Chapter 20 #3
Callista’s expression is filled with remorse.
“From what I’ve gathered, Victor and his two friends, Blaine and Marie, were being extra friendly to Max, and when she let her guard down, one of them spiked her drink with truth serum.
Apparently, they asked her multiple inappropriate personal questions before she realized what was happening and understandably freaked out. ”
My stomach rolls at the revelation. Drugging someone’s drink with truth serum? That’s fucked up on so many different levels, and I can only imagine how embarrassing it must feel to divulge your secrets to someone who’s actively taking advantage of you.
“Where the hell are they?” I ask through clenched teeth, looking around the room for any sign of his distinctive blonde hair. I’ll kick his ass myself.
“They’re gone already. They just got kicked out as we’ve been talking, actually, and they only lasted this long because I told the guys who live here that they needed to let Max get a head start so they don’t run into each other.”
“Good.”
A server walks by, and I snag another glass of wine against my better judgment. Callista raises her eyebrow at me but says nothing.
“Max wants some alone time, so I may as well make the most of my night here, right?” I joke, but it falls flat.
She stares at me for a second before she shrugs and downs her own glass of wine, then chases down the retreating server for another.
“Here, follow me,” she murmurs, grasping my forearm and gently pulling me to the room I’d been in earlier. But instead of ushering me to one of the chairs, she guides me to the bookshelf.
“Oh, I’m not in much of a reading mood right now,” I protest, vaguely aware that my words are slow and heavy.
“Shush,” she says just before pulling back the spine of an old encyclopedia. There’s a soft click before the entire shelf moves, swinging inward a few inches. Callista flashes me a wicked grin. “Welcome to the real fun.”
I follow her through, into a small room that serves as a middle point between the bookshelf and a massive balcony.
Close to a dozen people congregate on the smooth stone, leaning on the railing or lounging on plush pillows scattered across the ground.
“How is it so warm up here?” I ask in amazement.
“It’s enchanted. It lets through a little of the fresh air from out there—” she gestures to the black expanse of the sea “—but only enough for it to be cool and breezy up here.”
We find an empty spot on the railing and both lean against it, looking out over the inky blackness and listening to the sound of waves crashing against the jagged cliffs of the coast. I inhale the fresh air of the sea breeze as the wind sweeps through my hair and close my eyes for a brief moment.
The impossibility of this moment, of this entire place, hits me once again, and I’m overwhelmed with a strange sort of bittersweetness.
I’ve always had big dreams for myself, but I stuffed them away into the corners of my mind more and more as time went on, until I’d given up almost completely on building a future for myself.
My desires became far-off dreams while I took care of what really mattered—my family.
It always felt selfish to want something grand for myself when I knew it would mean inconveniencing everyone else. But is it really so selfish to put yourself first when your other option is to be anchored down, always wondering what your potential could have been and never finding out?
I glance over at Callista, who seems just as deep in thought. I wonder what kind of life she comes from. On the other side of her, two men are speaking in low tones and smoking pipes of something that smells like a mixture of tobacco and herbs.
“This is my favorite place in this building,” Callista says softly. “I love being up so high, able to see everything from such a different perspective. I like feeling on top of the world.”
“It’s beautiful up here,” I agree.
We stand in silence for another few seconds before she turns and seems to shake herself out of the thoughtfulness she’d slipped into.
“Anyway,” she says, switching into her typical playful demeanor in an instant, “there’s another reason this is my favorite place at these parties. Only a handful of people know this is out here, so it’s a lot more… exclusive.”
She turns away from the view to look at the people around us with a mischievous smile, and I follow her lead.
Apparently, I hadn’t been paying much attention when I’d walked out here with her, because through my dancing vision I now see activity atop the floor pillows that I definitely hadn’t noticed before.
Two couples, only feet from each other, kiss passionately. In one, a man with long, dark hair hovers over the woman who’s half-reclined against the pillows with her dress hiked halfway up her thigh, and he’s kissing the exposed skin of her chest and neck while she moans softly.
Oh.
I glance around, but nobody else seems to mind the public display, so I allow myself to simply enjoy the moment for what it is.
The next hour seems to pass in slow motion, as if time is stretching to accompany the barrage of sensations that filter through the haze of my perception.
I’m not sure when exactly we head inside, but I find myself sprawled out on the velvet chaise in the main room, silently observing through my swimming vision as the party becomes increasingly uninhibited.
Piano music reverberates through the air, a melancholy song in a minor key, while some continue their intellectual debates, others give in to their carnal desires in dark corners, and others simply observe.
The party has taken on an almost Dionysian quality, a dizzying combination of knowledge and sensuality intertwining until they coalesce into something greater.
Flames from candles flicker around the room, casting a dreamlike glow over everything.
It’s only when my eyelids begin to droop that I realize I can’t stay here. If I do, I’ll fall asleep, and there’s nothing worse than waking up in a strange place after drinking too much. I force myself to stand, bid goodnight to Callista, then slip out into the night.
The sharp chill of the ocean breeze smacks into me, waking up my hazy mind just enough for me to realize I can’t go home quite yet.
Well, I probably can, but I’m honestly not sure if it’s been one hour or three, and I want to give Max the time she needs to recuperate after tonight’s incident because it never would’ve happened if I hadn’t convinced her to come to the party in the first place.
Besides, I’m not tired yet. There’s a fervent energy buzzing inside of me that’s making me restless now that I’m outside and still intoxicated from the copious amounts of Fae wine.
So, I meander down the winding paths through campus, only catching sight of two other people as I attempt to walk in a straight line.
It doesn’t take long for me to slip off my heels and elect to walk barefoot, both for my comfort as well as my safety.
The last thing I need is to break an ankle out here all alone.
Thunder rumbles nearby, the air carrying the charge of impending rain.
I don’t think about where I’m going and let my legs carry me, but in the deep recesses of my mind, I already know where I’ll end up.
It’s only when I’m approaching the Natural Sciences building that the sky opens up in a trickle of rain that promptly becomes a torrent.
Fuck. Needles of frigid rain prick my skin, drenching my dress and the thin jacket I’d elected to wear over it. Within seconds, my clothes are entirely soaked through.
I’d been heading for the greenhouse, but now, I run toward the nearest door and hope against logic that it’s open.
To my shock, it is. The side door for the Natural Sciences building creaks open, and I slip inside.
The sound of rain hitting the rooftop is muffled as I close the door against the wind, and darkness envelops me.
I’m certainly old enough to know not to be afraid of the dark, but something about a long, dark hallway in an empty building never fails to creep me out, especially since this one is on the back side of the building.
I debate running back out through the rain since I’m already drenched, but the thought of subjecting myself to that again sounds torturous.
Looking around while I catch my breath, I’m debating what to do when I catch the faintest glimpse of light spilling beneath one of the doors at the far end of the hallway.
Against my better judgment, I creep towards it, but my attempts to stay quiet are futile as my wet bare feet squeak against the hardwood floor.
As I approach, I realize what hallway I’m in, and my heart races at the possibility of what I may be doing. Could it be?
Somehow, in the back of my mind, I already know. I reach the doorway and read the name engraved into the plaque. Dr. Alaric Vale. From the other side of the door, I can hear the shuffling of papers.
With my common sense dulled by the effects of alcohol, I do the one thing I shouldn’t. I knock.