Page 32 of The Sea Witch's Son

Her words fail to offer the comfort I was looking for.

The cobblestones suddenly split into two lanes, veering sharply around a massive fountain that sits directly in front of the staggering mansion.

“Is that a boar?” I squint into the darkness, trying to make out the statue spewing water, “Trapped beneath a man’s foot?”

“Mr. Cartier is very proud of his hunting trophies.” She snickers, “Just wait until we get inside.”

Rows of cars line the gravel path bordering either side of the stone chateau. The massive building rises four-stories above the ground, it's high arches and traditional structure reinforced from the stained glass peeking out of the arched doorway.

A delicate rose swirls within the colourful glass, it’s fallen petals and wilted leaves looking like a fairytale that ended far too soon.

“Did somebody forget the beer keg?”

I look at the clump of party goers lingering near the trunk of someone’s car. A few of them are talking and laughing, but most of them are focused on the phone in their hands.

“Same idea, different substance.” Pulling into a free space on the lawn, Freya unclips her seatbelt, “A new party drug just hit the streets, so it’s goingto be a wild night.”

“Great.” I bite back a groan and climb out of the car.

Loud music and raucous laughter fills the air as we follow the crowd inside the mansion.

Red and gold assaults my vision the moment we step over the threshold. Long velvet drapes and glistening portraits line the wall in what seems to be a collection of hunting portraits. The same man appears in each one, his long black hair pulled into a low ponytail while a cleft chin beams out in a painfully wide smile.

“I hope you’re not vegetarian.”

Freya snickers as the portraits turn into mounted heads of dead animals. I stare at the polar bear snarling down on me, its razor-sharp claws protruding from the wall.

“After tonight, I think I might be.”

A few people stop to take a selfie with the stuffed moose at the end of the hall. Freya takes the lead, pushing through the crowd until we reach the sitting room.

Bottles of wine and cans of beer clutter the tables running from either end of the room. Large, leather couches are pushed back against the walls, boasting their own hunting trophies of antlers and bear hides.

“Could you get us a couple of drinks?” Freya grabs my arm and quickly steers me towards a nearby table, “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Sure. What do you...” My sentence dies when I realize she’s alreadygone.

Grumbling to myself, I make my way over to the closest table and inspect the bottles of wine. Each one is stamped with the same logo, a marksman proudly proclaimingKill the Beastwith a rifle slung over his shoulder.

I bite back a laugh when I see the cleft in the figure’s chin. Mr. Cartier likes to sponsor and drink his own wine.

The rumble of a powerful engine fills the room. Putting the wine bottle back down, I wander over to a nearby window.

The sharp beam of headlights sweep over the people lingering on the lawn. A red pinstripe glints dangerously against the dark exterior as the driver bypasses the designated parking area and pulls right onto the manicured lawns decorating the front of the house.

The Challenger draws to a stop and the driver’s door swings open. Sharp stilettos pierce the ground as blonde curls and blood red lips climb out of the car.

A smirk hits Calista’s face when she steps over the tire marks to open the passenger door. A gorgeous woman climbs out, her smooth brown skin illuminated by the turquoise bandeau and skintight jeans. Her long dark hair tumbles down to her waist, gently brushing the top of Calista’s hand as she leads her inside.

A shriek of laughter draws my attention back to the party. Freya still hasn’t made a reappearance, so I grab a couple of beer cans and work my way around the room.

A quiet fire simmers on burning coals at the far side of the room. For the amount of people mingling in here, I'm surprised the temperature isn't stifling.

The flash of ginger hair catches my attention. Tucking the beers close to my chest, I start making my way over to the couch Freya has relocated to.

My feet come to a stuttering halt when I realize it’s not a couch she’s sitting on.

“Melody! There you are. I was just about to send a search party to rescue you.”

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