“I will be dead and buried before you wear that to the social.”

Cornelius gave Dalton a hurt look as he pulled off his raincoat. He’d only been joking, but the look on his apprentice's face made it clear he believed Cornelius would try to wear an oversized raincoat to a high-end social event between supernatural nations.

“I was only kidding.”

Dalton's brown eyes narrowed.

“I find your lack of faith in my dressing abilities disturbing.”

“Prove me wrong.”

Cornelius lifted his nose. “I will.”

He already had a suit ready. He turned to his closet and pulled out the black suit. It wasn’t anything fancy, but that fit his public image better anyway.

Dalton eyed the suit but nodded.

“It’s glossy!” They glanced at Cookie. The hairy spider was about the size of a corgi and was currently resting on the ceiling. His many eyes focused on the suit.

Cornelius wasn’t entirely sure why the spiders had named themselves things like Cookie.

He understood why they chose different names since their true names were almost impossible to pronounce. But Cookie? Or Dog? He was starting to suspect they just named themselves after the first thing that caught their eye.

“It is very glossy, Cookie. It was made with infused threads. It makes it slightly easier for me to draw in magic from the environment with this on.”

Cookie danced on the ceiling, his many legs tapping out a quick rhythm. “Oooh! Magic fancy clothes!”

Cookie was young and had an insatiable curiosity that Cornelius appreciated.

“Magic indeed. They make Clan headquarters out of similar materials.”

The spider continued its jig.

Dalton grinned at the spider. “Hey, Cookie. Who wears better clothes, me or Cornelius?”

“Hey now,” Cornelius protested. “He’s young and doesn’t even wear clothes we can’t tak-“

“Dalton!”

His apprentice gave him a smug look. “I think he’s a great judge of fashion.”

Cornelius shook his head as the little traitor continued to dance on the ceiling. “Go get ready yourself. We leave in an hour.”

“You’re not going to try and wear the raincoat?”

Cornelius sighed. “No, Dalton. I promise I’m not going to take the raincoat!”

The young man nodded and sauntered his way to the door.

God help him with mouthy spiders and even mouthier apprentices

~<>~<>~

The social was being held at a place called the Dome. It was on the west side of town, tucked away by itself against the forest.

Blair had been surprised that such a large building had been constructed in a town as small as Silver Spruce, but that was probably naive of her at this point. It was a strange thing to build here, so of course, someone had gone and done it.

She took a left onto a lonely road. Her mother's van cruised ahead, and the rest of the greater Northwoods Pack were in the van behind her.

It wasn’t all of the Pack, of course. They had nearly a dozen other members with her father attending one of the fake summits.

Even with all the Pact's efforts to conceal the actual summit's location, Blair wasn’t sure if it would work. Hiding something with this many people attending was hard when so many spooks had supernatural hearing.

Alder shifted in the passenger seat, his green eyes flickering over the forest.

He’d looked like a cornered dog getting measurements, but he looked good in his new suit. He even had his hair lightly styled, much to his displeasure.

Laurel had done well.

He shifted and glanced up at her before turning back to the forest.

The silence was a little heavy. He had agreed to go, but…there was something in his eyes when he caved, a look she couldn’t place but didn’t like.

“So…what is the story behind the Dome?” Blair was only mildly interested. She just wanted to break the silence.

Alder shuffled, then scratched at his collar. Blair tried not to laugh. He didn’t take to suits easily iIt would seem.

“Some rich dude with more dosh than sense had it built as his pet project.” Alder snorted.

“I don’t know why he picked Silver Spruce or how he thought it would make enough money to sustain itself. While a multi-use building for rent isn’t a bad idea here, not one on that scale.”

The setting sun played across his features, casting half his face in shadow. He paused, gathering his thoughts.

Blair hadn’t been that interested in the Dome in particular, but she loved hearing Alder talk about the town. The way he lit up, his hands dancing as he explained some absurd detail that could only be true in a town like Silver Spruce.

He continued. “The guy didn’t even visit the build until after it was done. And when he finally visited the town…well, I don’t know what spook scared the hell out of him. But something here spooked him so bad that he left and didn’t want anything to do with the Dome.”

He chuckled. “I’m not even sure who owns it now, but they rent it out for whatever. Sports, social events, supernatural summits? Anything’s game.”

They took another turn, and the Dome came into view.

When Alder had called it the Dome, she’d been expecting a sports dome. Not…this.

The green and brown building stretched several stories up, its wood, and metal walls painted the same shades as the forest around it. Instead of a sports dome, it looked like one of those hexadecimal bubble houses, only on a massive scale. It had to be at least five stories tall. Its base stretched further than the bubble section, making it look like a marble placed over a square box.

“Huh.”

Alder nodded. “Yeah. I have no clue, either. But it’s isolated and big, so it’ll do.”

They parked in the mostly full parking lot and climbed out.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Blair scowled as her dark red dress restricted her legs slightly. It wasn’t enough to impede her walking, but it would be unusable in a fight. But Laurel had been insistent, and Blair hadn’t had the heart to fight her. If something happened, she would rip it.

Alder was staring at the cars with a bewildered look.

“You alright?”

He nodded, but it took him almost ten seconds to face her. “Yeah…it hadn’t really hit me until now, just how many spooks have moved in.”

He scanned the sea of vehicles again. He looked…lost.

“The town’s changing, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. And with the Pact here, and so many mages- I…”

“I’m scared, Blair.”

She opened her mouth, searching for the right words to say, but the others climbed out, and she snapped her mouth closed.

Alder's face slipped into an easy smile, but she could see the tightness around his eyes, could smell the swirl of emotions rolling off him.

Her mother and the rest of the Pack walked by. Blair waited for them to pass before falling into step with the back half.

Most of their older members were with her father since his fake summit was more likely to be attacked, so Blair was one of the strongest werewolves here. Being the rearguard was her duty.

Alder walked with her. Good, he was sticking to the plan. He needed to stay by their side the whole time; so long as he was with them, they could shunt off attention onto themselves.

They reached the front door, and a man with pale grey skin and proud features greeted them.

Blair wasn’t sure what he was, maybe an undead?

He didn’t smell of death, but some could hide the smell.

He bowed to them, then announced them to the room in a rich voice.

“The honored Northwoods.”

Plenty of eyes turned to them. She felt Alder tense next to her.

Blair sidestepped slightly, putting herself in front of him as she studied the room.

The room had a subtle floral scent, though she could smell fake turf beneath it.

The floor in front of them was covered in tables with shimmering cloths and sparkling pitchers. Mage lights sparkled above them, their colors shifting as she watched.

To the right was a long line of food tables piled high with delicacies that she could smell from the door.

The left and right walls had a stairwell leading above and below.

Looking past the fancy party atmosphere, she could see a sports field on the opposite side of the dome, its bright green turf standing out in sharp contrast to the opulence around them.

A band of vampires played in one corner, their violins dancing through the air.

And then there were the guests. Vampires lounged around tables, werewolves, mages, ghouls, and more wandered about, chatting and drinking and dancing under the colored lights.

It was nice, though far from the most impressive party she had been to. If you gave mages enough time, they could really work some wonders.

Alder gasped. Blair glanced at him, surprised to see the man drinking in their surroundings with a look of wonder.

Hmm. She was jaded to this, she supposed.

“Well, damn.” He left it at that.

The rest of the Pack spilled into the room, leaving her and Alder with Simon, Laurel, and Bobby.

They all exchanged a few glances before heading for the food table.

Blair continued to scan the room as they moved.

She was never a fan of these things, but you could never put it past the Pact to waste time. Even with summit days away, they were throwing a party.

She understood that it wasn’t just for fun. It was an excuse for members of the different Factions to mingle and scheme—especially members who wouldn’t normally be seen together.

But she still couldn’t stand the…nonchalance. The Pact was used to

and warlords and whatnot, but an actual threat hadn’t risen in nearly a century.

They had become complacent.

From everything she knew of the new Barrow King, he was not an enemy they should give time to plan, but that was precisely what they had done.

Several Factions hadn’t even taken note of him until he crushed both House Varl and Serein. And since they were the youngest and weakest of the great Houses, the Pact still wasn’t taking him as seriously as Blair thought they should.

He was only around five hundred years old, six hundred at the oldest. Strong, but not on the same level as the truly ancient monsters in the Pact.

So they viewed him as an upstart who had plundered powerful bloodline magic.

A threat, but not so much of one that they couldn’t still throw parties.

They reached the food, and Blair quickly plated up. She might not like how casual the Pact was about this, but she could appreciate their food.

She didn’t need to do anything here. She was sure her mother had some plan in motion, but her Pack’s duty was to get Vouchers. Since they had already done that, they were only here out of a need to keep appearances. As soon as Blair could leave, she would.

Alder shifted next to her, a slice of cake balanced on his plate.

She raised a brow at him.

He shrugged. “Fancy cake.”

Bobby grabbed a slice. “Well said. You’re the weird one for not grabbing cake first, Blair.” She rolled her eyes and moved on.

They quickly found an empty table and sat down. Alder was trying and failing to hide his tension.

He looked relaxed enough, sitting comfortably in his seat and enjoying the food, but Blair could read his tells. His eyes flicked to every mage who walked by before darting back to his plate, and every time one passed close to their table, his legs tensed as if he were preparing to bolt.

She bumped his knee. He glanced at her, and she smiled. They couldn’t speak freely here, not with so many supernatural ears about, but she could still offer some comfort.

He relaxed slightly, but his gaze didn’t stop darting about.

After a few minutes of eating and a few more trips to the food table, a man approached.

Blair tensed as she smelled a vampire drawing closer but relaxed when she recognized their scent.

She rose from the table and turned to greet her old friend.

“Mark!”

The vampire closed the distance, and Blair wrapped him in a hug.

She pulled back and looked him over. He was a little shorter than her, with dark, close-cut hair and a wide smile.

With his wide dark eyes, tanned skin, and easygoing nature, vampiric nobility would be the last thing most people thought of when looking at him.

“Blair! It’s been too long!” He glanced to the others, his smile widening. “Laurel, Bobby, Simon, it’s good to see you.” His gaze settled on Alder.

“This is Alder,” Blair said. “A local with the Sight. Some spooks are trying to cause him trouble, so we offered our protection.”

She waved to Mark. “Alder, this is Mark Kriv, third son of House Kriv. Don't let his looks fool you. He's an egomaniac.”

Mark nodded, completely ignoring the end of her sentence. “Good to meet you, Alder. You’re in good hands. Though why is a group after you?”

Alder nodded a greeting. “I didn’t respond well to their threats. Unfortunately for me, I don’t really have any magical firepower on my side, so…”

Mark nodded. “Vultures will circle.”

He clapped his hands and stepped back.

Laurel arched a dark brow. “Leaving so soon?”

“I’d love to talk more, but my father is insistent that I be a social butterfly. He’s on a peacemaker kick. Which I prefer over the warmonger one, so I shouldn’t complain.” He waved to them as he strode back into the crowd.”

“Hmm. Much nicer than the last vampire I talked to,” Alder said.

Simon frowned and set down his croissant sandwich. “What did the last vampire do?”

“Tried to eat me.”

“…You mean drink you?”

Alder laughed. “You’d think, but no. He had a whole thing with eating things. I think it was his fetish.”

“Okay then,” Laurel cut in. “Let’s move past that, please. I think we’ve spent enough time eating, now it's time for social mixing before making a graceful exit.”

Bobby ate a massive bite of cake before gesturing at her with his fork. “Speak for yourself. I’m going to be as inelegant as possible.”

Laurel sighed. “Okay, the rest of us will make a graceful exit, while Bobby stumbles out.”

“Or roll out,” he added. “The night is young.”

They rose as a group. Blair took a deep breath, then led them into the crowd.

A bit of quick socializing, then they could leave. Simple, easy, and free of danger.

She glanced at Alder.

…Hopefully.