Chapter 50
CALISTA
The villains of Wolf Hollow do love to party.
Any display of wealth, really, with an open bar and an opportunity to assess and offend one’s counterparts. It’s a chessboard filled with pawns of the Dragon’s making, pawns who are blissfully unaware of how little power their chess piece brings to the game.
The Drache Manor stands in all its glory as priceless gowns twirl around the dance floor and flutes of champagne are passed from silver trays. Wolf Hollow’s richest citizens fan out like cockroaches, scurrying for a morsel of flesh and a pound of blackmail to be used with venomous intent.
It is a feast among the ambitious, the cutthroat and the lonely. All desperate to keep their names from being written on the menu.
“Welcome Council.”
Maleficent's voice triggers a hushed silence to descend. Dances halt, music fades and conversations come to a stuttering halt as all eyes and ears pay their respect to the Mistress of Wolf Hollow.
“Tonight we celebrate the success of another quarter. Another business venture that’s taken to the market and kept the folds of your wallets full.”
I stand by her side, bearing the darkest part of her shadow. Feeling the weight of every eye present as villains and offspring alike gaze upon the Drache empire.
Contempt. Hatred. Fear.
A sour, unflattering expression that mirrors across every board member in attendance.
“So let’s toast.” Viciously long fingernails grip the stem of her champagne flute, “To those who live within the gated community. The council members who invest in this town, who commit their lives to the cause, and who bind an unwavering loyalty to our community.”
Maleficent turns towards me, the long train of her dress falling down the first few stairs.
“And let us toast the children. For seeing through the plans we have made.”
I hold her piercing stare, feeling the curve of my lips lift momentarily.
“To the Dragon!”
The chant echoes from every mouth present, every bitter flick of the tongue as glasses are clinked and the lingering taste is washed away. It is another show to be performed, another piece of evidence Maleficent uses as a reminder.
A reminder of which family controls this town.
“Off to a tremendous start, mother. The turnout appears larger than last quarter.”
The jut of her cheekbones seem crueler in this light, less forgiving as her lips pinch together with a drop of distaste.
“Jaafar Malik decided to bring his entire entourage this time. As if the man needs more than eight hands to get him through an evening.”
“For the best, I suppose.” Casting my eyes over the crowd, it comes as no surprise to see the Malik crest stamped on every uniform present, “He would struggle to make an appearance without the eager hands of an underpaid staff.”
“That is what you get when the fate of an under-developed nation lies in the palm of a man.”
“Indeed.” Feigning disinterest, I offer her a sideways glance, “Will you be needing my services tonight?”
“That depends.” Her eyes cut towards me, “What do you know about the incident at Hollow House?”
“Which one?”
“The mass murder that occurred forty-eight hours ago.” A pause, a slight shift of her jaw, “Left a dozen night guards in pieces without a single witness. Just the recounts of madmen, claiming a thief was running through their halls.”
I purse my lips, musing over the accusation.
“Now that you mention it, I do remember hearing something about that.” A tilt of my head brings her eyes back to mine, “Except my recollection falls somewhere on the east side of town. Chasing down a pack of wild animals, or so it was believed to be.”
“Your report was submitted before the asylum raised any alarms.”
“And yet I still managed to find a few loose ends.” My lips part with a sigh, “I was told to find them all. Was I not, mother?”
A stiff smile brushes her lips, “You have come a long way, Calista. Gotten good at a game I did not think you would ever want to play.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You always had a choice.” She pauses, letting the air expand between us, “You just always chose to survive.”
I stare back at her, seeing the faint glimmer of pride in her eyes. The hint of an acknowledgement, a niggling suspicion of a woman who took more than she ever gave.
“Maleficent! That dress looks wonderful on you.”
The past gets swept away in a whirlwind of fake eyelashes and white hair, the Sea Witch’s voice almost as intrusive as her sudden presence.
“I do believe it has been at least three weeks since I last saw you. Did you receive the report of my travels?”
Displeasure tightens the lines of Maleficent’s jaw, “Ursela. I see you have finally found your way back to Wolf Hollow.”
“Yes, well, you know I hate to fly and you wouldn’t believe the number of imbeciles working for that airline.” An exaggerated sigh follows the flap of her hands, “Needless to say I returned as fast I could. Especially after word got out that the borders-
“Tonight’s gala is to celebrate our triumphs. Not potential threats looming on the horizon.”
“Right, of course.” Ursela Seaborn bows her head, delivering a silent apology, “I can only imagine how dreadful it must have been without me. All those interrogations left unfinished...”
“Calista took care of them all.”
The Dragon pauses, watching the flush creep across Ursela’s cheeks with a knowing smile, “However, your services are always appreciated. No matter how sparse the work may be.”
An insult wrapped in a compliment, the Sea Witch knows her place well enough to let it slide. Pursing her plump lips together, any sort of retort gets lost as a microphone bursts to life.
“Hello? Hello?” Static rings out, causing guests to wince, “Is this working?”
We all turn to see a guest draped in a long black cloak scampering onto the closest cocktail table. Toxic blue strands of hair cling to the end of his forehead, drawing out the man’s Mediterranean complexion and the unusually sharp angle of his chin.
“Who the hell invited this freak to the party!”
A shout that triggers laughter to descend.
“Funny guy. Funny guy over there.” Running a hand through gelled strands of hair, the man looks around the audience with an unnaturally white grin, “Hi, how ya doing?”
“Nobody cares. Get off the stage!”
“Is this a stage? It doesn’t look like a stage to me.” Sweeping the cord to the side, he assess the table with a smirk, “Either way, I’ve been on bigger.”
Tapping the sole of his dress shoes against the table, blue flames erupt. A couple of screams ring out as it engulfs him entirely, eating through the material of his cloak until there's a pile of burnt fabric at his feet.
“Alright, let’s try this one more time.”
The smoke clears and out steps a man ready for his moment of fame. Dyed hair slicked back, bleached smile perfectly in place, the speaker adjusts his electric bowtie and casts a shit-eating grin around the room.
“Hi! How ya doing. Harlow Andreas. Your up-and-coming gameshow host for the marriage trials. Kill or be killed in the ultimate game of love.”
A couple of snickers are passed around as Harlow adjusts his stance and snaps his fingers.
“But let me start off with a better question, a simple one for all you elegant folk out there.” A dramatic pause, “Has anyone seen what ten million dollars looks like?”
Silence descends upon the crowd, curious and confused looks being passed from each council member.
“Not a single person?” Sweeping his eyes around the room, his grin widens, “Well, that’s an easy fix.”
A spotlight blares to life and laughter ripples through the crowd.
“And there she is! Miss Tahira Malik, the world’s most eligible bachelorette going up for auction. Starting bid is at ten million and winner gets half the shares of the Malik family’s multi-billion dollar business. Not bad for a return of investment, hey?”
Flecks of gold fan out across Tahira’s cheekbones, delicate strokes of makeup that boast the richest pixie dust money can buy. Twenty-four carets sparkle along her pigmented skin, but not even the purest gold can soften the distaste in her eyes.
“I’ve heard she’s a feisty one ladies and gentlemen, so look out.” Clapping into the microphone, he lets out a low whistle, “Always been a fan of feisty women myself.”
“Throw your hat in the ring!”
“A fine idea but I’m afraid my contract is iron clad.” He shakes his head with a sigh, “I’m allowed to cash in my pay cheques. Not cash the missus out.”
Whistles and catcalls explode from the eager participants in attendance.
“Well, I just wanted to take a moment to say hi. Get you used to the face that’s going to be aired on your television screams – I mean, screens.”
Laughter rumbles through the room.
“Before I go, let me extend my appreciation to the Dragon. For hosting this fabulous event and for hoarding the most beautiful women in one room. They say the pickings are slim in this town, but oh, my.”
Harlow lets out a low whistle, “Those pickings are golden.”
Maleficent’s lips purse together even while chuckles float from every male in attendance.
“And lastly, thank you to Jaafar Malik.” Holding up his glass, Harlow looks at the tycoon solemnly, “For giving the people what they want. Your money.”
More laughter filters through the crowd, an infectious atmosphere that paints amusement over Jaafar’s face. His daughter sits stone-faced beside him, a golden statue waiting to be sold to the highest bidder.
“Well, that’s all I’ve got. Have a good night, everybody!”
What starts off as scattering applause quickly gains momentum. Whoops and hollers follow Harlow as he drops the mic and hops down from the cocktail table, his neon blue hair and bowtie vanishing among a swarm of new fans.
“How unfortunate.”
The Dragon states it simply, her eyes drifting over to where the heiress once sat. The chaise that now lies empty, the rich silk of Tahira’s gown disappearing down the hall.
“He must be a showman if he thinks the marriage trials are going to launch his career.” Huffing indignantly, Ursela pats the seashell dangling around her neck, “A black sheep desperate to make an impact.”
“The Andreas family has always been on the outskirts of town.”
I listen to the women dissect and degrade the child of the underworld, the mortician’s son who found himself a livelier calling. Useless and rather boring, I amuse myself by watching the man in question flirt and schmooze with the villains lurking nearby.
Holding back a sigh, I cast my eyes over the foes who disguise themselves as allies. The heartless and the hopeless mingling with sneers and barbs to ensure their presence leaves a mark.
Pathetic, really, watching the town’s richest citizens bicker like children. Witnessing the Queen of Hearts turn red in the face as yet another person insults her son while the new mayor does his best to appease everybody.
Poor thing has no idea he’s fighting an uphill battle.
“Wise men say… only fools rush in.”
Lyrics echo through the speakers and couples start to make their way to the dance floor.
I find him standing at the edge of the ballroom, an outsider looking in. Lost in a sea of jewellery and the finest perfume, there is no reason for his eyes to find mine.
But they do.
The voices around me fade as I descend the stairs and merge with the crowd. Press each sole into the onyx floors until there’s a no-good thief standing in my way.
Untamed, messy hair. Eyes too dark for a soul so bright.
He looks perfectly, terribly out of place. A sliver of something real, something pure that doesn’t belong in a mansion filled with masks.
We meet in the middle of the dance floor, an equal number of steps that brings us back together again.
“Hello, darling.”
It feels easy, even natural to take the hand he offers. To accept the unspoken question and let someone else take the lead.
“Devil.” Casting my eyes over the silk material of his suit, I feel my lips pull into a grin, “Didn’t think you would follow the dress code.”
“It was a tough call.”
“I can only imagine.”
He chuckles softly, pulling me in so his lips can brush my ear.
“You look gorgeous, Calista.”
“I know.”
We sway softly, bodies pressed together as the soulful voice of Elvis floats through the air. Lost in the vocal cords of a bad boy and held in the arms of another, it feels like a stolen sliver of time.
An illusion as to what might have been.
“Am I allowed to say I prefer you in leather?”
A snort escapes me, “I’m not wearing any pants tonight. You don’t have to worry about getting in them.”
“Not why I said it.”
He spins me around, pushing me out then pulling me back in. My hands flatten against his chest as he brings us closer together, warming me up from the inside out.
The lapels of his suit are smooth and soft beneath my fingertips as I slide my hands higher up his body. Wrap them around his neck and wait for Christopher to meet my eyes.
“You are not someone who needs to hide.” Peeling the turned up collar back from his throat, I slowly fold his shirt back to where it should be, “Not from me. Not from anyone.”
The jagged lines of his stitches are thick and ugly beneath the glittering lights. Scars peek out beneath the murals of ink, a wolf who snarls and screams as his gruesome truth is shared with the world.
“They show who we are.” Tracing the hideous marks, I find nothing except beauty in his broken parts, “The strength of a survivor. The courage of a fighter.”
A truth most people don’t understand, it takes a special type of person to pick himself up the way Christopher does. To keep pushing for a future that doesn’t hurt us every single day.
To keep standing up even after the world demands we stay down.
Silence falls between us as he stares at me. Stares at the monster lurking inside, the darkness that hides beneath a beautified surface.
He looks at me and I don’t have to wonder if he sees me.
“I guess now would be a bad time to mention my asshole is sore from last night.”
Christopher says it with a straight face, the beginnings of a devilish grin pinching the corners of his lips.
My head falls back as mirth takes over my body. A cackle escapes into the air, a horrible sound that’s just as sinister as the woman it belongs too.
But for once, I can say it’s not heartless.
Not anymore.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll kiss it better.”
“Oh, I know you will.”
We dance to a song borrowed from my playlist, a classic that croons through the air as beautiful people dance around the animals taking up space on the dance floor.
“But I can’t help… falling in love with you.”