Huntress

“Remind me again if we’re going out tonight?”

“I’m not,” I lied into the phone. It was Friday afternoon and I was getting cabin fever.

Chloe sighed through the line. “Darn. I feel like dancing.”

“So go dance,” I told her, opening my wardrobe and trying to select clothes to wear later in the night. “Take Susie. I’m not stopping you.”

“But… but… can’t you come too? I always have more fun when you’re there…”

This was flattering but wasn’t nearly enough to convince me to blow off going to the Masquerade. It would have been simpler to find dancing clothes, however. What do you wear to an underworld court ruled by criminals?

“I’m really tired,” I lied again, faking a yawn. “Seriously, I just can’t be bothered.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I might just go without you.”

I smiled and couldn’t help a little eye-roll. “Suit yourself…”

Chloe seemed to realise this was a little stupid. I heard the smile in her voice as she said goodbye and hung up.

That done, I turned back to concentrating on my clothes. I had plenty of dresses and nice clothes for going out, product of having a job ever since I was allowed to work. Six hours a week in a shop of some kind – or a brief stint waitressing – was definitely worth having money to spend on clothes.

The only problem was that none of them were very… dangerous looking.

It was five-thirty, so the sun was setting even if it wasn’t dark yet. I knew it would be soon. The light filtering in through my bedroom window was slowly fading to gold.

In addition to not knowing what to wear, I had no idea how I was even going to get there. I thought maybe if it came to it I could make my way back to Asp’s house and see if that worked.

As it turned out, I didn’t need to.

“Di?” a voice called from outside the house when I was in the kitchen. I stopped making myself a peanut butter sandwich and went to the door, curious.

There was a knock on the door. “Coming,” I called back, and it stopped.

When I opened it I was both puzzled and slightly relieved. Holly was standing outside the door, holding a handbag and two pizza boxes.

“Um. Hey,” I greeted her, holding the door open so she could come in.

She kicked off her flip flops and stepped in. “Hi. Hungry?”

“Uh, yeah…I just made myself a sandwich, but pizza is great. What – why are you here?”

Holly put her bag and the pizza down and said, “Hang on, I’ll be right back. Actually, can you help me for a sec?”

She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and put her shoes back on. I followed her out to the street, wondering why she was only wearing a white pair of shorts and a hoodie.

“Hey, Di,” Alec greeted me when I got out there. He was standing between the same car I’d been in on Tuesday and the open driver’s side door, leaning on the roof to face me.

I waved, conscious of my ripped shorts and faded singlet. “Hi.”

Holly beckoned me out and so I went around to the boot. There were three bags in there – a large plastic one from Dotti, a toiletry-style pink one and a large, full-looking garment bag.

“Here,” she said, handing me a couple. Then she shut the boot and, with a wave at Alec, followed me inside.

After putting her bag down she opened the pizza and sat down. “I remember my first time at the Masquerade.”

“Um… ok?”

She took a bite, handed me a piece and said, “As in, I bet you don’t know what you’re going to wear. Or how you were even going to get there.”

I took a bite of my own pizza and nodded. “I was just looking for something. I have absolutely no idea what’s appropriate.”

“Well, I know. Plus, your first – well, second, I suppose – impression has to be a damn good one. So I bought some of my clothes, and some that aren’t mine, and some shoes… I’m sure we can find something in your wardrobe, too.”

This was such a relief. Not only could she help me figure out what to wear, but by the look of her, she knew how to wear it, too.

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that,” I told her.

“Mhmm,” she murmured through a mouthful. “But I figured we may as well eat first.”

We worked our way through a pizza and a half before, full, we dragged the bags into my room. Holly opened the huge garment bag and I upended the Dotti bag, which turned out to be full of shoes. The large toiletry bag I left, not wanting spilled foundation all over my sheets.

“Wow,” I breathed, taking in what lay all over my bed. Holly’s clothes were… well, amazing.

I told her so and she smiled. “Thanks. Now – the thing with the Masquerade is that the dress code is unspoken but heaps important. Generally, I always follow four rules, summed up in four words: dangerous, polished, sexy, practical.”

She walked over to my wardrobe and opened it. “First, dangerous – you should always look ready to hit someone. That means no floral patterns, no cardigans, and definitely no cartoon characters. Dark colours are good; leather is better.”

“Right. Dangerous. Got it.”

“Second, polished. You can’t look shabby, only Eris is allowed to do that.” Holly smirked and continued, “That means you have to keep dyeing your hair, you can’t let it grow out. Sorry. It also means good quality clothes, no spandex, et cetera. You should look… well put together.”

I nodded and Holly smiled wickedly. “Third – sexy. If you can – and you can, believe me – you should look as hot as possible. Assets should be enhanced, but not displayed, if you get me. And you should always be in control.”

“Control?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Basically, you want guys to be secretly, or discreetly, wolf whistling at you. If they actually do it, you’re not demanding respect with your appearance and you’ll just be a piece of ass.”

It made a surprising amount of sense. I suppose that’s where the ‘dangerous’ part comes in, too.

“Last is practical and you’ll see the reason for this later. Because of the nature of the Masquerade you have to be able to run, fight and hide a weapon in your clothes. It’s not easy, especially with heels, but just don’t wear ones that might break.”

Suddenly she spotted something in my closet and dived, gasping. I looked on, puzzled, as pulled out a pair of shoes I’d long forgotten about. Chloe had dubbed them my ‘stripper boots’, because they were long, black, leather and stiletto heeled.

“These,” she told me, holding them out, “Are almost everything I just told you, in one piece of clothing. The one thing they might lack is practicality. Do they still fit?”

Shrugging, I held my hand out. When she passed the boots to me I tried them on and nodded. The zip did up all the way to just below my knee. Holly grinned.

“Perfect.”

* * *

“Holy. Shit.”

Holly did a small twirl and then gave a smirk I now knew to be a trademark. “You like?”

She looked nothing short of lethal. I’d helped her straighten her long blonde hair, which hung down her back like glass. Her top didn’t have sleeves so much as off-the-shoulder ribbon wrapped around her arm a couple of times. The rest of it was tight, like a corset, and so dark red it was nearly black.

Her skirt actually was black, and layered with fabric so that it swished around her hips. Black ribbons from solid-but-sexy black heels crisscrossed up to disappear into her skirt. The dark colours contrasted incredibly with her alabaster skin.

“Damn,” I said, appreciatively. “You look like an anime character.” She grinned, and gestured at me with a finger.

“Forget me, look at you! They’ll take you seriously this time for sure.”

Truth be told I was a little uncomfortable in my outfit. Not physically uncomfortable, but… self-conscious.

I’d built my outfit around my boots, so a dress went naturally. Holly found me one which was short, black and skin tight – no flippy skirt like hers. To continue the black-on-black-on-black thing we had going we teamed it with a dark pair of stockings, sheer but with a seam up the back. The top of the dress dipped low at the back and the front, before extending to long sleeves which ended tightly over my wrists.

Maybe it was the lack of a real bra that was making me a little hesitant. The stick-on ones just aren’t the same.

Either way, I had to give it to Holly. She knew what she was doing.

“What’s the time?” I asked, looking for my phone.

“Eight forty-five. Alec said he’d come back at nine.”

We started to pack up her stuff, putting it all back in the bags. I did it reluctantly; it’d taken me ages to decide on what to wear.

“I think that’s everything,” she said, looking around. “Is your father coming home soon?”

I shrugged, not sure. “It’s a Friday night; if I’m not here and there’s makeup everywhere he’ll just assume I’m out. Won’t be a problem.”

“Right then,” she declared, as we picked up her stuff and heard a horn beep from outside. “Let’s blow this joint.”

* * *

We were greeted by a low, appreciative whistle.

“Great,” Holly muttered. “Lewis.”

I shut the door of the car, leaving the handbag I’d hastily grabbed behind. With Holly’s help I’d managed to tuck everything I needed into strategic clothing pockets, of which I didn’t have many.

“Here,” she’d said, demonstrating with her own phone, debit card and license. One minute she was holding them and the next they’d been tucked down her shirt. “Like that – they should be all you need. Or maybe a lipgloss, too. I’ll help you with the knives.”

Pulling out the wrapped sheath, I started to mentally inventory exactly where I could keep the stupid things.

“These two are obviously wrist knives, so grab the ribbons that tie the sheath and wrap them on the underside, in your sleeves. They’re the flattest, so it should work. The two bulkier ones can go down your boots – that’s probably even what that little hook on the handle is for. Here, I’ll stick the tiny pretty one in your hair, and we might leave the other one for now.”

It was well done, but having five ridiculously sharp blades pressed against my skin was still unnerving. I kept thinking people would notice – in particular this Lewis guy, who was now unashamedly checking me out from head to toe.

Holly gave him a surprisingly inviting smile. “Want a kiss, Lewis?”

He just smirked and, also surprisingly, shook his head. I couldn’t help wrinkling my nose a little. Lewis was not an attractive guy, but he obviously thought he was. His hair was stuck up vertically with gel in a style about ten years old, and his goatee bore the signs of being painstakingly maintained. Being about ten kilos overweight and large in the nose didn’t help.

“You can introduce me to your friend, though, Hols,” he asked, putting special, sarcastic emphasis on the nickname.

She seemed to think for a second. “Hmm… no.”

I was then pulled toward the rest of the group waiting for us inside another house, this one larger and nearer to the city centre. Alec and Asp were both there, he in semi-formal clothes and she in simple jeans and a shirt.

“You’re not coming?” I asked, a little surprised.

Asp shook her head. “No. Not this time. You certainly look the part, though.”

I smiled and Holly pulled me a few feet over. “Di, these are some of the others. This is Noah, Nate, Olivia, Samson, Avery, Connor and Carrie. Guys, this is Di.”

Noah and Nate were both tall, brown-haired and so alike they had to be twins. Olivia was also tall, nearly equalling them, and so skinny I thought a sharp breeze might snap her in half. Her hair was a very light red and curly, like Avery – only the other girl’s was brown, and darker. ‘Samson’ was either a nickname, or his parents were prescient: he was huge, with long dark hair and large bushy eyebrows. Connor was the only redhead among the guys, but curiously tanned rather than pale or freckly. Daywalker, I thought with a silent smile. Carrie was short and softer-featured – or maybe just looked it next to Olivia – with a very short, dark pixie hairdo.

All of them nodded or said ‘hey’. “Hi,” I greeted all of them with a general wave.

Most then went back to their normal conversation, which gave me time to look around. The house we were standing in was large, open, and very nice. I had no idea who it belonged to, as there were no photos on the walls or anything.

“Who lives here?” I asked Holly.

She indicated at the twins. “Those two. Old money. Their parents were rich, and the twins are so smart they’ve managed to keep it all. We usually meet here before going into town.”

‘Into town’, I assumed, was a euphemism for the Masquerade. “I see.”

Just then Alec looked at his wristwatch and gave a loud whistle though his fingers. Every head swivelled in his direction, including mine.

“I’m thinking,” he called, looking at his watch very obviously, “that it’s time to go.”

Everyone moved, now, and I followed Holly like a shadow. Outside, cars were starting with loud revs and headlights cast long, dark shadows.

“Come on,” she told me, leading me back to Alec’s car. “It’s time to go.”

Avery and Connor followed us as well. The three girls sat in the backseat, me in the middle, and the two guys got the front.

“What is this shit?” Connor asked, twiddling the volume dial on the stereo as something very like The Killers played.

Alec shrugged and no one else objected when he rifled through CDs kept in the glove compartment. After going through them twice he picked one and slid it into the CD slot.

“You like Machine Head?” he asked me with a leer, clearly expecting confusion.

Instead I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah. They’re alright.”

He looked mildly impressed and so Burn My Eyes blasted from the stereo the entire way into town. It made conversation sort of limited.

About twenty minutes later we turned into an underground carpark, underneath what looked like an office building. I looked around curiously at the more or less deserted concrete space.

“Is this it?” I asked, slightly confused.

Holly shook her head and smiled a little. “Definitely not.”

The others began to talk about topics unfamiliar to me – mainly people I knew nothing about. Once or twice a vaguely familiar name cropped up but otherwise I was in the dark.

Alec drove us as close as possible to what looked like an elevator and turned off the car. We got out and my nervousness returned with a vengeance. What was I doing here, again?

Connor pressed a button and almost instantly the doors opened to reveal what should have been an elevator. Instead the others all stepped forward onto what was just a moving platform, with no walls or roof. Tentatively, I followed them.

At once the platform began to descend, making me scared for my balance. It dropped a floor and brought us to another opening, with elevator doors just like the carpark.

This time it was Holly who put her finger on the button to open the doors. She turned to me, clearly noticing my nerves.

“Ready?” she asked.

No, I wanted to say. Absolutely not. But instead I nodded.

“Great,” she said, pressing it in. The doors swung open and so did my mouth.

Avery smiled and stepped forward. “Welcome to the Masquerade.”