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Having finished, I watched to see if she was going to nab a second piece of fruit, but she slammed the knife on the cutting board. “Damn it, Tess. This isn’t up to you.” Hands on the counter, she kept her back to me, watching out the window where the sun shone as if it was going to be a beautiful, optimistic day. How the universe loves to lie to us like that.
I wanted her to be right. What I’d have given to be able to walk away from everything and live a normal life. But I’d seen long ago that that was never my path. “It is up to me, though. I think it is.”
She turned around and leaned against the counter, her face bright red and shiny from sobbing so much. Her hands curled into fight fists at her side as she shook her head, not wanting to approve of my plan for even a second. “I hate this, but I’m calling out of work tonight and going with you.”
I gaped at her in shock. She couldn’t come into the competition with me. I couldn’t focus on Ivan if I was worried about her. “You’re not entering.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “What if I am?”
My heart stopped at the mere suggestion she might be in there with me. “No, you can’t. Just let me do this, Addie. Please...” I held my breath as I waited for her answer. If she thought she was going to enter with me, I was going to have to get sneaky.
Her head fell forward as a wave of uncontrollable sobbing erupted out of her. My heart squished open like a trampled frog, and I scrambledup, threw my arms around her and squeezed. We cried together for a long while, a last testament to our friendship.
When we finally caught our breath and I stepped back, she met my eye with sternness and explained. “I’m not entering because I’m not suicidal. But I’m really pissed at you.” She pushed my shoulder noncommittally.
“I love you too, Ad.”
The silence that followed was filled with the unspoken understanding that whatever I faced in life, she was behind me. I felt a small measure of calm settle over me, buoyed by Addie’s unwavering support. I’d never felt that from anyone before. The morning light grew brighter, as if a hopeful glow for the day ahead.
But I wasn’t that naive.
Chapter Fifteen: Last Supper
Tess
We ordered pizza fordinner, and Addie did my skull makeup just like before with the neon, glitter, and sequins.
“I wish you’d done this for me earlier. I would have worn it every year.”
“You would have gotten bored of it,” she reminded me as she added another sequin to the ring around my eyes.
“Probably.” I laughed.
She smiled, but her eyes were clouded over with barely contained tears. I pretended not to notice. If we both started crying, we’d never stop.
I wore easy-to-move-around-in leggings with my two daggers in holsters fastened around my ankles and a T-shirt scrawled with Treat or Treat: Licka Witch.
“I can’t believe you’re going to wear that in there.”
“It’s my favorite.” I didn’t say out loud,if it’s my last night, I want to wear it one last time, but I think she understood anyway. She dropped her head with a nod and turned around to pick up a hairbrush for me.
We set out at ten o’clock, the chilly October air coaxing us along like a sinister phantom as we made our trek to the Devil’s Delirium site. The sky was cloudless–a deep, velvety black, speckled with the faint glimmer of distant stars. Our footsteps were softened by a layer of fallen leaves over the sidewalk, their musty scent coming together with the aroma of pizza and Chinese food among the many take-out shops along the way.
As we edged closer to the Victorian mansion, its plum façade blackened by night, the excited chatter of spectators grew louder. Eerie red lights danced across the building, and ominous music wafted through the air, punctuated by occasional shrieks and roars. Real or recorded? With ninety-nine percent of us about to die, I couldn’t imagine why they’d bother with theatrics.
The roped-off area formed a narrow corridor through which contestants would make their way to the front. A layer of fog obscured our view, enveloping everything in a ghostly haze. My heart pounded, a primal instinct urging me to flee. But I couldn’t back down now. Ivan had to be stopped, no matter the cost.
As we approached, I caught sight of a cluster of imposing figures dominating one section of the crowd. These were men who looked like they’d stepped straight out of a gritty biker bar, their very aura exuding danger and defiance. Massive frames bulged with muscle beneath well-worn leather jackets adorned with cryptic patches and gleaming metal studs. Many sported full, unkempt beards that merged seamlessly with wild manes of hair, giving them a feral, almost wolfish appearance.
The acrid smell of cigarette smoke and motor oil clung to them, mingling with an underlying scent of something wilder—a hint of their supernatural nature. As they shifted restlessly, the clink of chains and creak of leather added to the tense atmosphere.
I stood behind a few large, hairy shifters, waiting my turn. When they moved on, a vampiress with purple hair looked me up and down. “You sure?”
I swallowed, annoyed at the dryness of my mouth. “Yes.”
She gave a curt nod and leaned in. “The winners aren’t always the burly knuckleheads. If you’re agile and clever, you have a chance. Don’t let them intimidate you.” She held out a black wristband with blue “Beast of Blood Moon” lettering.
“Thanks.” I slipped it on, marveling over the support from this badass-looking vampiress.
