Until Midnight: A Dystopian Fairy Tale (The Crimson Fold Book 1) Read online

  Asher sighed and grabbed my hands in his. Bringing them up to his mouth, he placed a kiss on the back of them. “Of all the guests I’ve had the pleasure of sponsoring you are by far my favorite. I’ve told you more than I’ve ever told any guest before.” He paused for a moment, something dark passing over his eyes before he said, “I won’t lie to you, there are things at work which the people outside of the core don’t know about. Things that need to change and I knew the moment I saw you in the Inner Circle that you could make that happen.”

  I frowned at his words, not quite understanding what he was talking about. And then it hit me. “You put my name on the list, didn’t you?”

  He didn’t deny it but kept his eyes on me. “You will be the convert and not just any.” He shook his head. “The convert. At Patrick’s side, you will have access to all kinds of things those from the Glade would never dream of. You’ll be able to make a difference. Not just for you, but for everyone in Alban. But first.” He turned me around to face the double doors once more. “You have to go in.”

  I didn’t have a chance to ask him anymore because the doors opened from the inside and Asher took the moment to shove me inside. The whole room stared at me as I stood frozen in place by the doors. A mixture of feelings was directed my way, some of awe—no doubt for the beautiful gown I wore—others disinterest, but several of disdain. Maybe even hate. Zara’s eyes held something malicious.

  Swallowing hard, I moved away from the doors and toward the table of food that had been laid out. If I was going to get through this I was going to need a drink.

  Picking up a plate, I grabbed random things from the table not really paying much mind. If I looked like I was eating no one would ask me to dance, or at least, I hoped. As I came to the end of the table, I picked up a glass of dark red liquid. Giving it a sniff, the scent of it burned my nose.

  Alcohol. Perfect.

  Taking my treasures with me, I made my way around the room. I hadn’t seen Marsha or the others yet but they were bound to be here somewhere. I sat down at an empty table along the edges of the dance floor and scanning the ballroom. The thirty-six guests were all here but mixed in were the members of the fold. The woman from the interview who had questioned why I was even here, was chatting up Narq. For a moment, I wondered where Patrick could be. Was he out in the crowd somewhere? He wasn’t on the dance floor.

  I chugged my drink as I chastised myself for caring. He’s the symbol of everything you hate. The reason your family and friends live in poverty while his little pets fatten themselves up every day.

  Even as I tried to convince myself otherwise, I couldn’t help searching for his white head of hair. After minutes of looking, I almost thought he hadn’t shown up, but then I caught a flash of white that disappeared out the balcony doors.

  I got to my feet, intent on finding him and getting this whole thing over with, but a figure blocked my way.

  “There you are, the girl from the Glade.” A man stood in front of me, of average height with unmemorable features. Except, when he smiled his teeth were sharper than most, making his smile look vicious instead of endearing.

  “You found me,” I replied with a forced smile. “What can I do for you?”

  The man took my hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, I had a half moment where I thought he might bite me before he skimmed his mouth over the back of my hand. “I just wanted to introduce myself to the high scorer of the Election. I’m Beaford. The treasure and second adviser to our esteemed leader, Patrick Blordril.”

  I took my hand back as soon as I was able, the urge to wipe it off overwhelming, even with the glove. “I’d introduce myself but I believe you know all there is to know about me.”

  Beaford laughed. “Hardly. I’m sure there are quite a few things I would love to get to know about you.” He inched closer lowering his voice to what would normally be used for a lover.

  Swallowing hard, I took a step back, my gaze skating across the room for a distraction. Thankfully Marsha caught my eye. He waved to me and I gave a small wave in return before turning to Beaford. “I apologize. It looks like I’m being flagged down. Maybe we’ll talk again later?”

  I didn’t give him the chance to answer before my feet led me away from him to Marsha who stood with Tillie and Violet. We said the usual pleasantries about each other’s outfits before the conversation turned to the elephant in the room.

  “Don’t you find it odd?” Violet asked, fiddling with her glass of dark liquid.

  “What?” Marsha responded his eyes searching around the room as if to find what she spoke of.

  “After all the parading around and the scores, that now we are just hanging out.” She gestured around the room. “Just expected to spend time with them like we’re friends and not ants beside giants.”

  I knew there was a reason I liked her. Thinking about her words, I didn’t even look up when someone handed me another glass. It wasn’t until I began to bring it to my lips and Narq’s hand shot out of nowhere did I question it.

  “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.” He took the glass from my hand and dumped it in a nearby plant. The plant began to hiss and smoke rose from it, the leaves turning brown.

  “What the hell was that?” Violet cried out, horror in her face. I wanted to know the answer as well but I had a feeling I already knew.

  “Losers never play fair,” Tillie said mysteriously from her spot. Her eyes were focused on a group of girls among which I immediately recognized Zara’s dark head.

  I lifted my skirt, intent on confronting her but a commotion from the other side of the room stopped me. Another girl—a bit older than me with auburn hair—clutched her throat as her skin began to disintegrate around it. She fell to the floor as people gasped and screamed in terror.

  My heart raced as I realized that could have been me. If Narq hadn’t been there to stop me, I’d be the one writhing on the floor, my skin melting off. Suddenly, I wasn’t in the party-going mood.

  I turned on my heel—away from the girl who was most certainly dead now—and back toward the doors. Brushing passed Narq, I nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Anytime.” He gave me a two-finger salute before his attention turned back to the gathering crowd of fold members. “Too bad, she really had a chance. A seven and a red. I guess that means you and Violet need to watch your back.” He shot me a cocky grin that I didn’t understand.

  No longer caring about Asher’s plans, or about finding Patrick, I spun around and searched for the exit. I did not sign up for this. Any of it.

  Chapter 12

  I didn’t sleep at all that night, jumping at every little sound. Asher had gone off to wherever he went when he wasn’t dressing me, and hadn’t been back for me to tell him about last night’s festivities and how I almost died.

  A plate of food waited for me as I came out of the shower but I couldn’t eat. I stared out the window for a long time, trying to decipher what had happened.

  How could someone do something so vicious? All for what? Some position? But if what Asher had said, being Patrick’s convert would mean more than just having riches; it would mean power too. Power to change things.

  The screen in my room powered on and an anthem played before the board I’d come to loath flickered on. I told myself I wouldn’t look. I didn’t care about how I did or whatever one else thought, but I found myself in front of the screen without even knowing I had moved.

  This time the scoreboard had changed. Instead of numbers beside each guest’s name, there were only colors highlighting them. There was no legend to tell me what they meant, but I glanced over at the table where my food tray sat and saw a piece of paper.

  Grabbing it, I tried to match up the colors with the names on the board. Four were highlighted gray, which meant they were being placed as servants. One, a pale blue. A companion. Seven were struck out, meaning they were being sent home, their memories wiped. I wondered why the girl from last night had been lopped in with the seven. Surely, t
hey weren’t sending her home to her family like that?

  The rest of the names weren’t highlighted. Instead they were all bundled together. Those were the ones who were left. Only twenty-four of us left and I didn’t need a legend to tell me who was in the lead. The name at the top of the list—the bane of my existence—was still mine.

  Violet’s name sat right below and then a few I didn’t recognize and then Marsha’s. Zara’s sat in eighth place with Narq at eleventh. At least, he was safe from Zara’s wrath. Too bad for those of us above her though.

  I didn’t get to be alone for long because the trio came bursting through my door. The moment they saw me they started to cry, each one of them clinging to me as though their lives depended on it.

  “Oh, Clarabelle,” Neeka cried, her makeup streaking from her tears. “How horrible it must have been for you. I hear that girl’s death was positively gruesome.”

  “It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.” I grimaced as the image of the poor girl clutching her neck in agony.

  Willow made a displeased sound. “How can you make light of such a tragedy?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not, but running screaming down the halls won’t really help the situation.”

  “Logical, I agree.” Rosel nodded, the most composed of the three.

  “Besides,” I continued withdrawing myself from their clutches. “Seeing her die wasn’t half as bad as knowing it could have been me. Would have had Narq not saved me.”

  “What?” they screeched in unison.

  “Do you know who it was?” Willow asked.

  “You have to tell someone,” Neeka urged, looking to her friends for support. They all nodded their heads in vigorous agreement.

  I bit the end of my thumb for a second and then sighed. “I don’t have proof. Only suspicions. And anyway, who would I tell?”

  “Asher!” they said together.

  “What could he do?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself as I turned toward the window. “He’s just my sponsor. Surely he doesn’t have much pull in what goes on around here? Probably nothing more than a certifiable servant.”

  “I would hope not,” Asher’s voice called out from behind me. I spun around to see him standing by the trio, his hands behind his back and a perturbed expression on his face.

  My own face heated with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be insulting. I’m just flustered by everything.” I waved a hand in the air, hoping to make what I’d said seem less important.

  “I understand,” Asher said carefully. “You’ve just seen something horrific, something that I warned you might happen. You were lucky that boy stopped you in time or I wouldn’t have a guest to sponsor.”

  “I know, Asher.” I shook my head, hoping I looked as remorseful as I felt. “I should have been more careful.”

  “Yes, you should have,” he snapped, the first sign of anger in his gaze. At my startled expression, he sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I was like you once.”

  “Freaked out?” I asked.

  “No. A guest.” He smiled when I gasped. “Then I played the game and became a convert to one of the most powerful members of the Crimson Fold. Now, look where I am?” he gestured elaborately. “A sponsor with companions of my own. I get to do what I want, when I want. But you know what got me here?” he raised a brow.

  “Your winning personality?” I guessed.

  “No,” he sniffed, adjusting his jacket over his shirt, “I made friends. The right friends. The kind with power.”

  I stared at him for a moment before a light went off in my head. “You didn’t mean make friends with the guests, did you?”

  His lips ticked up and he locked eyes with me before turning to the trio. “Why don’t we make Clara look better than she feels right now?”

  The trio didn’t need to be told twice before they descended upon me. Today, I wasn’t in the talkative mood and I just let them do with me as they willed. They poked and prodded, yanking on my hair until it resembled some elegant twist I’d never be able to replicate.

  When they finished the circles under my eyes from lack of sleep were gone, and it was like I’d never been at death’s door. This time the dress was a dark blue, with a skirt of taffeta. The sleeves and back were sheer and sparkled like stars. It definitely made me seem tougher than I felt.

  “Great job, as usual, Asher.” I smiled at him briefly through the three-way mirror but my heart wasn’t in it.

  I hadn’t forgotten what Asher wanted from me. What he had asked me to do. What I had to do.

  It was one thing to be chosen as the convert without trying, it was completely another thing to purposely seek out the leader of Alban in the hopes of making friends.

  Snorting at the thought, I ignored the questioning looks the trio gave me and headed for the door. I didn’t wait for Asher to escort me this time. I wasn’t in the chit-chatting mood and I’d had about as much advice as I could handle for one lifetime.

  My eyes were totally focused on getting to the ball when I bumped into a man in the hallway, I didn’t realize who it was until he grabbed me by the arm. “Clara?”

  I tried to jerk my arm away from the person but then my mind registered the voice. Blinking, I stared up at someone who—creepily enough—resembled my father.

  “Dad?” my voice came out a cautious whisper as my eyes darted down the hallway.

  With no one there to see, I pulled him into the nearest room—which happened to be an office. Whose office I didn’t really know or care, not while my father was standing before me.

  Hair mostly gray, only a few spots showed he had once been as dark headed as me. His face seemed to have aged ten years since I had seen him last. He had kissed my forehead the way he always did before he left to go back to the Glade, he had been wearing his usual work clothes. But now, he could have put Asher to shame in his finery.

  “What are you doing here?” I gaped at him, not believing my eyes.

  “I came to see you.” He moved closer to me, his eyes taking in my clothes. A softness settled over his face. “You look beautiful Clara. Just like your mother.”

  Embarrassment came over me and I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just a bit of clothes and makeup. Nothing to make a fuss about.”

  “I just wish she could be here to see you now.” He sighed and then stomped his foot and cursed. “Why couldn’t you have waited until I came home? I thought I raised you better than to jump in feet first with these evil bastards?”

  Irritation filled me at his accusations. “Apparently, your wife forgot to mention she was the one who had me sent here.”

  Surprise covered his face before acceptance took its place. “She will be dealt with. Right now, we have to get you out of here.”

  He reached for me, but I pulled away.

  “Clara? What is it? You don’t want to be, here do you?” His question held a hint of disbelief and I shook my head.

  “I didn’t want this.” I gestured around the room and then violently flipped my skirt. “Any of this. I was going to wait for you, but the jerks had a pin in the invitation. Blood bound, she said.” I mocked Belinda’s voice.

  “So? Why does that matter?”

  My brow furrowed as I stared him down. “Do you think they would go to the trouble of making an invitation that knows when I open it if they knew I could get away at any moment? Who knows what will happen to me or you,” I jerked a hand in his direction, “if I leave now.”

  “We’ll figure it out.” My father grabbed my arms, a desperation in his hold. “We just have to get out of here first.”

  For a moment, I believed him. I let him lead me to the door before I stopped him again. Something didn’t make sense.

  “How did you even get in here? It’s not like they would let you walk through the front door.”

  My father stared down at the ground the way he did when he’d done something he wasn’t proud of. “I went to the mayor.”

  Those five words were all it took
for me to yank my arm away from him. Zara. Of course, she’d be involved in this. Who knew what she promised if I left. It seemed she would do anything to make her way to the top. Even give my father false hope in thinking I could get out of this alive.

  “You were tricked,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes. “They wouldn’t let me leave even if I wanted to. No matter what the mayor promised you.”

  “No, no.” He shook his head as if trying to convince him more than me. “They promised you’d be okay. That if I brought you home, took you out of the race everything would be fine.”

  “Tell that to the girl they just murdered last night,” I snapped. “No, I’m not going anywhere. She’s gone too far. I’m not letting her win. Not now.”

  “But Clara,” my father tried to stop me again, “you can’t stay here. It’s not safe. You don’t know what these people will do to you. What they’ve done to plenty of others.”

  I scoffed. “So far, they’ve done nothing but put me in fancy clothes and ply me with food. What that psycho Zara has done though....” I shook my head, the girl from last night’s face in my mind once more. “Unforgivable.”

  Pushing past him, I exited the office and started back for the ballroom. I didn’t turn to see if my father had left. He’d get back out the way he came in.

  The only thing on my mind now was winning this thing. Or at least making sure Zara didn’t. God knew we didn’t need someone like her whispering in Patrick Blordril’s ear.

  Chapter 13

  The room went quiet for the second time when I threw the double doors open. Like a madwoman on a mission—which I was beginning to think I was—I strode through the room, my whole focus on finding Patrick and ending this thing for once and for all.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to have the same plans as I did because I couldn’t find him. What was with him? This was his party and he couldn’t find the time to even attend it?