Chapter 11
Eleven
“Holy shit,” McKenna said, and she was right.
Dani’s nose touched the window as she craned to get a better look at the monstrosity rising before them: the design of an architect who had been instructed to build a Loire Valley chateau à la Art Deco.
Its many turrets were plated with chrome and grooved with geometric designs, and the left wing of the house was raised on supports over a manufactured pond, around which abstract sculptures stood sentinel.
Floodlights illuminated the whole thing with blinding radiance, throwing sharp shadows through the columns of the entrance.
Dani gaped as the driver pulled up between the front steps and the fountain composed of stacked octagons. This was Kass’s house? It was so opulent it bordered on obscene. If this was his normal, what would he think if he knew she’d spent the last three years living on and off the streets?
Dimly she understood that the driver had come to a stop, that it was time for her to get out, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to move.
McKenna, on the other hand, had no such issue.
She opened her door with a flourish and climbed out of the car like it was a cocoon and she the morphing butterfly.
She bent down to look at Dani. “Are you coming or not?”
“Oh,” Dani said, startling. “Coming.”
Getting out of the car was a far less graceful event for her than it had been for McKenna.
Once she had won the battle against her minidress and closed the door behind her, she looked up at the fountain and realized the octagons were not stacked directly on top of one another, but each floating in midair.
Mage shit. She had a feeling there’d be a lot of that tonight.
“Danica,” McKenna called, raising her voice above the sound of the car rumbling away.
“Come. The night is young, but not immortal.” She always lapsed into speech like this when she was feeling especially fey, but it failed to spur Dani into action; she stood frozen, staring at the house.
Despite the chilly weather, people were crowded on the front steps, taking advantage of the break in the rain.
They could hear the throbbing noise of the party even from here.
“Dani,” McKenna said, this time with a note of concern. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
McKenna crossed the driveway and hooked her arm through Dani’s. “I know you can do this, babe. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. You think a party could defeat you?”
“Maybe,” Dani said. “I don’t really like crowds.”
McKenna patted her firmly on the hand. “Good thing this isn’t a crowd, then. It’s just a hangout. And we can leave whenever you want—just say the word.”
“What’s the word?”
The other girl scrunched her face in concentration. “Cantaloupe.”
Dani giggled in spite of herself. “Why cantaloupe?”
“Can’t elope. As in, I just can’t, so let’s elope.”
McKenna guided Dani forward to the entrance, inclining her head graciously to the partygoers huddled under the archway as they passed—many of them dressed in costume, as Kass had predicted—and they yearned after her with their eyes, worshipful.
Dani could only hope that her proximity to her dazzling friend would rub off on her, or at the very least muffle her own discomfort, which she was sure was plain on her face.
Inside, dozens of young people were packed into the giant foyer, which had been converted into a temporary club.
The floor was enchanted to send waves of color-changing light rippling under the feet of the dancers, a dizzying effect that made Dani queasy.
She distracted herself by scanning the rest of the room, which was conspicuously not decorated for Halloween, and surprisingly minimalistic underneath the veneer of celebration: Cream-colored walls rose two floors above their heads, culminating in a black velvet circle on the ceiling, from which a right-angled chandelier hung, its crystals like trapezoidal icicles lit warmly from within.
A single sweeping staircase led up to the second floor, where the DJ presided over the party, beating the air with the latest astropop.
“This is awful,” Dani said to McKenna, who was still smiling with that dark elfin mischief. “Definitely not a hangout.”
“It’s delicious,” her friend said. “Let’s find a drink.”
Dani didn’t know how McKenna knew where to go, but she had no choice but to follow.
The crowd parted for them sinuously, as though by a gentle wind.
It was more than just etiquette; Dani saw the luster of admiration in their eyes, and it wasn’t for her.
The two friends reached the French doors on the other side of the room without seeing anyone she recognized, Kass included.
“Alcohol?” McKenna said lazily to a girl passing by with a glass of wine.
“Th-the bar’s down the hall to your left,” the girl answered, watching them with the awe of a person who’d just spoken to a superstar. McKenna breezed onward, entirely undisturbed, and Dani let her tailwind carry her through the farthest door.
The word bar actually understated it; the room was more like a speakeasy.
The bar itself was raised on a dais in the center, its circular shape providing a panorama of its devotees.
Ebony paneling, brushed gold, and low burgundy chairs gave the place a feeling of noir, the dim lighting emphasizing the effect.
The mood was much calmer here, romantic; it was a place to linger over an intimate moment.
Dani noted the two bartenders and the vast selection of alcohol, as well as the pronounced absence of Kass.
“Come,” McKenna said regally, seizing Dani by the elbow and steering her to the bar. “We shall find your prince in due time. But first, a libation.”
“Only if you stop talking like a Canterbury Tale.”
McKenna laughed loudly enough to draw the attention of the entire room. “If I were speaking Middle English, you would know it, Dani.”
“Would I?” Dani muttered, but allowed herself to be presented to one of the bartenders, a guy just past university age.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, looking straight at Dani. McKenna repositioned herself seductively against the bar, but he didn’t so much as glance at her. An anti-glamour charm, maybe—some customer service places used them.
“I’ll have a, uh, I’ll just have a cider,” Dani said, naming the first drink she could think of that she didn’t hate.
“Sorry, I don’t have that tonight,” the bartender said, pushing a laminated card toward her, “but I can offer you a selection of other craft beers from around the world, or any mixed drink you’d like.”
Dani looked down at the jargon-laden list, her mind short-circuiting at the sight of phantom IPAs and lingonberry lagers. She loathed beer. “I’ll take a White Russian, then.” Her mom’s favorite cocktail; she’d never actually had one herself.
“Ew,” McKenna said. “No. We’ll both have a shot of tequila with salt and a lime.”
The guy hesitated, looking at Dani for permission, who just shrugged and said, “Both drinks, please.” As he moved away, Dani turned to McKenna. “I’m not trying to get drunk tonight, Kenz.”
“Why not? You’ve had a rough week.” McKenna rested one elbow on the bar, gaze raking the other guests. “Anyway, this is just to get you primed. Liquid courage and all that.”
Dani had only had one real encounter with shots, that night McKenna had told her about her past. She’d felt emboldened enough by the alcohol, her friend’s openness, and the utter lack of colors in her mind to tell her new roommate about her ability, her parents, all of it.
Everything had felt possible then, their first semester fresh and untainted before them.
The shots had come back up in the end, but the next morning Dani could have sworn she felt different—a little less like a kid and more like a real college student.
So, when the bartender clinked their tequilas down in front of them a moment later, she tossed hers back successfully and sucked the lime with a grimace. The heat spread throughout her body, taking the edge off her anxiety.
McKenna had just ordered a dry martini when two guys sidled up to the bar.
Frat boy vibes rolled off them in cologne-drenched waves.
Greek life didn’t have a huge presence at the Leap, but Dani saw it around sometimes.
She opted to let McKenna take the brunt of this impact, busying herself with thanking the bartender for her White Russian.
“Good evening, ladies,” said the boy dressed as a leprechaun, tipping his bright green top hat. Dani was impressed by his use of the plural, considering all four of their eyes were glued to McKenna. “Enjoying the party so far?”
“Immensely.” McKenna was laying it on thick. “I’m McKenna, and this is Dani.”
“Karim,” the guy said. “That’s Wyatt.”
“Charmed,” Wyatt said. On closer inspection, he was absurdly handsome—like, model-in-a-magazine-ad handsome. He was shirtless under a red velvet cloak, though Dani wasn’t sure if he was actually wearing a costume or just seizing the excuse to show off his abs.
“Karim. Wyatt,” McKenna said, baring her teeth in a rather menacing smile. “Lovely to meet. And how are you finding the festivities so far?”
“Oh, we’re having a blast,” Karim said, unshrinking beneath her piercing gaze. “I’ll say one thing about Kass, the dude sure knows how to throw down.”
Dani perked up at the sound of Kass’s name.
“Yeah, too bad he’s a grade-A asshole.” Wyatt made this proclamation with such venom Dani expected a rush of color in her mind—nothing came. This guy really had no compunction in declaring his dislike of Kass to total strangers. At Kass’s own party, no less.
“Shut up, man,” Karim said, elbowing him. “Not in polite company.”
McKenna didn’t miss a beat, not even to glance at Dani. “Oh, I’m terribly impolite, and I’m an even terribler gossip. What makes our host an asshole of the highest court?”