NOVEL NEXT Chapter 1: One Day Off
19th of Inandyl - 3rd Serrin
The midday bell woke Calas with a start. He had a moment of panic before he dropped his head back on the pillow. It's Serrin, he reminded himself. There would be no classes and no training sessions to oversee. He took a deep, relieved breath and let it out slowly, as he pushed back the longer strands of coal dark hair away from his gold eyes.
Bright sunlight streamed through his windows, but he knew it was deceptively chilly outside the comfort of his blankets. He groaned at the cold climate of the Midnight Court. Less than two years here was not enough to become acclimated to the bitter, frosty mountain air before the warmth of Verdalune came. Especially since he much preferred the warmer climate of his homeland of Casian to the far southwest.
He frowned at the thought of home. Calas liked the people at Court much better than most he encountered in Horora. Hells, he liked more people here than most of his own family. Though he doubted that the feeling was mutual. Him being a part of the Duskwood Syndicate and all.
It's not like he could hide the fact that he was a part of the organization, either. If his own damned name didn't give it away, all of the bold, animal tattoos that covered most of his upper body were a dead give away. Try as he might, even in the cold months, they were difficult to cover completely. The tattoos were a huge flag to anyone who knew the slightest bit about the economic power struggles that took place in Horora, which to be fair, wasn't exactly a big secret.
Calas felt the ink dark image of the snake tattoo coil up around his left arm to the back of his neck. An eye twitched at the mana-filled ink crawling along just under his skin, but he refrained easily from itching at it. When the images started to drift and move on their own, he knew it meant they were restless, or more accurately, he was restless.
Reluctantly, he got out of bed and dressed for the day, or what was left of it. On the way to the wardrobe, his mask from last night caught his eye on his desk where he had left it. The hollow eyes of the worn ivory skull adorned with a stag's antlers and sharp predator's teeth stared back at him. The skull of the creature known as a wendigo, an ancient, shape-changing beast, was thankfully a lesser known symbol. It was the same shape as another mark he bore that had nothing to do with his family's magical ink.
He turned away from the thing, his awareness shifted to the same pattern on his ribs. It was cold and inert and he breathed easier for it while he felt the panther's tail curl around it. With any luck, the Paragon, a god, known as Orendell would leave him be today. It was his one day off and he really didn't feel up to dealing with the agony that came from the so-called lessons the being of power usually bestowed upon him.
No, Calas was too tired and hungry to handle the twisting of his form into a new shape right now. He would much rather think about the reason he was so tired in the first place on his way to the Great Hall to fill his stomach. And that was exactly what he did.
The Great Hall was a brisk ten minute walk from the Sanctum in which all the Vodalysa Coven called their home. It left him plenty of time to recount every amazing thing that happened at the Masquerade from the night before. And it all started with a crow. A Lady Crow to be exact.
It was her oddly stealthy grace that got his attention as she flitted through the groups of milling scribes and party-goers in a blur of dark feathers and swirling skirts. Her movements seemed so familiar that they caught Calas by surprise, especially when he placed where he recognized the pattern of her movement from.
Like every other street urchin he had encountered in his youth in Horora, the Lady Crow sneaked unnoticed to the orchestra. Well, mostly unnoticed. Those muted blond locks were easy to track once he knew where to look.
Calas didn't even realize he had followed her until she had stopped. He should have cursed all those feral instincts inside him then, but he hadn't. Instead he struck up a conversation, which, all considered, went quite well. Except for the part where she fled him.
The urge to pursue her was too strong to ignore, but it all worked out in the end, he supposed. One dance turned into a dozen or so, Calas lost count around the fifth, and then stargazed to top it all off. It was all rather, well, enchanting as the name of the Enchanted Masquerade suggested.
He frowned as he neared the Great Hall. He might have gotten a little carried away, now that he thought about it: the dip, the kiss on her hand, and that near-kiss on the roof of the gazebo. In truth, he didn't know if he should feel guilty for any of that.
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It's not like she knew who he was, or vice versa. Not really. The enchantment on the masks made it impossible. It was one night. It was fun. Calas should have been grateful that it happened at all. Because like his leisurely time here at Court, moments like that were fleeting.
Damn, I should have fucking kissed her!
He growled at himself about it through most of his meal until he picked up an unfamiliar scent close by. The wolf under his skin prompted the warning and Calas took comfort in the fact that he never regretted keeping this piece of magic active at all times. The fragrance of roses and sulfur made him look up from the meal in front of him.
He was startled by the approach of a purple skinned Infernai with dark, curled horns and long, jet black hair. Her posture and gait made his eyes drift for a second to her ample curves and plunging neckline, but he made a point of studying her face instead.
"You're Calas, right? Calas Duskwood." She said it like she already knew the answer.
This struck Calas as odd for a few reasons. The first and foremost being that she had approached him at all. If she already knew who he was, why ask? Not only did this fine creature deign to know who he was, but either didn't know or didn't care about the stigma his surname carried.
Beyond that, while his family was one reason to loathe Calas by association, it wasn't the only reason that most kept their distance. He heard the rumors around Court about himself and most of them were a little too close to the truth for his liking.
He turned his head toward her, narrowing his eyes as he responded slowly, "Depends. Who wants to know?"
She gave him a toothy grin, her fanged canines easily visible. "I'm Vesa and we have some mutual friends." His brows furrowed with alarm. Friends? I think we have very different definitions of that word, miss.
"Such as?" He kept his tone neutral, separating his thoughts from his voice.
"You are a staffer with Fara, for one." Vesa went on in a cheerful tone.
"You mean, Calas is a staffer with Fara." That logic trap was a bit too obvious and Calas leaned back in his seat, arms folded. It gave him a better view of Vesa to read her body language. Among other things.
"Yes," the devilish female replied slowly. She looked about Calas' own age, late teens or early twenties, he figured as she took the seat next to him. It ruined the view. Vesa then fixed her gaze on him with a sickeningly innocent posture, her folded hands under her chin.
"Fara is my roommate," she started and a piece of the puzzle fell into place.
"And she told me all about this guy, Calas, that she knows. Dark skin, darker hair, a bunch of Syndicate tattoos, broods constantly." She made a show of straining her neck to catch a glimpse at the wolf head that peeked out from the collar on Calas' long-sleeved shirt. "You seemed to fit the description, is all."
Fara, you mangy cat, he thought with a carefully blank expression, what plot have you schemed up for me this time? It better not be something like that love triangle you promoted.
"That seems fair, except for the brooding part."
"You were so brooding."
Calas gave her a flat look, his patience started to wear a little thin at that comment. "And if I were Calas Duskwood?"
Vesa leaned back in her own chair as she examined her sharp, black nails. "She said I should invite you to my birthday get-together on Isharil." She paused for a moment, locking her deep violet eyes with his before she added, "That is, if you truly are Calas Duskwood."
A birthday party? People still had those at their age? And this succubus wanted him to come to it? If it wasn't already suspicious that Fara, the rumor monger, was involved somehow, this piece just took the cake. It made Calas want to laugh, but he held most of that reaction to himself.
Instead he only chuckled and his smile showed teeth of his own. "Yeah, I guess I am that guy." He lifted his hand in a surrendering gesture. "You got me."
"So you'll come." It didn't sound like a question and the bold manner took him aback a bit. The quick implication of his agreement was alarming and tripped a whole lot of instinctual wires inside him.
He couldn't help but wonder what Fara's game was. It had to be the crafty Panthara girl pulling the strings on her roommate. But why would this Vesa go along with it and what was the goal? To get him to go to a party? That seemed lame and he knew Fara better than to assume it was all harmless. He couldn't put his finger on the motivation though and it seemed that the only logical way to find out, would be to spring her very obvious trap.
"Sure, Vesa," Calas said cooly. "What time?"
"An hour before midday bell." She grinned at him openly, that innocent pose coming back as she leaned in again.
"That is a weird time. Why not at the midday bell?" Calas gave her a questioning look.
"At least 30 minutes before, then." She retorted, as if they were negotiating.
"Yeah, okay. Before the midday bell," he chuckled awkwardly at her strange response.
"Well before." Vesa stressed the word and went so far as to point a finger toward him for emphasis. The gesture broke the innocent pose and revealed a bit of the demon that her heritage suggested.
His eyes narrowed at her finger, but he let out a sigh. He would have to play along with this hairball-brained scheme if he wanted to know what this was all about. It was definitely a trap of some kind. Calas didn't know which kind and for some reason, that bothered him.
He shook his head, resigned to the fact that he will have to be on his guard. "Fine. Well before." He agreed in a strained tone, a bit of his frustration bleeding through.
With his agreement confirmed, Vesa promptly stood with a wink and a smile for Calas. "Perfect! Can't wait to see you then!"
Calas only watched wordlessly as she chassed away from him. This time though, he did not avert his eyes so quickly as before. He took a moment to appreciate the way her hooves made her tail swish. Only a moment, before finishing his lunch and coming up with his own theories as to what this party would have in store for him.