The Monster Ball Year 2

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Are you just here to stare?” she asks. I really dislike witches.

  “Patricia, this is my sister—”

  “She can’t be your sister. You look nothing alike,” Patricia is quick to point out, and she does have a point. I have wavy, blonde hair, tanned skin from my love of sunbathing, and I’m short as hell. Ivory is tall with long, black hair, pale skin that never tans, and she is very beautiful. Many people confuse her often with a supernatural because the supes are always very pretty. They have an allure about them. Except for Patricia, perhaps. Yes, she is pretty with dark-red hair, pale skin covered in freckles, and big eyes that are so dark they seem black. She is just not as alluring as many other supes are.

  “We grew up in foster care together before taking classes at the same university, and now we share an apartment. Sometimes family doesn’t mean blood; it means who has actually been there for you,” Ivory firmly states, and Patricia just gives her a snooty look before turning around to the mirror.

  “The dress isn’t tight enough, and it is dragging on the floor. You need to fix it,” Patricia states and claps her hands. I give Ivory a side-eye as I pick up the box of pins off the side and go over as she starts making the adjustments.

  “So, do you think Brandon Rivera is going to be at the event?” One of the other witches in the room, who doesn’t bother to look at Ivory or me, asks. Nope, that would be beneath her. I look out the window, where the sun is swiftly setting, and it won’t be long until it’s dark out. Ivory always works way too hard—and late—this time of year when everyone who is anyone wants a dress for the ball.

  “One of the six always attends, and he never has before,” Patricia says, referring to the six council leaders of Rivera City. Each one controls and manages each of the races under their jurisdiction. I don’t know all their names off the top of my head, but I know they have a witch, a panther shifter, a wolf shifter, a dragon shifter, an angel, and a troll on the council. There are different kinds of supernaturals around, but those are the main ones. There are the vampires too, but they refused a place on the council long ago, and they play by their own rules.

  “He is looking for a wife, considering his imprint hasn’t turned up,” the other witch says. I don’t know much about what an imprint is because every supe I’ve ever heard speak of it soon shuts up when they see a human is around. But when you live in a supe community, you do pick up on a few things.

  “Maybe a love potion might sway him into my arms,” Patricia says, and they all laugh.

  “All done. If you want to take the dress off, I will make the adjustments tomorrow for you to collect tomorrow night,” Ivory explains to her.

  “Why can’t you do them tonight?” Patricia demands.

  “Ivory has been working all day. Tomorrow isn’t going to make a difference. It’s five days until Halloween anyway,” I point out before Ivory can say anything. I keep my head held high as Patricia looks at me, and her eyes start to glow white.

  “Maybe you should walk outside and spin around until you fall over,” Patricia says, but it’s not just her words that speak, it’s her magic. I struggle to fight my body as it turns, and I take a step towards the door. Only it’s not me doing it, and nothing I do seems to stop my slow movements. I do gradually manage to stop myself somehow even though my body shakes and wants to do as I’m told.

  “Stop it! Let her go!” Ivory shouts, rushing to me, but in the corner of my eye, I see Patricia’s two witch friends grab Ivory’s arms to stop her. Patricia walks over to me, frowning as she leans down, and looks at me dead in the eye.

  “You’re a strong one even to be able to fight my persuasion. How very odd,” she says with a smile before stepping aside. “Fine, I will help you outside.” Seconds after she speaks, she whispers something under her breath, and it feels like a gush of wind sends me flying out of the building with the door opening for me. I scream as I crash onto the grass on the other side of the road, rolling a few times until I can stop myself. I gasp as everything hurts, and I try not to let any emotions appear on my face as I look at the bright moon above me. Suddenly, it seems to flash before an ivory, almost silver piece of parchment floats down in a swirl, and I reach up to grab it. My fingers grip the edge of the paper, which is soft to the touch, and the moon seems to shine brighter as I sit up.

  “NO!” I hear Patricia scream at me as she stares from the road. “Not you! You don’t deserve an invite to The Monster Ball! You are just a human!”

  “I think the only person who doesn’t deserve an invite is you, Patricia. Get the fuck away from us, and dream again if you think I will ever make your dress,” Ivory growls, looking pretty scary as she stares down Patricia. “And you don’t want to use any more magic. There are people around.”

  “I’m going to ruin you for this,” she sneers at Ivory.

  “Try it,” Ivory replies before walking away from her and towards me. Patricia storms away, still wearing the lovely dress, with her friends following as Ivory comes and sits next to me.

  “Open it then, sis.” She bumps my shoulder. We could discuss how it’s unfair that the supes can play games with us and get away with it, but what is the point? No one even bats an eyelash, and this is why most humans do not live in the supernaturals’ communities unless they are married to supes or work for them. They pay better than humans ever could do, and I know my sister just kissed goodbye one hell of a paycheck. I will pay her back; I will make sure of it. I turn the silvery slip of parchment over from the side that simply says The Monster Ball, and there is more writing on the other side.

  Just as the moon has brought me to you,

  So shall the moon bring you to the ball.

  All Hallows’ Eve.

  The Witching Hour.

  Chapter Two

  “I can’t go to a ball,” I tell Ivory for the third time since I received that invitation. Turns out, Ivory can’t read it; it doesn’t look like anything other than plain paper to her. I haven’t heard of a human attending the Ball ever. “I am in the middle of painting the final piece for the show, and—”

  “You have to go, Raine! You said yourself, you have lacked inspiration for your final piece, and this could be just it,” Ivory says as she unlocks the door to our apartment and walks in. I shut the door behind her, clutching the invite firmly in my hand, and sigh.

  “I will think about it,” I mutter.

  “Brilliant. I’m going to start working on your dress. I’ve always wanted to make a dress for you,” she says, and before I can tell her no, she has disappeared into her bedroom.

  “I’m ordering takeout then!” I shout to her as I head to my room and kick my shoes off at the entrance. I shut my door, pulling out my phone from my back pocket and frowning at the deep crack down the middle of the screen. Just brilliant. I jump onto my bed and cross my legs, putting the invite down on my blue bedsheets and staring at it as I twirl my phone in my hand.

  I lift my head and look at the blank canvas in the bay window with my box of paints beside it. I’ve spent six months painting twenty beautiful paintings for a contract I was given. It’s the biggest job I’ve ever had, and the paycheck would mean I could buy a house for Ivory and me to live in, getting us out of this shitty apartment. We wouldn’t have the high rent hanging over our heads like we do now, and we’d actually have a safe place to live. This apartment isn’t terrible, but it’s downtown, and it’s not policed well at all. Just the other day, three humans went missing, and no one is bothering to look for them. I want to move uptown with Ivory, near her store there. This contract would give me that, and so far, the job has gone perfectly. The assistant I deal with said her boss loves the five I’ve shown them so far. The rest are hanging up in the gallery, and only Ivory has seen them.

  Only problem? I can’t paint the last one.

  I feel like a wall slams into my mind every time I pick up a paintbrush, and I don’t know exactly how to move it.

  Maybe Ivory is right, and this ball is just what I need.
Some inspiration that I can’t seem to find on my own. I lie back on my bed, looking up at the white ceiling before grabbing my phone and texting Ivory.

  I’m in. It’s only one Ball; what’s the worst that could happen? The three lines saying she is typing back come up instantly. I would bet she was searching for dress ideas on her phone before I even sent this.

  You could find a boyfriend, for one. How long has it been? Haha … actually it has been a while. She might have a point, but I’m not going to let her know that. I’d never live it down.

  Only a few years. I’m twenty-four, not fifty. I don’t have to worry about getting old.

  Whatever. Order me a pizza with double pineapple, and I will have a dress ready for you by Halloween.

  You’re gross, double pineapple? Are you even my sister? But fine. Also, I’m paying you.

  You couldn’t afford me, and we both know it. This is your Christmas present for the next ten years. Love you.

  I chuckle as I read her text. I pick up the invite one more time, looking at shimmering silver writing on it. It’s one ball, one event, and Ivory is right. I need inspiration. A thought suddenly comes to me as I grab my phone again.

  Ivory, please don’t go overboard with this dress. I don’t want to stand out. I’m just human.

  You’ve always stood out, no matter what you wear, Raine. You just never realised it.

  Chapter Three

  “Okay, open your eyes, Raine,” Ivory says, and I lower my hands, letting them drop to my sides as I stare in awe. It looks like I’m wearing a dress made of pure sparkling, white crystals. The top part is clear, almost see-through in parts, and covered in millions of sparkling, white jewels. The bottom of the dress spreads out into a real ball gown, layers and layers of smooth, white fabric with lines of crystals throughout it. My blonde hair is circled up in a bun with a few loose strands falling out around my face. I have light makeup on, which mimics the dress perfectly. I never knew I could love a dress as much as I do right now, and a tear falls down my cheek, which Ivory is quick to wipe away. I wrap my arms around my sister and pull her to me, feeling her tears on my shoulder.

  “No crying, you will ruin the makeup,” Ivory tells me, pushing me back as I chuckle.

  “I don’t even know how to thank you. This dress is more than I could have ever imagined. It almost looks magical,” I say, and magical doesn’t begin to describe it. This dress is everything, and I feel like I’m wrapped in a cloud full of diamonds that happens to fit me perfectly.

  “It suits you. I knew I had the right idea in mind to go heavy on the sparkles,” she says, taking my hand and helping me step down from the platform. I slide on the white heels Ivory is lending me for the night—thank gods we are the same size. “I have another surprise as well,” she says, pulling out a red velvet bag from her jeans pocket and handing it to me. I frown but accept the bag, opening it up to see a gold ring inside. The ring almost glows, and I wonder where I’ve seen it before.

  “It’s a witch travel ring, and it’s yours to keep. It has three trips left in it, and I thought you might be able to use it to escape the Ball if you want to,” she explains to me. I know these are super rare and near impossible to pay for. Witch rings are passed down from generation to generation.

  “How much did this cost you?” I ask her.

  “Nothing actually. Remember that little, old dragon shifter who wanted a dress to wear to her son’s wedding?” she asks, and I do remember seeing her once, mainly because she had a cough and kept coughing little flames onto the shop floor. Ivory had to keep stopping to put out the fires. “Well, you know how dragons are collectors, especially of shiny things. Apparently, they also like to give their treasures to deserving people. So she gave me this as a gift for all my hard work on her dress.”

  “Then it’s yours. I can’t take it,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Of course you can. I have no need for it. I don’t go anywhere other than here and our apartment,” she replies, closing my hand over the ring. “Besides, you can avoid all the Halloween traffic on the way home. Just promise me you will have a good night. Dance with a hot guy, and try not to worry so much.”

  “I’ve been a worrier my whole life, a foster kid habit, I think,” I admit to her, and she knows exactly what I mean. We both never had anyone to rely on until we found each other and realised we needed to make our own family rather than expecting someone else to.

  “Our parents may not have wanted us, but who cares? They’re our lives, and we have worked hard to be who we are now. I’m proud of you, and you deserve this. Now go. You don’t want to be late,” she says and winks at me.

  “Thank you. I love you,” I tell her, and she grins at me. I walk outside the shop and look up at the moon as I step into the moonlight in the middle of the road.

  I gasp as it feels like a cold breeze washes over my skin, and when I open my eyes, I’m no longer standing outside my sister’s shop. Instead, I’m outside an alleyway which is dimly lit but somehow making me want to walk into it. The sound of the city that never sleeps is near, somewhat comforting me that we haven’t gone too far. The second I’m in the alleyway, I see two tall and imposing gargoyles perched above the door, and they seem to spot me at the same time as they stretch their wings out, transforming into handsome twins, and fly down to land either side of the door.

  “Welcome to The Monster Ball, I’m Bronx and always here to help. Do you have your ticket?” Bronx asks with a big smile when I stop in the middle between him and the other man who decides not to speak but winks at me in a cheeky way that almost makes me smile if I wasn’t so nervous. This man has a New York accent though, not hard to miss at all. I hand him the ticket I’m clutching in my hand, and the moment it touches his fingers, it disappears into nothing but dust.

  “Have a good time tonight, Raine Gray, and remember... what happens at the Ball stays at the Ball.” I don’t have time to wonder how he knew my name because the red door opens by itself and it’s time to go inside. Welcome to The Monster Ball.

  Chapter Four

  As I step through the door, it closes behind me with a loud slam that makes me jump. This is seriously freaky. I find myself in a long, decrepit hallway that looks like something from a horror movie. I keep telling myself that I’ve never heard of anyone dying at The Monster Ball before as I walk down the hallway. Dim fluorescent lighting flickers above me before blinking out and plunging the corridor into darkness. I'm so relieved when I hear music and the sound of people talking as I get to the end of the corridor.

  I see a rainbow of lights in the distance, and as I get closer, I see a large rectangular room is lit by fibre optic lights inside a giant thundercloud. For the first few steps into the Ball, I don’t know what to look at first because there is so much going on. The dance floor is right in front of me, and it is huge with dozens of people dancing on it. The mixture of the colours of their dresses, along with the black suits many of the men are wearing, is quite a sight to see. I’ve never seen a ball like this, let alone attended one. I can’t help but feel like I don’t fit in with the shiny world of the supes like everyone else here. I still don't understand how I, a mere human, was invited to the Ball. It had to be a mistake. I glance around nervously, certain I'll be spotted for a fraud. My eyes flicker to two women dancing together, one with purple hair and the other with blonde. They seem to be looking for someone. I really like the first woman’s purple hair and nose piercing. I’ve always wanted to get my nose pierced.

  I gulp down the paranoid thoughts littering my brain and look over the rest of the room. There are two bars, one on the left and one on the right. I notice their cement counters with glittering pulsing crystals woven in them, and stairs that light up like rainbows beside each of them. On each side of the room are two very fluffy, white bean bag chairs. I’m afraid if I sit on one of those, I would blend in with the fluff and be lost forever.

  I look up at the cloud above the dance floor where the next floor overlooks all of the dan
cers down here. There is another level above that by the looks of it, and the ceiling is covered in what looks like a massive thunder cloud, it’s lightning a rainbow of colors that pulses to the beat of the music. What would Ivory do if she were here? I always find myself asking that question when I’m nervous because Ivory somehow always makes the right decisions. I think she would just explore, so I’m going to do that. I walk around the dance floor and up the stairs, passing a couple who are making out and don’t even notice me pass them. The second floor is a little too overwhelming for me; it even has swinging chairs, and it is full of supes.

  I head up the stairs to the next floor, which is where the band is that I have been hearing. The band catches my attention first, purely because of the way the girl in the middle is singing so seductively. I’m sure she is famous in the supe world, and I’ve seen her posters around town, but I can’t remember their name. She has light blue hair that looks like cotton candy, and her long-nailed fingers are wrapped around a microphone as she sings a familiar song. Her sheer white dress is so revealing that it almost looks nude, while still managing to look classy with crystals all over it. The rest of the men are just as impressively dressed, and two of them have striking electric guitars that they are playing masterfully.

  I decide pretty quickly that staying here isn’t going to work, and I head up the last part of the stairs and pushing the door open to the rooftop. The cool air is instantly soothing as I take in the beautiful rooftop. It has bays, each with U shaped white couches and a table, and there are three of them on either side of the roof. Right in the middle is a circular bar, and before I can make up an excuse, the bartender is looking right at me, and he curls a finger for me to come over. He is Spanish, I presume, with that sexy look in his eyes that no doubt draws everyone in. I mean I’m walking over, so he clearly has this down.