For Whom the Spell Tolls (29 page)

At the sound of Sam laughing with Erica, I glanced over at them. My best friend smiled at Erica, completely unaware of Trey’s fate. The thought of having to tell her that Trey had been killed remained something I couldn’t even conceive of. Why? Because as close as I was to Trey, Sam was even closer. I looked up at Knight again and found his eyes already on mine. As soon as I met his gaze, tears began to flood my eyes, and my body shook with the weight of my sorrow.

Knight immediately dropped to his knees and wrapped me in his strong, capable arms. He was very careful not to disrupt my bandage. “I’m so sorry, Dulce,” he whispered.

I shook my head and pulled away from him, blotting my eyes with my arm as I stared up at him.

“Dulce?” Sam asked as she walked up behind Knight with a maternal look of concern. “Are you okay?”

I glanced at her and felt the tears returning again. I shook my head, taking a deep breath, and answered, “Sam, Trey didn’t make it.” I said it as softly as I could, hating the words as they left my lips.

Sam didn’t respond right away, but just stood there, wearing a blank expression. A few seconds passed, during which time I watched the emotions of shock, disbelief and finally anguish overcome her. Then she simply shook her head. Jutting out her lower lip, she lost the battle to restrain her tears. I opened my arms and she fell into them. We clung to each other, both of us grieving over the death of our friend.

SIXTEEN

Three Months Later

We were all very busy. Beyond busy, actually.

After my father’s death and our victory, the Netherworld did a complete one-eighty. Caressa took charge of The Resistance, and just as I expected, proved to be an outstanding leader. Strong and confident in her decisions, she also strove to be a direct representative of the Netherworld people. And that wasn’t just my opinion. The people already had multiple parades throughout the various cities of the Netherworld, lauding the new order. It didn’t hurt that Caressa’s first task in office had been rounding up all the flying abominations in the sky created by my father with the purpose of terrifying the public. She’d promptly relocated the creatures to various far off destinations, where there was no chance they could return.

It had been a celebratory day when the nets came down.

As to the illegal potions rings, although they weren’t entirely destroyed (something I imagined would never happen, anyway) Caressa was able to curb the amount and availability of street potions brewed in the Netherworld and distributed on Earth. Upon establishing her new position, she insisted that all ANC contraband be destroyed on site. Not only that, but she appointed loyal Netherworld Guard soldiers to make sure the orders were followed.

Now that the Netherworld borders were open again, Knight did quite a bit of traveling back and forth. He still managed to man his post as head of the ANC in Splendor, while also filling the role of second in command to Caressa, with Christina picking up his slack. Together, they were like the A-Team. My part paled in comparison to that of Knight and Christina, but I still did my best to be useful. I accepted Knight’s offer to return to the ANC in Splendor, where I basically ran the office in his absence.

Because Knight was so busy organizing the new democracy of the Netherworld, I had quite a bit of downtime on my hands, along with plenty of lonely nights. Although I managed to occupy them with visits from Dia and Sam, I relished my alone time. I guessed it was because it had been such a long time since I had any.

I also kept my promise to continue my writing, and even contacted my agent to pick up where we’d left off. Apparently, one publisher was interested in my Bram books, a revelation which pleased me no end. And the vampire who told me so many colorful stories for my books? I hadn’t heard from nor seen him since that final moment in my father’s library when he’d left me for dead. I thought about Bram frequently, however, always wondering where he was and what he was doing.

Every time I drove by No Regrets, seeing the “For Sale” sign always made me feel hollow inside. It seemed like Bram had packed up and moved on with his life, which, for all I knew, was the case. Wherever he was, I wished him the best.

When not writing, I spent a lot of my time in quiet repose, just thinking. My thoughts always returned to Trey and I remembered funny situations we’d found ourselves in, along with the various cases we’d worked together while at the ANC. Mostly, though, I recalled all the laughs we shared. My thoughts also centered on my mom, thoughts which brought a contentedness that made me smile. Even though I still missed her, feeling her presence lessened the pain of losing her.

“Dulce, you ready?” Sam called from her living room where we’d been getting dressed for the last two hours. “The party starts in like ten minutes!”

We were on our way to the Netherworld where Caressa was throwing a masquerade party for everyone involved in the defeat of my father. A masquerade to celebrate the removal of a tyrant might sound like an odd pairing, but Caressa was determined to focus on the positive moving forward. She was convinced a masquerade would be the most festive.

Looking down, I shook my head, chiding myself for letting Sam talk me into wearing such a ridiculous costume. It was her idea for both of us to go dressed as Ladies of the Court from the Rococo period. It sounded fine and good, (albeit, a little random) in theory. In practice, however, fine was not the word I would use to describe my getup. I was dressed head to toe in layers of blue and green bows, mint-green netting, blue satin, white lace, and petticoats. Together, they felt like they weighed more than forty pounds. With my enormous skirts billowing out from beneath me, I looked like a very colorful, upside-down mushroom.

Sam was dressed in pretty much the same fashion (only hers was pink and purple), but she seemed to actually enjoy it (she’d primped and preened for over an hour). Our hair was piled high atop our heads (skyscraper-high), with sausage curls and braids to adorn it. Mine was finished off with a little, white, doily-looking thing and an ostrich feather. Sam’s had myriad roses and lilies, which matched the print on the parasol she carried with her. I preferred not to carry anything. I was afraid I might collapse beneath the weight of the costume, if anything else was added to it.

“You need some more blush,” Sam announced. I was currently trying to fit through her hallway frontwards, but ended up having to go sideways. Even so, I still managed to get caught.

“Some help please,” I muttered. Sam giggled and helped me free one of my bows from where it was stuck on the door kick. As soon as she released the fabric, she reached for her blush brush and began dusting my cheeks, the top of my nose, and, finally, my cleavage.

“Anymore blush and I’m going to look like a burn patient!” I railed at her, feeling the itch of the contraption Sam invented to keep my wings under control.

“Maybe you need another beauty mark,” she said while studying me. She narrowed her eyes and bit one side of her mouth.

“I already have two!” I protested, glancing down at my cleavage where Sam had penciled in a black wart. She’d already painted its twin on my upper lip.

“Okay, I guess we’re ready then,” she said finally. Holding her palm open, she smiled when I dropped Bram’s portal ripper into it. I watched her program the ripper before slicing an opening in the air, obeying my instructions to the last “T.”

“You catch on quickly,” I said with an approving smile.

“Not as quickly as Knight’s fingers will get you out of that costume,” she teased. I didn’t miss her wink or lascivious smile.

Knight had no clue what to expect from Sam and me, as far as costumes went. It was Sam’s idea to make it a surprise. I had no idea what Knight’s costume was either, but figured it would be fun to find out. “I’m sure he’ll find this extremely amusing,” I said with one last look at myself and a sigh. I doubted Knight would find the outfit sexy, except for my ginormous cleavage. Other than that, my costume just looked like a huge waste of fabrics.

“Then we’ll agree to disagree,” Sam said as she extended her arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” I answered, taking her arm in mine, and stepping through the portal.

Seconds later, we entered the Netherworld and, more precisely, Bellingvue, the estate Caressa chose to live in after taking on her new role. The place was sprawling and huge, though not quite as expansive as Bram’s home in the French Alps. Bellingvue was a two-story, well-appointed home in the style of Cape Cod. The outside was a dark grey with white trim, and the shutters were a charcoal grey. Surrounding the estate were rose bushes of every hue and variety along with enormous poplar trees that made it look like a park.

We landed on the back porch of Bellingvue and as soon as we inhaled the Netherworld air, I felt my wings awaken. I had to smile when they struggled to beat, but stayed restrained, thanks to Sam’s creation. The essence of roses perfumed the night air and made me inhale so deeply, I nearly got giddy on the aroma. It was pretty warm with a cool breeze that ruffled the lace of my bodice. Only a few people milled about on the porch, oohing and aahing over the garden; most everyone else was inside.

“Let’s go in,” Sam said, picking up her skirts. Looking like Marie Antoinette, she forced herself forward, people getting out of her way so as not to trip over her skirts. I walked directly behind her, taking advantage of the path she carved. As we walked inside, many people dressed in costumes passed us, remarking on our costumes while we commented on theirs. So far, the detailed outfits ran the gamut—everything from princesses to knights in armor to wild animals.

“Sexy ladies!” Dia’s voice rang out above the harmony of voices, laughter and music. How she managed to spot us in a crowd of one hundred plus costumes was beyond me. Sam and I turned in unison to find Dia standing before us, dressed in a bright red, fitted gown, with glittering red rhinestones that covered its entire surface. She’d paired that with a real diamond tiara and the highest heeled shoes I’d ever seen.

“What are you supposed to be?” I asked, eyeing her quizzically.

“Girl, I’m not supposed to be anythin’,” Dia sang back with one of her broadest smiles.

“Then what
are
you?” Sam asked, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth as she appeared to be guessing. “’Cause you don’t look like the normal Dia.”

“I’m a diva, of course,” Dia answered like we both should have already reached that conclusion. When she did that neck thing again, it almost looked like she was doing an interpretive dance. While she completed her best impersonation of Cleopatra, I saw Cannon slicing through the crowd of people behind her. Carrying two glasses of red punch, one in each hand, he handed one to Dia and smiled at Sam and me in greeting. He wore dark black slacks and nothing above besides a white collar (a la Chippendale dancer) on top. Well, except for the bling-bling he wore around his neck: an enormous pendant that said: “I’m with the diva.”

Looking at Cannon’s chest (I mean, the pendant) I eyed Dia with a laugh. “Really?” I asked.

“Hey, if you got it, flaunt it, honey,” Dia answered with a pretty smile. “That’s my motto.”

Sam appraised Cannon up and down and whistled before saying to Dia, “I’d say you got it.”

Dia nodded as she patted Cannon’s stomach. She slid her hand up his chiseled abs and settled it on his defined pecs. “I got it in spades, girl, in spades.”

“Dulce!” I heard Quill’s voice and glanced behind me to see him decked out in black breeches, an olive-green overcoat, tall black boots and a cravat around his neck. Beside him stood Christina, wearing something similar to Sam’s and my costumes only less frilly, way less frilly. I had to admit I was more than a little surprised to see the two of them together. The more I thought about it, though, I decided they actually would make a good couple. But who knew if they’d come here as platonic friends or more …

“Who in the heck are you supposed to be?” Sam asked as she faced Quill skeptically, her brows furrowing in the middle of her forehead.

Quill shrugged as Christina frowned before giving me a raised brow expression that hinted at her lack of enthusiasm regarding their costumes. “We’re George and Martha Washington.”

“What?” Sam croaked, a wide smile on her lips.

“George and Martha Washington?” Dia repeated with disbelief. She shook her head and raised one brow like she’d just seen or tasted something really bad. “Uh-uh. That is just wrong, y’all.”

“The stock was limited at the costume store. I guess I waited too long,” Quill apologized as Sam and I started laughing.

“Why didn’t you just magick something?” I asked Christina, who seemed the polar opposite of Martha Washington. Being a fairy, she possessed the same abilities as I did. She could have easily become any character she chose.

“Because Quill already paid for them,” she said, shaking her head like it was a big waste. Then she gave him a warm smile as he wrapped his arm around her. My previous question as to whether or not they came as friends was thusly put to bed. Maybe even literally. While their mutual show of affection surprised me initially, I was happy for Quill. He deserved a good woman and Christina had definitely earned my stamp of approval.