At my blank expression, she sighs, “Never mind then. Run along.”
A dismissal that puts a grin on my face, the kind of grin that doesn’t waver as I hop in my car and start the engine. Punch the gas and go tearing out of Hell Hall with one less expectation sitting on my chest.
Pulling out my phone, I open up the group chat that’s been ignored for far too long.
ME: It’s showtime.
HORACE: About fucking time, mate.
Chapter 50
CALISTA
The villains of Wolf Hollow do love to party.
Any display of wealth, really, with an open bar and an opportunity to assess and offend one’s counterparts. It’s a chessboard filled with pawns of the Dragon’s making, pawns who are blissfully unaware of how little power their chess piece brings to the game.
The Drache Manor stands in all its glory as priceless gowns twirl around the dance floor and flutes of champagne are passed from silver trays. Wolf Hollow’s richest citizens fan out like cockroaches, scurrying for a morsel of flesh and a pound of blackmail to be used with venomous intent.
It is a feast among the ambitious, the cutthroat and the lonely. All desperate to keep their names from being written on the menu.
“Welcome Council.”
Maleficent's voice triggers a hushed silence to descend. Dances halt, music fades and conversations come to a stuttering halt as all eyes and ears pay their respect to the Mistress of Wolf Hollow.
“Tonight we celebrate the success of another quarter. Another business venture that’s taken to the market and kept the folds of your wallets full.”
I stand by her side, bearing the darkest part of her shadow. Feeling the weight of every eye present as villains and offspring alike gaze upon the Drache empire.
Contempt. Hatred. Fear.
A sour, unflattering expression that mirrors across every board member in attendance.
“So let’s toast.” Viciously long fingernails grip the stem of her champagne flute, “To those who live within the gated community. The council members who invest in this town, who commit their lives to the cause, and who bind an unwavering loyalty to our community.”
Maleficent turns towards me, the long train of her dress falling down the first few stairs.
“And let us toast the children. For seeing through the plans we have made.”
I hold her piercing stare, feeling the curve of my lips lift momentarily.
“To the Dragon!”
The chant echoes from every mouth present, every bitter flick of the tongue as glasses are clinked and the lingering taste iswashed away. It is another show to be performed, another piece of evidence Maleficent uses as a reminder.
A reminder of which family controls this town.
“Off to a tremendous start, mother. The turnout appears larger than last quarter.”
The jut of her cheekbones seem crueler in this light, less forgiving as her lips pinch together with a drop of distaste.
“Jaafar Malik decided to bring his entire entourage this time. As if the man needs more than eight hands to get him through an evening.”
“For the best, I suppose.” Casting my eyes over the crowd, it comes as no surprise to see the Malik crest stamped on every uniform present, “He would struggle to make an appearance without the eager hands of an underpaid staff.”
“That is what you get when the fate of an under-developed nation lies in the palm of a man.”
“Indeed.” Feigning disinterest, I offer her a sideways glance, “Will you be needing my services tonight?”
