Adamant Spirits, page 191
Madame Lana walks into the room, my fiancé trailing behind her. As they move farther into my room, I’m dwarfed by his massive size. The Dracos have always been sought after when mating season begins. Their bloodline is ancient, and while they are complete bastards, right down to their shriveled black hearts, they’re handsome ones.
There’s not a shifter female alive who wouldn’t want to climb the eldest Draco legacy like a tree. Well, except for me, and my hatred only began when I realized what monsters slither beneath their silvery tongues and flaxen hair.
“We need to see if you’re fertile,” Phillip replies.
My eyes widen. “Like hell you will.” I back away, moving further onto the balcony until my hands grip the balusters. “You aren’t touching me.”
“Relax, my pretty,” Phillip soothes. “Madame Lana just wants to see your palm.”
“You aren’t touching me!” I scream, and Madame Lana snaps her fingers. A vice closes around my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I grip my bare neck, grasping and scratching at something that’s not really there.
Spots swim in my vision, my lungs burning, until finally, she snaps again, and I crumble to the floor, gasping.
“Try not to kill her,” Phillip says dryly. “We do need an heir.”
“Of course.” The witch bitch bows her head. Then, she leans down and grips my wrist in one of her taloned hands and drags me back into my room. After stopping just beside my bed, her face changes—nose elongating into a long, black beak. Eyes that were once nearly silver turn completely black, the pupils obliterating all color. That’s what black magic does to you. It changes your very DNA, morphing you into a monster.
At least like this she’s as ugly on the outside as she is evil on the inside.
She cocks her head to the side and studies me, then looks down at my hand. I try to yank it away, but Phillip is there, his hands pressing down on my shoulders, pinning me in place as she runs her sharp beak down the length of my palm.
I grind my teeth against the pain, cringing rather than crying out. I refuse to let these bastards see me in pain. Blood wells to the surface, and the witch bitch’s face reverts as she dips a finger into my blood and tastes it.
“This is good,” she says, shoving me back. Phillip releases my shoulders, and I scramble to my feet, cradling my now injured hand against my chest.
“Well? Is she fertile?”
“Yes, my Prince. She will be with child by the next full moon.” I gape at them in horror as the sick, twisted future planned out for me takes an entirely new turn. I’m no stranger to sex—not that I’ve had any. Which, unfortunately, is part of the reason he wanted me.
I am a virgin, untouched by anyone but myself and BOB, my battery-operated boyfriend. And since this will be my first fertility cycle, it will be stronger than any others. I’d saved myself for someone important and ended up screwing myself over in the end.
What irony.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night, my bride.” Bile rises in my throat as he winks, and I shrink back, waiting for the moment I’m alone again. As soon as I am, I crumple to the floor and sob, my broken cries unheard by anyone.
My room grows brighter, and I open my eyes, sure that I’m imagining the change. Silver fills my room from the open doors, illuminating every nook and cranny of the space, and I get to my feet, shielding my eyes as I turn toward the balcony. The light is beautiful—ethereal—and eases my sorrows as it fills me with a sense of hope.
The beam of light flashes one last time before vanishing completely, leaving behind the bright moon and twinkling stars. Before I turn away, though, my gaze catches something shimmery floating down toward me. Intrigued, I watch it, captivated by the beauty as the moon glints off the surface.
It lands at my feet, so I kneel, retrieving what I now see is parchment from the floor. Straightening, I run my fingers over the words The Monster Ball handwritten on the front.
Eyes wide, I continue staring down at the piece of paper like it’s going to sprout legs and walk right out the door. I’ve only ever heard rumors of The Monster Ball a few times in my life, and never in my wildest dreams would I have believed I’d get my hands on a coveted invitation.
Beyond excited and doing my best not to squeal, I flip the invitation over and read the writing on the back.
Just as the moon has brought me to you
So shall the moon bring you to The Ball
All Hallows Eve
The Witching Hour
* * *
My stomach falls. All Hallows Eve. The night of my wedding. There’s no damn way I’ll be able to get out of my wedding. I’m trapped here in this hell. What if it wasn’t meant for me? I’m a no-name, no one special. If anything, this invitation was probably meant for Phillip. I clutch the page to my chest.
The very thought of handing this over to him is abhorrent. Pulling it away, I look down at it again. The Monster Ball. Just as the moon has brought me to you, so shall the moon bring you to The Ball.
Magic must have brought it to me. Does that mean magic might save me?
Jack
“Where the hell have you been?”
I cast a glare at the bartender, who also happens to be a close friend of mine. “Out,” I reply. Unbuttoning the jacket of my suit, I take a seat on a barstool, placing both hands on the mahogany top.
“Out?” He finishes drying off a glass and walks toward me, setting it down and adding two fingers of Jameson. I lift it, drink it down, and set it back on the bar. He instantly refills it before leaning down. “You have a hand in that skydive gone wrong that’s been all over the news since last night?”
I shrug. “He jumped.”
“Shit, Jack. You’re going to get your ass caught.”
Meeting Tyrone’s brown eyes, I lower my voice and say, “He was the last of them.”
He straightens, nodding in understanding. Tyrone’s been my best friend since we were both in diapers. He’s the only one who knows that I’m a Hunter and has covered for me on more than one occasion. He was also the one who picked me back up after Delaney was murdered. “That why you’re all dressed up? You celebrating?”
I glance down at my all-black suit. It’s the nicest thing I own and something I only wear when I’m trying to blend in with the aristocratic assholes who tend to run with Vampires. Most of them don’t even realize they’re brushing elbows with the blood-sucking dickwads.
“Stop busting my balls,” I reply, not willing to tell him that I might be magically transported to a ball that may or may not be crawling with monsters. I can’t even decide which I think would be the best-case scenario. Discovering it was all a joke? Or having it not be a joke at all?
“Then tell me why you’re wearing a four-piece black suit in my pub.”
“Because I felt like it.”
He refills my glass again and shakes his head, leaving me to my bad fucking mood as he moves to serve other customers.
“I like your suit.”
Eyebrow raised, I glance at the woman standing beside me. “Thanks.” Using my heightened hearing, I listen for a heartbeat. The pale skin gives her away, and her incredibly slow heartbeat confirms it.
Most people think Vampires have no hearts, but the truth is, they’re born just like you and me. But only when two Vampires fuck. If a Vampire screws a human, nothing happens. They need that Supernatural blood exchange before a baby can be created.
Vampires murder mercilessly, and the only thing I can give them is that they don’t slaughter. Their kills are swift and sometimes painless for the victim. Neither of those things saves them though, so I stretch out my arm and palm the silver dagger attached to my forearm beneath the jacket of my tux.
Tyrone comes back over, offering a bright smile to the woman beside me. “What can I get you, beautiful?”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says, gesturing to my drink.
I smile and nod. There’s no way I can kill her in here. Tyrone would probably be pretty fucking pissed about that. So I wait. If she makes a move, then I’ll make mine.
Tyrone serves her a drink, and she hands him a credit card. “Keep a tab open, handsome.”
“You got it.” He leaves, and the Vampire turns toward me, propping an elbow on the mahogany top, her hip jutted out. A piece of fabric that barely constitutes as a dress slips up her pale thighs.
“So, why are you all dressed up tonight. Going to a ball or something?”
Eyebrow raised, I study her. “What would give you that impression?”
“You look a little too nice to be in here.”
“I happen to think this is a nice pub.”
She leans down. “Cut the shit, Hunter.”
“Why? We were having so much fun.” I stand up, my large frame dwarfing her.
“You don’t frighten me.”
“I should. Why are you here?”
“I want the invitation that’s in your pocket.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you put it in there as you stepped out onto the curb. You should keep something so important hidden.” She runs a hand down my chest, bright red fingernails contrasting gothically with the black fabric.
I take a step back. “I repeat. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She moves toward me, getting up on her tip-toes. I don’t flinch away as she presses her lips to my ear. “How about I trade information with you? You give it to me, and I’ll tell you where the four Vampires are hiding outside, waiting for you. Your life for a ticket to a ball.”
“Not a chance in hell, bitch.”
“Too bad. You’re as good as dead, Hunter. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She saunters toward the door, and I follow, silver dagger in my hand. Apparently, I’m going to have to get blood on my damned suit after all.
I step outside as she’s walking toward an alley. Is it a trap? Absolutely. Nearly every time I step outside, I’m risking a trap. “An alley? Super original.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, golden eyes widening, before breaking into a run.
“Dammit.” I am not wearing the clothes for a chase. Pumping my arms, I follow her as she disappears around a corner.
As I emerge at the mouth of the alley, I stop, dagger still in hand. A vampire stands a few yards in front of me, his canines sunk into the throat of the woman I’d been chasing. He rips his teeth out, tearing her throat with them, and tosses her to the side like a doll. “Well, that was unexpected.” A vampire killing another vampire? Not entirely unheard of, but usually, their deaths are carried out in the chambers of the Immortal Council.
“She shouldn’t have spoken with you.” Dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, the guy wipes the blood from his lips with his fingers and brushes it onto his pants.
“She really didn’t tell me much.”
He shrugs. “Too bad.”
“We gonna do this? I do have somewhere to be.” Careful to not catch the blade of the dagger in my hand on the sleeve, I remove my suit jacket and hang it on the rung of a nearby fire escape. Then, kneeling, I retrieve my second blade from a holster at my ankle.
“You aren’t walking out of this alley.” He grins and nods as three pairs of boots hit the asphalt behind me.
“Oh, I get it. You want to role play?” I straighten, then flip my daggers hilt over blade, and smile. “I love to role play.”
I drop down and spin my leg out, knocking the motherfucker to the ground. Rolling, I pounce on top of him and kick my legs out to take out the second vamp, who tried to sneak up on me.
I send my dagger flying end over end at the asshole I saw first. It buries in his chest, and he roars, falling to the ground. I dodge a right hook and drive my fist into my attacker’s ribcage. He stumbles back, and I slam my second blade into his chest.
Ripping it out, he falls back, and I turn to glare at the other two. “Who’s next?” They stare at each other and take off, blurring out of the alley and into the street. I check my watch, eleven fifty-eight. I kneel, wiping my blade on the jeans of the nearest dead Vamp before walking over to black t-shirt and ripping my second dagger out of his chest. Cleaning it as well, I retrieve my jacket and put it back on.
Checking to make sure I still have my invitation, I shove it back into my pocket and head for the nearest fire escape. I don’t know if this thing is even going to work, but if it does, I figure I might need to be on the damned roof.
Willa
The mirror in my room reflects a beautiful black skirt with a crimson bodice decorated in hand-embroidered black roses. The roses emboss the Draco family crest, so even now, they’re marking me with what I wear.
As soon as I’m seen, everyone will know who I belong to. I clench my fists. Belong to. Like I’m a piece of damned property. The clock on my nightstand reads eleven fifty-nine. I glance over at the parchment on my bed before I walk over and lift it.
If this thing doesn’t work, I’ll be married by dawn. Forced into bed with my enemy so he can put his child inside of me. Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. I swear I’ll die before I let that asshole touch me. And if this damned thing does work, I’m using it to ditch my virginity.
After all, I’ve heard that what happens at The Ball stays at The Ball.
The clock downstairs chimes, signaling midnight, and nothing happens. I hold my breath, stepping toward the balcony. The moon begins to glow, much like it did when the parchment arrived in my glorified prison cell. The vines covering the balcony come to life, slithering up to block the light. But the moment the light shines on them, they turn to ash, crumbling and disappearing in the breeze.
Bright light surrounds me, and I close my eyes, clinging to the parchment in my hand.
Jack
I open my eyes. “What the fuck?”
It takes a lot to rattle me. And rightfully so since I’ve fought and killed a shit ton of supernaturals in my life, but when I realize not only did the invitation work but it deposited me onto the creepiest fucking dock in the world, I’m a little shaken up.
I turn, but I don’t find anything behind me except swirling mist. The sight of it chills me, helping me realize I don’t want to venture into it. Iron spires rise up on both sides of the dock, blocking me from even jumping into the water. Not that I’d want to, who the hell knows what’s down there. With my shit luck, I’d probably end up dinner for some weird-ass Supernatural fish.
“Guess I’m walking forward.” I take my first step, half expecting the dock to disappear beneath me. For all I know, this entire night could be one massive trick to get rid of a Hunter. What if I’m walking into a trap? Wait. I stop, reaching down to my pant leg, and feel for my dagger. What the fuck? Lifting the black fabric, I search for my holster only to discover it’s gone. “Perfect.” So now, not only is it possible that I’m walking into a trap, but I no longer have the two weapons I risked bringing with me.
I glance back as I straighten, thinking that maybe leaving is the better option at this point. But there’s nothing behind me but black. Here we go. Thick fog wraps around my ankles as I continue moving, rising up on all sides, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few inches in front of me.
The eerie quiet wraps around me, and although I can’t see anyone else, I can’t help but feel like I’m not here alone.
A red door comes into view. Intricate designs are carved into the red paint, lines and swirls that give it an ancient appearance. Before I can reach for the handle, it opens, and two creatures I’ve only ever heard of but never seen in person fly out, black leathery wings flapping. They stop just before me, looming at the end of the dock. Gargoyles. The moment they touch ground, they begin to shift, each moving in tandem until two massive men stand where the winged creatures hovered only moments ago. They’re identical. And I mean identical. Their dark skin is the same shade, their eyes the same color, hell, their noses are in the same damned position on their faces.
The only difference between the two is the slightly longer dreads the one on the left is sporting. He holds out a hand. “Invitation.”
Reaching into my suit, I withdraw my parchment. “Is it possible to get here without one?” I joke.
He snickers and glances back at his partner. “This guy’s a funny one.”
“A funny Hunter, brother? You sure about that?”
I stiffen. “You know what I am?”
“We know what everyone is.”
“But we take special note of the guests who try to sneak in weapons, Hunter. Can’t have any trouble now, can we?”
“You’re the ones who took them?” I demand. When? How? I was pretty damn shocked, but not so out of it I would have missed someone reaching into my fucking clothes.
He chuckles. “We did no such thing. The Proprietor will not allow blood to be spilled on her night.” He steps to the side and opens the door. “Welcome to The Monster Ball, Hunter.”
“Thanks, I think,” I murmur as I step through the threshold.
“Let us hope you don’t wind up lost in the Bermuda Triangle like so many others have.”
“Wait, what?” I spin, and the door slams behind me, plunging me into complete darkness. “Well, this is fucking awesome.”
A wave of nausea nearly knocks me to my knees as my body feels like it’s being ripped inside out. Every warning bell in my head is going off, my instincts telling me none of this is normal. No fucking shit.
A moment passes—or is it two? But when I blink again, I’m no longer in the dark. A glass door looms before me. Someone—or rather something—passes through it and bows at me. A ghost? This is a night for firsts, isn’t it?
I can’t help but stare at him as he opens the door, and a haunting melody drifts up from the room, the dark tune making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Shit, this is really happening. Just in case I’m imagining the whole thing, I reach up and pinch my arm. Immature? Sure, but effective. The sting radiates over my skin, confirming that I’m not dreaming.
There’s not a shifter female alive who wouldn’t want to climb the eldest Draco legacy like a tree. Well, except for me, and my hatred only began when I realized what monsters slither beneath their silvery tongues and flaxen hair.
“We need to see if you’re fertile,” Phillip replies.
My eyes widen. “Like hell you will.” I back away, moving further onto the balcony until my hands grip the balusters. “You aren’t touching me.”
“Relax, my pretty,” Phillip soothes. “Madame Lana just wants to see your palm.”
“You aren’t touching me!” I scream, and Madame Lana snaps her fingers. A vice closes around my throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. I grip my bare neck, grasping and scratching at something that’s not really there.
Spots swim in my vision, my lungs burning, until finally, she snaps again, and I crumble to the floor, gasping.
“Try not to kill her,” Phillip says dryly. “We do need an heir.”
“Of course.” The witch bitch bows her head. Then, she leans down and grips my wrist in one of her taloned hands and drags me back into my room. After stopping just beside my bed, her face changes—nose elongating into a long, black beak. Eyes that were once nearly silver turn completely black, the pupils obliterating all color. That’s what black magic does to you. It changes your very DNA, morphing you into a monster.
At least like this she’s as ugly on the outside as she is evil on the inside.
She cocks her head to the side and studies me, then looks down at my hand. I try to yank it away, but Phillip is there, his hands pressing down on my shoulders, pinning me in place as she runs her sharp beak down the length of my palm.
I grind my teeth against the pain, cringing rather than crying out. I refuse to let these bastards see me in pain. Blood wells to the surface, and the witch bitch’s face reverts as she dips a finger into my blood and tastes it.
“This is good,” she says, shoving me back. Phillip releases my shoulders, and I scramble to my feet, cradling my now injured hand against my chest.
“Well? Is she fertile?”
“Yes, my Prince. She will be with child by the next full moon.” I gape at them in horror as the sick, twisted future planned out for me takes an entirely new turn. I’m no stranger to sex—not that I’ve had any. Which, unfortunately, is part of the reason he wanted me.
I am a virgin, untouched by anyone but myself and BOB, my battery-operated boyfriend. And since this will be my first fertility cycle, it will be stronger than any others. I’d saved myself for someone important and ended up screwing myself over in the end.
What irony.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night, my bride.” Bile rises in my throat as he winks, and I shrink back, waiting for the moment I’m alone again. As soon as I am, I crumple to the floor and sob, my broken cries unheard by anyone.
My room grows brighter, and I open my eyes, sure that I’m imagining the change. Silver fills my room from the open doors, illuminating every nook and cranny of the space, and I get to my feet, shielding my eyes as I turn toward the balcony. The light is beautiful—ethereal—and eases my sorrows as it fills me with a sense of hope.
The beam of light flashes one last time before vanishing completely, leaving behind the bright moon and twinkling stars. Before I turn away, though, my gaze catches something shimmery floating down toward me. Intrigued, I watch it, captivated by the beauty as the moon glints off the surface.
It lands at my feet, so I kneel, retrieving what I now see is parchment from the floor. Straightening, I run my fingers over the words The Monster Ball handwritten on the front.
Eyes wide, I continue staring down at the piece of paper like it’s going to sprout legs and walk right out the door. I’ve only ever heard rumors of The Monster Ball a few times in my life, and never in my wildest dreams would I have believed I’d get my hands on a coveted invitation.
Beyond excited and doing my best not to squeal, I flip the invitation over and read the writing on the back.
Just as the moon has brought me to you
So shall the moon bring you to The Ball
All Hallows Eve
The Witching Hour
* * *
My stomach falls. All Hallows Eve. The night of my wedding. There’s no damn way I’ll be able to get out of my wedding. I’m trapped here in this hell. What if it wasn’t meant for me? I’m a no-name, no one special. If anything, this invitation was probably meant for Phillip. I clutch the page to my chest.
The very thought of handing this over to him is abhorrent. Pulling it away, I look down at it again. The Monster Ball. Just as the moon has brought me to you, so shall the moon bring you to The Ball.
Magic must have brought it to me. Does that mean magic might save me?
Jack
“Where the hell have you been?”
I cast a glare at the bartender, who also happens to be a close friend of mine. “Out,” I reply. Unbuttoning the jacket of my suit, I take a seat on a barstool, placing both hands on the mahogany top.
“Out?” He finishes drying off a glass and walks toward me, setting it down and adding two fingers of Jameson. I lift it, drink it down, and set it back on the bar. He instantly refills it before leaning down. “You have a hand in that skydive gone wrong that’s been all over the news since last night?”
I shrug. “He jumped.”
“Shit, Jack. You’re going to get your ass caught.”
Meeting Tyrone’s brown eyes, I lower my voice and say, “He was the last of them.”
He straightens, nodding in understanding. Tyrone’s been my best friend since we were both in diapers. He’s the only one who knows that I’m a Hunter and has covered for me on more than one occasion. He was also the one who picked me back up after Delaney was murdered. “That why you’re all dressed up? You celebrating?”
I glance down at my all-black suit. It’s the nicest thing I own and something I only wear when I’m trying to blend in with the aristocratic assholes who tend to run with Vampires. Most of them don’t even realize they’re brushing elbows with the blood-sucking dickwads.
“Stop busting my balls,” I reply, not willing to tell him that I might be magically transported to a ball that may or may not be crawling with monsters. I can’t even decide which I think would be the best-case scenario. Discovering it was all a joke? Or having it not be a joke at all?
“Then tell me why you’re wearing a four-piece black suit in my pub.”
“Because I felt like it.”
He refills my glass again and shakes his head, leaving me to my bad fucking mood as he moves to serve other customers.
“I like your suit.”
Eyebrow raised, I glance at the woman standing beside me. “Thanks.” Using my heightened hearing, I listen for a heartbeat. The pale skin gives her away, and her incredibly slow heartbeat confirms it.
Most people think Vampires have no hearts, but the truth is, they’re born just like you and me. But only when two Vampires fuck. If a Vampire screws a human, nothing happens. They need that Supernatural blood exchange before a baby can be created.
Vampires murder mercilessly, and the only thing I can give them is that they don’t slaughter. Their kills are swift and sometimes painless for the victim. Neither of those things saves them though, so I stretch out my arm and palm the silver dagger attached to my forearm beneath the jacket of my tux.
Tyrone comes back over, offering a bright smile to the woman beside me. “What can I get you, beautiful?”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she says, gesturing to my drink.
I smile and nod. There’s no way I can kill her in here. Tyrone would probably be pretty fucking pissed about that. So I wait. If she makes a move, then I’ll make mine.
Tyrone serves her a drink, and she hands him a credit card. “Keep a tab open, handsome.”
“You got it.” He leaves, and the Vampire turns toward me, propping an elbow on the mahogany top, her hip jutted out. A piece of fabric that barely constitutes as a dress slips up her pale thighs.
“So, why are you all dressed up tonight. Going to a ball or something?”
Eyebrow raised, I study her. “What would give you that impression?”
“You look a little too nice to be in here.”
“I happen to think this is a nice pub.”
She leans down. “Cut the shit, Hunter.”
“Why? We were having so much fun.” I stand up, my large frame dwarfing her.
“You don’t frighten me.”
“I should. Why are you here?”
“I want the invitation that’s in your pocket.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you put it in there as you stepped out onto the curb. You should keep something so important hidden.” She runs a hand down my chest, bright red fingernails contrasting gothically with the black fabric.
I take a step back. “I repeat. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She moves toward me, getting up on her tip-toes. I don’t flinch away as she presses her lips to my ear. “How about I trade information with you? You give it to me, and I’ll tell you where the four Vampires are hiding outside, waiting for you. Your life for a ticket to a ball.”
“Not a chance in hell, bitch.”
“Too bad. You’re as good as dead, Hunter. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She saunters toward the door, and I follow, silver dagger in my hand. Apparently, I’m going to have to get blood on my damned suit after all.
I step outside as she’s walking toward an alley. Is it a trap? Absolutely. Nearly every time I step outside, I’m risking a trap. “An alley? Super original.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, golden eyes widening, before breaking into a run.
“Dammit.” I am not wearing the clothes for a chase. Pumping my arms, I follow her as she disappears around a corner.
As I emerge at the mouth of the alley, I stop, dagger still in hand. A vampire stands a few yards in front of me, his canines sunk into the throat of the woman I’d been chasing. He rips his teeth out, tearing her throat with them, and tosses her to the side like a doll. “Well, that was unexpected.” A vampire killing another vampire? Not entirely unheard of, but usually, their deaths are carried out in the chambers of the Immortal Council.
“She shouldn’t have spoken with you.” Dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, the guy wipes the blood from his lips with his fingers and brushes it onto his pants.
“She really didn’t tell me much.”
He shrugs. “Too bad.”
“We gonna do this? I do have somewhere to be.” Careful to not catch the blade of the dagger in my hand on the sleeve, I remove my suit jacket and hang it on the rung of a nearby fire escape. Then, kneeling, I retrieve my second blade from a holster at my ankle.
“You aren’t walking out of this alley.” He grins and nods as three pairs of boots hit the asphalt behind me.
“Oh, I get it. You want to role play?” I straighten, then flip my daggers hilt over blade, and smile. “I love to role play.”
I drop down and spin my leg out, knocking the motherfucker to the ground. Rolling, I pounce on top of him and kick my legs out to take out the second vamp, who tried to sneak up on me.
I send my dagger flying end over end at the asshole I saw first. It buries in his chest, and he roars, falling to the ground. I dodge a right hook and drive my fist into my attacker’s ribcage. He stumbles back, and I slam my second blade into his chest.
Ripping it out, he falls back, and I turn to glare at the other two. “Who’s next?” They stare at each other and take off, blurring out of the alley and into the street. I check my watch, eleven fifty-eight. I kneel, wiping my blade on the jeans of the nearest dead Vamp before walking over to black t-shirt and ripping my second dagger out of his chest. Cleaning it as well, I retrieve my jacket and put it back on.
Checking to make sure I still have my invitation, I shove it back into my pocket and head for the nearest fire escape. I don’t know if this thing is even going to work, but if it does, I figure I might need to be on the damned roof.
Willa
The mirror in my room reflects a beautiful black skirt with a crimson bodice decorated in hand-embroidered black roses. The roses emboss the Draco family crest, so even now, they’re marking me with what I wear.
As soon as I’m seen, everyone will know who I belong to. I clench my fists. Belong to. Like I’m a piece of damned property. The clock on my nightstand reads eleven fifty-nine. I glance over at the parchment on my bed before I walk over and lift it.
If this thing doesn’t work, I’ll be married by dawn. Forced into bed with my enemy so he can put his child inside of me. Tears burn in the corners of my eyes. I swear I’ll die before I let that asshole touch me. And if this damned thing does work, I’m using it to ditch my virginity.
After all, I’ve heard that what happens at The Ball stays at The Ball.
The clock downstairs chimes, signaling midnight, and nothing happens. I hold my breath, stepping toward the balcony. The moon begins to glow, much like it did when the parchment arrived in my glorified prison cell. The vines covering the balcony come to life, slithering up to block the light. But the moment the light shines on them, they turn to ash, crumbling and disappearing in the breeze.
Bright light surrounds me, and I close my eyes, clinging to the parchment in my hand.
Jack
I open my eyes. “What the fuck?”
It takes a lot to rattle me. And rightfully so since I’ve fought and killed a shit ton of supernaturals in my life, but when I realize not only did the invitation work but it deposited me onto the creepiest fucking dock in the world, I’m a little shaken up.
I turn, but I don’t find anything behind me except swirling mist. The sight of it chills me, helping me realize I don’t want to venture into it. Iron spires rise up on both sides of the dock, blocking me from even jumping into the water. Not that I’d want to, who the hell knows what’s down there. With my shit luck, I’d probably end up dinner for some weird-ass Supernatural fish.
“Guess I’m walking forward.” I take my first step, half expecting the dock to disappear beneath me. For all I know, this entire night could be one massive trick to get rid of a Hunter. What if I’m walking into a trap? Wait. I stop, reaching down to my pant leg, and feel for my dagger. What the fuck? Lifting the black fabric, I search for my holster only to discover it’s gone. “Perfect.” So now, not only is it possible that I’m walking into a trap, but I no longer have the two weapons I risked bringing with me.
I glance back as I straighten, thinking that maybe leaving is the better option at this point. But there’s nothing behind me but black. Here we go. Thick fog wraps around my ankles as I continue moving, rising up on all sides, making it nearly impossible to see more than a few inches in front of me.
The eerie quiet wraps around me, and although I can’t see anyone else, I can’t help but feel like I’m not here alone.
A red door comes into view. Intricate designs are carved into the red paint, lines and swirls that give it an ancient appearance. Before I can reach for the handle, it opens, and two creatures I’ve only ever heard of but never seen in person fly out, black leathery wings flapping. They stop just before me, looming at the end of the dock. Gargoyles. The moment they touch ground, they begin to shift, each moving in tandem until two massive men stand where the winged creatures hovered only moments ago. They’re identical. And I mean identical. Their dark skin is the same shade, their eyes the same color, hell, their noses are in the same damned position on their faces.
The only difference between the two is the slightly longer dreads the one on the left is sporting. He holds out a hand. “Invitation.”
Reaching into my suit, I withdraw my parchment. “Is it possible to get here without one?” I joke.
He snickers and glances back at his partner. “This guy’s a funny one.”
“A funny Hunter, brother? You sure about that?”
I stiffen. “You know what I am?”
“We know what everyone is.”
“But we take special note of the guests who try to sneak in weapons, Hunter. Can’t have any trouble now, can we?”
“You’re the ones who took them?” I demand. When? How? I was pretty damn shocked, but not so out of it I would have missed someone reaching into my fucking clothes.
He chuckles. “We did no such thing. The Proprietor will not allow blood to be spilled on her night.” He steps to the side and opens the door. “Welcome to The Monster Ball, Hunter.”
“Thanks, I think,” I murmur as I step through the threshold.
“Let us hope you don’t wind up lost in the Bermuda Triangle like so many others have.”
“Wait, what?” I spin, and the door slams behind me, plunging me into complete darkness. “Well, this is fucking awesome.”
A wave of nausea nearly knocks me to my knees as my body feels like it’s being ripped inside out. Every warning bell in my head is going off, my instincts telling me none of this is normal. No fucking shit.
A moment passes—or is it two? But when I blink again, I’m no longer in the dark. A glass door looms before me. Someone—or rather something—passes through it and bows at me. A ghost? This is a night for firsts, isn’t it?
I can’t help but stare at him as he opens the door, and a haunting melody drifts up from the room, the dark tune making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Shit, this is really happening. Just in case I’m imagining the whole thing, I reach up and pinch my arm. Immature? Sure, but effective. The sting radiates over my skin, confirming that I’m not dreaming.
