Chapter 17 Nicole #2
“I… don’t watch the news,” she says.
“Fine. Doesn’t matter. None of this would’ve been reported, anyway.
But I saw it, Daria. The Black Joker turned everyone into ice statues and made me dance, threatening to melt them with fire if I didn’t do as he asked.
” My words falter. It sounds insane. I thought explaining the facts would be easier.
But her expression makes me wonder if I’ve lost my grip on reality.
Still, I push on. “He can twist everything with his magic. I’ve spent the entire night plotting how to outsmart him and…
nothing. Absolutely nothing. I even tried to look Angelina up, the girl who told me about him.
Remember?… She’s vanished, Daria! That’s why I came to you.
I thought if we joined forces, maybe we’d stand a chance. ”
Daria presses her lips together. Finally, a reaction.
I latch onto it. “Oh, and one more thing. It’s in your interest to help me.
That ritual? We both did it. Which means somewhere, he has another contract bound with your blood.
You’re next.” I gulp, my throat suddenly dry.
“December, right? That’s when you turn twenty-one. ”
Daria takes a deep breath, her posture straightening.
“God, Nicole,” she says at last, and her voice is so soft, it soothes the tension wired through my nervous system.
“You need something stronger than water. How about some chocolate ice cream while you tell me the whole story, from the beginning?”
I’m on the verge of scowling, ready to snap that I don’t have time for her silly ice cream. But then I recognize her expression. It’s sincerity, tinged with concern. Daria has always been the kindest soul. In truth, that was one of the reasons I ended our friendship.
Kindness is weakness. Kindness gets crushed.
She chose to stay prey. I became the predator.
And like any predator, I’m willing to use any means necessary to get what I want. Daria’s already involved—whether she realizes it yet or not—so it’s in her best interest to help me.
The idea of sitting here, like we did all those years ago, suddenly feels… tempting. I let out a long sigh and sink onto the sofa. She disappears into the kitchen, and when she comes back, she’s carrying two bowls of chocolate ice cream.
“You know, I never thought I’d see you here again.” She places the bowls on the coffee table.
“Believe me, neither did I.”
Daria smiles faintly, though the crease between her eyebrows remains, like she’s still unsure how to handle all this. “All right then. We’re here, we’ve got chocolate ice cream, and I’m all ears. Start from the top.”
So I do. And she doesn’t interrupt once.
By the end of my story, her nose wrinkles. “And you’re saying you… smell him?”
“I’m not sure how else to describe it. But whenever he’s near, that scent…
Bittersweet, heavy…Like a thick perfume that seeps into everything.
” I exhale and lean back into the sofa, the memory of last night rising unbidden.
Even after the Black Joker vanished, I could sense his presence lingering in my nostrils, creeping across my skin.
Daria frowns, pausing to think. “That’s… weird. But I guess it’s not any weirder than a magical stalker trying to drag you off to his castle.” She stirs her spoon around the bowl. “Although, he sounds like the kind of guy you’d get involved with.”
A rush of heat threatens to creep into my cheeks as images from last night surge to the surface. The position I’d found myself in. Humiliating. Submissive. And that fleeting, infuriating moment when I… liked it.
Proof enough that the Black Joker is messing with my head.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snap.
Daria raises both hands in surrender. “Just saying you’ve always been drawn to dangerous things. To challenges.”
“Right, because that’s the issue here. That I’m attracted to him.”
Memories flash through my mind—his hand sliding over my skin, the lightning bolt that jolted through me with every brush of his fingers, every whisper against my ear.
Daria lets out a quiet laugh. “I’m not saying you’re attracted to him. Just that, while you were telling me how he’s tormenting you, you sounded more furious than frightened.”
I press my lips together. Her damn perceptiveness is getting on my nerves again. “Just because I’m not sobbing in some corner doesn’t mean I’m not scared.”
“No, but it does mean that part of you wants to fight back.”
My fingers tighten around the bowl of ice cream. “So you believe me?”
Daria shrugs. “I know you, Nicole. You’re not the type to make things up for attention. Besides,” she adds, glancing at her phone where she checked Angelina’s profile earlier, “someone’s already missing. Now, tell me the riddle again.”
I run a hand through my hair. “The answer doesn’t really matter. If I solve it, there’ll be two more trials. And you haven’t seen what he’s capable of! The chance of outsmarting him is close to zero. And even if I do manage it… You’ll be next. There has to be another way to stop him.”
Daria leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “All right then. Let’s hear it. What’s the plan?”
My thumb skims the cup’s rim. “I don’t have one yet.”
She snorts. “Fantastic.”
“I thought…” I bite my lip. “You’ve always surrounded yourself with unusual people. Maybe one of your friends might have an idea how to… deal with a witcher?”
She points a finger at me. “Hey, you decided to summon the magical trickster, with a spell you got from your friend!”
I huff and lean back onto the sofa, folding my arms. “Yeah, but you, unlike me, have always been around…” —I make a vague circular gesture, searching for the right words — “…eccentric types.”
Daria chuckles and shakes her head. “If that’s your way of calling me weird, you’re not the first.”
“I’m saying you used to hang up with people who believe in this sort of thing.”
That had been another reason I couldn’t be friends with her anymore.
Some of her acquaintances were just too odd.
Kids no one else wanted around. Daria always stood by them, which was basically social suicide.
We were already easy targets for the vultures.
I didn’t want to be lumped in with them, not while I was doing everything in my power to climb up.
She pauses, thinking. “Maybe… There is someone. Lucy. She’s into all kinds of rituals, readings, and mystical nonsense. If anyone might know something, it’s her. Let me make a few calls.”
Daria jumps up from the sofa, her face bright with enthusiasm.
For the first time in forever, I don’t feel… alone.
* * *
According to the GPS, our destination is fifty-three minutes away. Luckily, it’s a summer day and traffic in Sofia is manageable, although I can’t say the same for the tension inside the car. I keep glancing around for strange shadows and sniffing the air, my heart pounding.
My fingers drum on the steering wheel as we wait at a red light.
Daria gives me a sideways glance. “Don’t worry, Niki. Lucy said this woman does a bit of everything. Exorcisms included.”
Exorcisms. A cold sweat prickles across my forehead. “I was right to assume your circle of acquaintances is still… interesting.”
“One of the perks of my job. I meet the most incredible people. Not sure I mentioned it, but I’ve been teaching yoga for the past two years.”
I turn toward her. “Professionally?”
“Yep. I’m a certified yoga instructor. I teach at a studio in our neighborhood.”
“And how do you balance that with uni?”
She laughs. “I don’t go to uni.”
My jaw drops. “What do you mean, you don’t?”
“I decided there’s no point studying something that wouldn’t make me happy.”
I don’t bother hiding my skepticism. “So, what? You plan to be a yoga instructor for the rest of your life?”
Daria shrugs, calm as ever. “I don’t know about ‘the rest of my life’… But at least for as long as it brings me fulfillment. Maybe one day I’ll wake up wanting to be a lawyer and enroll in law school.”
I clench my teeth against the words itching to leap out.
She can’t be this na?ve. Do people like her really not understand that life doesn’t wait?
That education is meant for your youth? If you graduate at fifty, you’ve got maybe ten or twenty working years left—if anyone takes you seriously at all.
“What about you? What are you doing these days?” she asks.
“Studying architecture.”
“I’m not surprised. Your father’s such a big name in the field, and you’ve always been able to draw.”
I just nod. What does surprise me is her choice, considering both her parents are doctors. You’d expect her to follow in their footsteps. But I bite my tongue. We’re not here to discuss life choices. We’re here to find a way to keep our lives from spiraling out of control.
So I barely speak again until we arrive at our destination. The neighborhood is one of the poorest in Sofia—one of those places God seems to have forgotten. Not somewhere I’d set foot in, under any other circumstances.
I drive the Mercedes along a street lined with crumbling buildings and narrow roads. Potholes damage the cracked asphalt, making the car jolt. Funeral notices and loan ads cover the building fronts.
The air is thick with the smell of smoke and cooked food.
Around the corner, a man unloads boxes while a skinny dog stretches lazily beside him.
Small groups of people gather along the sidewalk—women in colorful patterned scarves, men with their arms crossed, watching my car as it slowly crawls by with guarded attention.
Barefoot children dart between rusted, wheelless cars.
Somewhere in the background, music plays.
These people don’t scare me. Even in this kind of despair, they recognize the signs. An expensive car means money. Power. They wouldn’t dare mess with me.