the fabric as we’d needled our way through the crowd, but surprisingly, as massive as the ball gown was, that hadn’t proved an issue.
I wrung my hands. The waiting was the hard part, the anticipation of what was to come. Kai had parted ways with us almost immediately upon our entering Nightfell, spotting a familiar face, one who no doubt would play a part in his diversion tonight, most likely without their even knowing. He’d encouraged us to enjoy the festivities while we could, imparting but one warning: we weren’t, under any circumstances whatsoever, to interact with any of the guests.
“Do you trust him?” I asked Jack.
He knew who I meant immediately. “I’ve known Kai since I was a child.”
“When he helped you revive Connor, right?” That had been the day Jack had first put his demon’s mark to use.
Jack’s eyes slid to me for a moment. I could tell he was weighing his words. “Actually, he first came to me years before then. I must’ve been six or seven at the time.”
“For what?” When I was that age, demons were the furthest thing from my mind. Had one appeared to me while I brushed the manes of my toy horses, I would’ve run out of the room screaming.
“He wanted to introduce himself,” Jack said with a slight shrug, as if demons materializing before human children wasn’t so bizarre a thing. “In his own words, he thought I could use a friend. By that point, I was already able to summon the four Quarters, putting me years ahead of other witches my age. Some hailed me as a prodigy, but most were wary.
“Though I had my family’s support, I held my powers back with them. I could tell how it only caused my mother and father anxiety. I’d wander into the woods by our home as often as I could to release all the pent-up magic and test its limits. That’s how I met Kai. I could talk to him about the magic without fear of upsetting or frightening him. He even helped me learn to control it.”
I tried to picture Kai with a six-year-old Jack, assuming the role as mentor. I kept drawing blanks. “So is that what he eventually became for you? A friend?”
“There have been plenty of times when he could’ve double-crossed me to serve his own self-interests. But he never did. Connor told you Dublin wasn’t the first time hunters have cornered me, didn’t he?”
“Kai helped you get away from The Black Hand on previous occasions? But wouldn’t that have cost you a wish?”
“It should have, except that he always did it without my asking, in which case, I ow
ed him nothing in return.”
It didn’t make any sense. What would’ve been in it for Kai? He should’ve wanted Jack to use up his wishes as quickly as possible. It was only then that the first condition of that twisted prophecy could be met, allowing Alistair to break the Thirteen Seals once the opportunity arose. Then again, maybe he’d bided his time on purpose, wishing to teach Jack everything he could so that Jack’s powers could continue to grow far beyond anyone’s imagining. That way, Jack wouldn’t just be any weapon. He’d be a sharp one.
“Did you know the truth of who he was?” I asked. I’d wanted to pose the question ever since we’d landed in Kai’s court.
“I did,” Jack said. “That was part of the reason I felt so guilty when I learned you’d made a deal with Kai to save our lives. I worried about what the bargain would entail, and what the price would be if you weren’t able to fulfill your obligation.”
To be fair, I didn’t think everlasting damnation stacked up well against being used as the Dark Lord’s instrument for all eternity. So he had me beat there.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I said. “In light of what Alistair revealed about so much of your past being orchestrated, do you still trust Kai?”
Jack’s shoulders slightly lifted as he took in a slow, deep breath, letting it out just as slowly. “I guess I’m still trying to figure that out,” he said.
For a while, we remained in our secluded alcove, watching Morrígan’s guests from a distance. The music was never-ending, ball gowns spiraling across the dance floor so that from above, they must’ve looked like colorful pinwheels. I was torn between wanting to enjoy the spectacle and wanting to be on high alert for Kai’s diversion. There were probably a hundred knots in my stomach, each pulling tight in different directions.
Jack must’ve noticed my anxiety, because just as a new song was starting up, he offered his hand and asked, “Would you like to dance?”
At first, I thought he was joking, so I laughed a little at his attempt to cut the ribbon of tension coiling around us. When he didn’t draw back his hand, though, I realized he was serious.
“You might want to consider another partner,” I said. “Unless the idea of being stepped on for the entire duration of the song appeals to you.”
Jack smiled. In the lighting, his eyes seemed to shimmer. “Not a fan of dancing?”
“I don’t know the first thing about this kind of dancing. I must’ve been home sick the day they taught that at finishing school.” Because surely, that was the only place where they still schooled today’s youth in the art of dances from bygone eras.
“Just follow my lead,” Jack said, his hand still extended my way. “Trust me.”
I hesitated, but what was the worst that could happen? I would stumble through the first quarter of the song, Jack would realize his mistake, and we would hastily return to this quiet nook of ours.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I put my hand in his.
We found a place on the edge of the ballroom floor. Jack pressed his right hand against my shoulder-blade, bringing me closer to him, warmth immediately flooding the small gap separating us. I grabbed onto his shoulder, like I saw others doing with their partners, and we clasped our free hands in the air between us.
“Ready?” Jack asked.
And then we were moving, gliding across the dance floor as if over ice. As I’d feared, I tripped more than once, desperately trying to find a holding in all the fancy footwork. My stilettos definitely didn’t help. Simply walking was enough of a challenge with them. Dancing? It was another level completely. I kept wobbling like a newly born filly still testing out her legs. But Jack kept me upright in his hold every time.
“Just relax,” he said, his fingertips gently moving in small circles at my back.
“That’s easy for you to say. How on earth do you know how to waltz?”
He smiled. “My grandmother taught me a long time ago.”
“On your Connelly side? Maurice’s wife?”
He nodded. “She’s since passed on, but the two of them used to go ballroom dancing every so often. They said it kept them young and in love.”
The sweetness of it touched my heart. Maybe Jack’s relationship with his grandparents had in part contributed to that old-soul quality about him.
“By the way,” I said, “don't look now, but you have a fan.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. As he spun me around, his eyes skated past me to catch a glimpse of his not-so-secret admirer. Amusement danced in his eyes.
“Hm,” he said, the indent of his mouth deepening. “He's not really my type.”
Laughter burst out of me. It got stuck in my throat, though, when I tripped yet again, falling against Jack.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his arm instinctively curling around my waist.
My heart somersaulted as I righted myself, but I didn’t pull away from him, and when I didn’t, he pulled me even closer until I couldn’t tell where I ended and he began. Pressed against him as I was, breathing was harder to come by. I was sure he could feel my frenzied heartbeat ticking against his chest like the countdown to a time bomb.
Still, I didn’t pull away. I didn’t pull away as we resumed dancing, and I didn’t pull away when both his arms circled my waist now, matching the way my own arms had at some point looped around his neck.
I forgot about the other dancers, about the music, about why we were here in the first place. There was only Jack, his arms around me, his eyes holding mine, and my heart so full of it all, overflowing until my chest was drowning in everything that I felt in that moment.
Somehow, our closeness wasn’t close enough. I wanted to be closer still. I wanted to rest my head against his chest and breathe in the smell of him, which tonight, included notes of cedarwood and rich spices. I wanted to close my eyes and drift into a daydream as his heart played a soft, steady drumbeat against my cheek.
“Don’t look down too quickly,” Jack whispered, his breath tickling my lips.
I furrowed my brow, not understanding, and did the very thing he’d cautioned against. I gasped, grabbing fistfuls of his tuxedo to keep from falling. We were suspended in mid-air!
My eyes darted to the other couples. They too floated about the ballroom, as if gravity had unceremoniously decided to stop working.
Jack let go of a breath of a laugh but tightened his grip on me. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s only magic. They call this waltz, “The Ascent of Angels.” My grandfather used to play it on the piano often. There was no way I could let you miss experiencing it.”
I clung to him for a time, afraid I’d drop straight to the floor below, but eventually, I felt the way the magic supported my body, keeping it afloat, and I relaxed muscle by muscle, easing into the experience.
I hadn’t even felt it when the ground had disappeared from beneath my stilettos. I didn’t feel it now. Our foundation was as firm as if we waltzed across marble.
I kept looking down and around me, never wanting the dance to end. The self-playing instruments floated with us, one violin and its bow drifting close to me and Jack, summoning its most romantic notes from its strings.
I grinned. “I feel like I’m in a dream,” I said.
“So do I,” Jack replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.
All too soon, the song reached its final notes, and our feet slowly returned to the waiting floor. Those who’d participated in the waltz clapped politely, but I kept my arms around Jack’s neck, wanting to hold on to this moment a little bit longer.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t very long at all.
A confrontation exploded somewhere on the other end of the ballroom.
Kai’s diversion.
17
Scarlet
Jack and I rushed down a corridor shrouded in shadows.
Kai had told us what to look out for, and within seconds of the diversion beginning, I’d spotted the red orb across the way, hovering just above
the ground like a floating flame. With every last one of Morrígan’s guests gawking at the confrontation, a skirmish between multiple parties, our escape had gone unnoticed.
In the corridor, a line of fiery orbs unraveled down the hall’s length in a straight shot. We chased after them, as if following will-o-wisps in the woods, the click of my heels echoing against the walls, filling the space so completely. At one point, I lost my balance and pitched forward onto my hands and knees, grit scraping against my palms.
“Are you all right?” Jack doubled back and helped me to my feet.
“These stupid shoes.” I attached a hand to the cold, stone wall and used the other to yank the stilettos off one by one. Ridiculous, impractical things. Couldn’t Kai have paired the dress with simple ballet flats? I would’ve hurled the stilettos down the corridor in frustration, but that would only leave evidence, so I hooked a finger around their backs to carry them and continued on, the ground icy against my bare feet.
For a time, the only sound was the whisper of my gown against the floor, the skirt so full it almost filled the width of the corridor. My pulse throbbed at my neck like a swelling bruise, and the bodice of my gown suddenly felt like a too-tight girdle. I kept expecting us to crash into a unit of guards or for a voice from behind us to yell, “Halt!”
None of those things happened.
We rounded a curve of stone steps, and then another and another, traveling deeper into the bowels of Nightfell. I lost count of the number of stairs we descended, spiraling around and around until it made me dizzy. Were the walls closing in on us, or did it only appear that way? Surely we had to be well underground at this point, and I couldn’t help but wonder at the amount of hard-packed earth that existed above our heads.
Finally, the orbs veered off course at one landing and disappeared around a distant corner. Jack peeked around the turn. Seeing that the passageway was clear, he nodded, and we progressed onward.
“How does Kai even know where Morrígan’s treasury is?” I whispered in the near darkness. Though we were the only occupants in the corridor, and the space was so silent I could practically hear my heartbeat, I dared not speak any louder.