“I was going to ask about bulges…”
“That’s what this tape is for,” Ozella said. Sure enough, she had a brand-new package of body tape, which Sam didn’t even know existed until he saw her holding it.
“What am I supposed to tape up exactly?” he asked, already intuiting the answer.
“What do you think?” Zoe reached for a dark blouse. “This one, plus some type of scarf and…”
“I’m going to look so stupid.”
“No, you’re going to look so beautiful,” Ozella reminded him with a smile. “Just like the rest of us.”
“Here, this skirt,” Zoe said. “We need some shoes for you as well. Dammit. You definitely will be awkward in high heels. Although you could wear some ballet flats like Helena wears. Yes, that will work. A dark blouse, a scarf so we don’t see any of your chest, a skirt and ballet flats. Will also need a push-up bra, which we can stuff with cloths. But that shouldn’t be too hard.”
“Like I said earlier,” Sam sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Chapter Eighteen: Welcome to the Blood Party
(Trust me, folks, it’s not as ominous as it sounds.)
Lance the teleporter appeared, the flamboyant man wearing a golden leotard. He nearly fell over laughing when he saw Sam. “Someone is trying to get laid,” he teased just before porting them away.
“Don’t listen to him,” Helena said as their forms took shape in front of an enormous skyscraper, Vigilante Justice standing half a block away from a bustling red carpet. The guy throwing this party, David Nightshade, had spared no expense when it came to making it feel bigger than it probably was.
“Have fun,” Lance said, laughing again as he vanished in a sea of golden sparkles.
Sam still hadn’t had much time to process just how beautiful his teammates looked.
Zoe was in a flowing red dress, low-cut, and a necklace covered in red rubies that matched her dress.
Helena wore a flashy silver dress, tight, the bottom of which barely stretched over her ass cheeks, matching sparkly heels too, more like boots than heels, Sam really didn’t know a lot about women’s clothing.
Ozella was in a schoolgirl uniform, because of course she fucking was, which was actually her new exemplar uniform. Helena had ordered other colors aside from the blue-and-white numbers they had, and this was one of the prototypes. Ozella also had her red backpack with her, uniforms for Sam, Helena and Zoe tucked inside just in case they needed them.
It was all about Helena and Zoe anyway, their celebrity status and Helena’s hypnosis power the key to them getting inside. Sam and Ozella were simply there for the ride, letting the others do the heavy lifting, at least until they reached the party, which was being held in the penthouse of a sixty-five story building.
“You know, these aren’t so bad,” Sam said, admiring the large ballet flats that Helena had ordered for him. Of course, it was her assistant Bryan who had brought them, the man not saying a word as he delivered the goods.
“No talking,” Zoe reminded him. “Just pretend that you have…”
“Pretend that you have a speaking condition,” Ozella suggested. “Or a throat infection. Yes. That could work.”
“No, because then people will think you’re weird,” said Zoe. “Well, people are already going to think this. This tall, lanky woman who looks suspiciously like a man, could possibly be trans, and is definitely wearing a lot of makeup. But at least she’s with two hot baes, isn’t that right, Helena?”
“I’m not a hot bae?” Ozella asked as Helena nodded, although her nod indicated she wasn’t really listening to Zoe.
“You’re more of a hot baby sister, at least in that outfit. But it was your choice.”
“Cosplay is in at the moment,” Ozella reminded Zoe.
“Aware. I make a living doing it.”
“But the amount of makeup that you three have put on me,” Sam said, trying to smile and feeling the makeup stop his cheeks from rising. “Was that really necessary?”
“No smiling, either,” Zoe said. “It looks really bad.”
“It doesn’t matter what Sam looks like once we get into the party,” Helena reminded her as they turned to the red carpet. “It will be dark there anyway, and people will be distracted with trying to fit in and maintain optimum inebriation.”
“Come again?” Zoe asked with a snicker.
“Time limit, remember we have a time limit. We find the guy—”
“—David Nightshade,” Ozella interrupted.
“Yes, and I do my thing, we get info on Donovan, and then we get out.”
“You know, I could have stayed home for this,” Sam grumbled as they walked toward the red carpet. There were crowds gathered on either side, photographers as well, but Helena and Zoe had enough experience with events like this to know that there was always a side entrance.
“And miss all the fun that we’re going to have?” Zoe asked as she looped her arm into his, looking like two girlfriends on their way to a fancy ball.
“It’s time,” Helena said as they caught the attention of a man wearing a white tuxedo. He recognized Helena and Zoe almost instantly, his hand coming out to shake Centralia’s most famous heiress. “Ms. Knight,” he said, before extending her hand to Zoe. “Tiger Lily. And who are your friends?”
“This is my cousin,” Helena said, pointing at Ozella.
“And this is my cousin too… ” Zoe said, shoving Sam forward a bit.
It didn’t matter, the man and his strongman counterpart were already under Helena’s spell by the time they saw Sam’s crossdressing ass.
“Nice to meet you,” the man in the white tuxedo said, bending forward to kiss Sam’s hand.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Sam said, trying his best to use a female voice. It was bad, really bad, but he figured he might as well lean into it. Besides, it really didn’t matter with Helena around.
“You sure are a pretty girl,” the man said, holding Sam’s hand for just a moment longer than he should have.
“Oh, you shouldn’t say things like that,” Sam told the man, glaring over at Helena.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“We have a time limit,” Zoe reminded the group, “but yes, that was worth it.”
“Wait, did Helena hypnotize the guy to flirt with Sam? If so, ha!”
“Yes, Ozella, that’s exactly what happened.”
“Focus, focus, focus,” Sam reminded them, although he said it in his feminine voice, adding to their laughter.
“Thanks for letting us in,” Helena said as the tuxedoed man stepped aside, a different strongman opening a door for the group. They took a corridor that led to an elevator, which opened to reveal another man standing inside.
“Welcome,” the elevator attendant said.
There was something about his eyes. One quick inhale and Sam knew that the man was an exemplar, a telepath. Luckily, all four of them were wearing telepath bands, something the attendant definitely noticed but didn’t say anything about as they made their way to the top floor.
Another sniff in and Sam could tell that this telepath had already seen plenty of illegal tech at this party.
The elevator was fast and they were at the top in no time, the man bidding them farewell.
“Glad we wore these,” Sam said as soon as the elevator door shut.
“It was a good purchase,” Helena said. “We definitely don’t need telepaths to pry.”
“Ms. Knight,” a woman in a black dress said as she approached them. “Tiger Lily, and your guests?”
“Our cousins,” Helena said.
“Great, wonderful, right this way,” the dark-skinned woman said as she led them down a short hallway, the sound of music growing louder with each step.
The hallway came to a T, the left the entrance to the condo, the right direct access to the rooftop. She led them to the right, opening the door for the four as they shuffled out.
Sam gasped once he saw an absolutely i
ncredible party spread before him.
There was a pool area with women lounging around it, a few bikini clad babes swimming and a straight up waterfall coming off an epic jacuzzi. The back wall of the condo was open like a garage door made out of a single pane of glass, allowing people to flow in and out for drinks. It was glamorous, unlike any party he’d ever been to before.
“Damn,” Sam said.
“I’ve never even been to a party like this before,” Ozella admitted, moving closer to Sam than she had ever been before.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’re only here for one thing.”
“Scan the area for a man named David Nightshade,” Helena instructed Ozella.
“Ms. Knight, a pleasure to see you,” said a man with a styled bouffant. He was in a three-piece suit, the color somewhere between turquoise and blue, his collar popped, a cravat tied around his neck and clipped to the front of his shirt via a gold pen.
“Always a pleasure,” Helena told the man, extending her hand so he could shake it.
“Who’s that guy?” Sam asked Ozella.
He looked to see where Zoe had gone off to, and caught a glimpse of Centralia’s up-and-coming cosplay model making her way through the crowd toward the drink station, dozens of eyeballs watching her as she moved.
Sam hadn’t expected her to be so popular, and part of him wanted to watch Zoe make her way to the bar, looking for people’s reactions.
But he knew better, right now they were on a mission.
“His name is Brock Manson,” Ozella told Sam. “He’s not very clever, but he has a high amount of charisma, non-exemplar. His family owns a talent agency, and he has a high willingness to try new things. Lately, he has been seeing ladyboys on the side.”
“All I needed was a name, sweetie,” Sam told her in his feminine voice, glad Ozella was speaking quietly.
“Let’s move around a little bit,” Helena told the two of them, “and keep your eyes out, Ozella.”
“I’m going to hold on to your arm,” Ozella told Sam. “No one will think anything of it. Just two girls at a party.”
“Yes, just two girls,” Sam said.
It was hard enough walking with his balls taped up to his taint (which he was pretty sure was not the correct way to hide a pair of testicles), but Ozella latched to his arm presented a different challenge, the nerdy statkeeper pulling Sam toward her with every step, Sam continually thrown off balance.
He put up with it, though, trying not to make eye contact with the other guests. At some point he felt someone come up behind him, a hand moving from the small of Sam’s back down to his ass.
“Excuse me,” a hefty bald man said, the guy doused in an overpowering cologne. He wore a black suit, a bolo tie with an amethyst in its center, a pair of bright pink socks that matched his pocket square.
“Hands off,” Sam told him in his high-pitched voice, causing the man to pause.
“What did you say?” the man turned back to Sam, taking a good look at him.
“You can get by me just fine without touching my ass.”
The man started to laugh at Sam as he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on a half-smoked cigar.
“That’s him,” Ozella whispered.
“Mr. Nightshade?” Sam asked.
“You’re a special breed of woman, aren’t you, missy?”
“Hi,” Helena said, coming forward, her eye already kaleidoscoping.
“And who might you be?” he asked, chewing on his cigar as Helena took over. “I recognize you,” he said, his boisterous voice starting to smooth out.
“We have some questions.”
The bald man nodded. “I’m sure you do. Let’s get you some answers, then. Follow me.”
***
“That’s it?” Ozella asked after the bald man motioned Helena toward his condo.
“You were expecting something else?” Sam asked her as they followed behind Helena and David Nightshade.
“I do have our uniforms…” Ozella started to say.
“Sometimes the point of being a hero is to not actually have to do anything, as weird as that sounds. We get this information, and we get out of here. We’ll be better off than we were before, and no one is hurt in the process.”
“That’s a good way to look at it,” said Ozella as they passed into the entertainment area of Nightshade’s home.
There were several bartenders at work; Sam looked around hoping to see Zoe, but never ended up spotting her as they moved to the left, a pair of security guards stepping aside and allowing the four to pass into an office that Sam could tell was partially designed by an elementalist. While wood could bend in a variety of ways, it usually didn’t look like this, not so perfect, like it had grown this way.
Case in point: the sofas at the front of the room, which were attached to roots that rose out of the ground, the seats wrapped in leather, blood red throws made of cashmere tossed over their armrests. Or David Nightshade’s desk, the focus of the room, also growing out of the floor as if it were the trunk of a large Eastern Province oak, polished smooth, executive.
“Please sit,” Nightshade said as he went to his chair.
“Sam, Ozella,” Helena said, nodding toward one of the sofas.
“You got it.” Sam sat, Ozella plopping down next to him.
Helena continued standing, the heiress taking the lead as she normally did. “We will just ask you a few questions, then we will get out of your hair.”
“Not a lot of hair to get out of,” he said with a laugh.
Sam found his behavior odd.
Usually, when someone was hypnotized by Helena, they simply became her pet, her mind slave. But Nightshade seemed to have some cognizance, which was making Sam feel uneasy.
So Sam did what he always did (well, lately anyway) when he was feeling suspicious of someone. He scooted his chair a few steps closer as the man looked at Helena, cigar still sticking out of his mouth.
It was going to take some concentration, especially with David Nightshade’s cologne and his cigar; Sam’s sniffer was going to have to work overtime to see if it could uncover what was going on here, and why Nightshade wasn’t responding to Helena’s power like others had.
Sam sat on the edge of the chair now, his arms at his side, his nostrils aimed in Nightshade’s direction.
“We don’t have many questions,” Helena told him. “But let’s start with this one. Do you know a man named Donovan?”
“Donovan?” Nightshade placed his cigar in an ashtray, and fixed the collar of his jacket for a moment. “The name rings a bell. I know a couple Donovans. Got a last name?”
“You know what Donovan I’m talking about,” Helena told him. Sam could tell that she hadn’t quite figured out why her power wasn’t working. It had always worked perfectly before; Helena was growing confident enough in her ability that she didn’t second-guess it.
“Donovan…” Nightshade yawned. “Yes, I think I know which Donovan you are talking about. Has a mohawk?”
“That’s the one,” Ozella said. She looked down to see Sam tapping on her leg. “What is it?” she whispered so only he could hear.
After confirming what he had sensed, Sam bent over just a little, quickly whispering his plan in Ozella’s ear. She nodded, and whispered the name of the strange blue ghost woman that followed her around.
Dinah’s form took shape, her eyes immediately locking on to Sam, and eyebrow rising as she took in his full cross-dressed form.
Ozella tilted her chin at David Nightshade; Dinah walked behind him as he continued to give Helena shit, as the combat dancer started to realize her power wasn’t working, growing agitated.
And that’s when Dinah latched on. Nightshade started to tremble as injuries were pressed into his body. It was weird watching her do this. A person’s first reaction was usually shock, their eyes going wide. Some people struggled, others immediately went limp.
But being on the receiving end of Dinah’s power was something that
not even the strongest exemplar could hold up to, so it was only a few moments until Nightshade was pleading with Helena. “Please, whatever it is you are doing, please stop. Please!”
“Hold off for a moment, Dinah.” Helena smiled down at David Nightshade, who had one hand on his desk, trying to keep himself from passing out. “Let’s start from the top. How are you stopping my powers from working?”
“Contacts,” he finally said. “They were designed for telepaths, but the people who made them said that they worked against almost any psychic power.”
“Great, please remove them.”
“I will not,” he said, his hand going under his desk.
“Not so fast,” Sam said. “Dinah.”
David Nightshade writhed in his plush leather chair, a vein on his head pulsing, the man practically panting as he brought his hands up to his eyes and pulled out his contacts.
“Keep your eyes open,” Helena told him calmly, signaling for Dinah to stop for a moment.
She let up for just a moment, allowing Nightshade to look at Helena. It was only a few seconds later that he was completely hypnotized.
“I’m ready to answer questions,” he said in a monotone voice.
“Great, let’s start from the top. You know who Donovan is?”
“I know Donovan and Fang, the organization he works for,” the man said. “They are sons of bitches to do business with, but when you are in my line of work, you do what you have to do to survive.”
“Have you been selling people to them?” Helena asked.
He shook his head. “No, they have their own people that they use, children mostly, but we have pointed a few good exemplars in their direction.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Sam asked.
“Yes, what do you mean you have pointed a few good exemplars in their direction?” asked Helena.
“You know what they are, right?” Nightshade asked. “They are vampires, well, not Donovan, but the people he works for. Never met them. But they definitely have Donnie by the balls. I mean, I don’t think it would be that hard for a vampire to force a human, exemplar or non-exemplar, to serve them. Especially if they promise them that they would turn them.”
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