ashes to ashes ➙ simon lewis [1]

iii. ENCOUNTER.

Bella had never particularly enjoyed parties.

Even back in her so-called "mundane" days, the amount of annoying people had always irritated her. They had such painfully simple minds, and she wanted nothing to do with them. Her brother had perpetually been the life of the party, bringing light and happy music to the guests until they were tripping over themselves to get to know him better. But they only wanted to know him on a superficial level, not in any genuine sense, and that had fueled Bella's loathing for social gatherings. People were so one-dimensional.

So the fact that Magnus was forcing her into attending a party with three-quarters of the New York Downworld bothered her deeply. No matter what she said, or how mean she became, he wouldn't waver. Apparently residing at his apartment required attending bashes.

She would've continued sleeping on benches in Central Park if she'd known this beforehand.

She glowered at her reflection in the full-length mirror, rimmed with twining black metal. The dresses that Magnus had magicked out of thin air for her were extravagant and completely overwhelming. Her current fit was a knee-length dress composed of burgundy leather, the texture akin to snakeskin, with the addition of thick rose-patterned red fishnets and dark red ankle boots. She wasn't entirely opposed to the color scheme, really, but it was too excessive for her usual preferences.

"Magnus!" she called, frustration laced through her tone. "This is ridiculous! Why can't I just wear my own clothes?"

Magnus took his time to reach her guest room, hands wrapped around a large mug filled with creamy coffee. His pointed black nails stood out against the porcelain of the mug. "Because, my darling. No one will believe you're a Downworlder if you're dressed like a beggar on Fifth Street."

Bella narrowed her brows. "I liked the beggars on Fifth Street," she snapped. "They bugged me less than the cops. And I don't wanna look like . . . one of you."

Magnus arched a brow delicately. There was too much condescension in that one look, and briefly, Bella found herself considering violence. "One of us," he corrected dryly. "Besides, I don't need the vampires spreading filthy lies that I am permitting mundanes into my parties. And you don't want one of them biting you out of confusion. Does strange things to both the vampire and the warlock."

"I'd never let a vampire bite me. I'm not into that."

Magnus sighed heavily. "Not everything is a choice, dear," he muttered, but then brightened suddenly, gaze trained on Bella's unenthusiastic reflection. "However, I do believe I've found the perfect outfit for you."

"I look like the type of girls I used to hate."

"You look ungrateful, actually," he said, "but I will allow it to pass, due to your irrevocable trauma and the fact that you clean up after yourself far more than Raphael Santiago ever did."

She frowned. "Ralph?" She had been unaware of any personal bonds between the irritating vampire and her warlock landlord.

Magnus waved his fingers dismissively. "Nothing to fret over." He did this frequently, Bella noticed, whenever any illusion to his past was made. It was probably a good thing that Magnus was enjoying the single life, because he needed to work on his communication skills.

But that wasn't Bella's concern. Right now, she was significantly more concerned about the next few hours. Her "people skills" were nonexistent at best, and generally, she just wanted to lay in bed and forget the entire world existed. She hadn't always been like this, but being disowned by her family and discovering she was the spawn of an unknown demon had a vaguely negative impact on her. Surprise, surprise.