Page 13 of Summoned
Every pairof eyes fixes on me, the mouths behind the masks twisting into cruel smiles. I’m back in sixth grade, curled up on the ground, begging myself not to cry. The Baroness is gone—only Nicole remains.
No, this isn’t sixth grade, Nicole!
The ballroom of masked animals fades behind me, the marble under my heels echoing with each step as I move away from the party’s noise.
Every survival instinct in me is howling—Run!—but I don’t.
Show no fear.
Frightened prey is the finest lure for any predator.
Still, despite my best efforts at composure, panic coils around me, tightening, constricting.
Happy birthday, Harvest 290.
The words echo in my head. A whisper I can’t silence.
Or shall I call you Bunny?
I rip the headband with the bunny ears from my hair.
Outside, it’s dark and sweltering, the air heavy with humidity, and that bittersweet scent lingers in my nostrils. A cab sits at the driveway entrance. My heart skips a beat, and my legs start running on their own.
I call out, waving an arm, “Wait!” With shaky fingers, I yank open the door and hurl myself onto the back seat. “To Bankya. And make it quick!”
The driver raises an eyebrow in the rearview mirror.
“I’ll pay double.” I pull out a banknote to support my words.
The engine ignites with a low growl. Its vibrations pulse through my body, but instead of calming me, they intensifythe unease already coiled in my stomach.
I lean back into the seat, but my muscles stay tense, and I can’t stop glancing toward the rear window. The darkness outside seems alive, every flicker of headlights making me flinch.
We reach the main gate of my house. I pay as promised and step out, clutching the keyring in one hand and the bunny ears in the other. The glow from the windows cuts through the night like a lifeline. A few more steps and I’ll be inside—safe, and able to breathe.
The taxi drives off, its engine roar fading into the night while I enter the code at the gate. My hands are trembling, and what should be a quick motion feels awkward and slow.
At last, I manage to get the code right. But then the keyring slips from my grasp and hits the ground. Theclangof the impact slices through the silence.
“Damn it…” I mutter, crouching down. Just when my fingers brush the keys, that scent hits me again. More powerful than ever, it seeps beneath my skin and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
And then I hear it.
A low, short laugh. Dense vibrations that resonate through my chest and cause my heart to skip a beat.
A shadow looms over me.
“Already on your knees? Pathetic.”
I lift my head, and my stomach knots. A pair of dark eyes pierce straight through to my solar plexus and rob me of breath.
Towering over me is a man with lips curled ever so slightly and his arms crossed over his chest. My attention jumps from the black symbols tattooed along his fingers and forearms, to the defined muscles beneath his black shirt, and to the sharp cheekbones framed by tousled raven-black hair.
The man in the wolf mask.
“Stand up, creature. Cowards bore me,” he says.
I swallow with effort, my fingers tightening around the keyring. I command my legs to move, but my knees wobble.
