Page 110 of Summoned
Daria grins. “Maybe. I don’t remember. What matters is it’ll look amazing on you.”
I examine the dress again, then my reflection in the mirror beside us. I’ve grown so accustomed to elegant cuts—sleek lines, a balance of style and sex appeal. And this…is more like clothing made for a doll. I snort. “I’ll look like a schoolgirl in that.”
Daria hands it to me and says, “Try it on!”
I shake my head but take the dress, anyway. The fabric is soft and pleasant to the touch. “If someone I know sees me, they won’t recognize me…”
My eyes widen in the mirror. Wearing this dress, no onewouldrecognize me. I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone calling my father or enduring boring conversations with curious acquaintances.
“You know…” I adjust the fabric against my body. “You’re right.”
Daria laughs. “Obviously.”
I wash my hair and let it dry naturally. Straight strands fall around my face in gentle disarray. Daria doesn’t have much makeup, so I just apply a bit of mascara and some gloss.
Ten minutes later, I examine myself in the mirror. The pale pink dress drapes over my thighs, hugs my waist, and ruffles at the shoulders. A while ago, I would’ve called this look ‘the kind of girl who disappears in a crowd’ and the idea of blending in would’ve made me shudder. Now… I’m unsure how I feel.
Daria claps when she sees me. “Niki, it’s stunning on you!”
“I’m not sure…”
She gives me a playful shove toward the door. “Come on. I’ll call a cab. Where are we going?”
I give her the address of the club where I celebrated my twenty-first birthday, the place where it all started. I need to go back there, to the exact moment when everything fell apart. Before the mask tore, before the walls shattered, before my heart started to ache. I know I can’t change anything, but Ineedto live through a different scenario—one where my twenty-first birthday doesn’t come with an arranged marriage, shattered illusions, and losing my soul.
Key word:live.That’s all I want tonight. Some normalcy, purposeful distraction, and overall ignorance of what’s to come.
We arrive half an hour late. My heart pounds in time with the bass as I enter the nightclub. The dance floor remains empty, though groups are already gathering around tables. From afar, I check out the darkened VIP booths and sigh. There’s no way I’ll get in without being recognized.
Daria and I head toward the open seats near the bar. The pale pink dress sways with each step, the ruffles bouncing against my thighs. What really makes me lower my head are the white sneakers on my feet. Daria had offered me her only pair of heels, but just the thoughtof them was enough to make me cringe. A size too big, navy blue, closed-toe with ankle straps—straight out of my tenth-grade history teacher’s closet.
As we pass by tables, we get barely any attention. The bartender serves us cocktails without a second glance, and no one attempts to talk to me.
“You okay?” Daria asks.
The cordoned-off VIP section once more draws my attention. “It feels weird not being up there.”
Daria laughs, nudging my shoulder. “Little Baroness doesn’t enjoy mingling with the commoners?”
The nickname makes me frown. But she’s right. “I guess getting special treatment was part of the fun.”
Daria shrugs while sipping her cocktail. “I’ve never gotten that kind of treatment, so no idea what it feels like.”
I think about all the eyes that used to follow me, boosting my ego but making me keep every hair in place. “Well, it’s kind of exhausting. You always have to look perfect, because someone might snap a photo of you in a bad pose. Smile at people you can’t stand just because they have influence. Show up at events even when you’re dead tired, just because it’s important to be seen.”
Daria pouts, mulling it over. “What’s the point of all that?”
I glance again at the VIP section, where a bunch of famous playmates are popping open a bottle of champagne. Their VIP status barely matches their collective brain cell count but their sugar daddies’ bank accounts more than make up for it.
“It makes you feel special. Like you’re part of that tiny percentage above everyone else…And then you either die unexpectedly, or the Black Joker shows up and wrecks your life in a way that no money, no power, nothing can fix.”
Flashes of Gaetano race through my mind—him kneeling before me in the cave, me kneeling before him in the castle. A raw ache tightens my chest.
“Shhh!” Daria lifts a finger in front of my face. “Tonight is not for that. Didn’t you say you wanted to dance? Come on, I love this song!”
The bass thumps and lights flicker across the empty dance floor. Daria jumps off her stool and pulls on my hand. I shake my head. “No one’s dancing…”
“Even better. We’ll be the first!” She begins to move with awkward, strange steps—left, right, clapping above her head, laughing loudly. “Come on!” she calls over her shoulder. “Otherwise, I’ll dance all weird and embarrass you.”
