The wolves are howling, holding a note to rival the banshees, and the orcs have already started wrestling in the upper den. An activity they typically save for after midnight. But why not start early?
Above our heads, idling in the entryway, the faeries are huddled around the chandelier, arguing with a pack of pixies over a centuries-old beef they’ll never settle. Even the cats can’t resist the call as they lounge around, lazily sipping their brew, tails swishing back and forth to the beat.
The cacophony of noise brings a smile to my face as Elsie and I follow the music into the lower den.
A cluster of first-years is gathered around the makeshift stage, swaying beneath the strobing lights. Their weak resistance leaves them at the mercy of the sirens’ song, but no one steps in to save them.
They’ll be fine….I think.
Better than the boy tonguning a naga in the corner anyway.
“Iris! Elsie!”
Kitty’s voice comes from the kitchen doorway.
“Over here!” she shouts, her words barely piercing through the music. “You made it!”
She bounces up and down as we draw closer, her bushy blonde tail sweeping through the air at unmatched speed.
“You look so good!” she exclaims, clapping. “And you changed your hair!”
I nod, brushing my waist-length knotless braids over my shoulder, as Elsie proudly announces, “Don’t you love it? I did them!”
“Oh my gods,” Kitty muses. “That must have taken forever.”
Elsie shrugs, and we both smile as we try not to think about yesterday’s hours-long debacle.
I’d spent most of my day sitting between Elsie’s knees in front of the TV while she oscillated between praising and cursing her technique. As a bit of a purist, she insisted on doing things “the human way,” but after a few hours and one too many hand cramps, she gave up and cast an enchantment to handle the rest.
“You have no idea,” I say, following Kitty into the kitchen.
A crowd has gathered there to watch a friendly competition of brew pong between the elves and the druids. From what I can tell, the elves are winning, which isn’t surprising since they always cheat.
“Fates!” Elsie curses as we squeeze past a few dragon-born boys.
One of them paws at her with his talons, blowing heart-shaped smoke rings her way. She gives him a knowing smile before brushing him off.
“Is the entire campus here tonight?” she asks.
“It’s the moon!” Kitty calls back. “People are getting antsy. Looking to let off some steam.”
“Including you?” I ask.
She spins on me, eyes wide.
“Yeah. Duh!”
Most people don’t realize that Kitty loves Fright Night more than anyone. They get confused by her pretty pink glasses and heart-shaped eyes and assume she’s a quiet girl who prefers reading alone in silence, which isn’t entirely untrue. But for some reason, no one ever seems to wonder about her nickname or how she got it.
She giggles excitedly as she pours out a few shots, only stopping when we all toss them back in unison.
“Oh, gods,” Elsie groans, a sour look on her face as she slams her cup back on the counter. “That’s disgusting.”
Kitty shivers slightly as the brew’s effects spread from her head to her toes, while I merely curse silently as the warm liquid runs down my throat.
“Fates! What is that?” I ask.
“Dragon’s blood!” Kitty replies.
