Page 4 of Every Shade of Shadow

Fuck me.

Today of all days.

The unit is dark and stuffy with the power out. I light a few candles and start to run a bath, hoping the warm water will ease my frazzled nerves. But as I sink into the tub, the flickering candlelight only magnifies the gloom.

What's the point of all this? The struggle, the pain, the constant uphill battle—for what? A life I don't even want? The water sloshes over the side of the tub as I sit up abruptly. My gaze lands on one of the candles, flame dancing in the dim light.

How easy it would be to end it all. A few slashes of the razor, wrists slipping under the water, the gradual loss of consciousness as my lifeblood seeps into the—

The shrill ring of my cell startles me from my thoughts. I reach over the side of the tub, swiping it from the floor.

Sab's bubbly voice filters through. "I have a surprise for you."

I groan inwardly, not in the mood for her endless enthusiasm. "What is it? And please don’t say it’s one of those Womanizer things that’s going to suck my clit off."

She ignores me. "I got us tickets to this ball tomorrow night—real fancy masquerade thing." She squeals loudly enough I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "It's going to be so glamorous, all the wealthy socialites will be there in their designer gowns and masks. Everyone who's anyone in the city will attend."

"You sound like a bad Sex and the City script. I'm really not in the mood to—"

“It’s a Society thing.”

Society, in the proper noun form, would refer to magical society, which here in New York is exclusive indeed. Some of the country’s most prominent witches and wizards reside right here in the ol’ Big Apple. They keep to their own.

“I have nothing to wear.”

"Don't you worry your pretty nose about a thing," she interrupts. "I have a friend who works for Dior and she's going to lend you one of their new cocktail dresses for the night. Well, not lend. Borrow, let’s say.”

“Borrow?”

“Off the rack. We’ll have it back by morning, steamed and ready to go. All good.”

Sabrina herself is interning at an uptown fashion label. All her friends are. It’s thanks to her folks, her father a prominent businessman and her mom this witchy fashionista social powerhouse. It’s rarified air.

Her parents used to come to Gran for herbology stuff, as some Society folk were want to do given it was ‘natural’ and trendy at the time. They would drag Sab with them and we struck up something of an odd friendship. It never mattered I wasn’t Society. Sab never cared for that nonsense.

I bite my lip, anxiety gnawing at my stomach. The last thing I want is to attend some lavish party where I'll feel completely out of place.

“Come on,” Sabrina enthuses, “it’s going to be amazing, and maybe you’ll meet someone—a nice sugar daddy with a cock like a Louisville Slugger.”

“My cervix says pass.”

“Annabelle,” she pleads. “Please.”

The thought of her disappointment is enough to sway me, and I suppose I have nothing to lose. Maybe she’s right. Maybe the caliber of men at this particular event will be a cut above my usual bar diving.

"Alright, I'll go," I tell her, adding a resigned sigh.

Sabrina squeals again. "I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow evening. This is going to be so much fun. You won't regret it."

“Famous last words.”

I place my cell back on the floor and sink into the tub wondering what I've gotten myself into. A Society gathering? For real? Just when I’m about to lose the roof over my head? Talk about life’s ironies… I will be in the company of people who probably have too much money to spend in a lifetime, and I can’t afford my next meal.

A part of me is intimidated by all this. Yet a bigger part of me is intrigued at the thought of attending such an exclusive event and escaping the otherwise dreary fuckery of my life.

It’s one night, I tell myself. You can handle that.

What could go wrong?

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