The Lies That Bind

7: Pretty Little Devil

Cooper pulled at the collar of his EMT uniform. "I still can't believe I agreed to this."

"Neither can I," Calla admitted, readjusting the black horns buried in her hair. Cooper had to choke back another maniacal laugh at the sight of them.

Calla Parker had disguised herself as the devil. Literally.

The red and black costume was as ridiculously minuscule as every other outfit he'd seen so far in line to the club's front entrance, still thirty feet or so further down the block, despite how long they'd been waiting. He shivered in the cool air and kept his eyes resolutely fixed on her face as he asked, "What's the plan? You haven't told me much about...whatever it is we're here to do."

"We're here," she said, each word measured, "to fill in the gaps."

"Oh, excellent. That clarifies things."

She pinched his arm before he could pull away. "I have a hunch. Let's leave it at that." She then shot him her signature keep your fat mouth shut look. "If anyone asks, all you need to know is that I'm here to find my...friend."

"Right." He glanced over his shoulder, attempting to veil his unease. The line stretched around the corner of the building. "That should be easy."

"As always, you are a ray of positivity."

"I'm just saying." He fussed with the hem of his polyester jacket. "This thing is itchy." He gave her outfit a cursory glance. "I don't see how we're supposed to be matching right now."

"That's because we're not matching." She plucked absently at a loose string dangling from the hem of her pleather skirt. "I despise couple's costumes."

Of course she did. "I'll add that to the list," he grumbled. Right under frilly pink cakes and domestic house cats.

She peered at him, curious. "What?"

"Nothing." He fought back a smile. "So. My job tonight is to stand around and look pretty? If that's the case, maybe you should've just invited Peter along—"

"Oh, shut up." He thought she might have been suppressing a smile of her own. "Your job tonight is to keep an eye on Astrid."

"Alright. Keep an eye on Astrid...and look pretty. I can multitask, you know."

She snorted and folded her arms to brace against a gust of wintery air. Cooper was suddenly very grateful for his jacket, itchiness aside. He shuffled closer to her, blocking the worst of the wind. "Just remember, you absolutely cannot let Astrid see you," Calla emphasized. "She already thinks she's being watched. And for good reason." They shuffled forward as the line began to move, Calla's heels cracking against the sidewalk with each step. "Just keep your head down and your eyes on the crowd. Maybe you'll see something interesting."

"Maybe," he agreed, failing to mask his skepticism. They were only twenty feet from the entrance now. Fifteen. Ten.

Calla pulled a fake ID out of her wallet. He'd almost forgotten, given everything else going on, that she hadn't yet turned twenty-one. "Whatever you do," she cautioned him, "stay out of my way."

Cooper was only too happy to oblige. If this thing went south, he didn't want to be anywhere near the blast radius.

He offered the bouncer his license and, after a beat of nervous silence—stop fidgeting, you're of age—he followed Calla inside, squeezing through the cramped entryway. He brushed against her as they waited for the bottleneck of partygoers to empty out onto a packed dance floor. Calla glanced at him, eyes glittering in the dark.