The house party was rife with the laughter and howls of intoxicated teens.
Mira didn’t know how they could live their lives like this, so unaware and oblivious to everything around them. She wondered how they dealt with the fact that many of them likely wouldn’t remember the events of the night when they woke up the next day. Then it occurred to her what group of people she was thinking about and that concern went right out the window.
These people—or at least, a specific group of people—didn’t deserve her thoughts. Didn’t deserve her pity.
They deserved something far different. And far more painful.
Entering the party was easy; the taller boy stationed in a chair at the front door was already half asleep from the amount of liquor he consumed and was far too tipsy to check who he was letting through the front door. So much for a disguise, Mira had thought, squeezing through the doorway and down one of the halls. They could have done away with the disguises and just come without the glam and the show. It just wouldn’t have been as fun, and for Mira, that was half of the thrill.
Beneath her feet, the wood floor vibrated with the pounding of a bass blaring from a chorus of speakers. It made Mira’s head ache both from pain and the knowledge that trying to give any directive to her friends, who shuffled in beside her on either side like a set of guards, would be hard. Nonetheless, she compensated by motioning for them to huddle up.
“The noise is insane!” cried Janie from beneath her deer mask.
“Forget the noise,” Thalia shouted, readjusting her own face cover, “have you seen the number of kids here? I’m shocked the house isn’t falling apart.”
“Welcome to your average house party,” mused Callie. “Purposefully designed to be disorienting as hell for everyone involved.”
“Then we’ll just have to use that to our advantage,” Mira said, leading her group towards an open space in the kitchen. It wasn’t so much “open” as it was less crowded, but it was quiet enough where neither girl had to shout at the top of her lungs to so much as speak with one another. “If everyone here is too delirious to even notice us here,” she went on, “then it’ll make ruining this whole party far easier.”
The other girls nodded. Callie motioned to somewhere behind them with her head. “On the way here, we passed the staircase going down into the basement. The power cords are down there in the boiler room, but I don’t know if you’ll find anything…unsightly down there.” When neither Thalia, Janie, nor Mira said anything, Callie only shrugged, fluffing up her hair. “What?” she said. “It’s not wrong. I’ve been to these parties before—not of my own choice, but I’ve heard the rumors and I’ve seen people go down there sometimes. They come back up looking pretty ruffled.”
“Is it a bad thing?” Janie asked. “If we go down there and there’s other people there, too?”
Callie only shrugged. “I doubt it. Besides, I don’t think they’d bother even paying attention to you. The lights don’t go higher than a low dim, so that should make it pretty easy for you two to get where you need to and wait for the right time.”
Thalia lifted a wrist, shaking it side to side so that the fabric of her sleeve slid down her arm to reveal the thin watch she had strapped to her wrist. “Trust me,” she said, “as long as I can see the time, I don’t care what other people are doing around me.”
Mira stood up straighter with her hands behind her back, unable to help the vindictive smile. “Good.” Then she focused her attention on the hallway that they came from. “Did anyone get eyes on Bentley, too, while we’re at it?”
All three girls shook their heads, to Mira’s disappointment. She’d been hoping to make this quick, but it seemed Bentley wanted to make that particular thing difficult. She couldn’t help her eye roll, even as Thalia hit her a little too hard on the shoulder.
“Focus, Mira,” she said.
“I am focused, Lia. On one particular goal concerning one particular boy.”
“And we’ll get there. Remember, it’s not just him we’re fucking this over for. Every other jock and preppy kid at this party is gonna hate us for this, too.”
“Only if they knew it was us. And with the masks on our face, how will any of the unimportant people know who we are?.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Y’know, now I understand why the other Peppers used to call you Firecracker.”
Mira couldn’t care less what the Peppers thought of her in either the present or the past. What she did care about was finding her targets. “Stay close,” she said. “We’re gonna squeeze through this crowd to find our two main targets. Callie, you’re okay handling Jules and keeping her distracted?”
“I’ve never been more excited for a job in my life. And once we find Jules, we’re guaranteed to find Bentley.”
Perfect, Mira thought as she motioned for the group to return into the deafening realm of music. She pinned her arms to the side, shuffling through the packed space of teens, majority of whom were too enthralled with their drinks and the noise to pay much mind. If this were any other scenario, perhaps with only sound and no intoxicating elements, Mira thought she could enjoy a place like this. But the presence of the beer (which Mira knew was cheap just by looking at the glasses) was enough to repel that thought completely.
Heavens, the mere scent of it all was overpowering. Mira stepped carefully through the sea of bodies, holding her breath as though the intoxication were something she could catch. An airborne sickness transferred from one to another by smell alone.
Short as she was, Mira couldn’t tell where or who anyone was. It was the whole point of the party, but it irritated her and made her antsy. She led her little entourage to a more spacious part of the main living room with an eye on the basement door and another towards the front of the house, swapping between the two and ignoring the muttered, inaudible whispers from Janie who made her way beside her.
Mira bounced from side to side. What if the trouble twins weren’t here? What if they were in another section of the house? What if, what if, what if—
“Mirabellis,” screamed Janie into her ear over the music. “Two o’clock.”
Sure enough, when Mira looked towards her right, there was a hyena mask bobbing through the crowd, pausing in front of a taller partygoer with a mask that vaguely resembled a wolf or some kind of shaggy dog.
Her heartbeat hammered in her head so hard, she felt it in her throat. The music in the room was too loud and the bass underneath her feet was a second pulse.
Jules.
Which meant Bentley wasn’t too far behind.
“Where the fuck is the other one?!” Mira shouted back, but Janie only shrugged.
A tap on her left startled her.
“Basement door,” Callie said, pointing.
Time stopped, all of the sound in the room vanishing to dull background noise as the door to the basement swung open. There was the second hyena mask stumbling onto the landing, followed shortly by a petite young girl with antlers on her head—some kind of deer, Mira figured. She watched from across the room as Bentley lifted the mask off his face just long enough to shout something to another kid.
In that moment, Mira latched onto the memory of the watchtower.
The cocky grin of knowing he’d won a game Mira didn’t know she was playing, the satisfaction that leaked from it.
Fury burned through her.
Little did he know that those roles were going to be reversed.
I can see you, you bastard, she thought, watching Bentley from her spot in the living room.
“Kill the lights,” Mira said, nudging Thalia and Janie. “Wait for them to realize, then rat them out.” The two girls nodded, pulled their masks snuggly over their faces and squeezed through the crowd, disappearing into the ocean of drunken teens. She looped her arm into Callie’s, laser-focused on pushing through a different side of the mass of people only to lightly push the taller girl into Jules’ direction.
Callie left her willingly, but not without grazing Mira’s back in a way that made her shiver. They locked eyes briefly, the message in it crystal clear.
Make them pay.
Mira was going to make them do more than pay. If things went well, she was going to make them beg.
Making her way towards Bentley was easy. He had made his way towards the inner part of the crowd, surfing and scanning for another to notch into his bedpost and his height, along with his intoxicated stance, made him stick out like a sore thumb, even with the hyena mask he used to blend in.
There were many ways a person could mask. Mira didn’t need a veil over her head as much as she needed a memory of who she once was and use that as her shield instead.
Her fingers danced along Bentley’s arm, grabbing his attention almost immediately and when he looked at her, bleary-eyed behind the thin, fox-like snout, Mira was grateful for the plastic over her own face. Bentley couldn’t see her. Not in the way she could see him, crystal clear even with the lights and the noise and the stupid mask over his eyes that couldn’t cover the smile on his face.
She would hate herself for this later and maybe spend a good deal of time scrubbing her mouth with soap, but Mira leaned forward, close to his ear, whispering siren sweet compliments, all the while pairing it with teasing touches.
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You throw a lovely party.
It’s a shame I can’t hear anything you’re saying to me over the music.
Where do you have that’s far less noisy?
Bentley raised a brow, smirking something crooked, something devious. He offered a hand like a prince and Mira took it, tilting her head with a mischievous smile and, the second Bentley turned away, replaced it with something dangerous. A few times, she reached down to pat her boot, pressing cold metal against her jeans.
They walked up the front steps, towards the second floor. Mira’s head rang in the absence of music, a dull persistent bell in her ears. It was the mining sirens in her head, angry and destructive. Bentley’s words were drowned out by the commotion. He was talking to her, saying something as he led her down one hallway and into the doorway of a room, but Mira wasn’t listening. She was too focused on assessing her boxing ring, taking specific notice of the open window in the room, the rickety bed frame in the corner and a worn out writing desk opposite it.
Then there was a click and Bentley was beside her, pushing a hand into her shoulder to press her against a wall. Berry sweet wine was present in his breath, curdling Mira’s stomach. Just as he went to press a kiss to her check, Mira made a swift motion against his collarbone and twirled him into her spot against the wall. He seemed to be enjoying the display of dominance and opened his mouth, presumably to confirm that suspicion.
Before he could do so much as breathe, Mira had the scissors from her boot and placed the tip of the closed metal shears against his cheekbone. Bentley went rigid. Mira grinned. It was so satisfying, watching the color drain out of his face. Oh, she’d counted down the days for this moment. Waited so long for the day to enact vengeance.
“What kind of joke is this?” he asked.
Mira cocked her head to the side, teasingly lifting the mask off Bentley’s face. “Oh, there’s no joke,” she said, sliding the blunt end of the metal down his cheek. “This is your retribution. One you owe me.”
“The hell do you mean I owe you? I don’t know who you are. You could be a coward for all I know and not even mean it.”
“Trust me when I tell you I’m no coward.”
“You’d take that disguise off if that were the case. Big talk, little game,” he taunted with a tut. Somehow, he still managed to be a prick while he was drunk off his ass. “Actually pathetic.”
Mira tipped her mask up with her free hand, just enough so that her eyes were exposed. “Don’t play dumb, Bentley,” she said sweetly. “After all, you of all people should have known I’d figure out a way to settle the score after the shit you pulled at the watchtower.”
It took the boy a minute to process through his drunken haze, but once recognition settled in his eyes, Bentley lunged towards her. Mira shoved him back, leaning in hard on his collarbone. The wall shuddered behind the force. Picture frames swayed dangerously back and forth. The metal shears flipped open, the metal edge of one grazing Bentley’s chin. No fear showed in his face, only bitter hatred and while Mira would have preferred seeing him afraid for once, she could make do with being despised.
Better that neither of them lie to each other.
Mira pushed hard against his face; blood welled as metal pierced skin. She clapped a hand over Bentley’s mouth to keep his screams at bay. He seized her by the wrist and twisted—hard. Searing pain shot through to her fingertips and she yelped dropping the scissor. It clattered on the wood floor as Bentley rammed the side of his foot into her ankle, practically stepping on the bone.
The force yanked a scream from her throat and he advanced further, pushing her back with enough space to ram a fist into her cheek. Bass and treble from the music below shook the ground beneath Mira’s feet. Her vision swam in and out, stars cluttering her sight. They obscured the view of Bentley coming from an angle, snagging her by the shoulders. He dug his fingers into her shoulder blades.
Anger drove Mira through the agony in her back. She drove a knee up into his groin, freeing herself from his grip. Bentley buckled from the pain and groaned, the sound morphin to a feral growl, not so dissimilar from a noise she would have expected from a wild animal.
How fitting, she thought, reaching towards the discarded metal on the floor, for two people dressed like animals to behave like them. It wouldn’t be too far off from what her peers already thought of her as. A vicious girl with an equally monstrous disposition. A girl who carried anger and spite in her fists.
So why not?
Why not be the lion she masqueraded as?
Mira slid back once the handle was hers and ducked as Bentley aimed a hook towards her temple. She popped up and swiped the closed scissors at him, forcing him back against a desk until she was close enough to pin him and drive the point of it into his arm. He caught her by the wrist and held her in place.
“You’re a maniac,” hissed Bentley through gritted teeth.
“Says the one who torments other kids for fun,” Mira spat back, leaning in.
“At least I don’t threaten people with knives and scissors in their face!”
“No, of course not. You prefer a psychological kind of suffering.” Mira pressed herself further into him, skimming his mask with the tip of the scissors. His arm shook holding her back, but she pressed on. “You’re going to regret putting my brother in the hospital—you and the rest of your posse.”
Bentley frowned. He dropped to the floor and let her go, the scissors’ point driving into the desk. With a laugh that bordered on a shocked huff of air, he held out his arms with disbelief. “That’s what this is about? You crashed my party because of a ghost?”
The statement alone made Mira see red. She swung aimlessly with the scissors, slashing at air. Lights flickered angrily above her as though dissatisfied with her aim. Bentley sidestepped at the same time Mira lunged, dropping the scissors to focus drawing him back by a sleeve. Once she had hold of him, she swung her other fist into his cheekbone.
Bentley staggered, stunned.
Meanwhile, the overhead lights flickered more aggressively then died.
So did all the other sounds in the house. The floor no longer trembled. Music no longer blared. Only terrified screams of intoxicated teens reverberated through the house.
It took Mira a second or two to adjust her eyes in the poor lighting. She could make out the static of Bentley’s frame and, based on how quickly his blurred form moved, Mira could tell he was disoriented.
Payback time.
She took him by surprise, grabbing one of his hands by his four fingers. A sharp twist, a crack, and a scream were all Mira needed to know she’d succeeded. Mira went on, forgetting about the casted off scissors on the floor and aiming only relentless punches and kicks and stomps. Each hit was calculated; not enough to cause permanent damage, though every part of her wanted to. Just enough to incapacitate. After all, Mira wanted Bentley awake and aware enough to reap what he sowed.
Fighting aimlessly in the dark got her a sucker punch to the jaw she didn’t see coming and another blow straight to her chest in retaliation. Wind flew from her lungs and she staggered back, just enough to come into contact with a desk. She gripped the edge hard, breathing heavily with a roaring in her ears that told her Keep going, make it worse. In truth, she wanted to. It was very easy to, considering the advantage she had in the dark. But what good would it do for a lesson to go forgotten? A punishment to go unremembered? No, she wanted Bentley to have this in his mind whenever he saw her in the halls or on the streets of town.
Mira paused, the sound of panting the only noise in the room. Based on the static she could see, Bentley was pressed against what she assumed to be a bed, groaning. Most of the noises were muffled by sheets and if he was saying anything at all, it was drowned out by the loud, ear-piercing shriek of sirens.
Alarm spurred Mira to the window. She pushed it open and craned her head out to see three carriages pulled by sprinting draft horses, their black flowing manes dancing with their stride. Snow scattered with their steps, minimally clearing a path for the wagons attached to them. Bright yellow lights pulsed from the tops of the carriages, alternating in time with a silver one that shined after. Kids scrambled off of the front porch from what Mira could see, running in droves to evade authorities.
It worked. Janie and Thalia followed through.
In her own head, she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her or realize she was being attacked until she felt the edge of a shoe slide down her ankle. Mira yelped and a hand flew over her mouth, shoving her into the edge of the window frame. It reeked of dried alcohol and, based on the potent smell of it, Bentley had his face inches from her. The outline of his mask surrounded his face.
“You’re going to fucking pay for this, Arbesque,” he snarled. “I will make your life a nightmare.”
Mira clamped his wrist in both hands, digging in on a pressure point. The boy’s knee folded and he hit the ground like a brick. She kept pushing until he screamed, satisfying the violent edge in her head. “No,” she said, “you won’t. Because you, your sister, and whoever else helped you organize this are getting what you deserve for fucking over my family for shits and giggles. But what do you care? You never have and never will. You get no sympathy from me.”
She kicked Bentley away with her good foot, then hoisted herself up onto the windowsill. With a breath, Mira pulled the lion mask over her face, took one last glance towards the front of the house, and leapt.
Hard snow collided with her feet. Mira was hoping the snow would still be feathery and soft like the layer the horses kicked up. She was disheartened to learn that only a thin layer of it was cushiony and the rest was a mixture of semi-hardened slush. Pain bolted up her left shin all the way to her knee. Mira held her breath, sucking in air to let it out in a whimper. She should’ve rolled. Tucked. Done something. Heavens, she should have prepared for the landing to be less than graceful.
Mira crawled on her hands and knees towards the back most part of the house, furthest away from the authorities at the front. She tried to be quick so that, if Bentley did decide to follow her, she’d be well and gone before he went after her.
Who was she kidding? Bentley was intoxicated as hell and not very inclined towards fighting. If he did follow her, she doubted he’d be proactive in preventing fall injuries.
Cold seeped into her jeans and skin. Snow scattered in her boots, freezing her legs and making the pain in her ankle far worse. It morphed into a slicing pain now and Mira couldn’t tell if the injury was serious or if the cold was exacerbating the pain. She’d sprained her ankles before but they’d never felt like this.
Star spots scattered in her field of vision. Pain made her dizzy and numb. Her stomach fought back nausea. Mira felt every nerve in her body go cold and not because she was sitting in snow.
Hell, it hurt. It hurt so much.
“Where the hell did she end up?”
Mira forced herself in the present, gripping onto freezing snow. If she kept still, the voice wouldn’t notice her.
“I don’t know,” answered another voice, distinctly higher pitched and stringent. “Did you see her run out of the house with everyone else?”
“In the human stampede? Jane, I’m lucky we were able to make it out of the back. Wherever Callie wants to go is her business. Frankly, I’m glad we’re done with her after this year.”
Mira knew those voices. She knew those girls.
In a frenzy, she crawled her way through the snow in the direction of the chatter, words tearing from her throat. “Lia! Jane!”
“Mirabel!?” cried the higher pitched voice she recognized now as Janie. “Oh, shit—Thalia! This way!”
Snow crunched, gradually increasing in volume as the other two girls approached, chittering about over one another. Thalia issued orders (“Pick her up! Get an arm under her and lift!”) as Janie fretted with each passing second (“Shit. Are you okay? How did you get out here?!”). Eventually the noise became too much and she was beginning to understand why her brother hated being stuck between too much conversation.
“I jumped and fell,” Mira said, biting back a gasp of pain as her friends pulled her to her feet. “Bring me to your mom’s house, Thalia.”
“Clinic is closer,” Thalia replied, her voice low.
“And to get there we have to pass the authorities you both called.”
“You’re welcome,” Janie said.
“Plus,” Mira went on, “I don’t want your mom worrying about a sprain when she has other things to attend to.”
“She’ll assess you when she goes on break anyway. She comes home for those.”
“Fine by me. So long as we’re not at the clinic.”
Thalia shrugged and said nothing. Janie, however, spoke in hushed whispers too quickly for Mira to grasp. At this point, she didn’t much care; Mira let her head fall on Thalia’s shoulder as her vision tunneled. She pushed her forehead into the girl, who gingerly tapped her temple against the side of Mira’s head. Simple solidarity. It was such a small gesture, miniscule in the grand scheme of things, but it meant the world.
Pain continued to pulsate in her left ankle, sharp and debilitating. Mira stumbled a few times in the snow, saved only by the grip her friends had on her arms. Mira couldn’t tell how much progress they’d made walking—if they made any significant progress at all. What she did know was that her senses were starting to play tricks on her. At some point, she could’ve sworn she’d heard the flutter of nearby wings from a flock of birds followed by a giggle.
Mira closed her eyes. Nausea made her stomach flutter from the ache in her bone and she must have done something or said something because she felt herself stop as Thalia and Janie paused. They cupped her knees and, after some struggle, lifted her in a joint effort, their voices little more than a passing breeze. The urge to sleep tugged hard at her and when Mira could no longer keep it at bay, allowed herself to do so.
As she did, something tickled the back of her brain while she drifted. Another voice, this one tinny like the sound of ringing metal laced with a smile, chittered in her dreams.
“Well done, my dear nice,” it trilled. “Well done.”