Page 2 of Night's Fall
“Yes,I’mhere becauseIthought we were going to thePinkRoom,”Gayleshot back. “Or, at most, theBlueRoom.”
ThePinkRoomwas where everyone could get in, if you were chosen by the doorman.Thecover charge was more expensive than most, but it wasn’t outlandish.
TheBlueRoomwas one room deeper into the club.Itrequired a charge that was not nominal.Assuch, althoughI’dbeen to thePinkRoom,I’dnever been in there.
TheBlackRoomrequired a charge that, as noted, was astronomical.Italso required connections.ButsinceCat’speople, theTruelocks, wereTheTruelocks, all she undoubtedly had to do was say her name, give her credit code, and we were in.
Cat crinkled her adorable snub nose at the very idea of mingling in thePinkRoom, and whenGaylementionedBlue, she didn’t look any happier.
Gayle didn’t miss it, nor did she like it.
“The little people can be fun.Youshould know,”—she flapped a hand between herself and me—“since you hang out with us.”
She wasn’t the “little people.”
ButIwas.
“No demon would be caught dead in thePinkRoom,”Catretorted.
She was very correct.WhenI’dbeen there before,I’dgone withGayle, or one of our other friends,Monique.NeverCat.
And there it was.
Recently,Catlahad been husband hunting at the decree of her father.
AndCatwas hunting for a demon, or at least a half one, also at the decree of her father.
Demon females married early, in their twenties, or the upper crust did, with theTruelocksoccupying the uppermost part of the upper crust that wasn’t titled aristocracy.
Cat was turning thirty-one on her next birthday, a day that was only two months away.Butsince she’d passed the thirty mark,Mr.Truelockhad been becoming increasingly displeased with his daughter’s live-life-have-fun-and-spend-money-until-you-drop lifestyle.
“I cannot believe you did this,”Gaylilielsaid quietly but in a razor-sharp tone. “Especiallytonight.”
I tensed at the deterioration of her voice.
Cat didn’t miss the edge either, andIcould feel her demon rearing, which meant, if the situation didn’t shift, things were about to get ugly.
“Did what?” she demanded.
“You making it all about you the first timeLauragoes out after—”Gayleabruptly stopped speaking.
At that, things shifted.
They very much did.
This shift for me meantIhad the familiar sensation of my chest compressing at the reminder of what that “after”Gaylewas referring to meant.
At least it wasn’t so bad anymore.Icould still breathe.Threemonths ago, when it happened, it felt likeIcouldn’t.
Cat glared atGayle.
Gayle appeared contrite and avoided my eyes.
I sighed.
“You can say it,”Iwhispered into the loaded silence of the car. “Ithappened.Ican’t pretend it didn’t.”
Even ifIwishedIcould.
