One wrong step, p.37
One Wrong Step, page 37
“If you feel like it, but one last thing…” I smiled. “Lose the dog.”
“Excuse me?” Jade’s expression flattened, proving that even in this realm, someone’s dating status was everything.
“You heard me. Lose the dog.” My eyes flicked behind her to where a ruckus was taking place.
Maverick was doing a handstand on the table, ankles held by his pack mates, while a girl lay beneath, having all the cream licked off her belly. Larc watched at the end of the table like a king, arms wrapped around two bitches who not only fed him but suckled his neck.
“Larc doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Jade bit back, her wings glowing a brighter red. “You can’t tell me who I can and cannot date.”
“He has everything to do with this!” I snapped with a deadly hiss. “You want to be my friend? Here’s your first lesson. A real friend wouldn’t date a prick who ordered his pack to pee on her ally. A real friend wouldn’t stand by as that pack locked her ally in a crypt, with zombies and no way out. My friend would have my back, no matter how good a fuck Larc was.”
Lips twisted together; Jade vibrated with an emotion I couldn’t read. Did she think I was lying? Probably. Did I care? Suddenly, I did a little.
First, it had been Larc and his pack, then Killian and his goon Ronan, which had only tickled compared to the deviant Night Court. I was sick of being everyone’s play toy. I was sick of being surprised and being hurt. I was constantly dusting myself off and gearing myself up to fight, but it was about damn time I had people in my corner, too.
And that was a hope that had me pulling back, my voice falling softer.
“I can’t tell you who to date, but I can damn well decide who’s worth my time,” I whispered hoarsely; my anger spent. “But more than that, I can’t be friends with someone who refuses to see they deserve better.”
“And you really do deserve better, Jade.” Bee agreed beside me. “Not just with Larc, but you deserve a better Ally, too. Maybe this time, with some effort, it’ll work out.”
Her words surprised me, but Bee was sharing a look with Jade that knocked all the light from her wings.
“Loose the dog,” I repeated, closing Cleo’s book, and gathering my things as Bee did the same. “Then we’ll talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
I closed my eyes, rubbing them harshly in the dying light. Reclined in the curve of my giant window, I pressed my brow to the cool glass and sighed. I was all out of ideas. Cleo’s book was truly as dull as three-day-old dishwater and stank just as badly with the suspicious missing pages.
She’d been having a relationship with someone, that much I’d discovered. But it was either as dry as a nun’s vagina in a celibate’s strip club, built in the Sahara Desert, or the ‘accidentally ripped pages’ had successfully torn him out of existence. And yes, it was a ‘He’. I’d caught one sly snippet, reading it over and over to convince myself I was right.
With the cool dusk breeze at her back, Cleopatra Almada sighed as she mused over what he’d said and how the words transcended her view of…
Those three tiny letters squashed together were all the proof I needed. Except now I didn’t know where to look next. Nancy Drew would know, or Sherlock, but I was neither, plus I was swimming in dark waters, barely keeping above the waves.
Looking out across the ground, over the treetops and beyond the mountains, a heavy swell of longing compressed my chest. I wondered what my parents were doing. With her daughter missing, would my mum be printing missing flyers and sharing my god-awful school photo across social media? Would Dad be retracing my steps at Trinity Cross Clinic? Would they both finally talk to each other instead of passing like ships in the night? I couldn’t guess, and not knowing made the desire to get home bleed a little harder through the cracks of my facade.
But how? Lopez had told me I couldn’t, taking a white rabbit more seriously than my own words. Cas had suggested a portal but said no one here had the power. The Life Tree had been a dud, and I’d yet to find a pair of ruby slippers on a crush victim.
“Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore.” I mused softly, thumping my head back, dejected. I was not this person, sullen and melancholy. My pent-up frustration boiled under my skin, filling me with the desire to go wild. To throw caution into the wind. To do something mortal…
“Bee, I was thinking,” I said, putting aside Cleo’s book. “We need some fun. We should do something tonight, like go out for a drink.”
“Y-you want to go out?” Bee stammered from her spot on the floor, almost slicing off a finger as she cut off a ribbon. She’d pulled out an old gown from a trunk, splaying it across the floorboards and slowly dissecting it like Doctor Frankenstein, trying to bring life back into the drab material. “But why…?”
Suddenly, her eyes widened in shock, her face paling so fast I thought she had cut herself. “Bee?”
“Of course you want to go out!” She rushed, climbing to her feet in a tizzy. “Oh, I’m such a terrible friend. I should have thought.” Scooping up her project, she dumped it back into the trunk. “I can change, and then we’ll go.”
“Bee, I was just suggesting a couple of drinks. A normal Saturday night”
But her head snapped up. “No, no, don’t downplay it. I can’t believe I didn’t think. Of course, we need to go out and celebrate; you got an Adversary.” She was turning on the spot now, hunting for her shoes.
Grimacing, I slipped from the window ledge and suppressed my shudder. I’d not forgotten about that creepy, accusational child, screaming that everything was my fault. I was never, ever babysitting, ever again. “Bee, that is the last thing I want to celebrate. Being told I have a mortal enemy is weird.”
Bee frowned, before shaking her head, heavily. “But the point is, with an Ally and an Adversary, you’re going to be someone. Doesn’t that excite you?” Her eyes were alight with stars.
“Ugh, no. I’d rather be me: simple, easy-going, nothing to worry about… You know, like you.”
Immediately, I knew I’d said the wrong thing. Bee deflated, tears swimming forth. “You don’t want to be like me.” Her fingers knotted together. “I’d do anything to be someone, but it’s not like I’ll ever get a choice.”
My brows pinched. “Is this about you believing you’re an Ancillary?” I tried to recall how Cas had described them. “Like, a sidekick?”
Bee shrugged. “I had my chance, and I blew it. I have to be okay with that.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said, dropping to sit beside her. “And you know what? Frodo would have failed without Sam. Buffy would have failed without Willow, and don’t get me started on the Golden Trio.”
Bee blinked at me blankly, jaw slack.
“My point is, there is no such thing as a sidekick. Everyone is the hero of their own story. You, Briar Dupont, will be someone, all on your own merit.”
“If only that were true.” She sighed bitterly, my stirring speech clearly not having the desired effect. “I will be an Ancillary, and I will be happy about it.” She chanted, but her bottom lips wobbled.
Sliding an arm around her back, I tucked my head onto her shoulders and her head tipped to land on mine. “Let’s agree to disagree.” I sighed. “But I think we can both agree we need some fun?”
“Fun? Like, going out?”
“Yes, going out, Bee,” I laughed, straightening. “And we’ll make it a girl’s night. You in?”
She frowned, but I could see the internal debate before she nodded enthusiastically. “Okay. Yes, a girl’s night.” She repeated, only to blush a bright red. “I-I’ve never been on a girl’s night before. What will it entail?”
“Drinking,” I counted off on a finger. “Dancing. Dastardly conversation and more drinking.” I laughed, pulling us both to our feet. “Oh, and no dicks.”
“No… dicks?” She flushed a cute pink as we stumbled towards my giant stack of random clothes.
“Yes, no dicks. No talking to people with dicks. No walking off with anyone with a dick. No meeting a dick in a dark corner of a sticky bathroom. Girls only.”
“Alright,” she released a chuckle. “Don’t think I'm in danger of that, but you won’t let me drink too much, will you? Or make a fool of myself?” She wrapped the ends of her jumper around her hands.
Grin widening, I began rummaging through my clothes. “Minimal drinking and no tomfoolery. Cross my heart,” I made the motion over my chest. “So, the only question remains; how scandalous were you thinking?” And pulled out a leather under the bust corset.
◆◆◆
So, Bee wouldn’t go for any leather, but after sorting through her wardrobe, I found a cute, low-cut fuchsia dress hugging every curve of her hourglass figure. Paired with gladiator heels, and a black kimono, she agreed she felt comfortable but badass, and after doing her make-up, I raised that to smoking. I was not Jade, but I sure as shit made sure her blue eyes popped enough they could knock someone out.
I hadn’t gone for knocking anyone out. I’d gone for smack-them-with-a-shovel and burry them eight feet under because I was an overachiever. Red velvet flowed from neck to thigh over my curves, scrunched at my hip and down each arm. Hair pinned up out of my face, Bee had helped me put a little more effort into my make-up, before slipping into thigh-high boots.
“A girl’s night.” Bee smiled again as we wandered the streets of Hicknall Village, unsure of our destination. I’d eyed Club Luna as we passed, but upon seeing Maverick chugging a pitcher, swiftly moved on. “Wait until I tell my mother; she won’t believe it. She’s always telling me how I need to get out more and socialise with the ‘right’ people.”
I smiled at her happiness, “And you consider me a ‘right’ kinda girl?” I gasped. “I’m horrified. This cannot stand!”
Laughing, we swung onto a street I recognised. Climbing up in a series of low-rise cobble steps at the top would be Cas’s apartment. To our right, a gothic-art nouveau house overlooked the lake that I’d never seen at night before. Normally, it was dull, empty, and looked haunted. Now, with twisting black, wrought-iron verandas overspilling with people, the thumping club beckoned amongst pink neon lights.
“What about this place?” I looked up, eyeing three floors of hanging gardens and hypnotic lighting.
“The Weeping Dahlia? Ooo, yes! It’s said to have the best cocktails…” Bee grinned, yet as she looked up, her gaze turned weary. “But it’s favoured by the Night Court, which is why I’ve never been.”
A shiver rocked my spine as shadows moved behind the windows. “But that’s okay, right? You said the village was neutral ground?”
That had been comforting news, especially when Angelica had bared her teeth as we’d passed her drinking outside the Black Hart Pub.
“No fights. No spells. No potions. No powers. Not after the last battle broke out, taking down three businesses.” Bee nodded, catching my uncertainty. “And the Dahlia’s known for upholding that. I heard a rumour the owner caught a student summoning Seeing Eyes in the girl’s bathroom, and she turned him into a pig for a week.”
“Only a week, huh?” My chest eased only slightly. “So, this owner, she’s a…”
“Witch.” Bee winced, “Most clubs are run by former Day Court, but there’s nothing stopping the Night Court from buying a place.”
Biting my lips, I ignored the chilly breeze that swept down the road, pushing the locks off my face.
“We can go somewhere else…”
“No.” I straightened, glaring at the building as though it had personally offended me. “We are on a girl’s night, and we need some damn good cocktails.”
Nodding too, Bee and I wove between iron patio chairs and tables, decorated with candles, all occupied by lounging students. Most, I noted, favoured a little too much black, but they ignored us, which settled my thundering heart. Right until I stepped through the heavily draped entrance and slammed into a cool body.
“Shit-” My feet tangled in the curtain. My arms flung themselves wide. The ground tipped under me, only for rock-hard arms encircled my waist.
“Sorry, Love. Nic purred in my ear. Twisting in his arms, I had to crane my neck to look up at him. “I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet,”
“Let go,” I ordered stiffly.
Yet Nic didn’t move. Instead, he absorbed every inch of me from boot to neck, lingering on his crescent-shaped bite. Bee said the scars weren’t noticeable and would fade, but Nic devoured the silver lines like they were works of art.
“Let. Go,” I said again.
“I’ll always let you go, Love.” He said, releasing me. “It’s you who keeps coming for me.”
“No, I don’t…” But the lie stalled in my throat as an intensity built behind my chest. His dark eyes swallowed mine, and everything else seemed to fade…
“Nic!”
The voice bellowed across the street, startling me awake and prompting me back. Fingers wrapped around my arm in comfort as Bee stepped in close.
“Be there in one sec.” Nic sang back to Ryu, who stood with a group on the street.
Clearly, they were just leaving, thank God, and Nic was holding them up. But my eye caught the girl under Ryu’s arm. Her stunning copper hair complimented her green dress, more so by her creamy pale skin and dark freckles. She watched us curiously while Ryu fumed.
“So,” Nic pulled me back to him, leaning against the frame. He’d dressed in an open black shirt, a purple vest to match his hair and black pants, while the plains of his sculpted chest begged for my attention. But an icy finger graced my spine as he smiled with a fang. “What are we lovely ladies doing this fine evening?”
“A girls' night,” Bee stated, chin high, and my heart soared like a proud mother duck. “No dicks allowed.” She added.
Nic hid his surprise well; smiling, while raising his hands in defeat. “Noted. I shall keep my distance.”
“Nic!” Ryu roared again, and I couldn’t tell if it was steam coming from his ears, or a badly placed vent.
“Your boyfriend's calling.” I hitched a brow, “You shouldn't keep him waiting.”
“Oh, he wishes he was my boyfriend, then he’d get to visit my personal sex dungeon.” Nic sighed, waving to the rumbling dragon over his shoulder. "But I reserve that pleasure for those I find… adequate," Gaze locked with mine. Nic suddenly gripped my hand, raising it to his lips. Even as I flinched, he didn’t let go - as if proving he could - and brushed my knuckles with the softest kiss. “Be seeing you, Love. Don’t go enjoying yourself too much.”
I didn’t look away until he’d caught up to his friends and only then did some of the flush leave my cheeks. “What is that guy's obsession with you?” Bee murmured, worry lacing her words.
The truth almost fell past my lips. That I’d made a deal for information which might have involved some ritualistic words, not to mention that he’d bitten me twice… Yet enough shame welled I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t want one more mistake notched against my name.
“Who cares?” I smiled at her. “I’m sure he’ll find someone else to focus on soon enough. Hopefully, someone with bitter teeth.”
Bee didn’t look convinced, but linking my arm through hers, I dragged us both into the Weeping Daliah. Heading straight for the rich, mahogany bar, built down the side of a matching sweeping staircase and panelled walls. In fact, the entire club felt like a Victorian house; lofty rooms spanning out in different directions, fringed lamps casting a mysterious glow, while sofas and chairs huddled in groups. Music played overhead, thumping, but not raving and only so loud you didn’t have to shout.
I smiled at the sign behind the bar. 'Unsavoury guests will be turned into frogs', only to double-take as an ugly-looking toad jumped against the inside of a large mason jar.
“What do you want?” A voice snapped my head away as the toad licked its own eyeball.
Leaning with each hand on a pull pump, an older woman glared at us menacingly. She’d platted her long, lilac hair into one thick cornrow, her dark make-up smudged under her eyes while silver and gold charms lined the edge of her ears. But beyond that, she almost looked… normal. Dressed in a fitted waistcoat and jeans, her sharp gaze narrowed as I continued to stare.
“Sorry, we’d like some drinks, please?”
The woman rolled her eyes, sneering heavily. “No shit. What do you want?”
“Oh-ah,” Bee shrugged nervously. “What cocktails do you have?”
Ripping a martini glass from under the bar, the woman slammed it down, grabbing random bottles too. Instantly she poured, throwing in different shots and then a sudden sprinkling of herbs. Not a single measure was in sight. “The wet kind.” She shoved the glass to Bee, brow raised as if begging us to argue. “And you?”
“The same. Please.” I kept my voice pleasant and tremor-free.
We were on neutral ground. We were here for a pleasant time. We were on neutral ground and were here for a pleasant time! The chant stopped, however, as I reached for my glass, and the woman’s hand lashed out and gripped my wrist before I could touch it. “Names. For payment.”
“Briar Dupont, and Zara – Azariah Heart,” I corrected quickly. Yet as more seconds slipped by, the woman still didn’t release me. It was like she was cataloguing every inch of my face, checking to see if I was lying, and only after I tugged my hand again did she let go.
“Go to the second floor.” She jerked her head to the stairs behind the bar. “It's quieter.”
Nodding at her request, though, it felt like a demand; we climbed the stairs, only to find it just as busy.
“Maybe she just didn’t want to look at us?” Bee shrugged as we slipped out onto a terrace, the pergola draped with climbing vines and tiny lights.
“Maybe,” I mused, shaking off a shiver and testing my drink. No fights. No spells. No potions. I should have checked with Bee, that included the owners. Yet as the smooth liquid brushed my lips and the sweet scent of apples filled my senses, I realised I’d drunk half of it in one gulp.
