I count the spells attached to my dress, hoping they’ll be enough.
The moonlight flashes, suddenly glinting off the window pane. My breath stops as I flinch away from the harsh glare.
Dirty pavers suddenly fill my field of view, and the sounds of a city alive with nightlife bursts into my hearing.
Just like that, I’ve been transported to another place, and it was certainly far more pleasant than any transportation spell I’ve conjured myself—those make me feel like the air is being squeezed out of my chest.
Drawing upright, I quickly assess my surroundings: a grimy sidewalk, trash cans, and an alley at the side.
Where am I?
I shiver, suddenly wishing I was wearing more than a few pieces of tulle and some flower petals.
The alleyway beckons on my left, its darkness appealing, and I can only trust in the magic of the event to guide me forward. There must be an opening to a venue somewhere nearby…
Worst case, I can hide in the alleyway and figure out what to do next.
As I hurry into the shadows, a bright red door at the end of the alley catches my eye. I begin to relax since this has to be the place.
Two stone gargoyles perch on either side of the door, level with its topmost edge. Their identical frozen forms don’t fool me for a second.
I wonder for a moment if I’m in Chicago since that city has the last known population of gargoyles, none of whom I’d like to meet in a darkened alley, but something tells me these men are here for pleasure, not war.
As soon as I step within knocking distance of the door, the gargoyles transform into human form, their massive wings unfolding around them as they fly to the ground.
Both are muscular and well-dressed in slacks and button-up shirts, dreadlocks falling about their shoulders. They have nearly identical features although one wears his dreads a little longer than the other.
I clear my throat and stand tall, meeting the first one’s gaze with a frosty glare. He wears shiny, red shoes and an all-white jacket with embossed damask print. At six feet tall, I’m accustomed to being eye-height, if not taller than most men. Alexei was the first man I’d ever met who towered over me.
The gargoyle wearing the red shoes arches an eyebrow at me, the hint of a smile playing around his lips.
Yeah, my tough act isn’t fooling him at all.
He shivers in an exaggerated manner and addresses his twin. “Lex, did the air just get a little too cold?”
Lex gives me a wink, stroking his goatee. “It shouldn’t have, Bronx. Something tells me the lady is in for a warm evening.”
Lex gives me a silent onceover with an amused expression before holding out his hand, and I assume it’s for my ticket.
I hand it to him, conscious of other figures approaching behind me, and wait for the door to open.
I hurry inside, ignoring the click as the door closes behind me.
A long, decrepit hallway greets me, the peeling paint across its walls catching the distant light. It’s not exactly what I was expecting. So far, the path to the Ball has been grimy and dark.
Maybe it’s all a lie and The Proprietor lures supernaturals here to steal their power just like my aunt tried to steal mine. My own aunt… and when my mother tried to defend me…
I shake off the memories, burying them again, but it’s nearly impossible to subdue my instinctive magic, which is rising with my unease.
Without realizing, I break into a run, racing toward the rainbow lights filling the end of the hallway and the deep, throbbing music, needing to prove my own conspiracy theories wrong.
I burst into a large room and pull up sharply when a perfectly normal dance floor presents itself. My magic washes ahead ofme and I try desperately to rein it in, taking deep breaths and attempting to suck the magic back to myself.
I don’t succeed before it zaps a man reclining on a furry white beanbag situated against the wall to my left. He’s lying on his side, facing me.
His head jolts up, and his red lips part with surprise at the bite of magic. His female companion pulls him back to her neck, and he barely gives me another glance, fixating on her veins again.
Ugh. Lips red with blood.
