by Harold Wall
Riose had been an assassin once.
Celia supposed that she should have been afraid of him, knowing what he had been and what he still was. She had seen the monster peering through his eyes, a cold merciless
thing that wore human form like clothing.
But they'd grown up together. And she could pretend that she'd never suspected anything, but it wouldn't be entirely true. The clues had been there.
Even when they were kids, he'd never cried over scraped knees or bruises. He'd never talked about his summers, never sent postcards, but he came back with new scars and
exhaustion in every step. And once, when they were eight or nine, playing games and laughing over dumb jokes, he'd looked at her with wistful, wondering eyes, like she was a
tiger in a zoo, a creature from a world he didn't really understand.
Like he was looking at her right now, the mask slipping away to leave her friend stood there.
"The exception," Riose said, and how could she ever fear him?
"Right answer," she said firmly, hiding the relief that swamped her. Celia looped her arm through his and it was easier to look at those sinister yellow words then, as if he anchored
her. "Know what you win?"
That wrung a small smile from him. "Go on."
"A onceinalifetime chance to help me decide what to get Finn for his birthday."
Riose gave her a look but let her steer him out of the alleyway. "Pretty sure that's a onceinayear chance."
"He's eyeing up Nessa Arlin. You think he'll make it to eighteen if Arch finds out?"
"Good point. Lead the way, then."
And as they left the alley behind, the threat seemed as overblown as a pantomime villain. Still, a tiny part of her recognised that to those hostile eyes, hidden in the shadows, she
seemed exactly what they thought. A vampire's plaything, on his arm like a favourite pet.
Only a select few were invited to the unofficial birthday, and nearly all of them were there as Celia shouldered open the creaky garden gate, balancing a potato salad in one hand
and a large carrot cake in the other.
"What time d'you call this?" shouted Finn from where he and Riose were wrestling with a gazebo. From the harassed look on Ri's face, it wasn't going well.
She held up the platter, flinging him a smile as sweet as the butter icing. "Time you had cake?"
"Not yet. I'm going to get this thing up if it kills me," declared the witch.
"It probably will," murmured Jo from where she was painting her toenails on the grass. A pair of huge sunglasses hid her eyes, but not her smile. "This is attempt number four."
There was a skyrattling clatter as the entire structure folded like a house of cards onto Finn. Furious swearing followed, only partially muffled by the canvas.
"Five," corrected Phi as she dropped the fairylights she was untangling to help Riose fish out a sputtering Finn.
Mrs Farrier glanced over from the barbecue, entirely unconcerned by the plight of her firstborn. "Finlay, while your father and I remain astounded by your vocabulary, I don't think
anyone can do that with a pogo stick, even if they are the messiah."
Finn kicked at the canvas. "This thing is cursed!"
Daniel Thetis ambled over, looking older and greyer than last time Celia had seen him. Phi's father picked up the instruction booklet and flicked through it for a few moments. "It might help if you had the poles the right way up, son."
Finn stared at him, then said, "Oh."
Mr Thetis gave him a little smile. "Always read the manual. It's a good rule for life."
"Except for the things that don't have manuals," said a dry voice that was unmistakable. Celia turned to see her mother stride through the gate, bottle of wine tucked under her
arm, still in her suit. "Which is all the important stuff, unfortunately. Sorry I'm late. Who are the new neighbours?"
Mrs Farrier perked up. "We have new neighbours?"
"Mmm. The van's across the road and they have the most beautiful sportscar."
Celia and Phi swapped looks. "We'll investigate," announced Celia.
"Try to be subtle," her mother advised. Then she gave her quick smile. "But we want the details."
o0oIt
certainly was a shiny car, but Celia wasn't convinced there was anything beautiful about the slanting red metal and tinted glass. If anything, it looked vaguely demonic.
She and Phi sat on the porch, digging through a plate of cake. "I didn't think your dad was going to come tonight," Celia said softly.
"Neither did he, but your mom rang up and coaxed him into it."
"Nagged him into it, you mean." She loved her mother fiercely, but there was no denying that Jodie Slone was a force to be reckoned with. "At least Finn made him smile."
Phi's mouth curved, an echo of her father. "Yeah. First time in ages. Guess he's good for something after all."
A man got out of the sportscar. He had dark hair and a certain sleek way of moving that Celia recognised. "He must be Nightworld."
"Vampire or shapeshifter?" Phi squinted. "Vampire, I think. They haven't got much stuff."
"Weird." A few bits of furniture, a couple of boxes. The man was opening the passenger door, and a woman eased herself out. When she swayed, the man looped an arm around
her, but she jolted away and he stepped back, hands up as if she were a wild animal ready to tear at him. "And so's that."
"Yeah. She seems kind of...tense."
"Because she is," said Riose, coming to join them. Celia shunted up to make room. "That's Aurenna Ravija. And he's Kurt Schrader."
"Is that supposed to mean something?" she asked. Riose didn't look on edge, hands linked between his knees, but his eyes were following the couple's every move.
"They're both Nightfire. And they don't get on."
"Nightfire as in..." said Phi, an edge to her voice.
"As in assassins, yeah." He sounded a touch puzzled, almost nonchalant as he chattered about death for hire as if it were an everyday occurrence. Which, she supposed, it had been
for him. "I don't know what they're doing together, or why they're here."
The woman was at the front door, turning and waving a hand. Then the back door on the roadster burst open and a girl swung out in one sinuous move.
She was petite and slender, silky black hair rippling around her. From here, it was quite obvious that she was dropdead gorgeous, even with the scowl she wore. She, Celia
thought, was going to throw a hell of a curveball into the high school hierarchy when she started.
"Who's that?" said Finn from behind them.
"Whoever she is, she's got two assassins as chaperones," Celia warned the witch.
"So she really is to die for?" Finn said to a chorus of groans. "I'm just saying what we're all thinking. Well. What me and Ri are thinking."
"Actually I was thinking that whoever she is, she's carrying," said Riose.
She wasn't sure what was more unnerving: that the girl had a gun on her, or that Ri had spotted it from this distance.
"That's kind of hot," murmured Finn.
"You need help," Phi informed him. "She's the dangerous type."
"And therefore my type," the witch said. "Now we just need to find out if I'm hers."
"Ginger teenage pyros is a pretty niche category, Finn," Celia cautioned.
He grinned. "Yeah, but there's someone for everyone. She might just be my someone."
"Why don't we find out?" she said a touch mischievously, and bounced to her feet. "How about I invite her to the party?"
The girl spotted her first. She didn't move from where she leant against the passenger door, ankles crossed, the adults a flurry of activity around her. Her expression was one of
absolute disinterest; Celia suspected that took a lot of practice in front of a mirror.
Unperturbed, Celia beamed at her. "Hi! I see you guys are moving in and thought I'd be the first of your many, many nosy neighb
ours to introduce myself. Also, I have cake."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "What kind of cake?"
"Carrot and orange. I'm Celia, by the way. Celia Slone."
The silence lingered so long it was past awkward and fast becoming bizarre before the girl said curtly, "Sunita Halaria. Everyone calls me Sunny."
"That's..." Don't say ironic, don't say ironic. "Nice."
"Making friends already, sunshine?" remarked the man. He had a stern cast to his face made more severe by the way he towered over them both. "I'm Kurt, Sunny's father."
"Adopted father," corrected Sunny, but there was no bite on the words; in fact, they drew a soft smile from the man, as if she'd complimented him. "This is Celia. She's the scout."
Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "That implies there's cavalry waiting. Let me guess – those are your friends on the porch over the road?"
"Yeah. Birthday barbecue. You guys could come over for a drink and an interrogation, if you want?"
He arched an eyebrow. "You're very frank."
Celia grinned. "Everyone thinks that, then they meet my mom and realise I'm the tactful one. She thinks your car's amazing, by the way."
He patted the hood. "That's because it is. Thanks for the offer. We won't take you up on it today, but if it's still open later, I'll pretend I'm interesting while you shine lights in my
eyes. And maybe you could keep an eye on Sunny when she starts school tomorrow"
"I can find my own friends!" snapped Sunny.
Kurt gave her a very long look. "Really."
A dark flush rose on her cheekbones. She turned a sour face to Celia and said, "I'll take the cake. I can tell I'm going to need it." She huffed a sigh. "And...I guess I'll see you
tomorrow."
Celia had a brief internal struggle, then she glanced back at her friends and saw Finn's hopeful expression. "My friend's having a party on a Friday. Why don't you come to that? It's
kind of an event now. Half the school will be there. You can come to mine and we'll go together."
Sunny looked taken aback, as if no one had ever asked her to a party before. "Um. Okay. Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet. Finn's parties are" Celia caught Kurt's raised eyebrows. "completely dull. Nothing happens. There's definitely zero chance of something exploding."
"Uhhuh," he said. "Let me guess. You all sit around and talk. Quietly. About philosophy, and the meaning of life."
"You got it," she said brightly.
His eyes danced. He reminded her a bit of Finn's mother when she was about to suggest something outrageous. "Then far be it from me to keep Sunny from the cream of society."
"I can go?" Sunny said suspiciously.
"You can go. Just remember to lie convincingly about all the things you haven't done. And definitely don't tell Renna."
"Don't tell me what?" came a new, cool voice. The woman that Riose had called Aurenna joined them, but Celia noticed she walked the extra couple of steps to put Sunny between
herself and Kurt. And from the sudden tautness of his face, that mattered to him. "Oh, meeting the neighbours?"
"Celia, this is Aurenna Ravija," said Kurt. "Sunny's adopted mother."
As if they were mere acquaintances. How on earth did they end up as Sunny's parents when they couldn't even stand next to each other?
"Have you lived here long?" asked Aurenna, and Celia gladly jumped onto the small talk, filling the air with meaningless chatter as Kurt melted back to unpacking, and Sunny
watched him go with a frown. Then, promising she'd meet Sunny tomorrow to help her run the gauntlet of being the new girl, Celia left them.
As she climbed back onto the porch, Finn demanded, "Well?"
"Happy birthday, Farrier," she told him. "Just don't be too surprised if she doesn't jump naked out of a cake."
The
night was bright and clear, sequined with a multitude of stars. Celia gazed up at it from the oversized garden sofa, one shoe dangling lazily from her foot. Their parents were
getting louder by the minute, mostly due to Mr Farrier cracking open his fabled wine cellar. Finn and Jo were in the middle of a tense game of jenga, and Phi was refereeing with
the diligence of a UN observer in a warzone.
"Any room on there?"
She glanced over. "Depends. Is that Mrs Farrier's Death by Diabetic Coma punch?"
Riose raised the glass, which was the glorious red of unnatural additives. "What else?"
"Then there's room." She slithered over and felt his weight sink into the ancient cushions, plush as marshmallows. "You've been quiet all evening."
"I'm worried." He sighed. "I keep telling myself I shouldn't be – that the graffiti doesn't matter, but..."
"But?"
"Grace has never hidden what she is. And you – me – I mean, when that whole business was going on with Phi, none of us were too cautious. But Nessa? Nessa's practically human.
She wants to be."
"Does she?" she said, startled.
He cut a quick sideways glance at her. "Some bad things happened to her parents. That's why she's living with her aunt and uncle. She's never used her magic."
"Maybe she was careless. It only has to be once."
"No. She's never used it. Not even once. Witches that use magic, they have a feel." His hands sketched vague shapes. "I'd never met one that didn't use their powers until Ness. It
took me months to figure it out."
She felt her stomach squirm, the first stirrings of unease. "So how did they know about her?"
"That's the question."
He didn't have an answer. His tone said he didn't like it one bit. Neither did she.
Celia took a sip of the punch, all warmth and sugar with a little kick of heat. The jenga tower clattered down to Finn's victorious whoop and she said, "He's going to be insufferable
now."
He accepted the change of subject. "We could challenge him to another game. You know – nip it in the bud."
"It's for the good of society," she agreed solemnly.
Riose stood and then pulled her out of the couch's embrace. She staggered, and he was there, hand overlapping hers to save her drink, the other on her waist, as if they were
suddenly partners in some wild dance. In the twilight, his eyes were dark and unfathomable, echoes of the sea.
She was aware of every beat of her heart, thunder in her blood.
"Good catch!" hollered her mother, and Ri let go with a halfsmile, his grasp slipping away as if it was nothing.
Of course it was nothing. What else would it be?
o0oMidnight
was sweeping in like black velvet unrolling as she and Phi left. Her mother had ordered her home with a cry of "school tomorrow!", which might have had more impact if
she hadn't accidentally hurled half a glass of wine onto the lawn at the same time.
"Aren't we supposed to be the ones getting smashed and staying up late?" she grumbled.
Phi shrugged. "Hang on for Friday. Finn was muttering about flaming sambucas and fireworks."
Oh god. "Tell me he's not lighting them, because I can think of at least ten ways that can go horribly wrong."
"I could, but it would be an enormous lie."
"Guess I'll have to find a strapping man to nobly throw himself on top of me if it all goes bang then." She nudged Phi. "Any suggestions?"
"How about Mike Stanislov? He's pretty strapping. And he keeps trying to talk to you after class."
"Yeah, and if he was anymore into himself, he'd implode. When Finn's fireworks go wrong, which one of us do you think he'd expect to be the human shield?"
Phi's grin flickered in the gloom. "You. Okay. What about Will Ratner, then? There's no way he needs your help as much as he keeps pretending in labs."
She couldn't hide a small smile. "Yeah, I'd noticed. And he's cute."
"Kind of serious though."
"Serious is good. Serious is what you need in an emergency, and there's no way h
aving Finn light a bunch of incendiary devices isn't going to be an emergency."
"So you're saying Will Ratner is the guy to call on in a zombie apocalypse?"
Celia snorted. "No chance! Riose is my goto guy for zombies, wars, invasions and other foul play. But we both know Riose is going to be stood right next to Finn when he starts
getting all sparky, probably losing his eyebrows again."
"Bros before brows," Phi said, and that sent them both into fits of laughter. Everything felt normal again: simple, safe, right.
Then they rounded the corner, and just like that, her certainty was gone.
Blue lights revolved on the police car pulled up to the kerb. Onlookers were clumped in doorways and beside their fences, all looking as wary as she felt because crime happened to
other people in other places. Not here.
Celia felt a funny little lurch in her heart as she took in the details: a broken window, shiny shards clinging like teeth to the frame, and words sprayed on the door in what had to be
yellow paint.
Open season.
But worse...there was something – something covered with a towel, humped on the porch. Dark stains had leached through the material, and suddenly the silly tag on her locker
didn't feel like a joke anymore.
"Not again," said Phi beside her. "Whose house is it?"
"Mine," said a flat, sad voice, and Celia was so unused to hearing Arch defeated that she didn't recognise him until he stood up from where he was sunk on the sidewalk. "They put
a brick through the window. My mom's in bits."
"Are you okay?" she said. "Can we...can we do anything?"
It felt like a stupid question. Nothing they could do would take away the words or the broken glass or the sudden realisation that in an instant your life could derail and leave you
sat on a sidewalk in the vast shadow of faceless, nameless malice.
"Thanks. But no." His eyes were fixed on the floor, jaw clenched. "Maybe Ness will believe it wasn't me now. Some silver lining."
"What do they want?" she said, feeling like she should be angry instead of small and afraid. Her skin was as clammy as if she'd been lying on damp sheets.
"To spread their gospel, I guess," said Arch bitterly. "Whatever the hell it is. Grace got a dead fish. They went one up with me."
