by Lola Taylor
“Really?” I asked, hopeful. “You mean it?”
She smiled. “Umm hmmm. We can even leave the lights on.”
I hugged her, I was so relieved, then pulled Raoul into the embrace. “You guys are the best friends a girl could have.”
They squeezed back. I dedicated this moment to memory, knowing moments like these were about to become rare.
When I finally let them go, we split off. “I’m grabbing my bat, too,” Raoul said, “just in case that motherfucker decides to come back.”
I grinned, feeling much better.
Add ten minutes and another bottle of wine later, and we were all snuggled up on the air mattress, laughing and watching reruns of Sex and the City. Sometime around two a.m., we started passing out. True to their word, Monique and Raoul had left on all the living room lights. It was the most secure I’d felt in ages, being surrounded by my friends - other than being held by Hector.
No demons encroached on my dreams. I slept like the dead. And that’s about what I felt like when six a.m. rolled around, and I awoke to the obnoxious trill of my alarm to a hangover.
I sat up with a groan, sounding and probably looking like a zombie. Dragging myself out of the comfort of my warm sleeping place, I trudged to the bathroom then scowled at my appearance. Screw looking cute. I was in survival mode now, until I got at least three cups of coffee in me.
Raoul was still asleep, snoring away, but Monique was primed and ready. I kind of wanted to hate someone whose hair was perfectly styled by six o’ clock in the morning, but how could I? She was so nice.
Monique spit out her coffee when I stumbled into the kitchen. “Oh, my God. What are you - is that what you’re wearing to Elysian?”
I looked down. It was a cute pair of pink sweatpants with the word DIVA stamped across my ass in glittery silver letters. A matching hoodie completed the ensemble. “Um, yeah?”
She set her cup down, seized my wrist, and dragged me into her room. “No, no. You are not walking out the door looking like you just crawled out of bed.”
“But I did just crawl out of bed.”
“And it shows, honey! We have to make you look like the sexy fox you are. Hector will be there.”
“But I probably won’t even see him,” I tried interjecting, but she kept talking as if I hadn’t spoken.
“Now,” Monique said, cracking her knuckles, “let’s see what I have for you to wear.”
With orders to go grab my suitcase so she could “properly dress me,” I finally complied and fetched my suitcase. Being a fashionista, once Monique got going there was no stopping her.
She dumped the contents on the floor and began repacking my suitcase with mini-skirts, pencil skirts, short tops that tied at the waist, and an assortment of pumps ranging from furry and hot pink to glittery and super-strappy.
“Monique,” I gritted out, trying to lift the suitcase once she was done. “This weighs like fifty pounds.”
“Well, at least you’ll get buff. Now strip out of those clothes. And let me know if you want me to help.” She winked at me as she sauntered to her closet, and I rolled my eyes.
Not this again. The last time she’d tried dressing me, I’d ended up looking like I’d just got done working the corner.
After much arguing over attire, we settled on black tights, tall black boots with modest heels, and a dark teal tunic top that hung off one shoulder. It was pretty and feminine. But most importantly, I felt hot. I wondered what Hector would think. My heart picked up speed at the thought of running into him again, no matter how unlikely the odds.
When I started tying up my hair, she said, “Nuh uh. Your hair has to be down for an ensemble like this. Now, let’s do your makeup.”
I groaned. “It’s a three hour bus ride to Elysian. Plus, it’s six thirty in the morning. Do you think I care about my makeup right now?”
“I care enough for both of us,” she said, whipping out her industrial-sized makeup kit. “Now smile for me.”
It made me sad to think this was the last time I’d see Monique for a while. “You know the only reason I’m letting you get away with this is because it’s our last morning together,” I said.
I swore she started to tear up. Monique blinked several times and looked away.
Fifteen minutes later, my face felt about five pounds heavier. One look in the mirror revealed why. Dark rouge, bright red lipstick, dramatic eye shadow, and enough concealer and foundation to cover my entire face.
I hated it. Light makeup was the way I liked to roll.
But for Monique’s sake, I said I loved it. Near tears, I hugged her one last time before she kicked Raoul awake long enough to say goodbye to me. “Write to us, sugar,” he said, still half asleep.
“I will,” I promised. “Love you both.”
Monique gave me one last hug. “Be safe,” she said.
“I will. You too.”
Giving her a goodbye smile, I locked the door behind me on my way out. It felt so final, standing outside the door to my apartment and knowing I wouldn’t see my best friends for a long time. Sentencing at Elysian largely depended upon progress. If I rapidly improved, the quicker I could come back to the life I was used to.
So quit crying and go kick some ass, my inner diva said.
I nodded, taking a deep breath and drying my tears with my sleeve.
Feeling renewed, I took off down the stairs and focused on not letting my nerves trip me up.
The bus that was picking us up was arriving at the Penn Street and 72nd bus station at approximately seven a.m. No one ever used this station except paranormals. Thanks to some crafty witches, the place was enchanted so mere mortals couldn’t see it. They passed on by, mistaking it for an abandoned warehouse.
I got there just as the bus was pulling in. After paying the cab fare, I got on the bus and took a seat. My roommates would have taken me, but I didn’t want to be a bother. Plus, it would make the separation that much harder.
The bus’s interior was pretty nice, and it definitely wasn’t crowded. Only a scrawny guy mumbling to himself sat in the back, and a group of girls who apparently knew each other sat up front. One whiff of their paranormal signatures revealed the man to be a were and the girls to be witches. I wondered what they’d done to earn a trip to Elysian.
Not exactly a vacation spot, Elysian was where all naughty or struggling paranormals got sent so they could get their magical asses whipped into shape. It was literally in the middle of nowhere, way out in the countryside and hidden from the mortal world by more enchantments and shields.
I don’t know what it was about sitting down for a car ride, but the moment my butt hit the seat I got sleepy. Breaking out a yawn, I fluffed up my travel pillow and checked out for the ride.
My dreams were anything but pleasant. I was running through darkness thick as fog, with a murky red light shining on me from an unknown source above. When I called out, my voice echoed in the lonely silence.
There it was, the sultry voice whispering my name, followed by footsteps drawing closer and closer. The moment the figure, all sharp teeth and glowing red eyes, grabbed me, I scared myself awake with a yelp.
The witches snickered. My face heated when I heard them talking about me, and I sank lower in my seat in an attempt to disappear.
It’s just moving-away jitters, Sally. Or some dream symbolism mumbo jumbo. Nothing’s trying to get you.
Not to mention I couldn’t stop worrying about Damien and whether he would harm my roommates. Shaken and unable to sleep, I pulled out a book and read for the remainder of the trip.
I had to admit, Elysian was a lot prettier than I thought it was going to be. Part of its enchantments were that it didn’t appear in photographs, so I had no clue what to expect. I pictured a rotting prison or a crumbling house similar to Dracula’s castle, but what I found was more like Mr. Darcy’s mansion. Lush greenery covered every inch of landscape and a bigass fountain spewed pure, blue water out front.
I stood there for a few moments
when we got off the bus, taking in the sights. The air smelled like roses, probably because they were literally everywhere. It didn’t smell like the city. It smelled fresher. Someone finally got my attention, and I followed the others inside. The floor was made of polished marble, with expensive-looking rugs carpeting the walkways. Sculptures, paintings as big as the massive walls, and antique rugs decorated the place. Paranormal signatures tingled along my senses, thanks to the multitude of sups clustered together in here. But my attention was too focused on the antiques and paintings.
Classy, I thought as we were ushered to the registration office.
Once I’d checked in, I was given a badge and a key for my room, along with a welcome packet. I felt more like I was going away at a summer camp and not for reformation.
A lithe, uniformed man dressed in khakis and a red polo greeted us and led us to the auditorium. All the staff wore those colors, distinguishing them from the rest of us delinquents.
The auditorium was more like being in the Paris Opera House, it was that grand. Guilt was everywhere; on the railings, the walls, the bannisters. A gold, velvet curtain was suspended above the stage far below, right above the orchestra pit.
While the room was incredible, it felt like high school all over again. Groups of paranormals grouped together, chatting excitedly. Then there were the strays, like me, the people who didn’t know anybody else. Feeling like making new friends, I sat down beside a brunette witch who looked as nervous as I felt. “Hey,” I said, smiling. “My name’s Sally Sanders. Succubus.”
The girl smiled back, looking relieved. “Angela Black. Nephilim slash White Witch.”
White was for life and light. It made sense a half-angel would have an affinity for that house of magic.
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand. “So what’s someone like you doing in a place like this? I mean, you’re holy.”
A wicked glint flashed through her baby-blue eyes. “Only halfway.”
I grinned. Now here’s someone I could get along with.
Just then, a microphone hissed to life, and a voice welcomed us over the intercom system. A handsome, older man with sandy-colored hair stood on stage, wearing khakis, a navy jacket, and a crimson tie.
“Welcome to Elysian,” he said grandly, “where we’ll mold you and shape you into the best paranormal you can be.”
Oh, so that explained the absence of melancholy and despair. This was one of those inspirational whip-your-ass-in-shape camps.
The older man introduced himself as Dean Prescott, a reformed warlock who liked helping others find their balance. Apparently, he was one of the first graduates from Elysian. I didn’t even want to think about how old that made him, considering Elysian was over five hundred years old.
He went on about rules and regulations, the layout of the grounds, dorm rules, blah, blah, blah. “Now, we want you to feel welcome and safe here, so there are a few things you need to know. You’ll notice throughout the grounds there are charm buckets. If you’re in immediate need of assistance, just grab a charm and snap it in half. That will activate the tracking spell and alert the guards and your mentor on where to find you. Speaking of mentors,” he grinned, “since we want to bring out the absolute best in each of you and ensure a quicker turnaround, you’ll each be assigned a mentor. Mentors, will you join me on the stage, please.
I was wrong in my original assumption that the people around me were entirely here because their Masters had sent them. The crowd was made up of about half students and half mentors, the latter of which filed out of the rows to join Dean Prescott.
The moment Hector stepped out on the floor - wearing black leather pants, of all things - the female population went wild.
Angela leaned in. “I envy the lucky girl who gets him for a mentor.”
Ditto.
I pouted, knowing with my luck, hell would have to freeze over before we’d ever be paired up.
It took Dean Prescott a full five minutes to get the crowd to die down, and that was after the floor was littered with the bras and panties his fans had pitched at him. The man was a fucking rock star, and you could tell by that sexy grin on his face he reveled in the attention.
Dean Prescott started assigning mentors, and the whole place held its breath when they got to Hector.
I swore Dean Prescott took a little bit longer to read the student’s name out. My heart was beating super-fast. I don’t know why I was so nervous. It wasn’t like Hector freakin’ Aurelius and I were actually going to-
“Sally Sanders.”
Angela’s jaw dropped. I’m pretty sure my heart stopped, or my brain checked out, because all I said was, “Oh.”
Girls looked around with angry glares. I had the feeling they’d stab me in the back first chance they got.
Bitches.
I sank lower in my seat. Angela, still facing forward, discreetly leaned over. “Nice.”
“Sssh!” I hissed back.
But I couldn’t stop smiling.
When all the pairs were made and it came time to go down to meet up with our mentors for our meet-and-greet, I nearly passed out.
I didn’t think my legs would carry me down the stairs. Oh my God, oh my God, I’m actually going to spend some one-on-one time with Hector! Monique would be seething with jealousy!
A large smile came over Hector’s face as I approached. “Damsel. I don’t believe it.”
“Damsel?”
“Yeah, you know. Like in a fairy tale. Back at the diner, you looked like a princess waiting to be rescued by a handsome knight.”
The thought of him in armor only stoked the fire burning deep within. God, those pants didn’t leave much to the imagination. I wondered just how big he was, if I would stretch enough to hold him…
Snap out of it! He’s here to tutor you, not shag you.
“You can rescue me any day,” I said. I blinked. Where had that witty little gem come from?
He laughed. “So you do have some lines. Nice. But I wonder…” He got a devilish look to him that nearly had me panting. “How’s your dirty talk?”
I gulped, my throat dry. “It’s, um, all right.”
Those deep brown eyes of his twinkled, like he was amused. “I’ll make a note for us to start there and practice.” He reached into his back pocket and handed me a card. I expected it to read “Sex God” or something to that effect, but to my surprise it was a very simple business card with his basic info.
“Room 431, that’s where you’ll find me. Second floor, last door to your right when you get off the elevator. I like to start right away, so why don’t we head to my office, and I can give you your first assignment?”
I suspected he had all sorts of things to teach me, and I was more than willing to learn.
“Um, sure. Of course. Yeah, sounds good.”
Smooth, Sally.
He smiled, looking almost wistful. “Excellent. Right this way.”
I let him walk ahead of me, admiring the way the leather hugged his ass. Damn, that man knew how to rock a pair of leather pants.
I also became aware several sets of very hostile eyes were staring at me. Uh, oh. Looks like I’d made a few new enemies by association of Hotness Incarnate. Well, they could eat their hearts out, because this incubus was all mine.
I looked around as we walked, taking in more details of my surroundings. The halls were lit by iron sconces and elegant silver candelabra. The effect was pretty on the white marble floor, making it light up in rainbow colors. “Did this used to be someone’s house?” I asked.
“Yes,” Hector said. “It used to belong to Alistair Hex before he donated it to the Order for our exclusive use.”
I knew a little about Elias’s eldest brother and leader of Clan Hex, mostly that they were all very powerful and immensely wealthy men. “How generous,” I said without much enthusiasm.
Hector gave me a wry smile. “You don’t sound like a fan of the Hexes.”
“Whatever gave that away?”
I felt my face heat as the doors chimed open, and we stepped inside. Seeing as Hector was Elias’s friend, I chose my next words carefully. “I didn’t realize my reactions were so readable.”
Hector regarded me with a sad, wistful smile. “You’re like me. You wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
He shrugged. “I don’t think so.”
I got his implied meaning, and my chest tightened. Incubi and succubi were masters of seduction, a feeling tied so intimately to romance, yet we weren’t allowed to love. I wondered if whoever had come up with that rule realized what a hypocrite he or she sounded like.
Heavy silence followed as we were shuttled up to the second story.
The decorations were much the same, though this level seemed less crowded. It made sense, since it mainly housed teachers’ offices.
Hector stopped before a large oak door carved with a Celtic design, then twisted his key in the iron lock. The bolt groaned, and Hector opened the door for me.
The interior was decorated much like Elias’s office, with Hector’s having warmer tones of red and gold versus the cooler blue and gray of Elias’s office. The smell of cinnamon and sugar instantly hit me, and I inhaled deep. “Now I know why you always smell so good,” I said. Curiously enough, I didn’t see any candles or air fresheners.
Hector chuckled as the door clicked shut, and he walked over to the large cherry wood desk at the opposite end of the room. “And what do I smell like to you?” he said, sitting down in his plush, burgundy leather chair and motioning for me to do the same.
I sat opposite him, suddenly self-conscious of my appearance. “Like happiness,” I said. “My mother used to make snickerdoodles for me as a child. That smell has always been my favorite.”
He smiled, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on his desk. He steepled his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them, peering at me with a sexy glint to his eyes. “You want to know what you smell like to me? Jasmine.”
