Page 8 of Summoned
Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty.
I read Boyana’s message and groan at the pain pulsing through the soles of my feet. High heels should come with a built-in masseur for post-party recovery. One day, when I have my own finances, I’ll make sure my household staff includes one. A necessity, not a luxury.
I call Boyana, and she answers on the second ring. “You didn’t forget Vanessa’s costume party, did you?”
I’ve been awake for five seconds and I’m already frowning. If my mother saw me, she’d give me the usual lecture about facial expressions, wrinkles, and the miracle of Botox.
Costume party? For some inexplicable reason, images of creepy dolls and murderous clowns flash through my mind. The memory of the gift resurfaces.‘Happy Birthday, Harvest 290.’My stomach twists with an odd, persistent fear.Just a prank, Nicole!
“You still there?”
I clear my throat. “I’m here, Bo.”
“I asked if you’d forgotten about the party…”
“I very intentionally forgot.”
“Ha. Cute. But seriously. Vanessa’s blowing up after that reality TV show. The party’s gonna be insane. Also, weneedto talk about last night. I’m literallycatatonicover that sexy guy! We have to stalk him on all socials. Like, full NASA mode.”
Glimpses of Branimir’s striking green eyes undressing me replay in my mind. But the moment my thoughts return to my birthday party, a different feeling arises. My heart races at the memory of those icy chills, touching every part of my body. The breathlessness, the sensation of drowning. Of being trapped. The leather pouch…
The closed bathroom door catches my attention.
“The twins said the media’s gonna be all over it. So yeah, we’re going,” Boyana adds.
“Did you see that godawful photo they posted of me?” The pain in my feet sharpens as I rise to stand.
“You’reamicable!” Boyana laughs. I scoff, but don’t bother correcting yet another misused word. Instead, I tread to the bathroom. “So, what are you going as? Please don’t half-ass it this time!”
“Why bother? I can’t stand Vanessa or her little pack of desperate sugar babies…” My fingers curl around the door handle.
“Because—hello—reporters! And because it might be fun? Who knows, maybe there’ll be someone worth looking at. I’m going full sexy vampire. White foundation, blood-red lips, smoky eye makeup, and oneveryillegal dress.”
I tune her out and slowly press down the handle.
“And you, Niki? What are you wearing?”
It takes a second before I respond. “I’ve got all day to figure it out. Might just show up as a cat or something.”
“A cat? Girl. You should be a Greek goddess. Or an angel. You’d kill it.”
“I’ll think about it…” I push the door open. Darkness spills out, but I turn on the lights, chasing it back.
“Fine, don’t be late. There’s gonna be some kind of masked raffle thing, too.”
I focus on the trash can. “A raffle?”
“No clue what that even means. But it sounds fun!”
To me, it sounds like another sad cry for attention. “Okay. I’ll pick you up at 7 PM. Not planning on drinking anyway.”
“Perfect. I’ll be ready, babe.”
The call ends.
I tiptoe to the trash can and peer inside.
It’s empty.
