Page 90 of Dead Wolf Falling (Bad Moon Academy 2)

Glancing at the group, I nod and we start after her. She’s halfway up the first flight of stairs when we make it to the foyer and she squeals, muttering to herself about how spectacular the night will be. She turns down the west wing of the second floor, and my stomach drops.

The ballroom.

Of course that’s where she wants to throw her extravaganza of death.

I lead the way down the dusty hallway, batting a loose cobweb out of the way as I go. The least she could have done was clean.

“I’m scared,” Bea whispers from behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I grimace. “We’ll figure it out, Bea. Stay strong.”

Layla and Penelope wrap their arms over her small shoulders, and she tips her chin up.

“Okay.”

Facing forward, I smash into Jinx’s chest. Her freezing hands clench around my wrists and she leans her face toward me.

“Careful, my sweet.”

I yank free of her hold, and she giggles, turning around to shove the ballroom doors open.

“Ta-da!” She holds her arms out and swings her gaze to me to check my reaction. “Isn’t it marvelous?”

“It’s something,” I say, taking in the neon boas, fuzzy pom-poms hanging from the ceiling, bright flutes filled with bubbling champagne, and colorful tablecloths. It looks like Lisa Frank threw up on a nineteen-nineties bedroom.

“Take a drink.” She waves her hand to the table filled with drinks. “The orange one is for Bea and the yellow one is for Raven. The rest are for everyone else.”

Narrowing my eyes, I walk to the table and pick up the yellow glass, which stands next to the orange one. I sniff Bea’s, making sure it’s non-alcoholic.

“It’s just juice,” Jinx says. “I’m not that crazy.”

Giving her a doubtful look, I lift mine up and inhale. The scent of sickly sweet, fizzy champagne tickles my nostrils, and I chew on the inside of my cheek.

I can’t drink this.

High heels clicking across the dance floor, Jinx hops on stage and turns, placing a hand on her hip. “Let’s make a toast. To new friends.” She snaps her fingers and a flute of champagne magically appears. Lifting it to her lips, she pauses when she realizes no one is going to join her. With a scowl, she points at Penelope, and she collapses to the ground, screaming in agony.

“I said: To new friends!” she shouts, and this time we all drink with her.

Closing my eyes, I fight against the dark whispers urging me to grab another before I’ve even finished guzzling the first. This is a horrible idea, but I won’t stand by and watch anyone else die. I’ll play along with her until I find the right moment to strike. Then she’s dead.

Penelope has stopped screaming now. Thank the moon Jinx stopped hurting her.

“Good.” Jinx’s words come from behind me, caressing my ear as she presses into me. I open my eyes and turn my head, staring into her white irises. She reaches her hand up to tip the rest of the alcohol into my mouth. “Drink it all.”

A shudder runs through me as the last drop trickles down my throat and my mind is screaming for more. I pinch my eyelids shut again and shake my head.

“No,” I say, but the word comes out slurred, which is impossible because it hasn’t been long enough for any of the champagne to take effect.

“Now you’re ready to dance.” Jinx claps her hand, making me start.

Up on the stage, a group of ghosts appear. I furrow my brow when I count six, then twelve, then six again. There had to be more than alcohol in that champagne. Even sober for a year, I’m not this much of a lightweight. The spirits open their mouths and out comes a haunting tune, something you might hear sung at a funeral. She shoves me toward the middle of the dance floor.

“Dance.” She yanks on Brayden’s arm and pushes him to me.

The room spins, and I stumble, smacking my hand to my head and groaning. I haven’t felt like this since the last time I drank. Right before Aunt Lou sent me to rehab. Brayden catches me around the waist before I can fall, swaying a bit on his feet as well. He’s so graceful he makes it seem like he’d planned to dance this way all along, but when his glassy eyes clash with mine, I know he’s not right either.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, taking lead and dragging me along for a waltz.

---