Fire Night (Devil's Night 4.5)

“It was my mother’s,” I told her. “And her mother’s.”

It was one of the only things my mother had left from her family. My grandmother had had to smuggle it to her after she eloped with my father.

Her eyes flew up to mine, and I hoped she understood what the heirloom meant.

“The women in my family pass it on to their daughters,” I explained. “My mom wanted to give it to you herself, but she knew that…”

I couldn’t force the words out, but her eyes dropped, her chin trembling. She knew what I was going to say.

Banks hadn’t gotten a lot of gifts from others in life, and none from her own parents. It still made her nervous. My mom knew it might be easier coming from me.

Raising her hands, she fitted the comb into the back of her hair and wrapped her arms around me.

Her nose brushed mine. “I want to kill anyone for trying to take you away from me.”

I reached my hands around her ass, feeling the strap of blades around her leg, and lifted her into my arms. “If I ever leave you, it’s because I’m dead.”

I sank my mouth into hers, proving the only assurance she’d ever need, and I’d do it a hundred times a day for the rest of my life if she needed.

She’d never had shit she had to worry about losing in life, and I was going to break my back to give her everything.

God, she was amazing.

I unzipped my pants, took myself out, and fit myself inside of her, thrusting up into her right there in the dark stairwell.

“Ah,” she groaned, holding on for dear life. “I love you, Kai.”

“I love you too,” I breathed out across her mouth. “I can’t stop. I don’t want to ever stop.”

I pumped up into her hard and fast, frenzied, as I buried my face in her neck and she hugged me.

I registered a screech or something somewhere in the distance, and then howls from downstairs.

“Kai,” she moaned, riding me back. “I think I hear screaming.”

Who cares? I didn’t care. The whole house could be on fire right now, and I wouldn’t care.

I stared into her eyes. A truck would have to drag me off you.

Well, this is new.

A black fucking horse trotted into the ballroom, a masked rider in a cape looming over us as the music halted, the dancing stopped, and everyone moved back, giving him ample room.

I grabbed Octavia, pulling her with me. “Come here.”

A few screams hit the air, while others gasped and laughed at the display.

What the hell was this? I mean, I didn’t pay attention to details, but I would’ve remembered Michael and Rika mentioning a massive mammal riding into their house as part of the festivities.

Frickin’ Athos. This reeked of Edgar Allan Poe.

The rider wore a skull mask, and I boosted Tavi up into my arms, watching her watch him, her eyes bright with excitement.

The horse stopped, everyone quieting and waiting with bated breath, and the cool air he brought with him chilled my skin.

“The phantom watches from box five,” he boomed, his voice echoing. “You will see him, though he be not alive.”

Octavia didn’t move a muscle, everyone around using their phones to film his message.

“Bring me his mask by the bonfire’s light!” he shouted, spinning in a circle to reach everyone’s ears. “Your treasure awaits you before the end of Fire Night.”

And then, he shot off, leaving the room, the horse’s hooves clacking against the marble floor. After a moment, we heard the quick gallops as he rode away into the night.

I chuckled, looking up at Octavia’s face, who was still in awe. These kids were going to have a rude awakening when they got into the world and realized there was no place like Thunder Bay.

But that was okay. If I had it my way, they’d never have to find out how much the rest of the world sucked compared to home.

“Box five?” someone said. “So, the theater, then?”

People moved, chatter overtaking the room as the younger set started to leave, gathering their coats and deciphering his clues for the treasure hunt.

“Maybe plot five?” another person added. “In the cemetery? The riddle said the phantom wasn’t alive, so...”

“Could it be a grave?” another woman chimed in.

“But he’s ‘watching’,” another one argued, replaying the message on his phone. “A statue? Situated from a vantage point, maybe?”

Guests filtered out of the room, the younger ones dashing into the night to try to be the first to win the million dollars in trust they could either use for college or—since many already had college paid for—they could access it when they graduated, most of whom would use it to travel, invest, or start their own business.

About half the guests remained, the music, dancing, and conversations starting again as I set Octavia down and held her hands, swaying with her.