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“Why would they? That doesn’t usually stop the self-entitled arseholery that is the male species.”
Florence snorted. “Maybe men actually respect a taken woman these days?” she asked as she nodded to my engagement ring.
I thought about it. For about two seconds. “Nah. I think we’re just way too fit. They know we’re out of their league.”
We laughed, threw back our drinks, and headed back out to the dance floor.
We’d driven into town and had rented a hotel room so we could get as trashed as we wanted and not have to worry about driving back to school. Our room also let us get dressed and primped and primed without worrying that anyone at school would see us leaving with the clear intention of partying.
As it was, Gage had run into us on our way to the girls’ dorm garage and I wasn’t sure if he actually believed we were doing super-secret art shit for Florence’s next retreat. He hadn’t held us up though, and neither Marco or Valen had come running like they knew we were flying the coop, so I didn’t consider Gage a problem or an obstacle to my night of escape.
In the wee hours of Saturday morning, Florence and I felt like we’d danced our feet off and we were heading back to our hotel room to put those feet in a nice hot bath while we drank some more wine and pretended that this could be our lives after we graduated high school.
“I still think a jacket wasn’t worth it,” Florence said, with a nod like she was convincing herself, as we huddled in on ourselves and waited for a car to pass so we could cross the street.
The town was pretty much deserted, just a few odd people here and there. They were the sort who wanted to keep their errands to themselves, those whose errands were best left in the darkened alleyways, or who just had better places to be than standing half naked in the snow.
“I’m beginning to regret my life choices,” I huffed a laugh. “Looking good is so not worth sacrificing warmth.”
“I totally thought we’d drink enough not to feel the cold.”
“Sensible of us,” I laughed.
“I don’t feel that pissed. Do you feel pissed?”
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Maybe we danced all the alcohol off?”
“Is that how it works?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I’m an artist, not a biologist,” she said, then my blood ran cold.
“Somewhere,” a voice said sinisterly from behind us, “God’s missing a princess.”
Florence and I grabbed hold of each other and whirled to face the voice.
A guy walked out of the shadows, and we started backing up. Until we felt hands on our arms and then we were wrenched apart. All the better to control us, one would presume.
“What do you want?” I asked, embarrassed by the tremor in my voice.
“What we Black Bloods always want,” he said. “To fuck with your God.”
They were Black Bloods? Shit.
“He’s not my God,” I told them, as though that was going to make them say, ‘Oh, terribly sorry. Our mistake. Have a pleasant evening,’ tip their hats at us, and let us go on our merry way.
“There’s no O’Malley here to save you tonight, goddess,” the guy holding me sneered and fear shot through me.
I’d become complacent. I’d been told not to leave school grounds without Valen or Marco, and I’d wilfully disregarded it. After two weeks of – relative – safety at the Callahan Estate and no mention of the Black Bloods, I’d forgotten they were a threat. If I was stupid enough to forget about a bunch of arseholes clearly giving God and his Angels a hard time, then it seemed that I was probably not cut out to be a Goddess after all.
“No, but there’s a Walton,” Florence offered, then stomped on the foot of the guy holding her.
He swore and let go of her. Just when I thought she was out of reach, he flung a wicked backhand into her head, and she went down hard on the pavement.
“Floss!” I yelled, straining against the guy who held me. I looked down at his arms like that was going to help me get out of them.
That’s when I saw something.
