Page 11 of Summoned
The twins chase trends as if it’s a job requirement, convinced that fame will follow if they just copy hard enough. But charisma can’t be faked, and that’s what they’ll always lack.
Even so, as I watch them hunch their shoulders, disappointed by their failed outfits, a brief wave of sentiment washes over me. Sure, they’re loud, a bit fake… But my hyenas, nonetheless. So I raise my glass to them. “You’re absolutely stunning, ladies. Your dresses are delightfully eccentric. I’m sure by tomorrow, all of Sofia will scramble to copy the style. Well, at least those who can’t afford Valentino with a bunny tail.”
The girls laugh, and the tension dissolves. Marie leans in a bit closer. “You won’t believe what Vanessa showed up as— ”
“An angel!” Misha blurts.
Images flash through my mind: Vanessa’s leaked sex tape from last year, the one that got her a spot on that reality show… and then, of course, her new sugar daddy.
“I assume you mean an on-call angel?”
“Nooo!” Boyana feigns sympathy. “She’s in a verymonotonousrelationship now.”
Marie gestures over her shoulder with a thumb. “Yes, with her sugar daddy. The man’s got taste. Or at least… shedoes havehis taste on her lips. And tongue.”
Her sister waves dismissively. “Please. I doubt he can even get it up without a cocktail of pills.”
I tilt my head toward the towering Cupid statue in the center of the fountain. “Is it just me, or does this place scream new money extravagance?”
“I’ve been thinking that since the moment we walked in,” Misha doesn’t bother to lower her voice.
Boyana twirls a glossy strand of hair around one finger. “Okay, it’s alot, I’ll give you that. But it’s flashy in a… fun way.”
I lift my champagne flute with a wry smile. “To good taste, then.”
“And to men who can actually get it up,” Boyana adds with a wicked grin, raising her glass high.
A few masked heads snap in our direction. We burst into laughter, and the clinking of our glasses punctuates the bold toast.
Facing the building, I let my gaze drift over its shimmering façade, like some baroque fever dream. “Shall we head inside? Maybe I’ll borrow a few design ideas for my next project.”
Marie sighs with theatrical dread. “Just promise me you won’t come back raving about the golden toilets.”
I chuckle as we pass through the heavy front doors. A vast foyer welcomes us. The ceiling glitters with chandeliers, the floor is black marble streaked with gold, and one of the walls is covered with mirrors, creating the illusion of endless space and luxury.
Boyana takes in the scene with wide-eyed admiration. “Itisimpressive, isn’t it? Everything’s screaming:Look at me!”
I loop my arm through hers and lean in to whisper, “Darling, if you have to scream it… It clearly isn’t working.”
Her thunderous laugh draws attention once again, including Vanessa Ivanov’s. The party host floats over to us in a sequined white dress and a pair of angel wings. We exchange the usual pleasantries while examining each other for flaws.
Her face is pretty enough, but her energy is pure prey— waiting to be caught and used however someone pleases. And, according to the rumors, plenty have done just that before she landed the right sugar daddy.
“You wouldn’t believe the drama,” Vanessa starts, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Two days ago, we had to knock down the bathroom walls.Can you imagine?The bathtubs wouldn’t fit! Italian marble. Special order from Milan.
“Tragic,” I murmur, sipping my champagne.
Oblivious to my sarcasm, she continues, “Muro put me in charge of the whole operation. I wasso stressed, but I handled it.” She beams, as if she’s describing a major career achievement, not becoming someone’s glorified housekeeper.
A tight smile stretches my lips. I adore luxury—and I demand it—but I’d never collar myself just to get it.
I tune out Vanessa’s monologue and step slightly aside under the pretense of checking my phone. Instead, I scan the crowd. Tonight, the animal nature of the guests feels more literal than ever, with ears, tails, patterns everywhere. And yet, no one thought to come dressed as a sheep. Curious, considering ninety percent of them move through life like herd animals. Then again, I’m a lioness disguised as a harmless bunny.
I’m reaching for a second drink when it hits me. An abrupt, chilling awareness, similar to the other time at the nightclub. Invisible fingers slide beneath my skin, peeling away each layer with surgical precision.
The guests blur into faceless silhouettes.
Something is off.
