by Abbie Lyons
My roommate’s gaze went razor-sharp.
“Remember how I said I didn’t bring anything to wear?” Her lips twisted into a grin. “I lied.”
She flung open her wardrobe to reveal an entire rack of black gowns.
“Take your pick.”
I gaped. “You can’t be serious.”
“Nova”—Nover—”if there’s anyone who’d pack an extra emergency dozen gowns, you have to admit that it’s me.”
I did have to admit that. “And you’re sure it’s okay if I wear one?”
“Positive.” Morgan tilted her head at me. “Noves, you’re pretty much my best friend now.”
I didn’t know if it was real, or just the Hellwater talking, but hearing her say that meant more to me than I could’ve imagined. I’d never had a best friend—hell, I’d barely ever had a friend. And now here I was getting the full experience: gossiping, drinking a little, and sharing clothes.
“Thanks,” I said. “Same here.” I shook my head. “So what now? Do we braid each other’s hair or something?”
Morgan squinted. “Come to think of it...what are you doing with your hair?”
I looked at the mirror.
“I have an idea.”
Chapter Seventeen
The ballroom was unbelievable.
First of all, the space was gigantic. I don’t know where Hades had been hiding this ginormous atrium, but then again, this was the school that had a magical twenty-minute elevator leading practically to the center of the earth.
The walls soared up what must have been ten traditional stories, arcing overhead in an elaborate web of glass panels and wrought-iron beams. The floor was tiled in a gorgeous medieval-looking design of gleaming black and shimmering white tiles, and the traditional blue torches had been swapped out for what looked like just orbs of glowing glitter, spinning around in blown-glass spheres. Music played from somewhere on the mezzanine—classical-sounding, but with an edge to it, like orchestral rock—and the air filled with excited chatter.
But the most striking feature was dead center: an enormous altar, just like Morgan had mentioned, built of solid black and white marble and emitting a pulsing, steady glow. On the top, delicately-carved letters spelled out a motto I found I could actually translate.
“Through ages past, and for always,” Teddy said, echoing my thoughts. He lowered his eyes to me. “Whoa, Nova, you look—”
“Absolutely bloody stunning?!” Morgan cried. “Yes, thank you, I know. It’s my finest work.”
I blushed. I didn’t want to reject a compliment, but I also found myself more self-conscious than I’d ever been in my life.
The gown I’d borrowed from Morgan was nothing short of exquisite. It was a pure black, without even a hint of blue or purple, sleeveless, with embroidered lace panels on the sides and a long train that bustled so I could walk. A thin silver chain hung across my shoulders and trailed to the small of my back, which felt exposed even though the air in the ballroom was not unpleasantly chill, ending in a small, subtle pentagram charm.
As for my hair? Morgan had woven it through with small black and silver flowers, keeping it loose but elegant.
“No point in hiding what you’ve got,” she’d said. “This hair is truly your crowning glory.”
You’re not the only one who thinks so, I wanted to say.
Blood-red lipstick (of course) and a pair of black velvet heels completed the look. I didn’t like the absence of my Docs, but then again, a roundhouse kick to Camilla’s face in these stilettos would definitely leave a mark.
“Thanks, Teddy,” I said. “You’re not looking too bad yourself.”
He wasn’t, actually; in the suit he’d gotten at Westrock, he cleaned up pretty nicely. The greenish tinge on his skin was gone, and he actually looked pretty glowy with excitement. For all his nerdiness, Teddy wasn’t a bad-looking kid. Maybe he would score with one of the angels tonight.
Of course, there were kyrioi. I’d almost forgotten about their presence that afternoon. As soon as we descended from the common room, our Matrix-cosplaying friends were at the ready to swipe us for anything suspicious. Except now I knew what they were looking for—well, sort of. I didn’t understand how someone could even begin to steal those relics. For one thing, they were impossibly huge. It wasn’t like slipping a candy bar and toothbrush into your pocket at a bodega; this was some Ocean’s Eleven shit. For another, I didn’t quite get why you would steal the relics. I mean, sure, they were powerful, but to what end? What was the thief planning to do with them?
Correction, I thought. What is Camilla planning to do?
There wasn’t much doubt in my mind that she was somehow involved. She’d known about it being the relics, for one thing. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was her motivation. I didn’t necessarily know why somebody would want the relics, but a demon-purist seemed like exactly the type who might have a motive. And the way she’d cast accusations at me? It was possibly a ploy to get the stink off of her. Getting a half-demon like me expelled would just be the icing on the cake.
No matter what, I’d be keeping as close an eye on her as I could.
A clear, high-pitched chime sounded somewhere above us. The sparkling orbs dimmed, leaving a single beam of light on the altar, where Dean Harlowe in a deep crimson gown with a high neck and long sleeves was joined by a tall man with shockingly white hair and a thin pair of glasses in a silver-blue suit.
“Good evening, students,” Dean Harlowe said, her voice resonant even in the enormity of the space. “And welcome to our ball. We are so pleased to be hosting this year’s celebration, and welcome Dean Serathiel and the students of Elysium Academy for this symbolic occasion.”
The white-haired man nodded, and took a small step forward. “The feeling is mutual. Our students are grateful to the Hades Academy community for the warm welcome—”
Someone behind us hissed, and a round of titters arose from the Hades students, only to get shot down with a single glare from Dean Harlowe.
“—and we look forward to another year of solidifying the immortal partnership that we have forged.”
Dean Harlowe nodded. “Together, we work, despite every difference—no, because of our differences. Hades students, I trust that you will come to regard your fellows at Elysium as colleagues and trusted collaborators—”
Another, subtler round of giggles.
“—and likewise,” Dean Serathiel continued smoothly, “guardians of Elysium, I invite you to get to know and respect your Hades peers.”
From the other side of the room—blocked by the altar—I heard a wave of murmurs. The Elysium students, clearly—except that I couldn’t see them, no matter how hard I craned my neck.
“Now, without further ado,” Dean Harlowe said, clasping her hands. “Let us process.”
The music swelled, and Dean Serathiel offered Dean Harlowe his arm, which she took. They descended the small set of steps encircling the altar, and steadily walked around it once, twice, three times. Then they broke apart, and returned to their respective student bodies.
“All right,” Dean Harlowe said as she reached us. “First years, are you ready?” She grabbed—rather forcefully—the first student in front (it turned out to be alphabetical after all), and set her into motion.
The girl strode across the floor to meet one of the Elysium guys, who honestly could’ve been central casting angel, like an extra on Supernatural or something. He gave his arm, she took it, and they went in for their first go-round the altar. The next couple paired up—a Hades guy this time and an Elysium girl—and before I knew it, we’d reached the Ds.
My turn.
Head held high, I strode out into the middle of the ballroom, straining to see who was coming around from the Elysium side. He was a tall, sandy blonde, dressed in a well-fitting sapphire-colored suit, and did I mention he was tall?
I was kind of into it.
He nodded as I approached, and offered me his arm. “Hi there.”
> “Hi yourself,” I said, and threaded my arm through his. I realized that I couldn’t remember the last guy I’d actually touched—well, not entirely. I’d touched Wilder. And Raines. But still. That was different.
I think, anyway.
My dance partner was saying something as we stepped clockwise around the altar. “Sorry?” I said.
“I asked what your name was,” he said in a low voice, bending in so he could speak into my ear.
“Nova,” I said. “Donovan. And you are?”
“Achilles. Achilles Combothecra.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said, before I could stop myself. I shook my head. “Sorry, it’s just...”
“Quite a name,” he said—Achilles said. “I know.” His voice had a light accent to it—Greek, I had to presume. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to spell it.”
“Thank God,” I said. “I’m still figuring out Latin.”
Achilles raised a blonde eyebrow as we began our second circle. “Raised with humans?”
I swallowed. “Half. Human, that is.”
He nodded. “Me as well. The name is supposed to be ironic—my one weakness, being part human.” His smile was unfairly dazzling. Did angels get a good deal on Whitestrips, or something?
I wobbled a little, and chose to blame the heels rather than my weakening knees. “So what’s it like, being an—a guardian?” I asked.
Achilles gave a small shrug, guiding me gently into our third and final circle. “It isn’t much of anything yet. Still a lot to learn.” He gave a small grin. “And a demon?”
“I’ll let you know when I manifest any powers,” I said, and instantly wondered why I was being so honest. Was I that much of a sucker for a sexy smile? Or a Greek accent? “What I meant was—”
But I lost my train of thought. Entering the procession now was a tall, lean guy in a sharp black suit, black shirt, black tie. His hair was as unruly as ever, but the expression on his face...
I looked to the Elysium side. Approaching was a girl who was slender, pink-haired, and hopelessly beautiful. Even Camilla’s Instagram-model-good looks couldn’t touch this girl. Her skin was ivory with a small smattering of freckles, and when she blinked, her eyes were a brilliant violet. She wore a powder-blue dress than floated around her in petals, two gauzy swooping straps just grazing her shoulders.
I shot back to Raines. He was...stunned. There was no other word for it.
He offered his arm, the look in his eyes somewhere between disbelief and pain, and the girl put a slim hand in the crook of his elbow. I felt a sharp pang of—I didn’t know what. Maybe jealousy. But maybe something else.
I could sense the intensity of whatever Raines was feeling, and it was flooding me to the core.
Sense it in a way that maybe, just maybe, didn’t feel fully human.
“Who is that?” I said, turning up to Achilles. “That girl.”
Achilles looked over his shoulder as the couple joined the procession. “Who, Octavia? Octavia Kennedy. No relation to the human president. Why, do you know her?”
A ringing filled my ears, almost drowning the music. But I managed to shake my head.
“No,” I said. “Never heard of her.”
I focused my eyes straight ahead. We made the final turn in our final circle, and Achilles bowed and said something that was no doubt polite and charming, except that I didn’t even hear it. I took even, measured steps back to the Hades side, where Morgan was just about to head off.
“Ooh, that was your bloke?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Not bad at all, Noves. Now wish me luck...” She fluttered her fingers farewell and marched out towards the altar, making the entrance she’d always dreamed of.
I just stood there, breathing hard. Why was this getting to me so much? So Raines’s ex went to Elysium. Morgan herself had said that wasn’t unusual. Maybe they’d known each other growing up, or whatever. Did I just think he didn’t have a past?
Most importantly, why did I care?
Beside me, we’d reached the Ts, and Collum Tavish strode out, his suit equally well-tailored to Raines’s, but in a black with hints of red. Aleksandr Voronin was right behind him, his suit a gray with black lapels that was, if you asked me, flirting with too light for Hades-appropriate.
Both of them flashed me a look as they passed.
Could they tell?
“Gods.” Teddy padded into place next to me, looking strangely exhilarated. Probably just the excitement of processing with an Elysium babe. “That was a trip. I could do it again, I think.”
“Yeah,” I said, glancing at Achilles, and then—just as Octavia slipped her hand away—at Raines. “Same.”
It seemed like only a few seconds before the chime sounded again, and the music keyed up in earnest. Morgan descended on us in a flurry of black ballgown, positively beaming.
“Did you see Camilla’s face when I walked out?” she squealed. “Absolutely brilliant. God, inject that right into my veins.” She looked at both of us. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you two? Let’s dance!”
And before we could protest, she’d dragged us after her.
I’LL SAY THIS MUCH: angels and demons together know how to throw a damn good party. A party so good that all my moping about Raines and his precious Tavi—God, how I hated that stupid pet name—quickly fell by the wayside. What reason was there to be sad about some silly, brooding boy when you were dancing the night away surrounded by literal angels?
The playlist was eclectic to say the least. Which was probably necessary seeing as the DJ—who took over from the proper musicians and was, by the way, wearing a full-size unicorn mask—needed to cater to a variety of tastes. I quickly learned that I should take a bathroom or water break whenever angel music played, which sounded like some unholy mix of classical and cheerleading. The loud, atonal demon music was just as bad, but watching my fellow students head-bang like their lives depended on it was too hilarious to miss.
“Look at Camilla absolutely going wild listening to this shit,” I observed. The sight of a classic mean girl dancing to what amounted to heavy-heavy-metal was just so baffling that I couldn’t help but stare.
“Demon purists have the worst taste!” Morgan shouted over the music. “Just absolutely dreadful.”
I’d been keeping a close eye on Camilla throughout the night—it was, at the very least, a good distraction from thinking about what Raines’s face had looked like. So far, she hadn’t done anything overtly suspicious. But the night was young.
Thankfully, the traditional music was kept to a minimum. What angels and demons really loved to party to—much to my delight—was human music.
“Fuck yes!” Morgan screamed when “We Found Love” started playing, which she continued to do all five times a Rihanna song played. And she wasn’t alone. All this time I’d been thinking Morgan was an outlier with her love of human music, but no, it turned out the haters were the exception.
And the biggest hater in the room was exactly who I would’ve guessed. While the rest of the crowd was bopping all over the place and singing along to “Old Town Road,” Camilla and the bitch squad stood in a corner with their arms crossed.
I loved the cognitive dissonance of seeing the preppy girl pissed off by the music that all the popular girls I went to high school listened to.
“So she’s just gonna get all pouty every time the DJ plays a pop song?” I asked Morgan between songs. “I fucking love that.”
“She’ll probably at least tolerate Beyoncé,” Morgan said. “Even demon purists adore Beyoncé. Truly, she transcends all borders! There was a rumor going a few years ago that she’s demon, but that was a load of bollocks. Sadly. And really—”
She stopped mid-sentence as “Sexy And I Know It” blasted out over the speakers. But she was staring past me, her jaw dropped.
Probably Camilla stirring shit up, I thought to myself before turning around to see what was happening.
Holy shit.
There was Teddy, surrounded
by a whole sea of angels and demons, crushing it on the dancefloor. A circle formed around him as he moonwalked, did the worm, break danced, and God knows what else. He moved seamlessly from style to style. I’d never seen anything like it.
“Did he ever...tell us that he dances?” I asked Morgan in shock.
“Not once,” she confirmed. “That cheeky bastard has moves like that and he decided it wasn’t important to tell us? Bloody hell.”
“And of all songs, this is the one he chose to bust this out. Incredible.”
And it wasn’t just good dancing in an “oh, wow, I can’t believe Teddy is dancing!” way. This was more of a “oh, wow, Teddy could wipe the floor with anybody here in a dance battle” moment.
“Go, Teddy! It’s your birthday!” chants began to break out in earnest, as if this were some kind of cheesy throwback 90s party.
And the girls? They were swooning. I knew those looks—Elysium and Hades girls alike had twinkles in their eyes and smiles plastered on their faces. Even Octavia was hooting and hollering, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a little solace in the fact that she was giving Teddy more attention than she’d paid to Raines all night.
A bombshell Elysium girl in a skintight white dress jumped into the circle and started dancing, too. That kicked off a whole wave of women vying for Teddy’s attention.
Honestly, it was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Our boy is gonna get some action tonight if he wants it,” I cheered.
“ You can say that again,” Morgan mumbled. “He’s...amazing.”
I looked over at her. She had that same look in her eyes and the same smile on her face as all the other girls. For the moment, even she was smitten by Theodore Dewberry III.
The uproar lasted through a few more songs until, finally, the DJ leaned into his microphone and broke the crowd out of its reverie.
“It’s time to slow things down a bit,” he said. “This one is for all the lovers out there.”
He sounded like the host of some radio show from the 1950s that you’d listen to when you drove your steady gal to makeout point and tried to get lucky.
