Fire Night (Devil's Night 4.5)

Some. But not all.

Something nipped at me. This was no longer smart. People were just walking into the house. No one was even checking invitations.

There was no security other than Lev, David, and a few others circulating the grounds, and there were no guards at the door.

We didn’t invite trouble, but as the years passed, we acquired more. More land, more real estate, more power, more money… And when you get anything worth having, someone would eventually try to take it.

We’d been lucky so far. Too lucky.

“We ready?” Em called out.

But before I could turn back and reply, a voice boomed from the stairs. “‘Lot 666, then!’”

Emmy startled, twisting around, and all of our eyes followed to see a man in a cape and a white mask covering half of his face.

“‘A chandelier in pieces!’”

I laughed, putting my worries aside and recognizing Will instantly. Michael shook his head, unable to hide his smile.

The kids giggled as Will jogged down the stairs, whipping his cape all about. “‘Some of you may recall the strange affair of The Phantom of the Opera.’”

“Daddy!” II laughed.

Will spun in a circle, making eye contact with all the kids. “‘A mystery never fully explained!’”

And then, on cue, the orchestra and refurbished organ above us belted out the dramatic overture from The Phantom of the Opera, making the hair on my arms rise again.

The floor vibrated under my shoes, and my pulse quickened.

Winter couldn’t smile any bigger if she tried.

Someone must’ve flipped the switch, because the chandelier began to slowly rise, climbing higher and higher toward the ceiling as we tipped our heads back to watch.

The flames on the candles flickered with the movement, and the kids started running, twirling, and skipping away into the ballroom.

I followed them in, the guests filtering in behind me, some starting to join Michael and Rika on the dance floor, while others plucked glasses of champagne off the trays of servers passing by.

Emmy carried the bowl of basil ashes, setting it on the mantel next to the menorah before walking toward me, her face still lit up.

She loved lighting the chandelier.

“Your favorite part…” I mused as she settled at my side, watching the room.

“Always,” she said, gazing up the ceiling at the four small, electric fixtures above, not presently being used. “I almost wish they were all lit by candlelight.”

“Too much work,” I told her.

“Affirmative.”

“The Bell Tower is gorgeous.” I looked down at her. “I love what you’ve done with it. Or refused to do with it, I should say.”

She shrugged. “There’s beauty in the history. I don’t want that erased.”

I found Banks on the dance floor, she and Rika with their heads together over something.

“It’s where I kissed her for the first time,” I said, letting my eyes trail over my wife’s bare shoulders.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Devil’s Night.” The memory played in my head. “My senior year.”

The overture ended and the sound system kicked in, playing a soft, haunting tune with lyrics.

Then, Emmy said, “She was in the confessional with you that morning, wasn’t she?”

I tipped my gaze back down to her. “How did you know that?”

She grinned, as if just remembering. “I was there that day. I ran into her.”

“You go to church?” I teased.

But she just looked away, a coy smile on her lips. “I had my reasons.”

Or secrets? Whatever. None of my business.

“The confessional,” I mused. “That was the first time I talked to her, too. That day changed my life.”

“Mine, too.”

“If only I’d fought more for what I wanted.” That day ended far worse than it had begun. “We wouldn’t have missed out on years of being together.”

“Me too,” she added in a whisper.

Banks stole glances at me every once in a while, her red lips wet and her eyes dark. Heat covered my body as images filled my head of exactly what she’d look like wearing only that face makeup.

“I need to dance with her,” I told Em and started to move onto the floor.

But then a young brunette was in front of me, her shoulders bare in a white gown.

“Kai,” she chirped.

I halted, seeing my student looking a lot different than she did in her Aikido class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Soraya,” I said, “You look great.” I took her hand and leaned in, pressing my cheek to her temple for a quick embrace. “Are your parents here?”

“No.” She smiled up at me. “But they are curled up in front of a fire tonight.”

“Good to hear.”

I tried to step around her and say goodbye, but she started talking again. “Thank you for the one-on-ones last week,” she told me. “They really helped.”

She looked up at me with adoring blue eyes, her silky-looking red hair hanging around her. I could almost feel Emmy’s loaded smirk next to me.

Please. The kid was a…kid.

“Of course,” I told her. “Practicing some of the language over break?”