SNEAK PEEK of Ivory #2
Running hands down my front, I verify that everything is securely in place. I take a deep breath, and I leave the restroom to join the party. But when I return to the hall and hear the raucous noise of my fellow partygoers, I bite my lip, chin tipping in the opposite direction.
There appear to be guards emerging from their rooms at the sound of the party, dressed in uniform. One of them is griping about the night shift .
When the coast is clear, I slink down the hall toward the stairs. The front door opens, and I slip around a corner, peering over the balcony of the third floor landing.
“Don’t piss me off, Rookie,” a male voice barks from downstairs. “I’m not in the mood.”
I watch as two big guys storm inside, also in uniform. The taller guy has dark, chin-length hair, tied back in a tiny bun, whereas the shorter guy has sandy-blonde hair, and a much more country look about him.
“Sorry… I just thought you might—”
“No one’s paying you to think,” the larger, surlier of the two cuts the other guy off.
“Just do your job and shut up until it’s time to stop.
” He pauses, eyes flinging in my direction.
I duck out of sight. “Sounds like the festivities are getting started…” I peek down in time to catch him slapping the blonde guy on the back, hard enough that the dude winces. “Do us all a favor… and lighten up.”
That’s him.
I don’t even need confirmation. That has to be John Chevelle.
He turns toward the stairs, the blonde guy looking after him, longingly and a bit dejected. He’s about to follow when dress shoes on the marble floor stop them both in their tracks.
My heart is instantly in my throat. My anatomy is sizzling, chills breaking out over my exposed skin.
“Go on upstairs,” Velle mumbles, eyes fixed in the direction the footsteps are coming. “Grab a drink, do a line. Just… whatever.”
He saunters away from the blonde guy, toeing the line between right and left. The blonde guy’s shoulders slump visibly, but he doesn’t come upstairs. He stays on the first floor, stomping off in a different direction.
But I’m no longer focused on either of them. I’m too busy gripping the edge of the bannister with white knuckles, eyes rounded in wait.
Officer Chevelle is speaking to someone. I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I can’t see him, and it’s driving me mental. I feel like I could crawl out of my skin.
Fortunately, they’re only speaking for a minute, and then the clack clack clack resumes. I’m chewing my cheek so hard I taste blood, limbs tense, my entire frame stiff and sickeningly anxious. It’s purgatory… It always is. Awaiting him.
Until suddenly there’s a beam of light, like a lightning strike.
Diablo…
“Ahí estas…” My pulse is thumping so hard it’s rocking my body.
The magic fades when I remember myself, jaw clenching tightly, leering after him as he ascends his staircase. As if everything is normal.
It’s all fine… I’m the King, the ruler of this dark castle, and nothing else matters…
Yea, we’ll see about that.
I’m startled out of my simmering when I realize that Officer Chevelle is on his way up the stairs.
“Shit…” My first instinct is to hide, but then I remember that I’m an invited guest.
Straightening, I take a deep breath, slinking back toward the party just as the large form is arriving on the third floor. He stomps past me without a glance, and I watch him closely, observing his rigid posture and his brooding expression.
He doesn’t seem happy.
Poor thing… I get it.
Velle makes a beeline toward the room that I was peeking inside before— it must be his bedroom —but he stops before entering. He turns over his shoulder, casting me a brief glare, eyes sliding me up and down. Something in them makes me want to cower.
I feel like he can see right through me, and it’s unsettling.
There’s an intruder in our midst…
I simply blink at him, striding as carefully as possible past the guard dog and hoping like hell it won’t bite.
Good doggy… nice doggy.
It’s okay… I’m on your side.
Eventually, he pries his narrowed gaze off of me and slips into his room, slamming the door behind him. Releasing a long breath of relief, I place my palm over my heart. It’s leaping up to my hand.
I’m alive here. I feel this, all of it , in my bones.
Stepping timidly over to the door that just closed, I lean in, and rest my forehead to the wood. I’m fighting back unexpected tears, and I don’t know why. The pressure in my skull anchors my head to the door.
I’m six years old again, the smell of copper in the air. Screams, and that same damn clack clack clack ringing in my ears as I watch him walk away.
“Whatever he’s done to you…” I whisper, seeing him stop in my mind, “lo siento.”
It’s not my fault, but I’m still sorry.
Because he’s all over me, coursing through my veins, and I can’t stand it. Every moment that he’s still breathing feels like my responsibility, and I know that’s crazy, but I can’t help it.
I feel like I summoned him, or something. And now, on behalf of my bloodline, it’s my job to exorcise him back to the pits of Hell where he belongs.
In spite of the fervent thrill, my fingers curl to a fist. “I promise, for you, for me… para la casa Alvarez… I will make him pay .”