by S. J. West
“I’m not sure I should let you go into a room full of people dressed like that,” I tell Mason, having a hard time keeping my eyes off him. Simply being bare-chested would be enough to lure any woman’s gaze to Mason, but the tight black briefs are outlining a lot more of my husband than I want others to see.
“I could say the same thing,” Mason says, his eyes traveling the length of me. “I don’t think I should let you go out in public either.”
I smile, but it’s a weak one. Although I find my husband extremely attractive in his outfit, the reason we’re dressed the way we are is just too depressing to allow for a proper flirtation.
“Come on,” I say, “let’s get this over with.”
Mason phases us downstairs to the library, where we find Tristan, Jered, and Brand talking amongst themselves. I should have known Jered wouldn’t let Tristan go without him. The two men had grown very protective of one another over the years. The fact that Tristan could track Jered down in a city filled with millions of people was proof that their bond with one another was stronger than any of us had realized. Jered likened it to the connection between a father and son. Since Jered lost his son a few years back, and Tristan broke the bond with his own father, it seemed like a natural pairing that would help heal them both in time.
I feel my cheeks warm with a blush as I regard Tristan in his costume. I’ve always known he was an attractive young man, but this was the first time I’d ever seen him without a shirt on. He’s dressed like a firefighter, but not like one I have ever had the good fortune of meeting in real life. He’s wearing a blue jacket with yellow stripes on the sleeves. It’s open in the front, revealing a very taut abdomen and well-developed chest. The yellow turnout pants he’s wearing hang extremely low on his hips, with the red suspenders dangling loosely on either side. He’s wearing a black metal firefighter hat on his head, with a yellow ‘7’ stamped on the front.
I must have stared a little too long, because Tristan pulls the front of his jacket together, hiding himself behind the cloth.
I shake my head a little to clear out the vision of a half-naked Tristan, and attempt to act normal. Mason leans over to me and whispers in my ear, “Should I have dressed like a firefighter?”
I know he’s picking on me by the teasing way he asked his question, but it doesn’t cure my embarrassment. I lean over and whisper, “Don’t be surprised if I get you an outfit like that for Christmas.”
Mason grins, leaning in and giving me a kiss. “I look forward to putting out your fire, Mrs. Collier.”
I glance down at little Mason and say, “Well, you’re definitely equipped for the job, Mr. Collier.”
Mason’s grin widens before I hear Brand clear his throat to remind us that we’re not alone in the room, and that it’s not big enough for our conversation to be completely private.
Thankfully, Jered is wearing the leather outfit JoJo made for him. I wasn’t sure what I would do if three of the four men in the room were practically naked.
“I assume you intend to be invisible at the party,” I say to Jered as Mason and I walk up to join the others.
“Yes,” Jered confirms. “I’m just Tristan’s moral support and ride out of there this evening.”
“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to Logan to convince her to give her mom a second chance?” I ask Tristan.
“I’ve thought of a lot of things to say,” Tristan says, “but I’m still not sure any of it will convince her.”
“Just speak from your heart,” I advise. “Anything else won’t sound genuine. It’s better not to overthink things like that. I’m surprised Sophia isn’t here to give you some talking points.”
“She basically told me what you just did,” Tristan says. “I don’t think she expects Logan to come back with me tonight, but I can at least let her know how much her mother loves her. That’s all Sophia really wants.”
Nina phases into the room, wearing one of the outfits JoJo made for the Watchers on this Earth.
“I was wondering how you were going to be at the party and go unnoticed,” I say, looking at her maroon and black outfit.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you people don’t live in these things,” Nina says, straightening out the collar of her jacket. “They’re so soft and comfortable. I’m not sure I’ll ever want to take it off.”
“Where’s Rafe been today?” I ask, knowing Nina appointed herself as his protector while he healed as many people as he could.
“He’s in the kitchen eating with your other friends at the moment,” Nina tells me. “I told him he needed to take the night off to rest. Surprisingly, he didn’t put up much of an argument, and is taking my advice.”
“He’s dedicated his life to helping others,” I say. “It’s just his nature.”
“So I’ve noticed,” Nina replies, sounding irritated, but not in a bad way. From the exasperated expression on her face, I can tell that she’s had her fair share of arguments with Rafe about his need to be so self-sacrificing.
I notice Nina briefly look Mason up and down before a slow, appreciative grin spreads her lips.
“You picked a good body, Samyaza,” she says approvingly.
“Eyes up, soldier,” Mason tells her, effectively lifting Nina’s gaze. “We have a job to do.”
“Yes, we do,” Nina agrees, as the gravity of what we are about to undertake seems to land firmly on her shoulders again.
“I’ll meet you all on the island. Good luck,” Brand says, before phasing away.
“Island?” I ask Mason.
“The one Peyton picked for her and Dillon to live on,” my husband tells me. “Brand took me there earlier so I would know where to go.”
“Everyone ready for me to phase us to the party?” Nina asks as we all gather in a circle to hold hands.
“If I said no, would it make a difference?” I ask before taking hold of Mason and Nina’s hands.
“Not really,” Nina admits. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Before phasing, Nina and Jered turn invisible. When we arrive at our destination, I feel like I just stepped into the party scene of “Animal House”. As long as no one screams ‘food fight!’, I think I’ll be all right.
As I scan the other partygoers, I see that Brand wasn’t joking about how we needed to dress in order to blend into the crowd here. I actually begin to feel a bit over- dressed, considering what some of the other women are wearing…or not wearing, for that matter. The music blaring from the speakers in the large ballroom we’re standing in is actually kind of catchy. It isn’t until I spot the stage on the opposite side of the room from us that I know the music is live.
The lead singer of the band is a young girl with spiky, short blonde hair. She’s dressed in a steampunk outfit composed of a tight leather corset over a loose, but short, brown shift dress. The girl holds the mic like it’s a physical extension of herself. Her voice has a natural, lilting quality that becomes addictive to listen to. I can fully understand why the crowd is so enraptured by her performance.
“That’s Dillon singing,” I hear Nina say while she maintains her invisibility.
“Nina, do you see Logan?” Tristan asks, searching the crowd for Sophia’s daughter.
“Yes,” Nina tells him, “she’s standing just off stage to the right.”
When I look where Nina says Logan is standing, I immediately notice her physical resemblance to Sophia. Most women don’t usually look like younger versions of their mothers, but, in this case, Logan actually does. She has the same honey-colored skin and silky brown hair as her mother. She’s wearing what looks like a circus ringmaster’s costume with tight black shorts, red-tailed jacket, black top hat, and knee- high gold boots.
As I continue to watch Dillon sing to her fervent crowd, something inside me yells that we’re doing the wrong thing. There’s simply no way Dillon will come out of this experience the same person she is now. Peyton’s good intentions of saving her daughter’s soul may simply cr
ush it instead. I don’t know what horrors Will has made Dillon commit to please him, but it doesn’t really matter in the end. I decide then that I have to make one last attempt to talk Brand out of not only ripping her wings from her body, but also irrevocably tearing her life apart. I can’t live with the knowledge that I played a part in scarring the soul of someone who sings like an angel. I may not be able to stop what’s already been set into motion, but I have to try for my own soul’s sake.
“Good,” I hear a woman say behind us, “you’re finally here.”
When I turn around, I see a strawberry-blonde-haired woman standing directly behind me. She’s beautiful, if a bit haughty-looking, with an oval face and penetrating, cat-like green eyes. For the party, she’s chosen to come as a sexed-up version of Cleopatra. The front of her gown is so low, an ample portion of her breasts is exposed in the middle, and the hem of the dress is so high, her thighs are on full display.
“I see the outfits I sent over fit well,” the woman says, looking Mason up and down admiringly, which earns her a dirty look from me. “You’re in fine form, Samyaza. I have to admit, I never thought I would see you again.”
“Hello, Sanvi,” Mason replies, presumably using Peyton’s angel name. Mason folds his arms over his chest, still managing to look dignified even in his ridiculous costume. “Though, I guess I should call you Peyton now.”
“Either is fine,” Peyton says with a tight-lipped grin. “Dillon’s set is about to end, and I’ll encourage her to blow out the candles on her cake. After that, you should be able to find a moment to catch her attention.”
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Mason asks, apparently of the same mind as me, and wanting to find a way to protect Dillon from her mother. “It’s not too late to call it off.”
“Why would I want to do that?” Peyton questions heatedly. “I’ve waited long enough for Dillon to see reason, and she refuses to. Maybe this will finally make her realize which parent loves her the most.”
“You’re completely insane if you think ripping her wings out will make her love you,” I tell her, unable to hide my true feelings about the situation.
Peyton studies me for a long moment before saying, “Until you’ve walked in my shoes, you should hold your holier-than-thou attitude to yourself.”
I’m about to retort when I feel Nina take hold of my arm.
“Don’t provoke her,” Nina whispers in my ear. “I’ve got things handled, Jess. Just play along.”
Got things handled? I have no idea what Nina is talking about, but decided to bite my tongue so I’m not the reason Nina’s plan falls through.
The music in the room stops, signaling the end of Dillon’s performance. As the crowd cheers and begins to sing “Happy Birthday” to Dillon while she’s still on stage, Peyton turns away from us to walk over to her daughter.
“Be ready,” Peyton says to us over her shoulder as she walks away.
“I really don’t like her,” I tell Mason.
“You don’t have to,” he assures me. “Let’s just get through this night, and try to keep in mind we’re here to save Ava and Lucifer.”
“That’s the only reason I didn’t slap that smug expression off her face,” I growl.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got this, Jess,” Nina tells me again. “I’ll be waiting outside for you to draw Dillon out.”
Before I get a chance to ask about her cryptic statements, I feel Nina brush past me. There are only two ways in or out of the ballroom: one set of doors lead further into the interior of the home we’re in, and a set of large French doors that seem to lead out to a courtyard at the back of the house. I notice one of the glass doors open briefly and close as an invisible Nina makes her way outside.
My attention is pulled back to the stage when I hear Peyton ask the crowd to encourage her daughter to blow out the candles on her cake and make her birthday wish. As Dillon’s friends start chanting ‘cake’, Dillon relents graciously and follows her mother off-stage. As she passes Logan, the two girls loop arms, showing how close their relationship truly is. I can’t imagine Logan being very receptive to Sophia’s pleas to join the resistance after Brand essentially clips the wings off her half-sister. And, to be honest, I can’t say I would blame her one bit. I know our situation is dire, and several thousand souls could be at stake, but it just doesn’t seem right to harm an innocent on our path to saving this world. One life shouldn’t be worth more than any other, and it feels like we are deciding fates as though we are God Himself. I feel sure He wouldn’t approve.
Dillon’s birthday cake is huge. It stands four feet tall from the surface of the table it’s set on. Dillon has to climb a small ladder beside the table to blow out the candles on top of it. Servants begin to cut the middle portion of the cake to hand out slices to the gathered guests. By chance, I notice Logan take her place in line to get a piece of cake.
“There’s your opening,” I tell Tristan. “And remember, don’t touch her. We still don’t know if the two of you share the same soul.”
“Don’t worry, Jess,” I hear Jered say. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t go ‘poof’.”
“Wish me luck,” Tristan says, looking a little nervous as he walks over to stand behind Logan in line.
It only takes him a few seconds to strike up a conversation with Sophia’s daughter. Logan doesn’t seem phased by Tristan’s appearance, but, after living her life among Watchers, I suppose one more good-looking man in her midst isn’t much of a change. I watch the two of them for a little while, confident Tristan will be given the chance to make his plea on Sophia’s behalf.
Now it’s time for Mason and me to do our job.
I look for Dillon, and notice she’s surrounded by a group of her friends who have decided to forgo a piece of cake in order to speak with the birthday girl. It feels like forever before she excuses herself from the group to play her part as hostess and speak with another group of people. As she’s walking toward the second cluster of friends, she briefly glances in our direction, finally gracing me with an opportunity to raise my mask so she can fully catch a glimpse of my face. When Dillon sees me, she stops abruptly in mid-stride, and stares at me in utter disbelief. I hastily lower my mask to hide it from view of the others in the room as Mason takes my hand and guides me toward the French doors leading to the outer courtyard.
Once we’re standing on the vacant terrace, we turn around and wait for Dillon to make her appearance. A part of me hopes she decides not to come out and pursue us. If she doesn’t, Peyton can’t blame us for her plan falling apart. However, whether or not Peyton would still help us is questionable, but at least we would have held up our end of the bargain, to an extent. Though, after meeting Peyton, my gut tells me that she wouldn’t feel honor-bound to help us.
Unfortunately, the subject becomes moot when Dillon walks out the back doors, and we’re forced to meet her face to face.
“What are you, a surprise gift?” Dillon asks, looking at us with excited eyes. Dillon looks me up and down, “Where’s your sword? I wouldn’t mind hanging it on my wall as a trophy after I hand the two of you over to Ravan.”
I admire her cockiness, in a way. She stands in front of us, completely unafraid, even though she’s outnumbered two to one. It makes me wonder even more how Peyton can justify ripping out her own daughter’s wings and changing her forever.
Before I can answer Dillon, I see her eyes widen in surprise just before she vanishes from our sight. Odds are, the look of surprise was from an invisible Nina taking hold of her before phasing Dillon away. Mason phases us to a sandy white beach where Brand is waiting for us. When we arrive, he looks perplexed.
“If you’re here,” Brand says, “where are Nina and Dillon? They should have arrived just before you.”
“We just saw Nina phase her,” Mason answers, also looking confused as both men look up and down the shoreline for any sign of Nina and Dillon.
Peyton phases in, looking the part of a distraught mother
ready to do anything to save her child. When she spies us, minus Nina and her daughter, she asks, “Where is Dillon?”
“With Nina,” Brand replies. “Wherever that is.”
Just then, Nina phases into the space between Peyton and us, but Dillon isn’t with her.
“Nina,” Brand says, sounding like a father who is about to punish his child for going against his orders, “where is Dillon?”
“In a place only I know about,” Nina replies, looking at Brand and Peyton.
“This wasn’t part of the plan!” Peyton yells at Nina.
“I’m not following your stupid plan,” Nina replies, her tone void of any emotion. “I’ve devised one of my own to ensure your full cooperation in a timely manner, Peyton.”
Peyton looks at Brand accusingly. “Is this your doing? I thought we had a deal!”
“We do,” Brand replies, remaining calm, albeit confused, by the turn of events. “I told you I would follow through with your demands, and I am a man of my word.”
“I’m afraid you won’t be able to keep your promise this time,” Nina says, looking at Brand determinedly.
“I gave her my word, Nina,” Brand replies. “I can’t back out on it now.”
“And you won’t have to,” Nina tells him. “I’m the one changing the rules here, not you. I can’t let you go through with what she wants you to do to her daughter, Brand. You’re a good man, and one of the few people I consider a friend. You helped me claw my way out of a dark time in my life, and I’m not about to stand by and let you lose a part of your soul because of Peyton’s selfishness. I lost my soul a long time ago, and I’m willing to lose the rest of it to save yours.”
“Where is my daughter?” Peyton screams at Nina, appearing ready to pounce on her fellow Watcher if she doesn’t get an answer right away.
Nina looks at Peyton with a cold, hard stare before saying, “Somewhere you’ve never been. If you ever want to see her again, I suggest you stop questioning me and help us rescue Ava.”
“And if I don’t help you?” Peyton asks, sounding as if she fully intends to back out of her part of the deal, since it’s obvious she isn’t going to get what she wants from us.
