Chapter 6 Party Pooper.
It was hard not to notice the drinks, they were everywhere, and colored radiantly and arranged in a circus-tumbler's idea of the artistic in pyramids and spirals of champagne glasses. It was breathtaking, but I tried not to look too much, tried not to allow curiosity much free reign. I wasn't drinking shit at this party, not even if I thought it was just water. Yep, I was that paranoid.
But I had reason to be paranoid. I was dressed up, again, with Al, now at Dali's party, and I had been told it was a very rare thing for him to throw one. Apparently even demons are workaholics sometimes. Still, even with a possessive Al at my side, I didn't like being amongst other demons. All those red eyes and weighty gazes just made my skin crawl. I guess it shows how screwed up my life is that I feel safe with Al.
Al hadn't pushed as much concerning my wardrobe this time. As I reminded him, repeatedly, I had the invitation, not him. I had told him plainly that if he pissed me off, I'd go alone. Amazing how quickly that little threat got a response. So I was wearing what I wanted. I had to compromise some, it was a dress after all. But it was a long dress, all lilac with stunning bits of embroidery in gold and with little buttons up the front. It looked vaguely Japanese, and I loved it, and Al didn't even complain when I came out of my room with it. I did have high heels on though, thinking the shoes that matched it looked too much like ballet slippers.
We did fight a bit about my hair though. I refused to let him play with it and he refused to leave the house while I was my usual frizzy self. Finally, I'd let him do a curse to tame it after he'd shown me the curse in his book and I watched to make sure nothing gross went into while he bitched the entire time. So now we were a good forty minutes late, which Al kept huffing about.
But despite his complaints, Al seemed fairly pleased to be here. It was a small group compared to some of the parties he'd dragged me to already. And I guess Dali was one of the higher-up muckety-mucks, but that meant Al would want to spend the night mingling, and I hated mingling. As awkward as it was with the demons, it was worse with the familiars. What the hell was I supposed to say, hello, lovely evening, enjoying your eternity of magical servitude and sexual slavery?
"Smile, Rachel, " Al coached me with a grin as he wheeled me over to one of the long tables holding the intricate drink displays and a lavish spread of pastries and treats. It was hard to find real food at a demon party; they all seemed to be sugar junkies of such caliber to challenge pixies.
"Oh look, itchy witch, cake! Let me cut you a slice, hmm?" Al's warm voice tickled at my ear, but he was gone before I could push him away. We hadn't spoken about the bed incident, but he was trying to touch me more, get closer, as if to experiment how much he could get away with now. Pushy demon bastard.
And sure enough, there was cake, four different types to choose from. And sure enough, Al cut me a giant slice of a chocolate decadence monster that had to be five or six layers. Great, what the hell was I going to drink with that?
"Here you are, my itchy witch," Al said and produced a napkin and fork with unneeded flourish. Always such a showoff. I eyed the cake warily glanced at Al's grinning face and tried a bite before I could chicken out. It was delicious and way too rich to be eating without a gallon of milk at hand. I was going to take another bite or two just to not waste the whole thing, but I felt more eyes on me. I glanced around and felt my face start to glow. Damn near every demon in the room had his eyes on me, and it was not a nice, indifferent gaze, but calculating, and in some cases, openly lustful. I put the cake down and turned to Al. I wanted to yell at him, like he had staged it, and maybe he had. Hell, maybe he was the president of the chocolate fetish club, for all I knew. But it wasn't a rational anger, it was trepidation masquerading as anger.
I pulled Al closer, and his red-slitted eyes widened in surprise before they became sultry. My grip on his arm was firm, but loosened when he raised his hand to brush a stray curl from my face, pausing long enough to run a finger under my chin, leaving a little trail of warmth that did nothing to better my mood. I tried not to growl, but my voice came out a hoarse whisper anyway. "You have thirty seconds to get me the hell out of here before I throw the cake into the nearest face and start smashing glasses." If they wanted something to stare at, I'd damn well give it to them!
Al grinned, but I could see his nervousness in the tightness around his eyes and the sudden clench of his jaw. "Be reasonable, Rachel. Everyone is oh-so-curious about you. And since you're such a party pooper, they never get much of a chance to…look at you," Al said mildly enough, but there was enough suggestion in that last bit to make my jaw clench.
"Twenty seconds," I hissed back, and Al stood still for a split second, weighing my threat. Part of me wanted him to hesitate longer. There was a man… I mean a demon, I'd never seen before, sitting in an armchair nearest the tables. They were all watching me, but he was the worse, and the nearest. His bright red eyes were piercing, and they traveled up and down my body like a maniac fairy during migration season. He had his long, leather-clad legs spread out, and his hand resting oh-so-casually on his lap as if to bring attention to his giant bulge. It was him I wanted to throw the cake at and maybe a glass of champagne too. I wanted to get it in his eyes, make him shriek in indignation so he could see how it feels.
But Al was smart, and grabbed my elbow, steering me out of the room amid a few grumbles and one shouted reply of what I think was "share" in a strange accent. Yeah, demon parties give me the creeps, for a damn good reason.
Al didn't jump us home or even take one of the weird portal glyphs to another room. Dali's house was apparently arranged in a more traditional manner, with rooms actually connecting it seems. Hell, maybe it was the fad at the time, and Al, being broke, was behind the times.
But Al stopped us suddenly, coming around a corner out of a long hallway into a room looking out on what appeared to be a garden at nighttime. He had to stop because he'd damn near run down Dali, who was all smiles again. Which of course made me even more suspicious. This whole crap fest had been his idea. I frowned just to contrast his easy smile.
"Al, Rachel, so nice to see you both," Dali beamed at us. He looked like he had the last and only time I'd seen him before when Al was brokering out the deal that gave him his teacher's rights over me. The middle-aged but still trim looking older man, with just enough gray flecked through his hair to say "experience" but not "grandpa" looked friendly, even harmless, which was total bullshit.
"Capital party, old man," Al said agreeably. He jostled my arm, but I didn't say anything and kept my frown firmly in place.
"But I do hope you're both not leaving us so soon?" Dali asked, his smile still in place but just the right amount of concern touched his eyes, made the few wrinkles there stand out against his uniform tan. He would have looked totally normal, like a benign coach for a kids' tee-ball team, except for his red goat eyes. Watching him play the part so well, I suddenly thought it was very bad idea to have come here in the first place.
"Wouldn't dream of it. Just taking Rachel out for some fresh air," Al explained, his clipped British accent suggesting I shouldn't make a fuss about it.
Is that where we were going? I was sure I appreciated the sentiment, but it seemed there was no fresh air in the ever after anyway. Even if every time I'd been on the surface hadn't been a life-or-death all-or-nothing situation, I still wouldn't have wanted to hang around. It was just nasty up there. But then my curiosity poked it's too long nose into the matter. I thought all demons, except for the really unlucky ones, lived underground. How the hell could Dali have a garden underground? Maybe it was all illusion, like his "casual Friday" office on the beach?
So I didn't lag when Al guided me towards the door, but I spun around when I felt another hand, a hand I didn't know, touch my shoulder.
"Rachel, you've a bit of chocolate on your lovely face," Dali said, all pleasantness and mild interest.
But before I could raise my hand to brush it away though, Dali beat me to it, his large hand rising to my face and a single finger brushing along my upper lip. "There, much better," Dali said with a grin and turned to head back to his party.
Both Al and I stood frozen. I looked up at Al's face and was quite shocked to see him looking as confounded as I felt. What the hell had that been? Was Dali just messing around, trying to upset Al, who he knew had every cause to be ridiculously possessive, or had he just been looking for an excuse to touch me?
"Yes, well. Some fresh air," Al said, clearly baffled. But he recovered quicker than I, and offered me his arm again. "Shall we, Rachel?" he asked smoothly, but I could still see the tightened worry lines near his eyes. I took his arm and let him guide me out into the nighttime garden, where hopefully the air was fresh and would help clear my mind of that disturbing little incident.
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sorry, the naughtiness keeps getting delayed in favor of plot. that's just how it seems to be with chaptered fics =P