Unearthly, The (2 page)

“Let me tell you,” Oliver said, “it’s an event you don’t want to miss.”

Okay, a party. That could be fun. Instead my mind conjured up high school videos shown during Drug Free Week, filled with drunk high school students OD’ing on drugs.

“And,” Leanne said, “let’s not forget that Andre de Leon will be there.”

“Who’s Andre de Leon?” I was two steps behind everyone else. I swear I must have missed an email.

“She did not just say that,” Oliver said.

Leanne shook her head. “Girl, you have a lot to catch up on.”

“Apparently,” I muttered.

“Andre de Leon is Europe’s all-time bad boy,” Leanne said. “He dates celebrities
—
and goes through them like potato chips
—
runs semi-legal establishments, and often gets in trouble with the law.”

“You forgot the sexploits and the blood-drinking,” Oliver said.

Blood drinking? What a disgusting fetish to have.

“I thought that fell under ‘dating celebrities’?” Leanne said.

“Sure, whatever. Point is,” Oliver said, facing me, “he’s naughty and smoking hot, and he’s going to be there tonight.”

I smiled and tried to act excited about this Andre de Leon and tonight’s festivities in spite of my stomach roiling. Call it intuition, but I had a bad feeling about the club.

Regardless, I would not sabotage my chances at friendship within the first day just because I didn’t want to go.

A little dancing never hurt anyone.

Right?

Chapter 2

That evening, instead
of walking out of the building, Leanne and Oliver led me down to the dorm’s basement.

“Guys, I thought we were going to the party,” I said.

“What do you think we’re doing?” Oliver said. “Checking the plumbing?”

Leanne snickered. “You’ll see.” She pulled out her cell and turned on the phone’s flashlight.

Spare mattresses leaned against a wall of the basement, and a few boxes sat to each side of the walkway. Directly above us was Professor Nightingale’s room. I could hear her even footfalls as she moved back and forth across the room, pacing.

Further in, the room was filled with abandoned furniture. Flush against the back wall was a bookshelf filled with dusty books. Oliver and Leanne approached it.

“It should be
Aesop’s Fables
,” Leanne said, pointing to a worn blue book. The gold lettering was barely legible. Oliver grabbed it and pulled. There was a groan as metal ground upon metal, and slowly the bookshelf swung open.

Above us the pacing stopped.

“Seriously?” I said. “This is our way out?”

“If you don’t want to get caught,” Oliver said, “then this is it.”

“According to my grandmother, this passage should drop us off just outside the school. From there we can catch a taxi.” I did the math. That was a dizzying distance spent walking in a cold, dark, underground passage.

“What is this?” I asked, eyeing the dark hole.

“A persecution tunnel. It’s your medieval fire escape, although now mostly students use it.”

Above us I heard Professor Nightingale’s door open and close shut.

Oliver cursed.

“She’s coming,” Leanne said.

I bit my lip and eyed the dark tunnel. This was the time to make a new impression, a good impression, if I wanted to fit in. And I did, badly. While my brain was telling me to stay as far away from the creepy passage as possible, my ego was telling me that option was out of the question.

Outside the basement I could hear someone’s footfalls coming down the stairs. Oliver and Leanne looked at me, eyes wide. I took a deep breath for courage, pulled out my phone, and flipped on my own flashlight. I walked ahead of Leanne and Oliver into the secret passage.

“I guess we’d better get going,” I said. The damp clung to my tiny dress and I shivered. The cold had a hollow feel, as though there was not enough air to fill the dark passage.

Oliver whooped. “Someone’s excited to par-tay!” he said as he entered the dark tunnel. Leanne followed close behind, making sure to shut the entrance behind her.

Maybe
—
just maybe
—
I’d make it here.

***

I tugged down the short cocktail dress and took a sip of the bitter soda Leanne had bought me. We’d only been at Mystique for twenty minutes, and I was already regretting it.

“Ugh, it’s so freaking humid! My hair is already starting to frizz!” Leanne shouted above the pounding music.

“Leanne, does your Coke taste funny? Mine does.”

She gave me a look. “Of course it tastes funny. I ordered a Rum and Coke.”

I choked on my drink. “But
—
but how could you? You’re not eighteen,” I stammered, trying to collect myself. I’d never had alcohol before. Considering its foul taste, I wasn’t sure I liked it at all.

“I have a fake.” My face must have shown my surprise because she rolled her eyes. “Listen, this is the only thing that will give me the courage to dance. And
—
” she eyed me up and down, “it will help you loosen up.”

I huffed. I wasn’t tense. Well, okay, I was extremely tense, but I was annoyed Leanne could tell. I took a healthy gulp of my drink; if the alcohol would help me relax, then I was open to it.

The place was packed with young, beautiful men and women. According to Oliver and Leanne, a majority of these people were my peers, out to enjoy the last bit of summer.

A sweaty Oliver bounded up to us. “Ladies, you need to dance! Put down those drinks.” He tried to grab mine, but I resisted, clinging onto it for dear life. Now that I properly understood the perks of underage drinking, there was no way I was dancing without getting more liquid courage in me.

As we tussled for possession of the Rum and Coke, a hush fell over the crowd. I released the drink, only barely noticing as it sloshed on Oliver.

“Damnit Gabrielle, you could’ve given it up peacefully.”

I felt a tingle up my spine, and I wondered if the man in the suit had found me. Only the usual sensation was now slightly different. It felt …
good
.

Then a second sensation hit me. Magnets. That was the best way to describe the pull. I was attracted towards something on the other end of the room, and it beckoned me to look up.

I let my eyes travel through the crowd, allowing the sensation to guide them. They found their target.

My gaze landed on a man’s sculpted torso on the far side of the room. My eyes traveled upward, taking in his extraordinary height and his toned body barely hidden under his black button down. At last they reached his devastatingly beautiful face, framed by rich black hair. He had a strong jaw, sensuous lips, and dark, dangerous eyes.

Our gazes met for one perfect second, and the universe held its breath. Images flashed; nothing else existed. In that moment, I saw his past and my future. I saw a thousand images from an impossible number of lifetimes. And then I saw us. Together.
Always
.

The man’s eyes showed surprise, and then wonder. And then the moment ended, and the world came rushing back to my senses.

I felt more than saw him take that first tentative step towards me. Adrenaline spiked my blood. I wasn’t the curious type when it came to these situations. The man in the suit had fixed that years ago. After I got away, I’d think about what it all meant.

I slipped through the packed club, making my way to the dance floor. After I’d crammed myself into the very middle of the mass of gyrating bodies, I glanced around for him. My eyes just barely caught sight of him.

He was casually scanning the crowd, which meant he had lost me. But just to be safe I pushed myself a little further into the sweaty mass of club-goers. I glanced back again, and he was gone.

Once I was sure I’d lost him, I moved through the crowd towards the back of the building. I needed someplace to be alone. Someplace where I didn’t have to pretend to be having fun and where I could question my sanity. I came to a long hallway where the bathrooms and back entrance were located.

A sweaty blond man stumbled out of the men’s bathroom. I tried to be as innocuous as possible, but out of my peripherals I saw him do a double take.

“Hey there,” he catcalled. I could smell the alcohol on his breath from where I stood a few feet away.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile and continued walking.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. I continued walking. “Don’t fucking ignore me.” When I continued to do just that, I heard a shuffle of feet behind me and felt a meaty hand wrap around my arm.

“Let go of my arm,” I said.

He laughed and pulled me closer. “What do I get out of that?” He pulled me in close, and I got a nearly lethal dose of his hot, putrid breath.

I probably should’ve given the guy some further warning, but I’d done this little dance too many times back in the States. I lifted my leg and stomped down on his foot with my heel.

He let out a howl of pain. “You bitch!”

Instead of letting me go, however, he pulled his hand back, preparing to give me a backhand slap. Before he had the chance to hit me, I kneed him in the crotch, silently thanking my mother for enrolling me in self-defense courses over the summer.

He crumpled to the ground, holding himself.

“Idiot,” I said under my breath.

I began to walk towards the exit when I heard another voice behind me.

“Wait.”

I turned as a shadow removed itself from the wall.

It stepped into the light, and my breath caught. It was the man from earlier this evening. The low lighting lit up his high cheekbones and strong jaw; it dipped and curved along his brow line. His dark eyes glittered as he moved. I’d never seen such a beautiful man before, or one that exuded such sex appeal.

“You know,” he said conversationally, “assaulting a customer is prohibited in my club. Especially one as highly influential as him.”

He walked closer and nudged the moaning heap on the ground. “However, he did have it coming to him.” He smiled. “Andre,” he said holding out his hand.

So this was Andre de Leon.

“Gabrielle,” I said, not bothering to take his hand. “You watched the entire thing? And you did nothing to stop him?”

“I wanted to see how it played out. You seem like you can take care of yourself.”

I huffed. “And you seem like you flatter people for a living.”

He flashed me a grin that quickly turned devilish. “Okay Gabrielle, I’m feeling …
nice
tonight. So I won’t report this incident, and you can return to your friends
—
” I raised my eyebrows, “on one condition.”

I paused and considered his words. “Thanks, but I don’t think so.”

“Pardon?” Now it was his turn to look skeptical.

“You heard me,
no
.” I wasn’t going to be blackmailed for a situation he could’ve prevented.

He scrutinized me. “Well aren’t you just a feisty little thing,” he said. I guess this didn’t happen to him often.

“Are we done?”

“Come to dinner with me tomorrow.”

I rolled my eyes. “You can’t be serious?”

“Great,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at 7:00 p.m.”

“Uh huh. Do you even know where I live?”

“Of course. You’re a Peel student,” he said as he began to move back towards the main area of the club. “And all of you live on campus.”

I opened my mouth, but he cut me off. “And, to answer your next question, I know you’re a student because I’ve never seen you before
—
and trust me, you don’t have a forgettable face.” He winked.

“Well, isn’t someone a seasoned cradle-robber,” I said.

He only smiled, the bastard. “See you Friday.”

“I never agreed to the date!” I shouted after him, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.

***

Almost as soon as I walked out of the hallway Leanne pounced on me. “Where have you been? I was really worried something had happened to you.” She eyed our surroundings nervously.

“Something did happen to me,” I said. “Andre cornered me in the hallway.” Leanne’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Andre. “
And
he saw me knee a wealthy club patron in the crotch.”

Leanne’s eyebrows nudged up even further. Behind her Oliver extricated himself from the crowd and wandered over. “Hey ladies, stop being wallflowers and come join me on the dance floor.”

Leanne ignored him. “So what happened after Andre saw all this?” she asked.

Oliver balked at the mention of Andre. “Whoa, what? You ran into Andre?”

I nodded. “He blackmailed me into going on a date with him.”

“Wait
—
WHAT
?” Leanne’s eyes bulged.

“Oh my God! No way!” Oliver whooped. “You
go
girl! Way to make some
fine
lemonade out of lemons.”

“Would you just shut up?” Leanne said. “This is
not
good.”

“What do you mean
not good
?” He cocked his hip. “Andre’s practically a god. Let Gabrielle be flattered
—
she just got asked out by an international celebrity.”

“Yeah?” Leanne said. “Well, he’s also a womanizer, and he has a criminal record a mile long.”

“And has he gotten arrested yet? No.”

I watched the two argue back-and-forth. It seemed useless to tell them I wasn’t going on any date with Andre.

“That’s only because everyone’s too scared of him to do anything about it,” Leanne replied.

“Or it’s because his crimes aren’t that severe. Just stop acting like going on a date with this guy is a fate worse than death.”

“It could be,” Leanne said darkly. Oliver just looked at her.

“Okay, okay guys,” I said. “Let’s just forget this whole conversation. I think I’ve had enough fun for one night.”

***

An hour later Leanne and I sat outside our dorm room, passing back and forth a thermos of coffee she had made. Oliver had already gone back to his dorm to get his beauty sleep.

“You know, you are so screwed now that Andre got you to go on this date.”

I shrugged. “I’m not planning on going.”

Leanne raised her eyebrows. “Andre is not exactly the kind of person that gets rejected.”

“Well I’m not exactly the kind of person that gets blackmailed into a date.”

She laughed. “Okay, it’s your call. But this isn’t going to end well.”

Before I could answer, I heard voices in the stairwell across from us. “Did you see Andre de Leon checking me out?” The girl’s voice echoed up the stairwell.

Next to me Leanne groaned. “That’s the dreaded Doris,” she said.

“If I stayed a little longer,” Doris continued, “he might’ve invited me up to his VIP suite.” Her friend murmured her agreement
—
I couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or just trying to get Doris to shut up. How did anyone put up with that kind of narcissism?

Moments later two figures rounded the stairwell’s corner and came within sight. One was a very beautiful, very drunk girl
—
judging by her staggering gait
—
and the other was a petite brunette.

“Seriously,” Doris, the blonde, said, “If I hadn’t left, it could’ve happened. Not that I would ever date a guy like Andre. Imagine what kinds of blood fetishes he must have.”
Blood fetishes?
What was with this guy and blood?

Doris’s unfocused eyes narrowed on us as she clumsily ascended the stairs.

“Have a fun night?” Leanne asked.

“Were you eavesdropping?” She directed her question specifically at Leanne, ignoring me.