by Alyson Noel
“That would only spike his suspicion and spur him straight into her arms. He’d never believe that I’m actually out to save his horrible, worthless, wretched excuse for a life. I can hardly believe it myself.” I peer down the alleyway, seeing a small group of people gathered at the far end. “Why’d you park here—is this a legitimate space? And why so far away? The last thing we need is to get towed.”
“Trust me, no one’s getting towed. There are a few nights every year when the rules are suspended. This is one of them.”
“Let me guess, the other is on the Day of the Dead.”
“Except the New Year’s party at the Rabbit Hole is like the Day of the Dead on steroids.” Dace catches my incredulous look, and captures my hand in his. “I figured it was better to park out of sight and slip through the back. The bouncers may be off duty by now, but why take the chance of them alerting Cade that we’re here? Better to slip in unannounced.”
We make our way down the alleyway. Guided by shouts of revelry seeping from the building, and the dull glow of the single streetlamp casting an odd shadow that at first glance I mistake for an animal.
A rather large animal. Like a big coyote, a fox, or possibly even a wolf.
I stop in my tracks, blinking at the space. I could’ve sworn I saw it returning my look with bright flashing eyes.
“Did you see that?” I whisper, alternately staring and blinking at what is now clearly empty space looming before me.
Dace shakes his head. Studies me with concern.
“You didn’t see anything?”
He lifts his shoulders in response. “You okay?” he asks, lacing his fingers with mine.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I rub a hand over my eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time I thought I saw something out here. Last time it was glowing people and crows.”
“And this time?”
“A coyote, a wolf, a fox, a Labrador retriever?” I lean into his side and start walking again. “Hard to say for sure.”
“Trick of the light,” Dace says.
“Must be,” I murmur, matching my steps to keep pace with his. With so much at stake, there’s no time to delay.
He stops before the back door, about to push it open when he says, “The Rabbit Hole’s New Year’s Eve party is pretty much a free-for-all. Brace yourself for just about anything.”
He’s not kidding. From the moment we step inside, it’s like crashing into a wall of noise that smells vaguely of popcorn, beer, and the sour promise of vomit. And that’s just the first impression coming from the back entrance. I can’t even imagine what I’ll find once we’re deep in the thick of it.
He leads me through the maze of the kitchen. Having spent the past year working here, he knows his way around much better than me. And when we burst through the double doors, it’s exactly like he said—a vision of absolute chaos surrounds us.
The club is swarming with bodies. Their noisemakers, air horns, whistles, kazoos, hand clappers, tambourines, and maracas, clashing badly with the band on stage. A hail of balloons continuously fall from the ceiling, while fog and bubble machines pump from alternate corners. And after a quick glance around, it’s clear the drinking age has been lifted and most everyone is taking advantage. Unaware that in Enchantment, there’s no such thing as a free pass. The Richters prey on people’s weak mental states—drunkenness being chief among them. They thrive on the uninhibited, reckless, indiscriminate behavior it provokes. All it takes is one drink too many and the next thing you know, you’re Richter bait.
“Even more crowded than last year, if you can believe it.” Dace shouts to be heard over the din. Scanning the crowd as he adds, “It’s like every single citizen of Enchantment is here. Maybe even some out of towners as well.”
“Why would anyone choose to come here to ring in the New Year? Talk about depressing.” Dace and I exchange a quick look, as he grips my hand tighter and pulls me through the mad crush of bodies.
The two of us ducking clouds of confetti and clock-faced balloons that drop from the ceiling like giant chunks of hail. Passing walls plastered with black-and-silver banners proclaiming HAPPY NEW YEAR! as a hidden projector sends an image of a neon coyote swirling through the room.
It’s madness.
So much sensory overload, I’m not even sure where to look. Which is probably why we’ve made it all the way to the center before I realize that along with all of the noisemakers and glow sticks, everyone present is wearing a mask.
“What is it with these people and masks?” I glance all around. Unlike the masks worn on the Day of the Dead, none of these are skull masks, but they’re elaborate all the same. Some covered in lace, some with intricate feather headdresses attached, some harlequin-style, some ribboned and jeweled, some in the shape of butterfly wings, some bearing giant, hooked noses, some with horns, some crafted from slim pieces of silk intended to obscure only the surrounding eye area and nothing more.
“As if it wasn’t hard enough to find Phyre and Cade in this crush. This makes it nearly impossible!” I shout to be heard above the noise.
“Originally, the masks were meant to represent the darkness dwelling inside. Their removal during the midnight kiss symbolized an act of purification, a chance to begin anew. But the Richters aren’t much for tradition. They’re always driven by their own sordid agenda.” Dace presses his lips to my ear, his touch brief but welcome. “Wearing a mask lessens the inhibitions. Which in turn, inspires the susceptible state the Richters manipulate.”
“Everything they do has an angle.” I continue to survey the room. The constant swirl of flash and noise, bubbles and fog, make it impossible to discern anyone in particular. “How are we supposed to find our friends, much less our enemies? Lita said they’d be in the usual spot, but I can’t even tell where that is.”
“We’ll find them the same way we always do,” Dace says. “Tune out the noise, and tune in to what your gut already knows.” He swipes two masks off a table and hands one to me.
“Got anything a little more discreet?” I eyeball the plain black mask he slips over his face, preferring it to the bright turquoise one with the silver-and-gold feathers he gave me.
“It suits you,” he says, carefully arranging it to cover my eyes, before adjusting the strap to lie smoothly against the back of my head. Then pressing his lips to my cheek, he says, “C’mon, Santos. Follow me.”
Glittering bits of confetti rain down all around us as Dace pulls me through the slam of bodies. Leading me halfway across the room to where Xotichl is sitting with Lita as Auden stands off to the side with his mask pushed back on his forehead, caught in an intense conversation (or maybe that’s just because of all the yelling required to be heard in the crowd) with a man I don’t recognize.
“I just read your text for the hundredth time.” Lita glances up from her phone. “And while I’m glad you’re still alive and your soul is returned,” she directs the words at Dace, “I think the real headline here is that Phyre Youngblood is a poison woman!” She shakes her head, and pulls her Marilyn Monroe mask back down to cover her face. “Did I tell you, or did I tell you?” She speaks through molded, puckered lips.
“Did you tell us what?” Xotichl says. Having forfeited wearing a mask for her own, natural, clean-scrubbed good looks, she scrunches her nose in amusement. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning that particular theory.”
“I said I didn’t trust her.” Lita pushes her mask up again, pointedly looking at each of us. “I said she was up to something. And this proves I was right!”
Xotichl shrugs, not entirely convinced, while Dace jabs a thumb toward Auden and says, “Who’s he talking to?”
“You mean the guy with the ponytail and the double hoops in his ears?”
It takes a second for us to catch it, but when we finally do, Dace and I lean toward her and say, “Xotichl—can you see him?”
She takes a deep breath and nods ever so slightly. But before I can react, she’s quick to add, “I can see him in
the same way I did in the Lowerworld. The outline of his shape, the color of his energy. Stuff like that. Figured those things swinging from his neck and ears was either a ponytail and hoop earrings, or he’s just another Rabbit Hole demon.”
“So the magick did stick.” I study her closely. I didn’t think it was possible. Then again, if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that there’s way more to the world that I’ve yet to discover.
“I didn’t say anything earlier because I wasn’t sure if it would last, and I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” she says. “But now, I’m thinking maybe after this whole mess is settled, we can go down there again and see if it improves.”
“Count on it.” I raise a grin. Grateful for one good thing in a big, fat pile of awful.
“Anyway, ponytail man is from a record label. Auden met with him earlier. He’s interested in signing Epitaph. Isn’t that great?”
Xotichl is brimming with excitement, so I do my best to match it. But part of me can’t help but question why anyone would come to Enchantment on New Year’s Eve to scout bands. It seems strange. Doesn’t really make sense. But Xotichl is so adept at reading energy, I’m sure if there was anything strange about it, she would have caught on immediately.
“Any sign of Phyre or Cade?”
“They’re both here. Suriel too,” Xotichl says.
“They got here just before me. I was about twenty people behind them in the line to get in,” Lita says. “So that’s when I decided to go through the back.”
“Did they see you?” I ask, an idea forming in my head.
“They saw me and snubbed me. Not like I care.”
“What kind of mask is Phyre wearing?”
“She’s wearing a cat mask. Not a full face mask, just a half mask. Oh, and she’s wearing a tight, pink T-shirt that says: KISS ME—IT’S MIDNIGHT SOMEWHERE!” She rolls her eyes. “Crickett and Jacy are wearing them too. I swear, they’re such lepers.”
“I think you mean lemmings.” Xotichl laughs.
But Lita just shrugs. “All I know is it’s creepy as hell once you realize what she really intends to do with that kiss.”
“Did she get any takers?” Dace asks.
“The bouncer tried to take her up on it, but she just laughed and said, ‘Don’t believe everything you read.’”
“Well, at least she’s not planning a massacre.” Xotichl makes a face, continues to survey the room.
“Yeah, we’ve got enough of a boy shortage in this town.” Lita groans. “Anyway, last I saw, Jacy and Crickett were over there.” She motions toward the far wall that from here looks like a haze of fog, bubbles, balloons, and confetti. “But Phyre moved on.”
“I’ve been trying to get a read on her,” Xotichl says, “but what with all the noise and chaos—it’s taking a little longer than usual to get my abilities up to their usual speed.”
“When’s Epitaph going on?” Dace asks.
“Soon,” Xotichl says, giving a quick glance to where Auden is standing.
“So they’ll be playing at midnight?”
She nods.
“Who does the countdown to midnight?” I ask. “The band?”
“Depends,” Dace says. “Sometimes Leandro chooses to handle it. If for no other reason than it allows for one more opportunity for him to remind everyone who to show fealty toward. But sometimes, he blows it off and lets the band handle it. Depends on his mood.”
“Well, we have to find Cade and Phyre long before that. I can’t take the chance that she’ll wait for the countdown to begin.”
“I know where you could start,” Lita says, instantly claiming our attention. “Every year the Richters throw their own private party within the party. Cade took me the last couple years.”
“Where?” I lean toward her.
“Well, that’s the thing, I don’t know.”
“You were there and you don’t know?” Xotichl frowns.
“They make you go through this weird initiation involving cigarettes and blindfolds. Looking back, I can’t even believe I did it. But, at the time, it seemed so covert and exciting … Anyway, it’s supposed to be some big honor to be invited. Or at least that’s how they sell it. And believe me, it works. No one ever declines.”
Cigarettes and blindfolds—Dace and I exchange a knowing look.
“Did you walk down a long tunnel that leads to a really bizarre luxury cave?” I ask, knowing the answer long before Lita nods to confirm it.
“You’ve been there?” She glances between us, sending a tumble of curls to fall over her cheeks.
“Once or twice.” I look at Dace. “And it looks like we’re going again. But if you happen to see them out here, be sure to text me immediately.”
“That’s it?” Lita shakes her head, purses her lips to match the ones on her mask. “That’s my job? Texting? Is that all you think I’m capable of?”
“You already did your job. I think you may have located them.” Turning to Xotichl, I say, “Keep scanning the room. If the energy in any way starts to feel strange—stranger than it already does—then do whatever it takes to get the hell out. Don’t worry about Dace and me—just grab Auden, and Lita, and whoever else is nearby, and run like the wind. Okay?”
“Got it.” She nods. Her voice betraying her growing anxiety when she says, “You guys don’t think there’s anything to Suriel’s crazy doomsday talk, do you?”
Lita’s eyes widen as she looks between Dace and me.
But I’m quick to dismiss it. “On a mystical level, no. But I also wouldn’t put it past him to do something completely insane in order to live out some semblance of his messed-up fantasy. So whatever you do, be safe.”
I look at my friends, ensuring they’re on board, before I say, “Oh, and one more thing…” I snatch Lita’s mask from her head and replace it with mine.
“What are you doing?” She casts a mournful look at her Marilyn mask, clearly not comfortable seeing it clutched in my hands.
“Pretending to be you. Phyre knows Cade’s still into you, so wearing your mask might draw her to me. Cade too, for that matter. I figure it’s worth a shot.”
Lita places a defiant hand on her hip, as offended as she is unconvinced. “Okay … not to be rude, but I’m not sure you have what it takes to pull it off. It’s not all that easy to be me. There’s way more to it than an obsession with Marilyn. It’s not nearly as effortless as it seems.”
“I’ve no doubt.” From behind the mask I sneak a half-grin and start to turn away. “But you know what they say—people tend to believe what they see.”
forty
Dace
“You sure about the mask?” I study Daire with concern. Watching as she fiddles with the strap, adjusting it to better cover her face. “It puts you at risk. Makes you a target for both Phyre and Cade.”
“Believe me,” she says. With the mask firmly in place, she walks quickly beside me. “As both the Seeker and your girlfriend, I’m more of a target without it. Besides, if what you say is true, better me in danger than Lita. At least I have the skills to defend myself with. Still, if it comes down to it, and we somehow end up separated, I’ll deal with Phyre and you deal with Cade. He wants to kill me. She wants to kill you. Let’s not give either one of them the opportunity. And whatever you do, steer clear of Suriel as well.”
“I can handle Suriel,” I say, needing her to believe it. But the firm shake of her head tells me she’s far from convinced.
“Now that you have your soul back, he’ll go after you just as easily as he’ll go after Cade. He doesn’t care which one of you goes down—just as long as the other one follows.”
I could continue to push it, try to sway her to my point of view, but when we reach Leandro’s office and the door is ajar, allowing muted voices to drift from inside, I motion for her to keep watch while I venture a look.
Last time I was here, I made a soul jump into Cade and came away with a stolen piece of his darkness. A souvenir that, once lifted, I ca
n’t seem to shake. And after talking with Leftfoot tonight, I’m not sure I should try.
There are positive and negative aspects to everything, he said, the moment Chepi left us alone in the room. The breeze becomes a tornado—the ocean’s swell a tsunami—a campfire an inferno—a snowflake a blizzard—and man is no different. Perhaps this isn’t a curse like you think. Perhaps you’ve merely become fully human for the very first time.
I’d never thought of it that way. Never thought to view it as anything more than a burdensome mistake.
But now that he’s presented it to me in that way, well, I can’t help but wonder if he’s right.
Maybe the darkness I willingly ingested isn’t some colossal mistake.
Maybe it just makes me normal.
All I know for sure is that now that it’s in me, I have to find a way to use it. If there was ever a time to call upon the darkness within, it’s tonight.
I raise a flattened palm to the door and push hard. Ready to face Leandro on my terms, my way, only to find myself squinting at a desk left in chaos and an empty leather chair. The voices I heard are coming from the large flat-screen TV.
After a quick search of the room, looking for anything that might prove to be useful, and a glimpse of the security monitors that only proves how impossible it is to single out anyone in particular, I exit the room, grab hold of Daire’s hand, and race for the vortex.
Cigarettes at the ready, we’re primed to face the usual beast brigade, only to find the veil wide open and wavering before us, not a single demon to guard it.
No demons.
No beasts.
No Coyote.
No Richters.
Almost like it’s daring me to breach it.
Like it’s some sort of trap.
