The Party

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He'd never wanted to go the party in the first place.

It was always the same; pounding music and sour champagne. Couples or groups falling half-dressed out of the alcoves. The usual cavern-dust junkies being leeched by the Inflamers who prowled the party until morning.

This one was no different. Flynn stared out at the writhing crowds, dancing and yelling and laughing to the deafening beat reverberating around the Ash Hall. Isaac had whined for two days straight when Flynn had told him that he had no intention of coming to the Welcome Feast. He'd avoided the last one, and he hadn't missed the party at all. He'd sent one of the cowering third-ringers up to snatch a bottle of whiskey, and the rest of the night had been spent alone in his room with a tumbler full of ice, and three sheets of intricately-drawn plans for the library.

It hadn't stopped the steady stream of girls knocking on his door, though.

Alcohol made them brave. They turned up, one by one, all of them thinking they were the only ones audacious enough to try. He'd turned most of them away with a single glare, but one or two had been allowed to stay. It was easy enough to pick out who'd be allowed to touch him. They were cold and unfeeling, a dead look in their eyes. No emotional attachment needed; they just wanted the damp heat of a few hours together.

They reminded him of who he was – who he had to be down here.

A wave of noise jerked Flynn from his thoughts, and he leaned over the balcony that framed the back of the hall. The new arrivals had wandered in, their eyes wide with shock, their mouths falling open. Flynn felt an immediate stab of hatred for them. Already, they were showing weakness. Already, they were showing how much the Depths intimidated them.

You couldn't let the Dwellers see inside your head. That was the first rule, the most important rule. Hide the fear on your face, and sneer at the ones who didn't. Flynn had learned that quickly when he'd been shoved down and drowned in that God-forsaken tsunami in the entrance chamber. He was the only one who hadn't risen up choking, and Samuel had smirked right at him.

'Flynn Cooper? At a party?' a voice full of glee sounded beside him. 'I can't believe my eyes. No girls lining up to warm your bed tonight, is that it?'

Flynn turned, and scowled at Isaac. His pudgy face was beaming. 'I couldn't put up with you whining about how I missed the party of the century last time. And besides... who says I haven't got anyone lined up yet?'

Isaac raised his eyebrows. 'Already? You've just got here.'

Flynn turned back to the railing on the balcony, surveying the chaotic party below. 'You weren't the only one who invited me here. Angeline sent me a note. Told me she has plans for me.'

'Angeline?' Isaac said, his brow creasing. His eyes widened. 'Cooper. She's like three steps away from Inflamerdom.'

'So?'

'You like the freaks, don't you?'

Flynn rolled his eyes.

Isaac whistled. 'You have got to give me tips sometime, man. Angeline may be an evil bitch, but she's hot.'

Flynn dragged a hand in front of him, gesturing to the party. 'If you want to meet girls, Isaac, go down there and dance with them.'

He shrugged. 'Fine. But I'm using your name to get in with them.'

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