Diaries of an Urban Panther (26 page)

“Book . . . got it,” he saved me from myself.

I could hear him stomp up the stairs of my place and closed my eyes. He was in my office right now, kicking books around to find the black trench coat on the floor. His tight T-shirt was probably stretched over his chest as he put his hand on his hip, looking around the mess, his . . .

“Got it,” he exclaimed.

I jumped up and snapped out of my revelry. “Check the dog-eared page.”

“Um. The New Moon, the darkest night of the month. December sixteenth.”

“Crap,” I muttered. I stood up and began to pace. “From what Cristina said, I think they are planning some mirror magic on the longest night. Think that’s what Jessa pulled on us the other day.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Well, don’t you just get a gold star.” None of this enlightened me as to exactly why they would need Jessa or how either of us was going to be involved in all this. But it seemed that I just had to keep her safe for a little more than a week while she continued to completely hate my guts. It was going to be great. Just awesome, really.

“What’s the plan?”

“Devin and I worked out a way to get Jessa to talk to me that doesn’t involve tying her to a chair.”

“Really, what’s that?”

“We’re going a party. Wanna come?”

“Seriously?”

“As a heart attack. I just need to have you watch her until Friday night.”

The line was silent for a moment and I closed my eyes. My shoulders relaxed and I leaned against Devin’s wall and just listened to him breathe. How pathetic was that?

“If that’s was you need, Violet.”

“That’s what I need. By the way, did that guy tell you who wrote the Book of Prophecy?” Since I was knee deep in one vision, I’d been thinking about the bigger one now I know that the Crown and Veil meant.

The line was silent. His heart beat sped up.

“Chaz?”

“He wouldn’t tell me who wrote it.”

“Did you not say please?”

“He simply wouldn’t tell me. He took the book and kicked me out of his place.”

I frowned so hard that my brow hurt. “I thought he was a good guy.”

“He is.”

“Why wouldn’t he help?”

I was focused so hard on his words that I could hear him lick his lips.

“I don’t know, Violet.”

I took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Right, we will handle that when it comes. Well, get some sleep because this is Thursday, which means happy hour at Gloria’s probably and then whatever date she’s got lined up.”

“Will there be coffee involved?”

“There’s a coffee shop in every direction from my house. I’ll be expecting your call around nine.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I smiled and snapped the phone closed. That boy was going to be trouble.

“Y
ou need to look fabulous. Beyond fabulous,” Devin said as he flipped frantically through rack after rack of dresses, intermittently taking one out and throwing it on the pile in my arms. “Is Stalker boy coming?”

“Don’t think fancy parties are really his scene.”

“Oh,” Devin said, his shoulders falling for a moment. “Oh, well. You’re going to look great anyway.”

The instant Devin came home, he’d dragged me out shopping. I fought him at first. I was perfectly content spending the rest of my life in a row house in the most fabulous part of town. I’d already planned that I could have his office and really all I needed was a couch to sleep on for the rest of my life. But Devin wouldn’t hear of it. “It’s just stuff, Violet. Don’t let them win.”

I’d laughed. If only he knew what would happen if they did win. But damn it, he was right. If I didn’t want them to win, I had to get Jessa talking to me again. In order to get Jessa to talk to me again, I had to go to this party. And in order to go to this party, I had to have
the
dress. Who knew that the fate of the world relied on the fashionable cut of a dress?

Devin distracted my train of thought by tossing another green dress on the top of the pile. “Okay. I think my work here is done.”

We were in the dressing rooms when I my spidey sense kicked in. I was contorting into all of these short little things Devin had picked out, thankful that I’d remembered to shave this morning. I swear, some of these dresses were a little too complicated for me with straps and zippers in the weirdest place.

I thought I’d just twinged a muscle in my neck when the cool chill of magic ran like a feather down my exposed spine. Quickly getting the dress situated, I stood perfectly still in the dressing room, back to mirror. I quieted everything in my body: my heartbeat, my breathing, and just listened. I heard the whirr of the air-conditioning, the movement of a security camera, someone sliding a credit card through the reader, but nothing that felt like harm.

Turning the handle as silently as I could, I stepped out of the dressing room. Could there be someone in the stalls with us? Could those bastards have followed me here? I hadn’t heard anything. And these days, the senses were on overdrive, if I wanted them to be or not. Could there have
been
someone in here with us? I sniffed the air and didn’t smell any recent scents, just Devin’s cologne.

I stalked down the aisle of the dressing room soundlessly. I pressed my ears against the door of his dressing room and could only make out Devin’s breath as he pulled on a shirt. He was safe, and by the steady beat of his heart, blissfully unaware of my panic.

Then, it wasn’t here anymore; the feeling, the heaviness in the air running down my back was gone. But the goose bumps still covered my arms, like a visual cue from my subconscious that I shouldn’t be out shopping. There were darker stakes at hand. Still spooked, I started back to my own dressing room.

Halfway back, Devin popped out of his room.

“This is the dress,” he exclaimed as he grabbed my hand and spun me around. “You look fantastic.”

He maneuvered me in front of the full-length mirror at the end of the row of dressing rooms. In the fit of panic, I’d missed the obvious: It was a stunning dress and more leg than I had shown since preschool. Devin’s hands rested at my hips, so he could turn me whichever way he wanted to get a better view of certain parts.

“It’s official,” he smiled.

“What?”

“You’ve turned me; I’m not gay anymore. Your legs, this dress. It’s sinful, Violet.”

“I don’t want to look sinful. I want to look apologetic.”

I looked at him in the mirror. His smile lit up the dressing room as he rested his head on my shoulder like a Cheshire guardian angel.

“She’s going to forgive you, Violet. You’re the only family she’s got. Hell. You’re the only family I’ve got.”

I leaned my head against his and his arms slid around my waist. “Right back at you, kid.”

He squeezed briefly and then let me go. I was suddenly cold for the loss of him.

And on that thought, I turned to him. “It’s going to be forty tomorrow night. What do I wear over this?”

“Ughh,” he said as he pushed me towards my dressing room. “Do I have to do everything for you?”

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he bouncer at the door (who was about as wide as the door itself) checked Devin’s invite and, with a head to toe look at me, lifted the velvet rope. We proceeded past the rest of the people waiting in the cold winter night. I’ll admit, most of the time I felt bad bypassing all the others to get in the door. This was the first time I was not willing to wait out in the cold. The dress I had picked met Jessa’s two favorite criteria: a need for special underwear and way too skimpy to be out in 45-degree weather.

As I walked inside, appreciative of the inspection by the huge man outside, my eyes quickly adjusted. The space was incredible, silver everywhere. Everything sparkled and threw light merrily across the bar. It was exquisite and very Jessa. I knew she was good at her job, despite my previous sentiments, but this place was a work of art. My feet paused in the doorway as I gaped. If she didn’t want to see me, I was going to ruin all of this for her.

Devin grabbed my hand and pulled me forward into the fray. “You look amazing,” he smiled over his shoulder, as he eyed a few of the other attendants. “You’re wearing her favorite designer. There’s no way she’s not going to talk to you.”

I spotted the table where Carrie and Adrianna had set up, right next to the dance floor. I squeezed Devin’s hand and pointed.

“Good eye,” he said as he lead the way again, guiding me through the already growing crowd.

As we slid into the empty seats, Carrie filled us in. “Jessa is running a little late. She’s got extra primping to do. Word is she’s bringing a boy.”

“Really? Have you met him?” I missed being in the loop of such things. It felt wrong, Carrie knowing this before I did.

“Not yet. Tonight is the test run.”

“Where did she meet him?” I asked, looking around the place, feeling like I was in some sort of a wonderland.

“Don’t know,” Carrie shrugged. “At least one of us will have a partner for the dance floor.”

“You won’t be alone,” I responded back automatically.

Devin shook his head as he scanned the crowd. He was on the prowl more than I was lately. “I don’t know. In that dress, you might have to beat them off with a stick.”

I laughed. “Right. Because it’s happened so many times before.”

“Tonight’s different. You’re radiant.”

I looked over at him. “Were you drinking before we left?”

“Not yet. Want something?”

“God please.”

J
essa sauntered in an hour after her own invite said the party was supposed to start. But it was worth it. She was dressed to the nines in a gold halter dress and the highest, strappiest gold heels ever made. Her hair was a curtain of black silk that she tossed effortlessly over her shoulder as the photographer at the door snapped a few shots.

Only Jessa would wear a gold dress to her own Silver Ball.

She took her time getting over to her circle of friends, mingling with every male in her path. She greeted Devin cordially and then looked down at me still in my seat. Her brown gaze was stony and, in the dancing lights, I saw a flash of lavender cross her eyes.

“Hello, Violet,” she greeted flatly.

“Hello, Jessa.”

She glared at Devin. “Guess this was you’re doing?”

“Guilty as charged,” he said as he lifted his hands in surrender as he slid out of the seat next to me. “I’ll leave you to it,” Devin whispered before he made a beeline to the bar.

Jessa crossed her arms and began to tap her foot. She was being bitchy, but I deserved it.

I waited until Devin was out of ear shot. “Listen, I know that I said some pretty wicked things. I lashed out at you. I just feel,” I said, stressing the
feeling
words. It’s what the conflict resolution people online said to do. “I just felt like you were leaving me out of some major stuff.”

“And you weren’t?”

“I’m not denying that.”

“And?”

What else did she expect? That was more of an apology than I had ever given. Usually didn’t care this much to even muster an apology. Usually I was half way across the country. I licked my lips. “And I know you’re fey.”

She shifted to her other foot. “And I know you’re a shapeshifter.”

I gulped, the blood rushing from my face. There it was; no more secrets now. Fear chilled my skin and the fluttering in my stomach that had been squelched by the three drinks was now back in full force. “How?”

“Local psychic. How’d you know?”

I shook my head, looking down at the black table for a moment. I could just see Cristina laughing at the two of us. “Local psychic.” I said. “Well, that and you disappeared from a nine-story penthouse.”

“You owe me for the door by the way. Pissed off panthers aren’t covered by insurance.”

It was weird to hear her say
panther
so casually. But how long had she been familiar with this? Her whole life? Two months and counting like me? Would I ever know?

But she’d made a joke. At this point, I would take a joke at my expense to patch up this mess.

Her arms dropped down to her waist to hold her gold clutch. She looked hard at me, her little jaw tight. “Is that dress Ralph Lauren?”

I shrugged. “Had a friend who taught me about the finer things in life.”

Jessa took a long look around the place and then up at me.

I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. I didn’t know if I ever would again. “So we’re good?”

“I don’t hate your guts.”

I smiled. “You couldn’t hate my guts if you tried.”

Jessa’s cool exterior faded and she fought a smile on her perfectly glossed lips.

“Heard you met a guy.” I said as I gestured to the seats next to me.

“He should be here tonight,” she said calmly, but her cheeks blushed as she sat down. The long line of her smooth leg reflected the lights and I was pretty sure that was part of her craft. I really needed to learn that trick.

“Do I get to meet him?”

She looked around and her entire face lit up, literally. “He’s here.”

A
fter being secluded in a corner for forty minutes, Jessa and her date walked up to the four of us. Well, Jessa sauntered because that’s what Jessa did, just enough of a sway in her hips that the short golden dress flipped up dangerous high. Her date stalked. Shoulders down, his long arms gracefully swayed by his sides, his eyes focused forward as the crowd parted before them. He was taller than her with blonde hair and a sharply tailored suit. What caught me off guard were his incredibly blue eyes, the color discernible even in this dimly lit room.

Devin and I stood from our seats to meet the anticipated date.

“Haydn, this is Devin.”

He shook Devin’s hand with two strong pumps. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Any friend of Jessa’s . . .” Devin trailed off into a debonair smile.

“And this is my best friend, Violet.”

I couldn’t deny that my skin warmed when I heard her say that. Couldn’t say it was still warm a second later as her date turned his gaze to me. There was a sharpness to his blue eyes that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Jessa has told me so much about you,” he said.

Haydn offered his hand and I took it carefully. When our hands touched, it was like cold lightning sizzling up my arm.

I ripped my hand away from his and he smiled.
What the hell?

Jessa frowned.

I kept my eyes on him. Caught in the depth of his blue eyes, my skin crawled. I watched as he slid his arm around Jessa, whose frown faded quickly at the attention.

My gut instinct told me to rip Jessa from his arm and throw two drinks in his face. But I was still on thin ice with her. Maybe I was just picking up his skeeziness with my preternatural senses. Maybe it was the two drinks putting stories in my head.

Just so I couldn’t again be accused of being a bad friend, I carefully cracked my shields open and brushed him stealthily.

Nothing. Like a cement wall. Like nothing was even standing before me.

Jessa’s eyes bounced between me and lover boy. “Well, you must be thirsty,” Jessa said, patting his chest.

“We just had a drink at the bar,” he laughed with a charming smile.

As Jessa drew him away, I sucked in a deep breath. Didn’t know I hadn’t been breathing.

“I can see what Jessa sees in him.” Devin broke my glare into the back of the man’s head.

“What?” I grumbled.

“Boy’s got a butt that you could bounce a quarter off of.”

I turned to Devin. “I don’t like him.”

“Neither do I,” he echoed. “Guy’s a prick. Jessa deserves better.”

We slid back into our seats and I watched as Jessa crossed the ballroom. I wasn’t going to take my eyes off him all night. Sure, he reeked of wealth and he was good looking, but I still wasn’t buying it. I, of anyone here, knew what could lie beneath a normal exterior.

A
s Haydn was regaling the tale of how he and Jessa met, I sat with my legs crossed, still feeling on edge. Everyone fawned over the little playboy, asking questions and listening as if hypnotized by his stories.

The lights dimmed slightly and a spotlight directed our eyes to an MC by the DJ booth. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Welcome to the First Annual Silver Ball Hosted by Cinetech.”

The crowd clapped politely.

“And the president a Cinetech would like to thank Jessa Feychild for her efforts in putting together this extraordinary event.”

A spotlight hit our table and Jessa rose, graciously waving to the crowd.

“As our evening now progresses, our hosts would like to suggest you make your way down to the dance floor to enjoy the excellent DJ and to the bar while the drinks are still free.”

The crowd applauded wildly and Jessa turned to me. “Come on, we need to dance.”

I shook my head. “You know I don’t dance.”

Her face turned hard as she glared down at me. “You will dance.”

“Okay. Okay,” I rose, smoothing my very short skirt down with my palms. Anything the fairy princess wanted.

The entire table joined us on the dance floor. Who doesn’t like dancing to the fifties music medley with 40-year-old investors? The three Bailey and creams made it a bit more palatable.

About 15 minutes later, Jessa gave me the signal she was going to the bathroom, no doubt to check her flawless makeup. I didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone.

“I’ll come with,” I said.

Jessa pushed me towards Haydn. “Dance. Talk.” It meant that she wanted me to find out if he liked her. We’d dance this dance before. If she was entrusting me to do this, maybe our friendship was on the mend.

“I’ll go,” Carrie said as she smiled.

Jessa curled her arm through Carrie’s as they headed off the dance floor before I could lodge a protest.

It left me on the dance floor with
him
. So at least I knew where
he
would be and she’d be safe.

I turned my side to Haydn, keeping him in my periphery. I still didn’t know what it was that made my hairs stand on end. He was too perfect. And I really didn’t like the way he looked at Jessa. There was hunger there I knew intimately.

“Why the cold shoulder?” he asked with a smile.

“Nothing,” I shrugged and I kept on twisting and mashing potatoes.

“Then come here,” he demanded. His hand shot out and his fingers curled around my waist, digging in as he pulled me to him. Any pretenses of him being any shade of decent melted away.

I pushed him away with all my might but he held me flush against his front. I wasn’t budging. The man was stronger than he looked. Too strong.

“Let go of me,” I screamed, still pushing against his broad chest with my fists.

He just tilted his head back and laughed. “Calm down, little sister.”

“I’m not your . . .” but I stopped when I saw his eyes.

Deep golden irises reflected the sporadic flash of the disco lights. I gulped and suddenly felt him surround me, enveloping me within his borders. He was panther. He smelled like stormy night air and a sharp plant scent so exotic I couldn’t name it. Bile rose in my throat when I realized where I knew that smell from: my bedroom.

“But you are,” he purred with a raised human eyebrow over his inhuman eyes.

“Spencer,” I whispered and my fight was renewed, the adrenaline adding to my strength as I pushed and kicked for freedom.

He held me too tightly, both arms around my waist. I couldn’t get out of it, could barely breathe. Couldn’t kick, could only wriggle.

“Let me go,” I cried out. Desperate, I looked around at the computer engineers and investors who all kept dancing to the “Shout” throwing their hands up madly in the air.

“But I want you.” Sincerity sounded sinful in his smooth voice. “I’ve wanted you since you threw that hussy across the bar.”