Page 36

My new friend smiled and shook her head at me before moving to her ensuite bathroom. I followed her and waited, watching as she opened a couple of drawers.

She handed me some individually wrapped makeup brushes. “It's a lot to take in but you’ll get used to it. I flipped the fuck out when I first got here and let me tell you, it was rough. I don’t know how I managed to survive, in the beginning. Sheer luck, I suppose. You’ll be okay, just take it one step at a time.”

Flipping out made total sense when one found themselves in actual hell. Going truly crazy hadn’t happened to me, at least not yet. Giving myself some credit would probably help but taking it one step at a time was the best way to get used to my new life.

* * *

The sidewalk was crowded when we pulled up to the curb, people pressing against metal fencing, cameras flashing, people yelling. Our driver opened the door of the limousine and Laurent got out first, pausing to assist Carmen and me. As he took her hand, two men in smartly styled suits joined us, positioning themselves one on each side.

The two men held the crowds back as Carmen linked her arm with mine and Laurent guided us indoors. “What was that about?” I asked as we entered a hallway.

“Scum wanting a taste. Don’t concern yourself with them,” Laurent remarked, his eyes flashing red. I gasped and he blinked, his irises returning to the dark brown color I’d first witnessed.

A cold chill ran down my back at the reminder that everything differed, here. Not that I’d forgotten, exactly. Knowing it and having it right in your face were two different things. Steeling my spine, I glanced at Carmen, and she gave me a small, confident smile. We were almost to the end of the hall. I could do this.

The walls vibrated with the music, a deep bass tone that made me picture a scene of flagrant debauchery. The volume increased as the corridor spilled us out and into a space with vast ceilings. There was a dance area with a balcony above it, and small areas scattered about the first floor for mingling, complete with tables and couches. A long bar was set at one end of the room with abundant LED lights bordering the shelving, causing everything to glow.

Carmen let go of my arm and snagged my hand instead as we pushed through the masses. The whole place buzzed with activity; the air charged with desperate excitement. Bodies writhed on the dance floor, and I caught glimpses of things I wouldn’t see at any of the goth clubs back home.

Dumbfounded, I stood still, watching a woman on her knees in front of a man with his leather pants unfastened. When I looked to the left—was that a vampire? It could have been a trick of the light or a novelty prop, but I could only assume it was real blood trickling down the neck of the woman he clung to.

Carmen tugged my arm and yelled, “Come on!”

We headed up a metal staircase to a higher level. Whatever Carmen’s shoes were made of the clanking sound could be heard over the club’s speakers, and I stared at her feet while my hand gripped the banister.

Once we settled at a table, Laurent’s phone rang and he took off after reassuring us he’d be back. Carmen ordered us drinks from the attentive waiter and I scanned our surroundings, comparing it further to back home. The differences weren’t immediately obvious, not until you took a closer look, but the biggest changes were in conduct, and it certainly appeared that anything goes.

Not much time had gone by, but I found myself wondering about things like what my job would think when they realized I was dead, and whether my friend Vance had tried to contact me. My parents wouldn’t notice I was gone until they were ninety and couldn’t toilet themselves, so I didn’t dwell on them.

My mind went to Kiam and what he would do with my body. Would my skull join the shelves in that old mansion? He spent enough time in the building. It’d never sat right with me, all his claims that he didn’t live there. What if all the cool things scattered around the house were really his? Maybe my eye sockets would get pretty crystals, just like the other skull. It was better than being turned into an ashtray or a mask. My biggest question was why he built such elaborate traps and were they specifically for me. I’d never run into another living soul in that forest until him.

“Carmen?” I waited for her to put her phone down. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.” She pressed a button, turning her screen black.

“So, I wasn’t expecting being dead to be like this, and it got me thinking. Back when I was alive...God, it's so weird to say stuff like that. Okay, so I had some weird dreams. They felt super real, but I know I was asleep. Anyway, this one dude, his irises would do weird things like glow red.”

The waiter chose that very moment to place glasses of red wine in front of us. I leaned back to make space and when he left, Carmen said, “Do you think it was a demon?”

Before answering, I looked around the room. Most of the men were extremely well-dressed and groomed, tall, fit, wearing nice jewelry. Many of them had tattoos, as well. Kiam fits all of that, other than the ink. There was another difference—these men weren’t nearly as pale as my murderer.

I took a sip of my wine. It was good—not too dry and with a mild hint of sweetness. “That’s what I was wondering but his skin was way paler than anyone around here. And he didn’t have any tattoos I could see. Half of these men have ink all the way up to their fingernails.”

“Demons do like to sneak into people’s dreams, though. Other beings do it, too. Maybe you had something else visit you or take you.”

My stomach fell. “Like what? What other beings?”

She didn’t get the chance to answer my questions. The room fell silent; all the raised voices cut off nearly at once. Even the music seemed to dim as the air changed. It felt sharper, dangerous, with an electrical charge not dissimilar to that before a lightning strike.

My gaze was arrested as I spotted the two men standing at the top of the staircase. Their skin was as pale, smooth, and cool looking as ice and their clothes finer than anyone else in attendance, with the detailing and expert craftsmanship evident even from this far away. They wore three-piece suits like the other men, but theirs contained embroidery and detailing to the extent I’d never seen. One of the men, his hair was the color of dark cherries, and the second man, his hair blacker than midnight.

“What the fuck is going on...” Carmen nearly hissed. I sensed rather than saw her go rigid.

If I’d known what they were, maybe I would have as well, but right now, their mirror-like irises were aimed directly at me, and my shoulders slumped despite myself. The two men were stunningly beautiful in their otherworldliness but there was no mistaking the threat they presented. Not a single soul in the room stirred and the men walked forward.

“Miss Brittney Ross,” the man with black hair addressed me. “We have business to discuss.”

I snuck a glance at Carmen out of the corner of my eyes. Her mouth gaped open as she stared at me. “Um,” I hesitated and licked my lips. “I don’t know you.”