One
Head pounding along with the bass line, Renee crossed the congested living room dance floor and disappeared into the darkened hallway. She was still sober and couldn’t blame alcohol for the haze that covered her mind. In the shadows, a couple writhed in one another’s arms. She looked away—they obviously didn’t care about privacy, but maybe if she’d averted her eyes a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have discovered Khalil in basically the exact same position, sticking his tongue down another girl’s throat.
Jesus, what if he was here?
Part of her had felt relief when she discovered them. Khalil’s hands on her own body had never quite felt right. And his tongue caressing hers had never made her quiver the way she always hoped she would.
Oddly unsteady in her five-inch heels, she carefully negotiated the uneven wooden floor. This old Victorian on the edge of campus had seen better days. It had at least a dozen drafty rooms. Paint peeled from the walls in patches that looked like water damage. She hoped it wasn’t mold.
Students carved up these houses and split the outrageous rents among as many as ten people. They made great party houses now that so many of the fraternities were on lock down for hazing. This wasn’t the same house in which she’d discovered Khalil playing tonsil tennis, but at a certain point, all the turrets and peaks ran together.
Thinking about all the parties she and Khalil had attended made Renee’s stomach clench. Her heart wasn’t broken, but her pride was. They’d been a super couple, that’s the only reason she’d put up with his bullshit for so long. His heavy breaths always panting in her ear, the way his cold fingers slid up and down her skin. She shook off a chill thinking about it. She had no idea how she’d lasted almost a year with him. Whoever that skank was giving him mouth-to-mouth, she could have him.
But now Renee felt adrift. Their friends had intermingled and since Khalil was slightly more popular—being a starting attack on the lacrosse team—he trumped whatever Renee’s family, looks, and reputation brought to the situation. Now, she’d been on her own for the past few weeks, something she wasn’t accustomed to.
The thump of the beat made her head spin. Everywhere she turned there were people grinding, or making out, or playing some kind of drinking game. Instead of oblivion, tonight she craved something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She could have stayed home, but staring at the four walls of her single room for almost a month had gotten old. Being naturally social, she wanted to be around people—she just needed to figure out who, exactly.
An Asian girl with purple dreadlocks brushed by her, bumping her shoulder. “Sorry,” the girl said, giggling. The little bells strung into her locks jingled merrily. Her purple, glittery eyeshadow matched her lipstick.
Renee took a step back. “It’s okay.”
The girl grinned and then raced up the steps in a cloud of fruit-scented shampoo.
“And I thought my heels were high,” Renee muttered. But her stilettos had nothing on the other girl’s insane purple platform boots.
Renee looked up the darkened stairwell, then behind her at the party she didn’t want to be at. After a moment’s indecision, she climbed the creaking stairs. The old wood shifted worryingly under her feet.
She was disappointed to find the second floor only slightly less crowded. A line snaked out from the bathroom, and the distinctive sounds of people hooking up rang out behind at least two of the doors. Another staircase led to a third level, but the purple dreadlocked girl was marking it off with yellow police tape reading: CAUTION! DO NOT CROSS!
“What’s up there?” Renee asked, craning her neck to peer up into the dark.
The girl turned and shrugged. “Dunno. But it must be something really bad considering the tape and all.”
“But you just put the tape there.” Renee pointed.
The girl scrunched her nose and tilted her head to the side. “Did I?”
“I just saw you.” Renee turned to see if anyone else was hearing this, but nobody was paying attention to the two of them.
When she turned back around, the girl was gone.
There was no way Miss Dreadlocks could have gotten by Renee, who was standing directly in front of the steps. But she couldn’t have gone up either, not in less than a second—not in those shoes, without making any noise, when every section of the floor in the house creaked. It was like she’d vanished into thin air.
Renee considered the tape. If nothing else, it should mean fewer people going up there. The most likely explanation—that didn’t involve the girl beaming back onto the starship she probably arrived on—was that Miss Dreads’ room was upstairs and she just didn’t want anyone bothering her.
But Renee wasn’t going to bother anyone. She was just going to have a look around, maybe enjoy a little quiet for a few minutes and then head home.
She slipped off her shoes and ducked under the tape.
The third floor was small, there were only three doors off the hallway, and it was thankfully empty. She pushed the first door open to find a tiny bathroom, its sloping ceiling meant you’d have to either be really short to shower in here or be okay bending over and hunching down. But the porcelain pedestal sink looked original and so did the black and white tile, only slightly chipped.
There was a bottle of combination shampoo and conditioner in the shower and not much else. No evidence that a girl used this bathroom.
The second door off the hallway was missing a doorknob so she passed it on the way to the third. She paused outside, listening. The music from below still vibrated through the walls, but was muted up here, it could have been happening outside or down the street just as easily.
The curiosity that had overtaken her could be explained by the fact that she was a naturally nosy person. One of her nannies had nicknamed her Harriet, after Harriet the Spy, and Renee hadn’t even protested.
So she blamed her natural inquisitiveness as the reason she turned the knob and pushed open the door.
From the corner of the stairwell, Delilah watches the human girl enter the bedroom. She has temporarily traded in her physical body, with all of its color and pretty decorations, for her natural form—a smoke-like wisp of elemental energy. Though she would much prefer to be purple, stealth is necessary to observe the progress of her mission. A disembodied wisp of colorful smoke would not be incognito.
Her first assignment for the Guild did not exactly go well. Delilah can’t afford another mistake, or the dream she’s had since her inception of becoming a full-fledged member of the Cupid Guild will never come true.
The roll of yellow tape she acquired from the Requisitions Department hovers in the shadows next to her insubstantial body. At least she had anticipated her target’s nature correctly. All the girl needed was a push. Delilah’s elemental form cannot smile in satisfaction, though she imagines herself doing so.
Not until the bedroom door eventually closes does she fade into the darkness and leave.
Two
Milo looked up when the door opened. The lock had broken just that morning and he hadn’t had a chance to fix it. He figured he’d be flooded with drunk kids busting into his room, but hadn’t had any interruptions—until now.