Page 21 of Veil of Death and Shadow

Partially because it was nowalsothe anniversary of the day the world turned all topsy-turvy, and people went a little wild across the city—some celebrating recklessly, others hoping to usher in whatever impending apocalypse they were touting to their followers as the next big cosmic shift.

House of Gluttony, one of the competing compounds of The Seven Sons of Lucifer, always had a day-long feast thatturned into a raging party. Last year I heard five people died from overconsumption. Apparently if the devil did exist, he didn’t waste his time rescuing his loyal followers from alcohol poisoning.

And that was one of the tamer celebrations I’d heard about.

The Undoing made today feel less like our day, and more like one we shared with everyone else, however reluctantly.

Last year, we tried to bring the tradition back a bit. We'd gotten our hands on a particularly nice bottle of wine, a true rarity these days, and spent the night passing the bottle back and forth, chugging while we meandered aimlessly through the city. We went for a swim in the lake and then gorged on the perfect mixture of salty and sweet snacks. Perfection.

I'd been looking forward to something similar tonight, but judging from the guilty expression painted across Sora’s face, I wasn't going to be quite so lucky this year.

As if sensing my hesitation, she fell back on my bed and shoved the bag closer to me. "Don't hate me, okay, but I made some plans for us tonight."

"Sora, we agreed."

"I know the last few years have been a little more low key than in the past, but this year has been great. Darling,” she tilted her head, put on a drawn-out, affected accent, “we’ve got a beautiful apartment, the restaurant’s doing great, and our obnoxious crow-son is a thriving little thief.” She gripped my shoulders, shaking me lightly. “Do you know what that is? It’s stability, Mars. No curse or bad omen in sight. We’re practically a post-apocalyptic white-picket family. We have a lot to celebrate, to be thankful for. So, I was thinking we should go all out tonight. Like we used to. Usher in the next phase of our lives."

I took a deep breath, scrunching my nose. When Sora set her mind to something, it was almost impossible to say no. Myexhale turned into a sigh at her victory. “What did you have in mind?"

With a coy grin, she ripped the tissue paper out of the bag, reached inside, and pulled out a short, slinky bunch of fabric. As it unfolded, I realized it was a dress—spaghetti-strapped satiny material up top that flared out with layers of black tulle at the waist. Very punk ballerina.

I loved it.

"A friend of a friend got us on the list for a club tonight,” she said, then tossed the dress at me.

I caught it, letting the surprisingly soft fabric roll over my fingers.

There was no denying it, the dress was stunning—the material both liquid and structured. It was nicer than any piece of clothing I'd ever owned. "Sor, this is way too much."

"Shut up." A wide grin split her face as her gaze dipped from me to the dress.

"Sora—"

"Look, I promise I got it for a bargain, okay?" She grabbed it, then leaned forward to hold it up against my chest, closing one eye as she studied the effect. "You know, I think you can even get away with wearing your boots with it. Permission to scrap the heels. So no arguments, okay? It's perfect and you're going to look killer in it, and we've been busy as hell. We deserve to go all out tonight.” Her brows slinked up and down a few times. “Maybe you’ll even get lucky. It’s been, what, three or four months since you’ve seen Alex? Not that I’m complaining.”

Alex was my no-strings-attached hookup. He traveled a lot, we had nothing in common, and he was allergic to emotional attachments.

That made him perfect in my book, and the only one I broke my ‘no repeats’ sex rule for.

Sora hated him, which only added to the simplicity of our arrangement.

I could never get into something long term or serious with someone my best friend hated.

She was also right.

It had been over three months since I’d had any kind of release with someone other than myself. I may have avoided getting attached to people, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t into getting laid.

And, well, I was long overdue for a proper fuck.

I glanced down at myself as she held up the dress, trying to picture her vision, but it was hampered by the baggy T-shirt and boxer shorts I was wearing. I let out a loud sigh that transformed into a groan. I already saw my defeat coming from a mile away. So did she. "Which club?"

"Just say you'll go first." Her voice was higher, and she wouldn't meet my eyes.

“Sora,” I narrowed my eyes, “which club?"

When she didn’t say anything, I grabbed the dress, and tossed it back so that it draped over her head. “I need details, or it’ll be a no from me, babes.”

She pulled the dress from her face and walked over to my closet, ruffling through it for a spare hanger. There weren't any, so she reached into the back, tugged an old sweatshirt off its cracked plastic hanger, let it fall to the ground in a crumpled heap, and hung the dress up in its place.

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