Page 21 of Riot of Autumn

“Good thinking Einstein. Although, I don’t think the point of this outing is casual groping.”

I groan. “I meant practice going invisible, not the groping. That was totally accidental. I swear. I’m surprised I could even find your tits.” I’m such a fucking liar because I love everything about Ruby’s body, including her breasts.

“Ha ha. My tits are perfect. I’m flashing them to you right now, but you can’t see. Your loss.”

“Christ,” I groan, I have no clue if she’s full of shit, or if she’s actually doing it. Knowing her, she’s really flashing me, and I’m missing out on the sight.

“Now I have a raging boner. Too bad you can’t see that either.”

“Oh my god. We’re going to run out of time. Let’s just hold hands or something.”

“Now I see this for what it really is. Just a ploy to hold my hand.” This entire conversation is so strange. I can’t see Ruby, but I know she’s close by the sound of her voice.

“Yes, I’ve built up to this moment for twenty years. Plotting a Fae invasion and scheming magical abilities, all to hold your hand, Ezra. Except, wait, this was your idea, dummy.”

I find Ruby by the sound of her voice, keeping my hand at waist level to avoid another unintentional boob grab. When I find her arm, I let my hand slide down until it reaches hers. There’s a spark of energy that zips through my skin when I thread my fingers through hers. I wish I could see Ruby’s face. Instead, I hear the quick inhalation of her breath. Does she feel that connection, too?

Now is not the time to get into this. There is a ticking clock hanging over our heads.

“Let’s get going.”

The Smithe house—I will never call it the Zima house—is a Second Empire style home. It’s three stories with a mansard roof. There are ornate surrounds on the dormer windows, and the arched windows on the second floor. The porch has evenly spaced stone pillars that frame the front door and main level windows.

It’s a beast of a house. Personally, I always thought it looked like it was haunted, even when the Smithe’s owned it. Now, it really looks like a house of horrors. Not because it’s in disrepair or worn down, but there’s a vibe emanating from the house that screamsevil.

“I’m not going to say anything after this. Let’s try not to get murdered tonight,” Ruby murmurs next to me.

“Deal.”

Part of the reason we picked tonight is thanks to something Archer overheard. Some weekender was talking about a party going on here tonight. The bass of music thumping inside the house can be felt from outside. It sure sounds like there’s a party, but who knows how many people are inside. Ruby and I agreed that once we got to the house, we’d scope things out. If no one is coming and going, we’ll wait until it’s all clear and sneak inside.

Miri has all kinds of magical trip wires set up around her house in case someone decides to break in. She made sure the potion protected us against setting off any alarms. She really is scarily impressive. Although with how many people are here, I doubt they have any traps set up.

Dozens of UTVs are parked in the circular driveway, along with several golf carts, a couple of scooters, and a handful of peddle bikes. There are no cars on Wild Haven Island, so everyone gets around in battery powered vehicles. Or on their own two feet. The island isn’t that big, so UTVs or golf carts do the job for the most part.

This collection in front of the Smithe’s house tells me there are a lot of people inside. Sure enough, by the time we make it to the front porch, a bunch of tourists pile out a cramped UTV. I squeeze Ruby’s hand and we fall in behind them. The way they’re tripping over each other and laughing tells me they’re already drunk.

They don’t bother knocking on the door, just shove it open like it’s not the first time they’ve been here. It probably isn’t. Archer heard that there have been tons of parties out here over the last few weeks. Ever since the night of Lughnasadh.

I catch the door before it swings closed, pushing Ruby in ahead of me. One of the people in front of us turns around to shut the door and walks right into Ruby. Her fingers slip out of mine and I hold back my curse as we’re separated.

“Oh fuck. Sorry.” The woman is in her forties and obviously shitfaced. Her dark hair looks windblown from the ride out here, and her cheeks are the kind of flush that people get from drinking a lot of wine.

I press myself against the wall, hoping Ruby’s doing the same on the other side of the hallway.

“Are you apologizing to the door, Sherri?” One of her friends laughs so hard all that comes out is a wheeze.

“Oopsie.” Sherri giggles, lifts her hand, and pets the door. Then she starts talking in a horrible fake British accent. “I’m so sorry Mr. Door. Please forgive my horrid behavior.”

“Someone cut Sherri off. She’s gone British.”

The group of them are utterly ridiculous, falling all over each other and trying out horrendous accents.

“I just want someone with an accent to fuck my brains out. Is that too much to ask?” Sherri shouts, and I hear a very distinctly Ruby voice respond.

“Not at all, Sherri. Totally rational.”

“Right?” Sherri nods and then frowns, staring at her friends, who are already halfway down the hallway.

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