The Melancholy of Sebastien Huxley

I | A Deal With A God

          The changing room's door opened, and a trio of footsteps came in. Three male voices complained to one another about the socialites on the patio, how much they hated their jobs, and how they worked so much harder than anyone else.

          With a roll of his eyes, Sebastien carefully edged the cubicle door open. He watched the three men head to the end of the room, and when they disappeared behind the wall of lockers, he eased it open and silently snuck out and back into the hall.

          He needed to get to the roof.

          Navigating the halls, he found his way to the service elevator. But when the doors opened, they revealed two waiters carrying hors d'oeuvres, who stood there with winded expressions on their faces and looked as though they might collapse at any moment.

          Sebastien walked inside and pressed the rooftop patio button, and with a ding, the elevator started moving. He tried his best to be patient, but one of the waiters was breathing heavily to his left, and the other man was wheezing. Humans were such weak little things.

          But that thought struck his heart with pain, and he sunk into the dismay he'd been trying so hard to ignore for months. Humans were weak; they got sick...they got old, and eventually, they withered away. The boy he loved suffered that human curse, and Sebastien hated himself for not being able to do a thing to save him.

          He'd make up for that failure now, though.

          The elevator arrived, and the doors opened to reveal the patio. Both the winded waiters moved past Sebastien and disappeared into the crowd of brightly dressed people, who were chatting, dancing, and drinking. And straight ahead was probably one of the best views of the city Sebastien had ever seen.

          But he didn't have time to sightsee.

          With a quiet huff, he slowly moved through the crowd, examining the faces of each person. He attempted to stay calm, but there was no sign of the man he'd come looking for.

          What if he wasn't here? It wouldn't be the first time this guy ditched a party—even the ones he hosted. But Sebastien couldn't give up. He'd waited ten months for this chance.... He wasn't going to waste it.

          He fought off the feeling of hopelessness before it could sink its fangs into him, and moved towards the balcony. When he peered over the edge, his hawkish eyes located the parking lot.

          And there it was. The black Lynx-6000, one of the most expensive supercars currently on the market. That was his target's car. He was here.

          But where?

          Sebastien scowled and turned to face the crowd. He listened to their voices, focusing his senses. But there were too many demons here for him to be able to sniff out a specific one.

          He tried anyway, and it resulted in his nose filling with the contorting scents of wolf walkers, elves, demons, and humans. There were so many different species here; he was surprised they weren't at one another's throats.

          But just then, a blur of red snatched his attention as it glistened in the corner of his left eye. He sharply turned his head, and when he set his sights on the crimson-haired man standing beside a pagoda and surrounded by a grinning, eager crowd, his determination was shattered by desperation.

          That was him.

          Immediately, he made his way across the patio, swerving past waiters and dodging the flailing hands of excited women gossiping to each other. He almost tripped over someone's tail and stumbled when he bumped into a man; he muttered his apology and scurried off, though. He didn't want to draw attention to himself.