"I meant, what are you doing at this ball? I was assured no one from your coven would be on the invite list."
"My dear, you truly have underestimated me," I say, taking a sip of my drink.
You crinkle your nose at me, a look that you undoubtedly want to make you seem badass, but which makes you look far too cute for your own good.
"Just stay out of my way," you say, turning in the opposite direction.
Your little friend has already crawled away to nurse his wounds. Given he's a werewolf, he'll heal fast enough and will likely keep his distance from you tonight.
Before you leave, I place a hand on yours, which is resting on the bar. You glance down and see the ring I'm wearing. "Someone came prepared," you say.
"Someone did. Again, you underestimate me. I am not my predecessor. Your seductions will not work on me. And I'm going to need you to return what you took from him. Once you do, we'll be square. No hard feelings and all that."
You laugh. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Is that really how you want to play this?" I ask.
"I'm not playing," you say. "I'm working, and you interrupted my meal, leaving me in a less than optimal position to do said work."
"Who's your mark?" I ask.
"No one you would know. A low-level demon with very little power."
I'm surprised you're telling me this, and you seem surprised as well. You clamp your lips shut and look around, then you lean in, whispering. "Please, just leave me alone. I need to finish this job. It's important."
"So is the ring you stole," I say. "I need it back; then I'm gone. You'll never have to see me again."
You cringe. "I don't have the stupid ring. Just… buy a new one. You certainly have enough money."
"Is that what you need? Money? I can give you as much as you desire in exchange for the ring."
You sigh, taking your drink and walking away. I follow until we are at a pit that is mostly deserted for the moment. You sink into one of the couches, and I sit next to you, our thighs touching, firelight dancing off your skin.
You look down at my bespelled ring. "Where did you get that?" you ask.
"A powerful witch owed me a favor."
"They're rare. Fortunately, for me. I'd starve to death if just anyone could snag one."
"I'm not trying to starve you," I say softly. "I understand better than most the hungers that motivate our survival." I glance at you, and our gazes lock.
"Then why are you here?" you ask again, your voice softer this time.
"That ring you took is more than just a keepsake. It has ancient magic that binds our coven together. It protects us. Without it, my vampires are at risk. I've lost two already, and more will die until I retrieve it." You don't know it, but I'm telling you things I shouldn't. Things that put me at risk. But I'm already vulnerable, and I know your weakness. You don't kill. Not if you don't have to.
You pale at my words, and the question I've had for some time is answered in your expression. You didn't know what you were doing when you took that ring. You didn't know you were damning my coven to death.
"I'm sorry," you say, and then you look away. "I had to steal it, but I didn't keep it."
Shit. This is not what I was hoping to hear. "Who has it?" I ask.
You shake your head. "It doesn't matter. You'll never get it back."
"Did you sell it?"
You nod. "But not for money. For information."
This is becoming a lot more complicated than I expected. "What information was so important it was worth the lives of so many of my kind?"
"The identity of the man who has a family heirloom of mine," you say.
"Well, well, that's quite poetic, isn't it?" I say. "What kind of heirloom?"
"None of your business," you say, standing. "But I'll do almost anything to get it back."
"The same can be said for me," I remind you, standing. "So, we are at an impasse. I need my ring. You need your heirloom. Maybe we can help each other?"
"I told you, I don't know who bought it from me. We never met. We never spoke. I don't know anything about them. I can't help you. I'm sorry."
You leave, and I let you this time. My plan is crumbling around me, but there has to be a way to salvage it. Killing you won't help me, which I'm secretly relieved about. But I must do something.
Lawrence had no useful information to give about how he lost the ring to you, and as it is an item that cannot be stolen, only given, it's clear you used your powers to manipulate him. The triumvirate sentenced him to the true death for the infraction, did you know that? Did you realize you were stealing his life when you stole his ring?
I am now the coven leader, but to remain so, I need that ring back. Or I won't have a coven as my members will get picked off, one by one.
I finish my drink and leave the empty glass on the bar, smiling at a beautiful fairy who is sitting alone, nursing her own drink. She looks melancholy, and I don't strike up a conversation with her as I am too lost in my own thoughts. But she practically glows against the night with her silver hair, jeweled crown, and opal wings. So many monsters all in one place. So many stories. Is she here looking for sex? Love? An escape?
What are any of us here for, I wonder?
We are all seeking something tonight. And yet, none of us can leave until the mysterious Proprietor allows us to. We have all voluntarily trapped ourselves together for one evening of anything goes.
Well, anything except murder, of course. The one thing so many of us here are good at.
I head to the loft and pause on the stairs just before entering where I notice the band is playing. A purple neon sign proclaims their name as Dastardly Deeds, and they are quite the hodgepodge of monsters. A werewolf plays bass, and a phoenix with bright red hair tackles the drums. But the real eye-catcher is the lead singer, a gorgeous siren with long blue hair who wears a sheer white gown that clings to her body and is dotted by crystals that catch the light as she moves languidly. On either side of the stage, couples make out on swinging beds while the siren seduces the crowd with her otherworldly voice.
For a moment, I am transfixed by her as a minor chord plays and she holds the last note of the song longer than any human could. When the song ends, they move to a bass heavy dance song that enlivens the crowd. Bored, I make my way back down to the first level, looking around to see who I might know, what information I might glean about the lost ring, if any.
Surely in a place like this, I can find something useful. But I need more information from you, and you, my dear, seem to have disappeared. Even trapped in a warehouse, you find ways to elude me.
As I pass the privacy cubes glowing in neon colors, I heighten my senses to see if I can detect you in one of them, and I am barraged by overwhelming sexual energy, blood lust, and magical feedings of all kinds. But nothing of you. Your voice, your scent, your particular magical aura, it is not in one of the cubes. However, my interest is peaked when I recognize someone else.
Garsh?
He didn't mention he got an invitation to this ball, but given the work he does for the monster community, I'm not entirely surprised. He's a coveted asset to more than just my coven. A few minutes later, the big troll exits a privacy cube, hand in hand with a petite pixie, and the shock of seeing the two of them together must show on my face because he actually blushes when he notices me.
"Devin, good to see you," he says, running a meaty, green hand through his black stubbled hair. "This is, uh… "
The pixie—a petite pink haired woman with freckles and nervous wings—smiles. "Via," she says shyly.
"Yeah, uh, this is Via. A… friend."
I'm trying not to picture them in an intimate arrangement, but my mind refuses to obey, and I can't help but wonder at the logistics of it all. He's a solid 8 feet and at least 400 pounds. She can't be taller than 4' and if she weighs more than 70 pounds, wet, I'll eat my shoe.
I want to ask how, but that's crass, so I shake her delicate hand in
stead. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
She nods then flits her wings and flies away, floating a few feet above ground. She turns back once to blow a kiss to Garsh, who catches it and places it on his heart, and it's so sweet and pure I wonder at how jaded I've become that it almost makes me nauseous and jealous in equal measure. Is this what love looks like? What do you think of real love? Do you believe it exists or that it's just the chemicals in our brains, blinding us to reality?
"We were just… um… " Garsh says, stuttering.
I raise a hand. "It's none of my business, buddy," I say. "She's lovely."
He nods. "She is. She really is."
Honestly, I hope it works out for them. For the night or forever or whatever. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s Garsh.
"I see you found a ticket," he says as we walk downstairs to the bar together.
"I did," I say. "Thanks for the help."
Imperia is serving another customer, and a beautiful man with short golden hair and emerald eyes comes to take our order. "Name's Decimus, but my friends call me Dec," he says by way of greeting. "What can I get you gentleman?"
Garsh looks around helplessly, and I smile. "Whatever your special is."
Decimus smiles. "Dragon's Breath it is," he says as he begins pouring.
A few minutes later, he holds two cups up, then opens his mouth to blow on them, surprising us both as a thin blast of fire shoots from his mouth. He's a dragon, it would seem. Makes sense, given the scale tattoos running down his arm.
Garsh and I clink glasses and drink, his eyes widening as the liquor hits him. "This is delicious," he says, indicating he'd like another.
This time, Deciumus pulls out a much larger glass for the big troll, smiling as he blows fire onto it again roasting the marshmallows on the top with perfection.
"Did you find what you wanted here?" Garsh asks after a moment.
"About that," I say, leaning in to speak more privately. "Maybe you can help me? I know you're off work tonight, but I would owe you one if you're able."
Garsh laughs, and his laughs are somewhat legendary. Big, hearty, robust. Enough to draw some unwanted attention to us. When he realizes I'm trying to be discreet, he quiets down. "Of course, I can help. I'm always available for you."
I explain to him what I'm after and what you told me about your deal.
Garsh frowns. "There are some rumors floating around, but you aren't going to like them."
"Why won't I like them?"
"Because," he says, looking away from me as he drains the last of his drink, "it involves a vampire coup."
Chapter Five
"Tell me everything you know," I command, my mind spinning with conspiracies.
"You're not well-liked," he says softly.
I chuckle at that. "I'm aware. What does that have to do with this?"
"From what I've heard, Lawrence was meant to take you down then he… well. Then all that happened, and now the triumvirate wants to kill off your coven and change the pecking order of things."
"And the best way to weaken us is by taking the ring," I say, connecting the dots.
Garsh nods. "Plus…I've seen her around, wearing some new bling, bro. It doesn’t look good for you."
Rage overtakes me, and I clench my fist. "Delores is behind all of this."
Garsh shrugs. "Maybe. It's just speculation but… "
Before he can finish his sentence, two pixies flit over to us. Via and a new one with green hair. Via whispers into Garsh's ear. He blushes crimson then shrugs again apologetically. "Gotta run, man. Good luck."
The pixies take his hands and lead him back up the stairs to the privacy cubes. At least someone is having a good time tonight. Before he's taken too many steps, though, he pauses and looks back. "By the way, mate, I have it on good authority that Delores is here tonight."
That news changes things. If she's here, she might have the ring on her. But it can't be taken forcefully; these blasted magical items. She has to willingly give it up, and why would she do that after all of the work she put into stealing it?
I leave the bar and find you in a corner, sunk into an overstuffed fluffy bean bag, looking incongruous in your black smoke against the white. You also look pouty.
I sink into the chair with you, our bodies sliding against each other as I do. "This is a party. Why so glum?"
You jab your delicate chin in the direction of a man who is flirting with another man. They are both remarkably good looking and seem to be hitting it off well.
"Jealous?" I ask, confused.
You shake your head, arms still crossed over your chest. "That's my mark," you say.
"Ah! I see now," I say with a chuckle. "He's immune to your charms because he bats for the other side."
"It's going to be much harder than I thought," you say. Then, you look at me and narrow your eyes. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"If I say yes, does that make me a bad vampire?" I ask.
My humor only makes you angrier, which only makes you more adorable. I say as much, and my words illicit an irritated harrumph from you.
Sitting this close to you, I'm more aware than ever of your intoxicating scent and the gentle thrumming of your blood beneath your veins. I stifle my breathing to clear my head of your scent. I have to in order to keep my wits about me. I don't have the luxury of falling into your spell. Not with my ring still out there.
I glance at the men you keep watching, and an idea begins to form; though it's a truly terrible one and one I definitely do not want to do. I try to think of other alternatives, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing that will work, at any rate. And honestly, this might not work either. But it's worth a shot. Probably.
"Maybe there's a way we can help each other," I say.
You turn to face me, your expression wary but interested. "How so?"
"I know who hired you to steal the ring. She's here tonight."
"Okay?" You say, waiting for more.
"If I help you get your heirloom back, then you can use your powers to help me get mine. Tit for tat, and we both go home happy."
"How, though?" you ask. "She'll know who I am if she's the one who hired me."
That's the big problem in my plan, but there has to be a way. "Maybe we could disguise you?" I suggest. Surely there's enough magic at this Ball for something to work.
Your eyes return to your mark, and you frown. "Actually, I can disguise myself. If I get my pendant back, I can look like anything you want me to. That's the power of the heirloom. It gives women in my family the ability to take on any look to better seduce our desired target."
"Perfect. Then it's a deal?" I ask.
"Do you have a plan?" you ask.
"In a manner of speaking," I say. "What if I seduce your mark for you? With my compulsion, I can get him to give me the amulet. Then, you use it to take back the ring you stole from us."
"Who am I seducing?" you ask.
"Delores Dinto, head of the triumvirate."
Your face pales. "That's a death sentence," you say nervously.
"Not for women. She only kills her male partners," I offer helpfully, knowing full well it's not the whole story.
"And she maims her female partners. Everyone has heard the stories."
"Get the ring back and I won't let her hurt you," I vow. "I will have the power to stop her."
"What if you're too late?" you ask. "I have many gifts, but none that could withstand a vampire attack of that magnitude."
"What I'm asking of you is a lot; I know this," I say. "But my vampires will die without the protection the ring offers. Some already have."
It's a low blow and one I know will land well with you. For all of your ruthless cunning, you're not a killer. You're a thief and a seductress, but you don't kill your victims. That's my domain.
"I don't know, Devin. This could go so very wrong in so very many ways. I could be left permanently disfigured."
Your eyes are pleading, your expression fearful. But there'
s a steady resolve under all of that, and I know I have you. You already feel guilty for the deaths caused by your actions. You don't want more on your conscience. You'll do it.
I just need to make sure I can live up to my end of the bargain and keep you alive and in one piece. Because you're right. Delores will maim you when she's done with you. She doesn't like any woman surviving an encounter with her with all their beauty still intact. Like you, she too is a thief. But where you steal trinkets, she steals lives from her men and beauty from her women.
Finally, you nod, just as I knew you would. "Okay, fine. You have a deal. But you have to get me my pendant first, and it looks like my mark is about to head to a privacy cube with his very sexy catch for the night. How do you plan on stopping them?"
I sigh. "Very conspicuously," I say, standing. "What's his name?" I ask you.
"Bart," you say with a smirk. "Good luck."
I roll my eyes at her then walk over to them, clearing my throat as I do. "Bart! Bart!" I shout.
The two men turn to me, confused. I force tears into my eyes. "How could you! How could you? I thought we were coming here together." I toss what remains of my drink into Bart's surprised face. "I thought we were planning a life forever. How could you cheat on me with… " I fling my hand at the other man and squish up my face… "this! What will we tell the children?"
The other man looks at Bart, shock on his face. "You have kids with this dude? I'm not looking for drama, man. I'm outa here."
From behind me, I can hear you chuckling under your breath. You're enjoying this show far too much, my dear.
Chapter Six
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Bart asks, using a napkin to wipe the drink off his face. "I don't even know you."
"I'm so sorry. I just… I couldn't let you leave with him," I say. I take another cloth and help dab at his suit, casually checking that he has the pendant under his dress shirt, which he does.
Bart is 6'2", lean and muscular, with a carefully curated stubble along his almost cartoonishly perfect dimpled chin. He has dark hair, piercing green eyes that look like expertly cut emeralds, and is dressed to the nines. He could get any gay guy in this bar, and yet his confidence is surprisingly low for someone as good looking as he is. He seems entirely too unsure of himself, and I wonder about his story.
The Monster Ball Year 2 Page 27