Equal Parts (22 page)

I’m safe, and happy, and healthy. Once everything in my life settles down – it’s a long story, trust me – I
will
come home again. I miss and love you both, with all my heart.

Felicity

“Felicity?” came a sleepy-voiced Lucia from behind me.

I turned to her, hastily wiping the tears from my eyes. “Morning.”

She had to have noticed the red rims to my eyes, the tear tracks on my cheeks, but didn’t comment. In true Lucia style, she simply plastered on a bright smile and held out a hand.

“Ready for the most kickass birthday
ever
?”

Lucia took me out to breakfast in the city park, and we spent the rest of the day trawling the marketplaces by the lake and prepping for the Halloween party. I had to hand it to her – Lucia was more persuasive than I could have guessed. A week ago, the party looked akin to torture to me.

Lucia’s non-stop chatter about how great of a party it would be, however, managed to do the impossible: it got me excited.

“I don’t care what you say, we’re making that costume a tad sluttier,” she said to me as I tugged on my Captain Hook coat. The rest of my outfit was a combination of ruffles, tight pants, pirate boots, a sword, a hook (obviously), and a feathered hat. She’d allowed me to wear the mustache, but drew the line at the beard and wig.

“It’s fine,” I moaned as she tightened the black belt around my waist, giving me curves I didn’t necessarily want, and lined my eyes with dramatic make-up.

“
Now
it’s fine.” She grinned at her handiwork. I couldn’t help but smile back – her happiness was nudging at my chest incessantly.

“We look hawt,” she gushed as we stood side-by-side in the mirror. Well, she looked hot. I looked like a half-hearted cross-dresser. But I could tell she was trying.

After Lucia finished using three cans of hairspray on her bun, we caught a cab out to Finn’s mansion on the edge of the city. Somehow she had secured us invites to the party through her contact at the café, with me listed as her plus-one.

We arrived at the party only an hour late, and it was already out of control. I could see people trying to scale the outside wall to get in, some even braving the barbed wire sections. Three thickset bouncers lined the gate, apparently unfazed by the attempted crashers.

“Names,” ordered one of them, after we paid the cab driver and stumbled towards the gate.

“Lucia Gratten, and Felicity Eastwood.”

He checked a very long list on a clipboard before nodding once. “You’re good. Go on in.”

The other two bouncers opened a door in the gate, and it was as though we’d suddenly been sent into another land altogether.

The mansion was nothing like I remembered it. The massive glass window had been painted with glow-in-the-dark spray, showcasing skeletons and ghosts and the words ‘Trick or Treat!’ in dripping letters. Headstones and coffins were scattered across the beautiful front yard, with people sitting on or in them, dressed in costumes of all sorts. Everything seemed to be covered in spiderwebs, chains, or goo of some description.

It wasn’t my first Halloween party, but it was damn sure my best.

I followed Lucia up the steps, into the huge house, which was crammed with guests. Music was blaring from somewhere, thumping through my whole body. Dry ice was billowing across the floors, down the grand staircase, while lasers and more glow paint lit up the interior. Decorations hung from the roof and walls, equal parts terrifying and cheesy.

“Glad you came now?” asked Lucia over the music with a cheeky grin.

“Uh,
yeah
,” I choked out.

I didn’t miss the weird looks I received on our way to the dance floor in the expansive living area. Red Solo cups full of something strong-smelling were everywhere, in every hand, it seemed. Lucia grabbed two, downed one, and handed the other to me. Shrugging, I drank it down with little difficulty. Alcohol did nothing for me, aside from making me a little giggly, thanks to the immunity provided by the sunshine. Still, it was a party, and I couldn’t think of a solid reason why I’d need to be absolutely sober.

We danced for what felt like hours, until my feet hurt in their high heeled pirate boots, and I gestured to Lucia that I was going to sit down. She nodded, and proceeded to grind on a random Tarzan near her.
Ick
.

Eventually I stumbled into part of what I assumed was one of the kitchens, taking up a chair by the bench. High heels had seemed like a great idea at home, but now? Not so much.

I could see Ellis Legrand, the host of the party, playing beer pong in the next room with a few dozen guests, including Byron, Colby and Miles – the other superhumans who lived here with Finn. I was prepared to encounter Finn at some stage; it was inevitable, really. I’d decided that I wouldn’t apologize, but I wouldn’t be hostile, either. Somewhere between indifferent and polite.

Refusing to feel sorry for myself in any way, I hobbled outdoors, hoping there was some kind of secluded bench somewhere I could hide for a while. The sunshine from the guests was making my brain a little sluggish, and I didn’t fancy facing Finn while not entirely clearheaded.

Eventually, after avoiding all the couples’ areas of the gardens, I found a swing-bench in the corner of some tall hedges, blocked off from the rest of the world. The music was still audible, but not so much that I couldn’t hear myself think. Thankfully, my heavy coat warded off the chill in the air, and the skies were clear enough to see all the stars.

I lay down on the love-seat, dangling my feet off the end, and took off my mustache. Fairy lights illuminated the hedged space, reminding me a little of the lamp glow in Achilles’s bedroom. It wasn’t a comparison I allowed myself to dwell on, for my sanity’s sake.

“…not to do anything until I give the signal, yeah? I have a weird feeling about this whole thing,” said a dry voice from around the corner of the hedge. An
eerily familiar
dry voice. Just like with Hugo, hope jumped to life in my chest, but I squashed it flat, despite my hammering heartbeat.

A coincidence
, I told myself firmly.
You’re jumping to conclusions, getting hopeful. Stop it.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel, and I felt the strange urge to shrink into the shadows, as though I’d been consciously eavesdropping. “Look, just wait it out. I’ll make sure it all goes smoothly.” Closer, closer, then a figure appeared before me, and when his eyes caught mine, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Uh, I’ll call you back.” Clicked his cell phone, tucked it away, and continued to stare at me.

So the hopefulness was misplaced. This guy definitely wasn’t Achilles –
which was a
good
thing
, I reminded myself.

Even in the soft lighting, I could see the man before me was very much easy on the eyes. Cropped blue-black hair, deliciously broad shoulders, bronzed skin – yeah, it wasn’t a
total
loss.

But, hard as it was to admit it, he was no Achilles. And I feared nobody ever would be.

“Ahoy!” I said stupidly, when he just stood there and stared at me, as though he’d seen a ghost. Or a girl dressed as a villainous pirate. “Can I help you with something?”

“Captain Hook,” he said slowly. He appeared to be in some kind of daze. Urgh, why did all the good-looking ones have to be crazy?

“That’s me. And you are…” I looked him up and down critically. Plaid jacket, high pants, thick-rimmed glasses, dancing shoes… “The Fonz?”

He broke out of his stupor with a laugh. “I was actually going for ‘standard fifties guy’, but sure, that works just as well.” He stepped further into the light, and I noticed the pure honey color of his eyes.

He should have been attractive to me. Any other normal girl would have been all over this guy like a bad rash. But I didn’t even feel a twinge of adrenaline or happiness – none of the usual things I felt with Achilles.

Stop thinking about him
! I all but yelled at myself.
He’s gone! He doesn’t want you! Get over it!

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked with a crooked grin, and a weird shiver ran down my spine, not entirely pleasant. Intuition? Or paranoia?

The image of Molten suddenly flashed through my eyes, and I gripped the bench tight enough to hurt. I was vulnerable out here, even in the garden of Finn Cole himself. There was nothing but air separating this stranger and me – if he wanted to hurt me, he’d only have to take a few steps forward.

“I was actually just going inside,” I told him, rather sharply, getting to my feet. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no problem, so was I.” If he’d picked up on my hostility, his friendly demeanor didn’t give it away. In fact, if anything, he seemed well aware of my insecurities; he kept pace with me at a good distance, with a neat three feet between us as we walked. “It’s impossible to make a call in that place – between the testosterone, music, and drunken yelling clogging the air, it’s hard enough to think, let alone talk.”

I pulled my coat closer around me, well prepared for any kind of attack he might spring on me. “Well, no drunken yelling on my part. I’m totally sober. So sober, in fact, I feel ready for anything. Anyone hoping to get something in, over, or out of me is in for a nasty shock.”

The look he gave me told me my ramble was as insane as I thought it was. Well, good. I doubted attackers ever went for the crazy ones. I thought I could see a hint of amusement in those golden eyes, though, which probably wasn’t great for me.

“Well, that’s refreshing, to say the least.” The crooked grin returned, and my heart
ba-boomp
ed so hard, I was sure he could hear it. Crap, crap, crap!
No! No feelings!

We reached the house and I resisted the urge to clutch the doorframe in relief. Finally, I meet a guy who isn’t instantly interested in abducting or using me in some way! Praise be!

“Do you want to get a drink?” he asked, rather boldly. Now I knew he was some kind of normal, harmless boy, I didn’t mind the way he stared at me.
Stare all you want, pal – just don’t touch the goods
.

“Sure,” I said with a smile – a really bright smile, one that I’d practiced on Lucia. She’d fallen for it, so it had to be at least a little convincing.

But this stranger – this drool-worthy, tanned version of Buddy Holly – seemed to catch the chip in my act, judging by the tiny crease between his brows. Maybe he was a professional lie detector. Or a cop; a really observant cop.

Or,
whispered a tiny voice in my mind,
he already knows you rather well.

No. It couldn’t be. I wouldn’t let myself think that somehow, in some cruel twist of fate, Achilles was here. It wasn’t possible at all. How would he get in here?

Before I knew what I was doing, as my garden visitor walked away, I called out: “Achilles!”

A few strange looks were thrown my way, but I wasn’t interested in them. My eyes were too focused on watching for a reaction – any reaction – from this stranger.

But no. No tightening of the shoulders, no head-turning, no slowing down, no flinching. Nothing whatsoever. So either Achilles was an incredible actor and more adaptable than I’d thought possible, or this guy was a completely innocent citizen with an eye for deception and a voice of the same pitch as Achilles’s. Which, for all I knew, was a very common masculine pitch.

With equal feelings of relief and disappointment, I followed him into the kitchen – one of the few places not crammed with writhing, sweating bodies. We sat on a pair of beanbags by the dining table, and he handed me a can of lemonade.

“So how are you mixed up in all this?” he asked, whirling a finger to gesture around the house.

God, where do I begin? I thought a flippant approach might be more successful than an honest one: “Friend of a friend, you know how it is. I kind of know Finn Cole, so I guess he’s my in.” I hoped I didn’t sound too bitter about that. “What about you?”

“Finn’s my reason for being here, too. He’s a fantastic guy, isn’t he?” he asked with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah, he’s … he’s something alright.” Woo, boy, was he something. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Felicity Eastwood.”

“Henry Westwood.” The smile turned to one of pleasant surprise as he shook my hand. “East meets West. I like it.” His face fell slightly as he studied me harder. “You know, you look really familiar.”

“I get that a lot,” I said quickly. “My face is pretty generic, so I guess most people just –”

“If most people think you’re generic, you should remember – most people are idiots, darling.”

The drink I’d sipped suddenly sprayed out of me, onto the carpet and my legs, earning a few shrieks of horror from the other party guests around us. I felt Henry clapping me on the back gently, but nothing was registering other than the sound of his voice saying ‘darling’.

Not real!
I screamed at my Achilles-obsessed brain cells.
Not the real thing, so stop freaking out!

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“S-sorry,” I choked in response. “Just went down the wrong way.”
This
was why I had to stay away from men for eternity. I was a menace. Not only was I socially inept, but thanks to my recent stay with Carova’s main villain – and consequently developing feelings for said villain – I was doomed to compare every other guy I met to
him
.