A Cursed Reincarnation [BurningWillows & Viktoff Samson]

It was Halloween day, and Dillon Albriet looked bored sitting in her school uniform at lunch hour, picking at the plate of salad before her as she stared out the window. To anyone passing, they would think the beautiful but bad ass teenager was just sulking over something. No one, of course, dared to approach her though. She was the only teen with tattoos and piercings covering her gorgeous body in the whole school. She also had a reputation to be a tad harsh tongued, and to many was considered the school’s “bad girl”. Dillon let them think what they wanted to. It didn’t matter to her if they feared her or not. As long as they stayed out of her way.

Another group of teens past, offering whispers to each other that Dillon could easily overhear. She wasn’t sulking like they thought. In fact, she was merely watching the cute boys outside practising football more than anything. Why couldn’t she admire the cute boys in her school? She was a teenaged girl after all. But no one noticed that. No one got past her looks, they never did. All they saw was a teen with a rich daddy who liked to “rebel”. It was why she littered her fair skin with tattoos, trying to keep the humans from looking too closely into her life.

If they did look they would find more than a rebellious teen. They would find the young daughter of a powerful crime lord. A man who owned his own cabal and slept in his riches, giving his daughter everything and letting her want for nothing. They would find a girl who had grown up on the wrong side of the law, learning the ins and out of crime. It was her playground now, the only life she knew. And none of these humans would ever understand.

Rising from her seat she tossed her half eaten salad before checking her cell phone, seeing a single text. Dillon ran her hands through her hair, scratching at the shaved side of her head. Her platinum blonde hair fell in a straight waterfall over her shoulder, long and beautiful. Her baby blue eyes were piercing as she caught the gaze of a few students down the hall, making her way to her third class. The only reason she was in such a prestigious school was to get her diploma, and her father didn’t want her in some underfunded public school. Nope, his babygirl got the best, and the best was a bunch of snobs in school uniforms that judged anyone who walked through their doors not looking like a Harvard applicant. At first Dillon simply wanted to transfer to another school than deal with their stares. Now though she just wanted to graduate, to rub it in all their faces. She had already been at the school for two years, and this was her last. She just needed to make it to graduation.

But that was many months away. Today was Halloween and Dillon had other things on her mind. For one, she didn’t have a date to the school Halloween dance. Which had been one of the reasons she was watching the football team. Secondly, she wasn’t actually going to the dance anymore. Her best friend, and long time crime buddy, Kit (short for Catherine) had scored them two fake ids, so that they could sneak into a club. Out of everything Dillon had done, sneaking into a club had yet to be checked off her bucket list. It was all in the text she had got, including what time Kit would stop by her house to grab her, so she had better be ready by 9pm that night. Texting back a quick confirmation, Dillon slipped into her class for the next hour, knowing she had three more classes and then she would need to book it out of there for the mall, now needing a much sexier outfit to go dancing in.

Though the sun stood to cover the graveyard with radiant light, the air was very cold from the early morning and fall atmosphere. A mysterious frost had traveled over some of the smaller stones, but only ones of a particular rock. A young woman with thick black hair and tanned skin had stood before a rich, white tombstone that was decorated in many floral pieces and little trinkets. The woman had held a small black flip phone to her ear, only removing it to hold the phone a few feet from the stone. After the sound of the person on the other end taking a deep breath, a male's voice could be heard. Young by the sound of it, but certainly not a happy one. "Hey mom." He started, the phone giving the voice a slight electronic sound to it. "I told you I'd talk to you on your birthday everyday. It's... It's what I feel like I must do. The only way I can make amends with what happened." He spoke in a calm, steady, but not in a rehearsed way. His voice was a little deep, but nothing gravely.

"I won't be able to stop by, but this is good too, Right?" He tried a small laugh, but it was caught in his throat and never made it to the receiver. "I would have sent dad with the phone, but he's been in the 'pen' ever since he snapped and my sister was just happening to head your way. With that out of the way, I wanna say what I always do. I'm sorry that making me killed you." At this, the woman holding the phone had frowned. "I beat myself up over it all the time. But, I'm taking time off, skipping school today, to take care of myself for Halloween." His voice had a slightly cheering tone to it as the woman holding the phone released her frown for a more curious look as she began to glare at the phone.

With a small chuckle that he had finally managed, the male on the phone had continued. "Don't tell my dumby sister, but I'm going to sneak into a big boy party and maybe even cause some trouble." This line caused the woman to snap and pull the phone back to her ear. As she spoke, her accent was too soft too identify. "Oh no you don't! What do you think you're doing, Keegan?" She sounded stern, as if she had grown up having to put on this front for the male on the phone. She had managed to make him take a small pause before speaking to her. "I'm going to have a little fun. Is that a crime, big sis?" He tried to sound playful, but she shot back pretty quick. "Yeah. Yeah it might be. You said it was a big boy party? Does that mean there will be alcohol served? Would they card you? You can't go if you have to break any laws to get in." She sounded more worried that stern, like as though she'd been playing the role of mother for a while now. "Just try and stop me." He returned flatly as he hung up. Pissing off his older sister as she held her head and groaned in anger, even though nobody could hear her.

The male's thumb had pressed the red button on his phone's screen, letting it fall to the bed beside his head. His gently styled, short hair had grown messy from the full night's rest he had before the call. Which was fine, messy was the way he liked to keep it anyway. With a sigh, he touched his side burns. They were dark, like his sister's hair, but rough as the rest of his facial hair was. If he had his way, he'd grown his facial hair out to see if was charming as a full beard. But, his part time magic act that he had been paid under the table for, was rather demanding that he remained boy-ish compared to the magician's manly physique and tuxedo. Not that he found it to be too much of a bother, it was a really easy way to get paid.

As he sat up, the white sheets that had covered his bare chest would fall down his lean muscle and toned skin. The feeling of the sheets moving had always tickled against what little chest hair he had, but he had grown used to it. His barely blue eyes and self-satisfied grin had turned to a fluffy white cat that sat comfortable in his swivel chair across the room. After a second of eye contact, Keegan's smile had dropped. "Oh don't start in on me. You know she's a bully too." He spoke at the cat as if an actual conversation was initiated by the cat. To the outside world, it was just a late-teens male talking to a cat because he was a major drug-ee. But, Keegan could legitimately hold a conversation with the cat. After another few seconds, Keegan rolled his eyes before hopping out of bed. His mid-section only covered by a pair of red lightly fitting boxers. "You're just mad because you're not coming along. Speaking of which, I don't got time to talk all day with you-" He plucked a pair of folded jeans off his desk and had begun to pull them on, looking back to the cat again. "I gotta pick up a few things before the club opens anyway."

When her last period ended and the bell rang signalling the end of school, Dillon was relieved. Not only because she could head to the mall, but because she had escaped a run in with the biggest bitch on school, Jessica. That girl was the epitome of snob, always rattling on about what her daddy owned and how rich they were. And she thought it gave her some kind of entitlement, as if the whole school should be bending to her will because she must be the richest.

Which was far from true. Her family had been amassing riches for generations, longer than any bloodline could stretch, and indeed much too long for any mortal to live. Thankfully, none of them were mortal.

Her father was actually a fallen angel. A real one, as real as the circle of friends he had who were all immortal angels too. The cabal was run by them, and the irony was not lost on anyone. Of course the entire angelic mafia wasn't fully populated with angels. Many were Nephilim, half Angels, and others were supernaturals that branches from the angel blood, like the Seelies, or as they preferred to be called, Fae. It was odd for creatures that were written in books to embody good, peace, and everything nice in the world to then take such a role in the crime world. But after centuries of living and watching humans grow, most of the Angels had grown bored of thier tedious lives, looking for something fresh. Something new.

They weren't the only supernatural cabal in the States either. They knew of a handful more, each run by its own faction. There was one run by a cruel sorcer who only employed those of the magical quantity, shunning beings that could not preform even the smallest of magics. Another was run by a pack of wolves, and they were known to be rather ruthless. That cabal actually ran out of San Franciso, not far from L.A where Dillon lived.

All of this she knew and kept hidden, acting like a normal human teen at school, never speaking up about her wealth or estate. Bringing unwanted attention to her fathers work wouldn't bode well. Neither would anyone finding out that Dillon was no mortal, but instead a Nephilim herself. The only person who knew that was Kit, and she was a Nephilim herself too.

Another text buzzed on her phone, dragging her out of her thoughts. Another one from Kit, asking if she could tag along to the mall. Strolling to her locker, she sent of a text saying "Yes. Pick up in an hour. Your place." As she reached for her lock though a group of girls rounded the corner and got a resounding groan from Dillons cute pink lips.

"Hey Dillon," Jessica chirped in a sickly sweet voice, her posse falling behind her as she stepped forward, "I just thought you should know your skirt is riding up. We can all see your underwear."

Instinctively Dillon reached for the short grey skirt supplied by the school she wore, pulling it down a little. Whoever had designed them had only made them long enough to reach mid thigh, and Dillon had wondered if he was a perverted man, or just clueless. Nevertheless as she pulled at her skirt she noted that it wasn't exposing anything, her curvy ass and pink panties still hidden underneath.

"Nice try Jessica," Dillon snapped, turning back to her lock, "Next you'll tell me my bra is hanging out."

It was a jab at how open the blonde bitch beside her left her blouse, unbuttoning it till her bra was clearly seen, her cleavage hanging out disgustingly. Of course some guys here drooled over it, but Dillon never found it alluring. She normally had a button or two popped open as well so just the top of her breasts peeked out, leaving much more to be desired. She had gotten many detentions for wearing her uniform like this, and it was highly unfair that Jessia had yet to receive one.

"Like yours?" She sneered, trying and failing to make her conscientious, "at least I don't get detentions for flaunting off my body."

"That's because your daddy is on the school board," Dillon shot back, venom in her voice, "wee lil Jessica can't do anything without her daddy's help."

The blonde let out an exasperated sigh and shot back pretty lowly, "at least I don't need tattoos to try and pretend I'm bad ass or something. Or wait, is it to hide the ugly?"

Dillon grabbed her textbooks and slapped the locker shut, glaring daggers at the Queen bitch of the school, "Niether. Some guys like a girl with a little ink."

"A little?" She scoffed, "try a lot you freak. What guy would go for that?"

"I don't know," Dillon gave her a toothy devilish grin, "ask your boyfriend. He sure liked them at the last beach bash. Couldn't keep his hands off."

Now for her exit, before Jessica started a cat fight she couldn't win against Dillon in a million years. Turning on her heel so her blond hair fanned out she strolled away, walking quick enough that Jessica would have to lunge for her and make a scene, but not fast enough to look like she was fleeing.God it feels good to stick it to that bitch somedays she thought to herself, stepping outside and moving to the campus parking lot, Im sure I'll have to face her again tomorrow. I wonder if she knew her boyfriend is a whore, sleeping with as many chicks as he can bang behind her back.

Finding her car, a small red convertible she loved, Dillon jumped in and drove off. Kit lived across town and it would take her the hour with traffic to grab her best friend before they found a mall. Now that school was over she was legitimately excited for the club that night. All she needed was a good excuse to her father of why she was going out. For someone in the crime business, some of his rules boggled her.

A small cloud of ash-like smoke had barreled across the sky in a singular direction. Almost invisible with the thick white clouds over head, it darted from roof top to roof top in a strange bullet like fashion. This cloud wouldn't even slow down until it hovered over a small variety shop. As soon as it passed the shop and hovered over the street below, the smoke rocketed to the cement and as it did, the shape of a young male remained. This shape quickly solidified and color returned to every inch if his skin and clothes and hair, leaving a black shirted Keegan with wildly glowing red eyes standing right in front of the cheap downtown variety store. With a stretch and a yawn, he blinked until his eyes returned to their normal barely blue. With a whiff, he could smell that his clothes trapped his smoke when he materialized. Cringing his nose as he regretted not just walking here. But, he was looking to save as much time as possible before the club scene would open.

Just as he had begun to step toward the door, his jean pocket had vibrated and caught his attention. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and checked who would be calling. His sister's number with "Big Sis" above it had appeared on his screen as he hesitated. That hesitation was followed by a loud voice shouting inside the shop in front of Keegan. In the same movement to open the door, his other hand had shut off his phone before slipping it back into his pocket. To absolutely no one's surprise, a pasty thin man had stood behind a cash register with two men with guns and dressed in full black shouting instructions repeatedly. The cashier failing to follow each line spat at him the first time, so the duo had repeated themselves over and over.

Just as Keegan caught their attention with the sound of the bell on the door, the pair both turned and pointed their firearms his way. "Stop right there!" The first man yelled as he kept his shot gun pointing towards Keegan. Without a pause, or the care to summon a yawn, Keegan didn't even look at the duo as he walked up the isles of the shop and ran his eyes over various items. Living in the city for years, Keegan was actually surprised there still was a little variety store he had yet to peruse. The second armed robber had turn his weapon back to the the cashier as he told the man with the shotgun to keep an eye on "The boy". Keegan wasn't paying the duo any mind as he walked past a row of breads and pastries.

There wasn't anything freshly baked, the breads and pastries were packaged and sent to this place from a company like most normal items. Keegan knew of a variety store that served pizzas and served freshly blended coffee, but he liked that place and wouldn't want to not be able to go back there. What he was after hadn't been in sight right away, it was sitting behind glass fridge doors at the back of the store with the rest of it's beautiful alcoholic family. Keegan was, of course, taking a detour as he finally found his way away from the baked goods an grains into a section of little toys and cheap Halloween costumes. He poked around the fun little nitnacks and slinkys and little tubes of green goo that would make an inappropriate sound if a child were to press it back into it's tube.

Keegan had managed a smile as he looked around the cheap little aisle. The black clothed male with a shotgun that crept up behind him was still on his mind as well. Just as the man grew closer, Keegan turned to face him with a dissatisfied glare. The man with the shotgun had brought the barrel to Keegan's chest. "Get to the floor and I'll let you live." The man spoke as Keegan didn't look away from his eyes or drop his glare. For a moment, the pair had an exchange of glares, but Keegan actually seemed to be keeping his cool while the shotgun remained against his chest.

"And if I don't?" Keegan began, flatly, as he took a step toward the man, forcing the shotgun's barrel to press against his chest. "What are you going to do? Blast my guts all over the floor?" Keegan could see the man beginning to choke as his weapon clearly held no power over the young man. Dumbfounded even on his facial features around the black ski mask he wore. Keegan wasn't foolish enough to think that the man's freezing up didn't include the thought that Keegan had been some sort of crazy male or suicidal person. But, he didn't let his own thoughts rip at his ego. It wasn't a fragile thing, but very few actions could ever spurn it. "Go on. Pussy. Do it." Keegan smiled now as he decided to pick on one of the possibilities that could be running through the man's head. "Aren't you here to show your friend over there that you're a big man and you can do anything? Huh?" He spoke further as reached up and ran some fingers through his hair. "Or are you using this stupid thing as protection and was just looking for some quick cash? What? Not looking forward to seeing my face every night before you go to sleep? The weight of being a murderer being too much? But, you still swing this fucking thing around like you're hot shit?" Just as the man was going to return was some half-baked threat, Keegan turned and began looking over the costumes and toys again.

Raising his eye brows, the man with the shotgun actually mulled over what Keegan said. Even with the armed robbery on his conscience. The eventual possibility of the police showing up. This man still processed Keegan's words as opposed to trying to knock him out with the butt of the gun, or blasting a hole in the younger male. Then again, the man didn't actually have to hurt anyone as the second armed robber continued instructing the Cashier to put the money in a bag. As far as the man with the shotgun was concerned, as long as they got their money, the seemingly ready to die male didn't have to get blown away for calling him a pussy. With his face turned away, Keegan pulled together a 'did that really just work?' look. He fully expected for the shotgun wielding bastard to just pull the trigger.

With the duo still holding up the joint, a whimsically excited Keegan picked up a red devil costume bag and about two others of the same kind but for various monsters. He would work something out between them. With a big of swagger to his step, he made his way to the back with his big black-clothed nanny behind him. As Keegan popped open the glass door in front of the big bottles of whiskey and the like, the man behind him had spoken up. "Don't you look a little young for that?" It was cute, that the burly store robber had started a little small talk. But, Keegan looked to him with a furrowed brow.

"Dude. Really?" He began, poking holes right through the robber with his glare. "You're robbing a store. With guns. And you're concerned about me picking up something to drink?" Keegan let the door shut as he turned to face the man again. "Who the fuck are you to tell me what I shouldn't be buying? Don't you have some cashier to bully? What? You're watching me because your buddy told you to do so?" Keegan wondered what kind of man would set out to do something like this suddenly be shaken up by an adorable male like himself just saying some harsh words. It's like the guy was bullied in high school or something. Keegan almost didn't even think he was the biggest weirdo here, he just couldn't understand what was keeping the other man from pulling the trigger. "No, I'm letting him do his thing, he's better with words." Spoke the man with the gun, a slight Hispanic accent being heard. Keegan softened up when he realized that it was a human thing that kept the man from pulling the trigger. "Well, hey, I'm not calling the police. I'm just picking up some booze and some costumes for Halloween." Keegan let his softening up come out in his voice, letting the other man feel assured or even in control of the situation. It wasn't like they were going to kill anybody, at least Keegan didn't think so.

"C'mon bro, we got the money." Shouted the second robber as he ran out of the store. The Cashier being wily about not pulling up the phone from under the desk to call the cops as the man with the shotgun was still at the back of the younger male. But, before long, the man with the shotgun followed the first guy. But, only after he had shared some words with the younger male. Words that the cashier couldn't hear due to the distance. Just as the man with the shotgun had followed his friend out the door, Keegan began to walk past the register counter and headed for the door as well. "Wait. Wait. Aren't you going to pay for those?" The sweaty Cashier managed around his nervous ticks as he pulled his feet together to stand straight and pretend like he was still an authority over Keegan. Instead of talking, the rugged looking teen had looked to the empty cash register, and then to the shaking cashier, back to the empty cash register. And this repeated before Keegan had stopped on the cashier's face. Blinking a few times before he sighed and put up the middle finger. In that same action, he stepped out the door and began walking up the street.

Traffic was a nightmare. Not only were the L.A streets usually packed, but two cop cars needed to whiz through, halting the slow going line even longer. By the time she had gotten off the highway she was well past the hour mark and it made Dillon growl in annoyance, knowing full well Kit would have a well made speech to lay into her for being late. And traffic never seemed to be a viable reason for that girl. As she pulled up the the gate guarding the driveway, she looked up the short hill towards the mansion like home, eyeing Kit stepping out and jogging down. Her father was just as filthy rich as the next Angel, and like many chose to live the high life in luxury, including a large plot with a beautiful mansion to call their own. Dillon had a similar one she shared with her father, although it was bigger, and often bustling with life as members of the cabal came in and out, all ignoring the young girl.

"Hey Kit," she chirped as the darker skinned women stepped in. While her father was white, her mother had been black, giving Kit a caramel colored skin tone. It was the only reminder for Kit that she had a mother, otherwise she never spoke on it. At birth her father had stolen her away, like many Angels did. Some let the child grow up with their mother than swooped in later, into their teens, while others thought it best to take the child young. Dillon had been the later, as had Kit.

"You're late," the raven haired teen spoke, pulling her seat belt on, "What was it this time? Traffic?"

"Always is Kit. You know it too, that's why you bug me every time."

Rolling her eyes she stuck her tongue out at the blonde driver, teasing her as Dillon pulled away from the curb, merging with traffic towards the closest mall. This time they did arrive at their destination within minutes, finding a parking spot before heading in. All Dillon needed left was some colorful feathers, more glue, and some jewelry for her costume. And all Kit needed was a pair of shoes. Two hours past and they found themselves driving away, giggling and chatting as plenty of paper and plastic bags littered the back seat, filled with much more than either needed. The latest trends, clothing, music, and make up filled their bags, not to mention their Halloween pieces they hadn't forgot to pick out.

"Drop me off at home please D. Dad wants to talk to me about something and I need a shower before I put my ensemble together."

"As long as you pick me up at 8 Kit as promised."

" 'Course."

Dillon dropped her off before making the long trip home, yet again getting stuck in god-awful traffic. When she finally did get home she had little time left, so she quickly hoped in a shower and scrubbed herself clean, ecstatic for that night's party.

Stepping out of the shower, Keegan couldn't have felt more relaxed. And even as he was supposed to just let all of his stressed wash away, it was when he dropped his guard that he would feel his guilt the most. Standing, alone in the bathroom with steam rolling off his skin was supposed to be a good thing. Running his hand through his stupid clean hair as he smiles into the foggy mirror at his obscured form was supposed to be fun. And yet, even as he did these things, and looked into his own barely blue eyes with the fake smile, he couldn't find that comfort that other people did. The comfort that hot water against tired skin would provide. The relaxation of being both clean and having no need to rush off anywhee just yet. But, all these actions had only melted away Keegan's natural distractions.

With his frown starting to grow, Keegan reached forward with his right index finger and wrote on the mirror in front of him. With his finger, and the side of that finger for smaller lines, he traced his head on the mirror and gave it plain hair with horns and a tooth stickman smile. He scribbled in two eyes and grew a baby carrot nose. At the sight of his cartoon about himself in a costume tonight, he gave an honest smile. He used to draw on mirrors like this with his sister after one or the other would take a shower. She was always better at it than him. She would claim it was because girls were always better, he would claim the difference in their ability came down to how much older she was than him. And yet, here he was, older than they were back than, and he still couldn't draw better on mirrors than he used too.

After a sigh, he took a deep breath and pushed the bathroom door open with his foot. The apartment had been a bit more cold than the bathroom and he could feel it's effects across his bare body, minus the black towel around his waist. Just as he left the bathroom, his eyes fell on the white cat as it pawed at the bottle of vodka on the table. The cat looked to him and Keegan didn't look away, as though he was listening to a silent side of a conversation. With another sight, Keegan stepped forward and flung his hand forward to claim the bottle off the table. "You're right. I don't need it." He spoke softly, not looking at the cat as he turned to pull open a freezer door. "I don't need it yet." After this last line, he put the bottle at the back of the freezer and shut the door.

The cat hopped forward, landing on the freezer as it looked to Keegan in protest. After just a second, Keegan found his smile and plucked the cat up with both hands. "I won't need it because there will be plenty at the club," He added a slightly cheerful note as he plopped the cat onto a plush pillow on the couch and charged into his room to shut the door and change. Taking only a minute or so to take care of the towel and pull on a pair of boxers and shorts, Keegan returned to the living room.

With very little pause to think or look around, Keegan made his way back to the table to pluck up the small costume bags before charging back into his room with them. Ignoring the cat on the couch as it looked to him in clear kitty-disgust. After just a few moments, Keegan had plucked the small red horns out of the devil costume and a golden trident out of a cheesy hero costume, and the cape out of the vampire one. With his power, he ignited his right index finger and ran the small supernatural flame closely to the golden paint on the toy trident, effortlessly smoking it black. With his coat pulled on, another pair of jeans, he threw the silly black cape over his shoulders and put the devil horns in his hair. He smiled to himself in the mirror before stepping out of his room.

Showering, the blonde teenaged bombshell stepped out and into the steamy bathroom, drying herself off with the thickest white towel money could buy. Throwing her hair into the same towel she stepped out into her bedroom, looking at the costume laid out on her bed. She had gotten it custom designed and shipped in, and the beautiful designs amazed her. For her birthday the year before her father had taken her to Rio, and she had loved the festive costumes. And now she had one for herself.

Drying off completely, she found a pair of panties with a matching strapless bra and tugged them on. Then she went and did her makeup, before making her hair cool and wild. Finally she painted her nails, her look complete and checked her phone. 7:30.

With enough time to still spare, Dillon grabbed her black house coat and padded downstairs to the kitchen for a snack, not wanting to get too full if she was to drink that night. And she definitely wasn't coming home sober. Her father was still at work as he normally was, leaving the house to Dillon and the maids. While some of the cabal business could be held at the mansion, most of it took place at her father's company, the CEO of one of the largest energy companies along the western coast. There were many smaller branches of his company littered up and down the west coast, so that the cabal stretched from the border of Canada down to Mexico. And in L.A the headquarters sat, a giant skyscraper wedged in downtown, run and operated all by the cabal. The energy company was a front of course, but also a legit business, fully staffed by angels, Nephilim and Fae. The rest of the building on the upper levels were affiliated with the crime cabal, devoted to serving out various jobs to keep the angelic mafia running and rich.

Grabbing a coffee and a bag of chips she munched while she checked her social media, scanning for anything juicy. Then she shuffled back upstairs, sated and ready to done on her costume. God, the boys would love her in this.

~

At around ten to nine Kit arrived in a limousine, smiling like crazy at her. Her best friend was wearing a cliche cat costume to almost match her name, with even a little collar and bell on her neck to go with it.

"Kitkat," Dillon laughed, sliding into her seat, "Wonderful."

"Well at least I don't look like a flamingo."

"And neither do I kit. It's not a bird outfit."

She made a funny face then shrugged, "Fine, enjoy your exotic costume. We should be arriving in the next hour tot he club, but traffic isn't any fun."

"So hope to arrive fashionable late?"

"Indeed."

The club wasn't all that far away. Keegan had already made most of the trek on foot as he stopped in front of a glass door of an apartment. His toy devil horns catching his eye from his reflection. To your average onlooker, Keegan would appear to be giving himself a look over or checking himself out. However, his eyes clung to the cheesy little red horns on his head. With the change in lighting, he didn't enjoy how cheep he looked in the items he wore. Though they had looked just fine under his apartment lighting, he was sure he'd look like he got his costume out of one of thosr quarter machines. As fun-loving the cape andhorns hand appeared, Keegan knew he could do better if he allowed himself to cheat, just a little. His hands were strikingly quick as he removed his little black cape and horns, tossing them aside as a cloud of smoke surrounds him.

The smoke solidified in the shape of Keegan's general structure with many decorative changes. His hair appeared to flow like air and took on an ash-white color. Out from the hair, just over his forehead, sprung a twin pair of bloody horns. The horns had rugged black textures to them, standing about two inches outward with a curl backward. His skin had become hauntingly white. With a glare down at his finger nails, smoke weaved around them, leaving them more rounded out with a coal-black color to them. "I must be losing my touch." He groaned in annoyance as he continued to force the rest of his change. He reached outward as a black smoke cloud began to pull together. Gripping the cloud like it were cloth before pulling it. Forcing the cloud to whirl around his torso. After a magical poof, the cloud took the form of a luscious, rich black cloak that clung to his torso and ran down his back like a cape. The cloak had a ruby piece that clasped the cloak together over his torso. Everything was brilliant.

There was just one more part to go. His toy three-headed pitchfork. With a flick, the toy had went up in smoke. A long black trident had fallen from the smoke, into his hand. His trident looked much better, but the points weren't as threatening as they could be. After a second thought, he leaned toward as used a finger to hold his lips apart as he spied on his teeth. Real fangs forming as he watched. With a pleased, toothy grin and a step back, Keegan admired his new costume. Cheating could be so much fun. He almost felt bad as he stepped off the apartment steps and continued his jolly step torward the club.

Along the way, his eyes froze on the sight of a woman. Even as his feet kept going, he couldn't peel his eyes off the cigarette in her hand. The very sight of her taking a smoke had caused anxiety to form in his gut. Like he needed chemical courage to face whatever he'd run into at the club. But, he was doing fairly well to avoid daily smoking. This moment pulling out a lot of turnoil in Keegan's chest as he choked out the idea of approaching the woman for a smoke. He couldn't do it, a will to wean himself off from smoking had taken him recently. Even if the drive to go clean had only been a phase, or something, he had to at least try to keep to it. With a blink, he left the woman behind and kept walking torward the club. There would be alcohol there.

They had arrived earlier than expected, but they also got dropped off at the back door and Kit took an extra minute to pay the driver not to mention a word to either of their father's. With nervous giggles the teenagers strolled up to the back door and Dillon swiped a key card across the security lock, letting them in. It wasn't her own, although she did have one stuffed in her purse for when she visited the company. No, she had swiped one from her father's office, knowing better than to have her own name come up in the security logs. Indeed, her father owned this club, like many other businesses he secretly had a hand in. Clubs were easy places to traffic drugs, and it was also why the mafia princess had never been allowed in one. For a father so deep within the criminal society, he sure had a few odd rules for his daughter. Alike the private school, Dillon had always been banned from her father's clubs due to the nightly drug deals. His way of "keeping her safe". It was bullshit in her eyes, since she saw plenty of drug deals within the mansion. More likely it was her father's dislike of humans, and the last thing he wanted from his daughter was getting wasted at a club and bringing a mortal boy home, or worse getting knocked up. The logic didn't apply as well to her school, but then again none of those snobs interested Dillon. They never would.

The back door led into the storage room, filled with crates of beer, vodka, whiskey...all the alcohol they would need in a club. The door leading into the room took them to a small hallway that led into the club itself. Dillon knew there was no cameras in the storage room or hallway, in the case someone needed a little "coehersing". The second the girls stepped into the hall they could hear the music, the heavy bass resonating around them.

"Finally," Kit grin was wild and contagious, "We are going to get so shit faced. Dance until our feet bleed!"

"Let's just be thankful your dad's out for the week and my father doesn't check in when I sleep over at your house."

"We won't be sleeping much tonight!" Kit laughed, "We are hot, young, and ready to party Dillon, let's not waste the night!"

Opening the last door, the music suddenly got much louder, surrounding them and making it hard to hear anything else. Grabbing her hand, her friend dragged her towards the nearest bar, both of them getting plenty of looks from men as they past.

"I.D's," the bartender asked, holding open his palm as they approached.

They both slapped down their fake I.D's in his hand, waiting for him to look them over before handing them back, "What can I get you lovely ladies tonight?"

"Tequila," Dillon asked, dropping down her credit card, "And can we start a tab?"

"Of course you can," he was all grins, running the card through before pouring two shots of tequila.

"Make it two each," Kit laughed, "Please. And lemon and salt too."

"Coming up," he passed a plate of fresh cut lemon wedges and a salt shaker, then lined up their four tequila shots as Kit yelled over the music, "Bottom's up!"

Two shots later they were scoping the dance floor, beers in hand. Dillon saw an open spot and dragged her friend in, instantly shaking her hips to the beat as the feathers of her skirt shook and danced under the black lights. Kit was dancing rather provocatively, her body swaying with the beat. It wasn't crowded enough yet for everyone to be grinding against one another, the night still young. Give it an hour and this dance floor will be pack.

As they danced three guys came up and tried to join, but none of them looked appetizing. Kit disagreed, grinding her ass up against the tallest one with blonde hair, while her front grinded against the second blonde. The third, a brunette, tried to get Dillon to dance but she ducked out, claiming she needed the bathroom.

"I'll be back," she whispered into Kit's ear as she passed but her best friend was too preoccupied locking lips with the man in front of her, the one behind rubbing his groin in her ass and calling it dancing. As for Dillon she slipped back into the crowds to the bar again, leaning against it as the bartender stepped towards her.

"Another beer," she asked, wiggling her empty one.

"Where's the friend?"

"Swapping saliva on the dance floor. She's fine, but I need more alcohol if I'm going to have to dance with some of these men tonight. A lot more alcohol. Where are all the cute boy's at?"