effect is short-lived. Another moment passes, and once again, our problems intrude.
“Every year it’s the same, but Lita was always there to fend them off, keep them away. This year, without her, it could be a problem.”
“No one stands a chance against Phyre. If our theories are correct, she’ll make sure she gets to him first. She’s beyond determined,” I say. “And it would be a mistake to underestimate her. She’s smart, cunning, and desperate—it’s a deadly mix. She’s also on a major losing streak. Having failed at everything else, this is her last chance to make her dad proud.” I frown at the clock on the dashboard. Less than forty minutes to spare. “Not a lot of time to get the job done.” I pat my pocket for reassurance, grateful for the athame I stashed there.
“And we may have even less. Suriel is convinced the New Year serves as a herald for the Last Days. And while he’s charged Phyre with the task of killing Cade, he’s also lost faith in her ability to get the job done. He might not want to chance it. He might not even let it get to that point.”
“I’ve no doubt she’ll go through with it. You should’ve seen her face right before she fled the Lowerworld. By now, it’s become a matter of principle. If nothing else, she’s tired of being thwarted at everything she sets out to do. If we find Cade, we find her.”
“Or Suriel.” The look Dace shoots me is as ominous as his voice.
“Either way, it’s over by midnight.”
“And we’ll be so busy stopping her, I won’t be able to kiss you. Can our luck get any worse?” He stops at the far end of the alleyway, kills the engine, and swivels toward me with deep haunted eyes.
“It can always get worse. If we’re unable to stop them—”
He leans toward me and presses a finger to my lips, snuffing the words before I can speak them. “We’ll stop them,” he says. “I’ll make sure of it. Now that I have you back, I have no plans to lose you again.” He hesitates for a moment, as though wanting to replace his finger with his lips, then abruptly draws away and jumps free of his truck as I do the same. “If Cade was a reasonable person, we could just warn him that Phyre’s a poison woman and her sudden interest in him is all part of her dad’s crazy, Apocalyptic vision, and get on with our night. But it’s never that easy, is it?”
“That would only spike his suspicion and spur him straight into her arms. He’d never believe that I’m actually out to save his horrible, worthless, wretched excuse for a life. I can hardly believe it myself.” I peer down the alleyway, seeing a small group of people gathered at the far end. “Why’d you park here—is this a legitimate space? And why so far away? The last thing we need is to get towed.”
“Trust me, no one’s getting towed. There are a few nights every year when the rules are suspended. This is one of them.”
“Let me guess, the other is on the Day of the Dead.”
“Except the New Year’s party at the Rabbit Hole is like the Day of the Dead on steroids.” Dace catches my incredulous look, and captures my hand in his. “I figured it was better to park out of sight and slip through the back. The bouncers may be off duty by now, but why take the chance of them alerting Cade that we’re here? Better to slip in unannounced.”
We make our way down the alleyway. Guided by shouts of revelry seeping from the building, and the dull glow of the single streetlamp casting an odd shadow that at first glance I mistake for an animal.
A rather large animal. Like a big coyote, a fox, or possibly even a wolf.
I stop in my tracks, blinking at the space. I could’ve sworn I saw it returning my look with bright flashing eyes.
“Did you see that?” I whisper, alternately staring and blinking at what is now clearly empty space looming before me.
Dace shakes his head. Studies me with concern.
“You didn’t see anything?”
He lifts his shoulders in response. “You okay?” he asks, lacing his fingers with mine.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” I rub a hand over my eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time I thought I saw something out here. Last time it was glowing people and crows.”
“And this time?”
“A coyote, a wolf, a fox, a Labrador retriever?” I lean into his side and start walking again. “Hard to say for sure.”
“Trick of the light,” Dace says.
“Must be,” I murmur, matching my steps to keep pace with his. With so much at stake, there’s no time to delay.
He stops before the back door, about to push it open when he says, “The Rabbit Hole’s New Year’s Eve party is pretty much a free-for-all. Brace yourself for just about anything.”
He’s not kidding. From the moment we step inside, it’s like crashing into a wall of noise that smells vaguely of popcorn, beer, and the sour promise of vomit. And that’s just the first impression coming from the back entrance. I can’t even imagine what I’ll find once we’re deep in the thick of it.
He leads me through the maze of the kitchen. Having spent the past year working here, he knows his way around much better than me. And when we burst through the double doors, it’s exactly like he said—a vision of absolute chaos surrounds us.
The club is swarming with bodies. Their noisemakers, air horns, whistles, kazoos, hand clappers, tambourines, and maracas, clashing badly with the band on stage. A hail of balloons continuously fall from the ceiling, while fog and bubble machines pump from alternate corners. And after a quick glance around, it’s clear the drinking age has been lifted and most everyone is taking advantage. Unaware that in Enchantment, there’s no such thing as a free pass. The Richters prey on people’s weak mental states—drunkenness being chief among them. They thrive on the uninhibited, reckless, indiscriminate behavior it provokes. All it takes is one drink too many and the next thing you know, you’re Richter bait.