Prey and Mercy

VII. The Seeds of Vengeance Bloom Sinful

I've always liked Mathis but it hurts to see him shoving his tongue down Idris's throat knowing my best friend is only using him for short-lived lust.

He's a sweet boy, charitable. Idris not so much.

I scoot myself further away before I get engulfed, wrap my arms around Milena's waist on couch that squeaks with every turn. "He's going to break that poor boy's heart." I mumble.

"No he won't." She looks over and the disgust that forms on her face is fitting. "Idris can handle himself."

She runs her fingers through my hair when I disagree. "I swear it, Mercy."

"Good now make him swear it too before we lose a good friend."

"You mean before you lose your import of spicy mortal chips?"

"They're called Flaming Hot Cheetos." I say pointedly and she laughs with no regard for my sincerity.

Someone bumps the back of the couch, forcing my head off of Milena's shoulder. She scowls and grabs the back of their shirt, hands already steaming.

Only two hours ago did everyone move to from the King Estate to the Wylder residence. Well, not everyone. The adults went home or to the Pantheon, leaving the partying to the people who didn't have weekend responsibilities.

The After Banquet is the party that matters. The party where people spill ambrosia on their satin dresses and lace trims. Its where people drown their sorrow and make out with strangers, abusing their powers for the gods that never listen.

We touch things we're not supposed to and scream at the moon until it falls.

I can hardly hear myself think over the base. It runs through the floor, makes me blood vibrate.

"Where is Harper?"

Milena struggles to sit up and immediately groans. "I don't know. He went looking for...Prey I think. But someone who was supposed to stay dead has clearly forgotten where I am." She clutches her head and falls back against the cushions.

"Need a drink?" I ask.

She shakes her head, mumbling something about wanting to stay sober, before waving me away.

Every face in the party is a face that I recognize. And I can't help but notice that Thesis isn't one of them.

For some odd reason she never shows up to the After Banquets. Once upon a time she used to dote on Prey, following him around like a mute dog while Marjorie flattered her displays of power. The two were mosquitoes, always circling around each other for a drop of blood, hiding their intentions with flirtatious smiles that almost anyone and everyone saw behind.

Only Thesis became a fly on the wall after the breakup and Marjorie reclaimed her rightful spot beside the Dormant Prince of the Institute.

I squeeze myself between rough party-goers. It takes a lot of concentration to avoid and dodge cups of wine and ambrosia. I can smell the blood on their lips clearer now. Maybe it helps to know where it's actually coming from this time.

The girl stares blankly with her back pulled against the staircase. Magical ropes bind her arms and ankles back, digging into her collarbones to keep her neck high. She's a blood fountain, a blatantly obvious version of the one at the Banquet.

We all heard that the huntsmen found twins trespassing the veil only a few days ago. None of us held sympathy for the humans that wondered into the realm, stumbling with wide eyes, smelling a world of enchantment that their blood would surely nourish. It's an oddity to have to sacrifices on the Banquet of Whispers.