Misty
Music blares from hidden speakers. Purple-hued light covers the wide, open ballroom of sorts in dim colors as bodies move to sensual, thrumming songs that I don’t find even remotely familiar. Men and women alike are all dressed in black–black masks, black dresses, black suits. Some wear hoods to cover their hair, but I can’t tell who's who… I can’t tell who belongs to the order and who’s just an invitee.
A screech of excitement barrels toward us as we edge down a short row of stone steps. Two women in black masks launch themselves at us–Fia and Darby–and I catch Darby at the very moment she wobbles in her impossibly high heels.
“No freakin’ way!” Fia shouts over the music. “We were wondering if you guys got invited!”
“Why didn’t you say anything?!” Georgia gasps, clutching Fia’
