Page 95 of Heart of Mischief

Charlie was buzzed. Not drunk, just pleasantly loose. The Gut sparkled around her, moonlight dancing across the smooth surface of the bay. The sand was cool on her feet. The blue of the mermaids and the purple of the älvor were somehow both sharper and blurrier at once. The voices of the people around her—Abigail, in particular, who had been steering the conversation in their little circle for most of the last half hour—were like tinkling songs. She wasn’t sure if the beer in her hand was her second or third since the one she’d accepted from Elias.

“The pants will come off later,” Mason called with a wink. “For now, it is my honor to share that I have been chosen to bestow upon you all that most sacred of traditions”—he paused for dramatic effect—“the senior toast.”

Cheers and whistles rose. Down by her bare feet, Charlie felt the telltale patter of little hands. Henry, who had previously been rolling around in the wet sand, was scaling her body for a better look at Mason.

“You’re not missing much,” she whispered. “I’m sure this is going to be ridiculous.”

Henry sent an image of himself standing on Mason’s shoulder, waving his little arms at the crowd.

“No one would even see you, silly.”

RUDE

She bit back a laugh.

“We’ve had a tumultuous autumn,” Mason was saying from up on the rickety table. “Not to put a damper on the evening, but it would be callous not to acknowledge those who should be here tonight but aren’t.”

The crowd’s rowdy atmosphere flattened out as Mason’s words settled. He didn’t need to say who he was talking about; they were all picturing the same people: the four who disappeared that past September, and the six lost in the last week.

“In their honor, I’d like to make two toasts tonight.” Mason raised the crumpled can in his hand. “The first: to their memory. Silver Shores is a small town. A family. We miss those members of the family dearly. Even the ones we didn’t actually know. So, tonight, we drink to them.”

Hushed agreement rose from the crowd as a sea of aluminum and red plastic waved in the air. Even the älvor seemed to pause their buzzing chatter.

Fear tried to gnaw at the back of her mind. She knew she should be more worried. Worried about Rattatosk, about her friends and brother. Worried that there would be more hushed words and drinks raised after tonight. But when she glanced over at Elias, who was lingering beside the dock with his senior friends, and found that hewas already looking at her, ready with a wink and a half smile, she found it hard to feel too worried.

But maybe that was the alcohol.

She rolled her eyes at Elias and looked up at Mason, who had moved on in his toast.

“—would want us to enjoy ourselves tonight,” he was saying. “Especiallythe Peterson boys. No one could hit a keg stand quite like Oscar.”

Scattered laughter.

“And so, for my second and final toast, I ask that we drink to us. To the brave men and women of Silver Shores High.” Mason raised his can again, eliciting whoops and whistles from the crowd. “None of you know how dangerous it is to live where we do. Getting out of bed every morning is a feat of great courage, and I commend you all for doing so.”

And that was when Charlie realized just how drunk Mason must be. As her peers exchanged confused glances, she looked over at Elias with wide, panicky eyes. He returned the expression. When Mason opened his mouth to continue his speech, Elias bounded the three steps it took to cross the sand and yanked Mason off the table. Mason stumbled when his feet hit the sand. He likely would have face-planted if it weren’t for the preternatural strength with which Elias caught and steadied him.

Charlie was grateful that most of the party was too drunk to notice.

“A truly epic senior toast from Mason Hudson!” yelled Elias, throwing an arm over Mason’s shoulder. “Let’s give it up.”

Tentatively, the audience started to clap.

“And now,” Elias went on, “Mason would like to inform everyone that he buried three extra handles of tequila over by the driftwood log. A special treat for all!”

This announcement brought genuine cheers of excitement, alongwith a rush toward the driftwood. Charlie took off down the sand toward Mason and Elias. Henry squawked, sending Charlie colors of panic as he grabbed hold of her neck to keep from falling off.

“What the hell was that?” Abigail hissed, reaching the boys right as Charlie did. “Are you trying to get tossed into a psych ward?”

“Hey, hey.” Elias held up a hand. “Go easy on the man. He was just speaking his truth.”

“Exaaaa-ctly,” Mason slurred, pointing at Elias. “This guy gets it.” He paused, blinking at Elias’s face several times. “Wait. I’m not supposed to like you.”

“You sound like your sister.” Elias adjusted his grip on Mason’s torso, then started to drag him across the beach, toward the oversize cooler at the edge of the water. “Now, let’s get you some H2O before you yack.”

“H2O,” Mason repeated as he stumbled beside Elias. “Yuck. Ihatechemistry.”

Abigail watched them go, a bewildered expression on her face. “What’s with Elias’s nice-guy act tonight?”