Page 36 of Vapor

“You’ll be the second to know,” Lacy declares. She doesn’t need to tell me that Father will be the first. It’s funny to think that Xavier will be the last to know.

“Ladies, Justin is coming to talk with me about some urgent business. You’ll have to excuse me. He’s arriving soon and I want to be ready.”

“Of course, Daddy.” Lacy kisses his cheek.“I should be getting home anyway. Today was positively exhausting.”

“That’s for sure,” I say in agreement.

“I’ll pick you up on Thursday at noon for our next meeting with the wedding planner,” Lacy says as we head downstairs.

“What’s this one for again?” I ask, rubbing my temples to try to stave off a tension headache.

“Flowers, silly. Good thing you have me, or nothing would get done.” Lacy hugs me lightly before leaving.

I don’t want to be around when Broussard arrives, so I hurry upstairs to my room. Once I’m safely inside, I peel back the heavy curtain to look outside. Broussard’s sleek black town car pulls up to our circular driveway. One of our servants goes out to park his car.

Broussard tilts his head up and looks right at me. Startled, I drop the curtain, backing away from the window.

Lacy and my father think today was a resounding success, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Little do they know, I have no intention of walking down the aisle with Broussard.

However, I do want to find out why Broussard’s here. If it has anything to do with Vapor and the girls he rescued, then I want to find out what they know.

Vapor said he was careful and that they couldn’t possibly trace the rescue efforts back to his club, but he doesn’t know my father the way I do. Father has eyes and ears everywhere. Nothing happens in New Orleans without him knowing about it. If he discovered who was behind the rescue, then Vapor could be in trouble.

If Father and Broussard know Vapor was involved, then I must warn him before it’s too late.

Chapter 9: Vapor

I stumble through the door of the sorority house, desperate to find my sister Demi. The air’s heavy with the mingled scents of jasmine and stale beer. My stomach rolls. The place reeks of sex, drugs, and debauchery. No one looks my way as the party roars on. It’s as if I’m invisible, a ghost in their midst.

A cacophony of laughter and jazz music hurts my ears. I raise my hands to cover them, moving through a sea of writhing bodies. The college kids dance in frenzied desperation as if being controlled by an invisible puppet master. Several look right at me with demonic black eyes.

My heart pounds in my chest, a primal drumbeat that quickens with each step.

“Demi!” I call, my voice drowned out by the noise.“Demi, where are you?”

No answer.

I press on, my mind racing with the dread that has gnawed at me all night. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones.

Reaching the staircase, I take the steps two at a time. My breath explodes from my chest in ragged gasps. My feet drag across the rotting wooden floor. A board cracks. I fall as one foot pierces through the floor, dangling over the partygoers below.

Across the hall, spectral monsters glide toward me from an otherworldly realm. The hallway stretches out before me like a labyrinth, doors lining each side, all closed. I yank my foot free, trying to think. Which one is hers?

A flash of an old memory hits me. Demi’s laughing as she shows me her room. It’s next to the bathroom just down the hall.

The floor morphs into a slippery, polished marble that seems entirely out of place in the house. Ignoring it, I keep walking. I carefully avoid making eye contact with the malignant spirits haunting the house.

When I get to her room, I push the door open. It creaks loudly in the suddenly deafening silence.“Demi?”

There’s no one inside.

Returning to the hallway, I make my way to the door marked with a flowery sign that reads“Bathroom.”

The door is ajar. I push it open, the hinges groaning in protest. The bathroom is dark, the only light coming from a flickering bulb above the mirror. Shadows dance on the walls, twisting into grotesque shapes that seem to mock me.

“Demi?” My voice is a whisper now, a plea.

Then I see her.

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