Laurel's lamp and the mist receded. His soul was now hers.
My stomach churned painfully, threatening to expel what little I had eaten
for lunch.
I thought of my own lamp just then.
And the soul…
A violent shudder shook my body.
No, my lamp was lost. Stolen. I couldn’t think about that, or everything I
had lost when it was taken from me without completely spiraling into
depression. It was better to think of nothing at all.
I listened to conversation continue around me. A few people reached
across the table to grab another donut, and someone in the distance poured
another cup of coffee. The person beside me, Brad something, asked the table
if we could smell the fire wafting off of him. Fire. As if that actually had a
smell. When someone asked him what the fire was from, his lips curled
wickedly.
“Not even family is immune to the consequences of our deals.”
Just another day in the life of a Genie. Another day in the dissonant chaos
that was my reality.
SIX
Z
“I f I die...this right here would be the reason why it’s worth it,” I
said, flopping onto the spacious bed. It looked as if it could easily
fit ten people - which I supposed was the point, given the nature of
most Nightmares. Exclusivity only existed between mates, and even then, it
was a rarity. I supposed Nightmares were like people in that way. They
craved companionship, if not necessarily love.
“Don’t be dramatic Z,” Mali said, and I prepared myself for her to launch
into a speech on how I’m not going to die. Instead, she said, “The fridge is
ten times better than the bed. See? Fresh O-negative blood.”
“Well thanks She-Who-Has-So-Little-Faith-In-Me,” I said dryly, and
Mali flashed me a grin.
“Don’t worry. Diego will whisk us out of here before you can die. Right
Diego? Diego? Diego!” Mali pinched his ear, and he turned from where he
was wistfully surveying the walk-in shower, visible through the opened
bathroom door.
“It massages your ass,” he whispered dreamily. Mali rolled her eyes, a
standard reaction for dealing with both Diego and me.
“You know who else will massage your ass? Z. If she lives.”
“Yeah...no…that will be a hard pass by me.”
Mali turned to give me a look, as if she was shocked and slightly offended
by my refusal to give Diego an ass massage. After a moment of studying me,
she shook her head.
“Anyway, this is considered Z’s room, not Zara’s. We have rooms in the
servant quarters,” she said, and Diego glanced longingly at the shower.
“But…”
“Come on! We need to settle in.” As the two of them moved towards the
door, I remained sprawled across the bed. Mali turned on her heel when she
noticed I wasn’t following her, one hand going onto her hip. “Are you
coming?”
“I think I’m going to be Z tonight,” I drawled lazily. “This bed is comfy.”
Mali’s eye began to twitch.
“No. You’re supposed to be Zara when you’re not competing.”
“Well Zara wants to give Z a little loving.”
Diego’s brow furrowed, as if he was attempting to solve a difficult math
equation. Mali just rolled her eyes. Again. I imagined they would become
stuck like that if she kept it up.
“So Zara and Z…” Mali trailed off.
Diego said, “I am so confused right now.”
I would rather not explain the basics of masturbation to him, but if
someone had to take the fall...
With an exaggerated huff, Mali grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the
room.
Alone at last, I allowed my mind to wander.
For obvious reasons, I had the feeling that I was going to die. A human
had never won The Damning before. Hell, not even a woman had won
before. I didn’t want to think I was weaker than my competitors, but I knew
the truth. They had supernatural skills. I had a mean right-hook.
Could a human like me really last in a fight against a Nightmare? I was
no match for a Shifter’s strength, a Vampire's speed, or even a Mage’s spell.
Humans were the roadkill in this day and age. I could only hope that my
death would be semi-painless...and that I would be able to take out a few
Nightmares before my time came.
I stretched my taut muscles. The car ride had been grueling, and my body
ached. I glanced longingly at the shower before turning towards my closed
bedroom door.
Zara would indulge herself in a hot bubble bath.
But Z? She would assess the situation. How many rooms? How many
exits? How many competitors? I was already at a disadvantage; I couldn’t
afford to go into this competition blind. Z would act like she actually had her
shit together so people would stop worrying over her eventual demise.
Rolling out of bed, I tentatively touched my necklace. I debated whether
or not I should dress as the assassin but quickly decided against it. If people
only thought of me as Zara, a poor, defenseless Assistant, I would be less of a
target. Granted, women, particularly human women, were always viewed as
prey by Nightmares, but I hoped being at the Capital would quell such crude
behavior. It was a chance I had to take to keep my identity a secret.
The lady who had brought us here had explained that all of the
competitors would be spread out throughout the numerous halls and buildings
that made up the Capital. I couldn’t understand why they felt the need to
separate us, though I figured it was to lessen the number of fights that broke
out.
A hundred deadly creatures.
A hundred strong personalities.
We were considered the meanest, nastiest, scariest people that the country
had to offer.
I snorted. And then there was me. Blond-haired, blue-eyed, and a few
inches over five foot. I looked more likely to cuddle you to death than to
strangle you.
Looks could be deceiving.
I fucking loved it when they underestimated the little guy - when they
underestimated me.
The hallway was empty as I stepped through the doorway. The light here
was sparse, as if they hadn’t invested in as many lightbulbs as they should’ve.
I glanced in one direction where I knew the entrance to be, and then down the
opposite hall.
I had already surveyed the area between my room and the front door
when I had been led here. It seemed to be rooms of various sizes, none of
them occupied if the noise-level, or lack thereof, was any indication.
Smoothing down my black dress, I followed the flowered carpeting down
a long hallway. That, too, consisted of nothing but empty rooms. I had
knocked on a few of the doors to be certain, but no one had answered.
Strange.
It was only after I made two rights and a left that I began to hear excited
chatter. My fellow competitors, perhaps?
But no. All of the voices sounded feminine. Happy. It wasn’t the type of
emotion you would expect people to feel before their inevitable death.
The slave - excuse me, servant - quarters? Again, those were suppose
d to
be on the opposite side of the Capital, down two flights of stairs.
A woman ran out of a room, nearly barreling into me. She didn’t pay me
any mind as she grabbed at her skirts and ran down the hallway. Her hair was
stylishly braided, and she wore a glorious gown that cost more than my entire
life savings.
What the hell?
I stared after her in confusion but couldn’t find it in me to care. If she
wasn’t a competitor then she wasn’t important.
“What are you doing?” A strident voice demanded. The voice belonged to
a gray-haired, stern-faced woman. She hurried from the direction the girl had
ran down, lips pursed and eyes calculating. “All of the girls are already in
place. Go!”
“I um…”
Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and propelled me into a large
ballroom. It was a beautiful room with three-tiered chandeliers and an
opulence nobody could even attempt to replicate in my poverty-stricken
hometown. Standing against the far wall were dozens of beautiful women.
All different colors, ages, heights…
All beautiful.
And all Nightmares.
Had I been wrong? Were these the competitors for The Damning? I
surveyed each made-up face and carefully constructed hairstyle. I knew my
brow was quirked in confusion, but I obediently stood in line between two
tall brunettes.
Both of their nostrils flared when I came close to them, identical
expressions of distaste marring their faces.
“Human,” one of them said snidely.
“Shifter,” I greeted.
What in the actual hell was happening?
Surely, I had missed a memo somewhere. This felt more like a beauty
pageant than an assassin competition. My hand instinctively clenched around
the knife handle I always kept up my sleeve. If this was a trick - or worse, a
trap - I would be prepared. For now, I had to remain as Zara Winters and see
where that would lead me.
“Ladies!” The woman who had led me here clapped her hands together.
The usual whisper and fidgets immediately settled down like a flame being
blown out. Each of the girls leaned forward expectantly. I, on the other hand,
was searching for any escape route.
“My name, as most of you know, is Mrs. Grinshaw. My assistant, Laura,
will be coming around with a potion I brewed. You guys will all be required
to drink it.”
Potion. She must’ve been a Mage, though I haven’t heard of one making
a potion in hundreds of years. It was too much work for them.
None of the girls looked scared by this revelation, but I felt my muscles
tense. The last thing I wanted to do was put an unknown substance into my
body. Hell to the no.
Casting a quick look in both directions, I saw that the only exit was the
door I had entered in. Across the ballroom.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
Perhaps if I explained the situation…
The assistant, Laura, stopped in front of me. In her hands, was a golden
chalice. Before I could even begin my improvised speech about how I was
nothing more than a little maid, my hand snapped forward and grabbed the
cup of its own accord. I felt as if I was a doll, incapable of moving myself
without the help of a puppeteer. My eyes narrowed on my traitorous limb
even as my lips parted to drink from the cup. Out of the corner of my eye, I
could see Mrs. Grinshaw moving her own arm in tandem with mine.
The liquid was bitter, but not entirely unpleasant. It felt warm where it
tickled the back of my throat.
Glowering, I handed the chalice back to Laura and crossed my arms over
my chest.
“Fucking Mages,” I said at last.
Every head whipped in my direction. Some held amused expressions
while others looked positively livid.
“What the hell? I didn’t mean to say that aloud!”
Mrs. Grinshaw smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant one, all sharp teeth and
crooked edges.
“That’s the point of the potion, my dear. It lowers inhibitions. Makes you
speak your mind.”
“Well fuck,” I cursed, and a few of the girls gasped.
Really? Have they never heard someone swear before?
Pansies.
I must’ve spoken that aloud again, for the two Shifters on either side of
me stuck their noses into the air. It was this type of mentality I hated the most
with Nightmares. They acted as if they were creatures to be revered and
respect, so superior to little humans like me. They rode on fucking high
horses in order to justify their bigotry. Let me get something straight: no
horse was that high to condone such behavior. You couldn’t demand respect;
you had to earn it.
“Don’t worry. The spell should wear off soon,” Mrs. Grinshaw said with
a pointed look in my direction. In answer, I gave her the finger.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I want all of you ladies to remain very still. You will allow them to do
what they want with you. Is that understood?”
All of the girls nodded eagerly, obviously understanding what she was
referring to, but I felt my stomach twist unpleasantly.
I really did not like the sound of that.
And that was the second thing I hated about Nightmares: the assumption
that we would want to do anything and everything to please them. It wasn’t
just humans that received the grunt of this, but Nightmare females as well.
There were these defined gender roles that have only been reinforced over
sexually charged world where the female population was continually
dwindling. Fucking disgusting, if you asked me. It was one of the many
things I fought to fix in this male-dominated society.
Mrs. Grinshaw spoke some more - “this is the first stage” blah blah blah
“this doesn’t automatically mean you’re not a match” blah blah blah - but I
zoned her out. I had obviously walked into something I wasn’t supposed to.
Add into that my lower inhibitions? It was an ass kicking just waiting to
happen. As in, my ass being kicked. Painfully.
“...Lupe Shifter!” The name brought me out of my frantic thoughts. My
eyes turned towards the doorway Mrs. Grinshaw had indicated, even as all of
the other women broke into enthusiastic cheers.
The figure that entered was undeniably a Shifter. He was tall, nearly two
feet taller than me, and was built entirely of muscle. It appeared as though his
hand was larger than my entire head.
And I had a pretty damn big head.
Dark hair, short on the sides but longer on the top, showcased an arresting
face of chiseled cheekbones and light blue eyes. Dark stubble coated his
jawline. Even I could admit that he was handsome. But there was something
about him, something quiet and almost deadly in his apathetic gaze, that
caused my heart to clench in fear. A Shifter. The Shifter. He wasn’t the
Nightmare that had killed the man I loved, but he was still a monster. How
many defenseless people had he slaughtered? How many lives had been cut
short by his hand? The wrath of a Shifter was undeniable. I read a stor
y about
a man who had slaughtered his entire family, including his two young kids,
after his wife had forgotten to pick up milk from the grocery store.
This one, however, seemed almost bored as he walked towards the first
girl at the end of the line.
“Lupe,” she said dreamily, and I resisted the urge to gag. It was
unsurprisingly difficult given the whole lack-of-inhibition-thing I had going
on.
The man, Lupe apparently, paused in front of the woman who had
spoken. He leaned forward, eyes locked with hers, and sniffed her hair.
Sniffed. Her. Hair.
What the hell?
There was no way I was going to get sniffed by a damn Shifter. No way
in hell.
My nails dug into my palms as I attempted to calm my racing heart. Fear
and anger warred for dominance.
Lupe, expression impassive, made his way down the line of girls. Each
girl would smile at him seductively, but the second he would pass them, their
faces would fall. It was actually kind of comical.
When one girl broke into tears, I laughed sharply, quickly trying to
smother the sound with my fist. I obviously didn’t do a good job at it, if the
glares directed my way were any indication.
Lupe raised his head, eyes meeting mine, and I held his stare defiantly. I
could’ve sworn that his lip twitched, but that would’ve been impossible.
He was the Shifter prince. Evil.
He was evil.
I had to remember that, even if my body’s reaction towards him was
contradicting with what I knew to be true.
And, finally, he was standing in front of me.
“Look, I have to warn you that I didn’t shower today,” I said briskly. The
more I tried to stop myself from talking, the more I talked.
Damn Mages and their stupid potions.
“So you can just skip the whole sniff thing with me. For both our sakes.”
Lupe’s face was only inches from mine. I could see a splatter of freckles
across his nose and strands of auburn in his dark hair. He leaned forward, and
I braced myself.
“Do Shifters get mad if someone smells? Is that a thing? Because I
promise you, I would’ve showered if I knew I was going to be sniffed. Why
are you even sniffing me? And why am I the only one freaking out over
this?”
Before I could say anything else, he sniffed me.
And then he sniffed me again.
And again.
Something emitted from his chest, a sound that was barely audible.