Who Knew

It didn't take very long for guests to start arriving, a steady stream of impeccably dressed individuals flowing into the mansion. I guessed the elite liked to be punctually on time, a subtle display of their organized lives. I hadn't gone to greet them as Grandad had requested. When the first set of names were announced by Francois, the stern-faced butler who, despite his formal demeanor, miraculously ensured the pantry was always stocked with the illicit snacks Farrah and I liked to sneak at night, I had completely clammed up, freezing on the spot. My carefully constructed composure crumbled, and a wave of stage fright paralyzed me. Luckily, Grandma and Grandad had just made it downstairs, their arrival a timely rescue. Catching sight of my rigid posture, they had mercifully told us we could go straight into the ballroom, sparing me from the awkward introductions.

Walking through the colossal, intricately carved double doors of the ballroom, I was instantly taken aback. I knew Gran had been working tirelessly in transforming the space for tonight's event, but I hadn't fully grasped the sheer amount of work, the meticulous detail, she had poured into it. The room was huge to begin with, a cavernous, grand empty space when I had first seen it, echoing with quiet solitude. Now, it was a breathtaking gold and black marvel, a symphony of opulent design. A magnificent, multi-tiered chandelier hung from the impossibly high ceiling, its thousands of crystals casting a warm, shimmering golden glow across the entire room, making everything sparkle. The heavy velvet drapes that cascaded down the immense windows were a rich black, exquisitely lined with gold, reflecting the light back into the already dazzling space. In one corner of the room, on a subtly raised platform, a grand piano gleamed, its polished surface reflecting the ambient light. A man, impeccably dressed, sat at the bench, his fingers dancing across the keys, coaxing gentle, soothing tones that filled the air, creating an atmosphere of sophisticated elegance. Even the floor beneath our feet was transformed; the original, cold marble replaced by dark, plush carpeting interwoven with a subtle, intricate gold pattern that seemed to shimmer with every step. As we walked further into the room, stepping fully into the embrace of the chandelier's radiant light, I gasped aloud. My jumpsuit, the one I had chosen for its sleek simplicity, suddenly sparkled under the intense golden glow, its metallic threads catching and reflecting the light in a thousand tiny explosions that bounced off the walls of the room, making me feel like a walking constellation.

"It seems Nan isn't about to let you lay low like you wanted, huh?" Farrah whispered beside me, her voice a low murmur, a grin spreading across her face. I was thinking the exact same thing. The difference was, she seemed genuinely happy about it, if the wide, unshakeable smile on her face indicated anything at all. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her further into the room, away from the direct, blinding glare of the dreaded chandelier, seeking a slightly less illuminated corner. We moved just in the nick of time, too. The first few guests began to filter into the room, and the wait staff, who had been standing discreetly off to the side, moved in immediately, their silver trays laden with offerings of champagne flutes and delicate, artfully arranged hors d'oeuvres. In less than half an hour, the room was almost full, a buzzing tapestry of conversations, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses. The pianist, now joined by a graceful violinist and a serene harpist, played a more lively, enchanting melody, and the music floated around the room in a truly magical fashion. I could almost visualize the individual music notes drifting by, luminous and ethereal, touching every corner of the vast room so that everyone, no matter where they stood, could be enveloped by the harmonious sounds.

"Good evening, everyone!" I looked over to the raised stage that had been set up for the auction later on and saw both my grandparents standing there, bathed in a soft, ethereal light. My grandmother glanced over at me, a subtle nod confirming she was about to make the introduction, a silent cue for me to ready myself. My stomach dropped. "It's great to see all of you here tonight, in good health and strength," she began, her voice clear and resonant, filling the vast space without needing to be unduly loud. "Tonight marks the beginning of a truly significant journey for you young adults, one that will help shape who you want to become in the future." She paused, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "I know, I know, it sounds daunting, doesn't it? Worry not, for you are about to attend the greatest school for our kind, the Morgana Academy. This is one of the longest-standing Academies, established even before the patefaction, before the human world ever knew about us, before we were forced into the shadows." Her gaze softened, drifting over the crowd. "This was the Academy I attended; it's where I met my beloved husband, Joseph." She looked at Grandad, a warm, tender exchange passing between them. "It's where my daughter attended." I saw a flicker of sadness, a fleeting shadow, creep into her eyes as she thought about my mom, probably remembering when she herself gave a similar speech when Mom was about to enter the Academy, brimming with youthful hope.

I was completely taken for a loop as she continued, her voice gaining a new, powerful resonance. "It's where my granddaughter will attend." With that pronouncement, a bright, startling spotlight appeared from out of nowhere, cutting through the golden glow of the chandelier and shining directly down on me, making my sparkling jumpsuit glow even brighter. Suddenly, I was the undeniable center of attention for everyone in the room, hundreds of eyes fixed on me. Farrah, sensing my impending paralysis, gave me a firm but encouraging push forward, and I heard Grandma's voice, stronger this time, correcting herself: "Both my granddaughters." I felt Farrah's hand slip into my own, a warm, solid anchor, and she began tugging me gently but insistently toward the stage. I reluctantly put one foot in front of the other, my head tilted to the ground, trying to become invisible.

Once we made it to the stage, the spotlight following our every reluctant step, Farrah, ever the master of social navigation, expertly positioned us between both my grandparents, an intentional symmetry. "Less than a week ago, I finally found my granddaughter, Genesis," Grandma announced, her voice filled with a palpable emotion that reached every corner of the room. "In doing so, I was also lucky enough to gain another granddaughter, Farrah." She paused, her eyes sweeping over the crowd, a radiant smile on her face. "Both young women are—"

I didn't hear the rest of her speech. My attention, previously fixated on my feet, had been abruptly caught by someone in the crowd, drawing my gaze like an irresistible magnet. He stood among a small group, his presence commanding despite the distance. His skin was gloriously sunkissed and bronze under the black tuxedo he wore, a stark and striking contrast. His dark, rich hair was pulled back into a casual, messy bun at the top of his head, a rebellious touch to his formal attire. Even though he wore the suit well, with a certain inherent elegance, I could tell he didn't feel entirely comfortable in it; the sleeves of his jacket seemed to be practically screaming, trying to keep his impossibly muscular arms within their confines. His eyes, deep chocolate pools, held me captive across the crowded ballroom, and I found myself utterly unable to look away. It was an involuntary, primal pull.

The potent spell was abruptly broken when the girl standing beside him, a delicate wisp of a thing, brought her hand up to cup his cheek, her fingers tracing a soft line along his jaw. She was clearly trying to gain his attention, and he had no choice but to look away from me, his focus shifting to her. When he did, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in a long time, as if a crushing weight had been lifted from my chest. I was finally able to take in the other people around him, a small group of what I assumed were his friends. There were two other guys as well as the girl. All three guys were basically giants compared to most in the room, their broad shoulders and powerful builds dominating their immediate vicinity, but he dwarfed over them all, a towering presence. The four of them, men and woman, more or less had the same bronzed look, their skin tones varying by just a shade lighter or darker, hinting at a shared lineage or origin.

It was the girl, though, who truly captured my attention once my gaze finally disengaged from him. Her hair was a cascade of twisted coils running down her back, and her big, luminous grey eyes shone up at him with an undeniable adoration. Clearly, they were a couple, and for some inexplicable reason, a bitter, unfamiliar taste filled my mouth. I hated her. The thought was visceral, immediate, and utterly irrational.

Just then, I saw, rather than heard, the light applause ripple through the party-goers, and I was able to refocus on what was being said on stage. Apparently, the speech was over, and I had been officially debuted to the masses, my existence confirmed to the elite of the supernatural world. Grabbing onto Farrah's hand, I practically dragged her down the steps of the stage, my need to get outside and away from everyone the most dominant, overwhelming emotion. But, of course, that didn't happen. That would mean that things could actually go my way for once, and life rarely granted such easy wishes.

Just as I took the last step down, my mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter and the sudden debut, I basically collided with someone. The impact was soft, but startling. I looked up, blinking, and wondered if I'd hit my head or something, because I was definitely seeing double. Two identical figures stood before me, their faces mirror images. I looked at the outstretched ebony hands before me, then closed my eyes, shaking my head slightly, trying to right my vision. When I opened them again, there were still two perfect, identical mirror images standing before me, their expressions a mix of surprise and gentle amusement.

Farrah, ever my savior in awkward social situations, came to my rescue. She calmly placed her hand in one of theirs, her usual smooth confidence returning. I looked to the next outstretched hand and the face attached to it, and saw she was waiting expectantly. Slowly, reluctantly, I placed my hand in hers, my palm still damp with nerves.

"Hi, we're Melody and Lyric," the one who was on Farrah's side said, her voice bright and friendly. Twins. I mentally face-palmed myself. Of course.

"I'm Farrah," Farrah announced, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "And she's Genesis. Don't worry, she doesn't always act this weird. It's just there's a lot of people here and she's nervous." She chuckled awkwardly, glancing at me in the corner of her eye, clearly knowing something deeper was amiss, that I really didn't want to be here anymore.

"That's okay. We're kind of oddballs ourselves," Lyric chimed in, her voice surprisingly similar to Melody's. It was weird how much they looked alike. I mean, even the tiny beauty mark under their left eye was identical. How did their parents ever tell them apart? They both wore the same simple yet elegant white sleeveless dress, their glossy black hair and dark, luminous skin a beautiful contrast against the stark white fabric. They had the nicest hazel eyes I'd ever seen on someone, warm and inviting, and those eyes sparkled with pure, unadulterated happiness.

"I just needed to get some air, can you excuse us?" I managed to blurt out, my voice still a little shaky, the need for escape overriding polite conversation. Immediately, they both had the same deflated looks on their faces, their bright smiles fading. "Yeah, sure. Sorry to bother you."

They turned to leave, a visible disappointment radiating from them. Farrah, however, gave me a quick, disappointed look of her own, a silent rebuke. "Or," she interjected quickly, catching their attention, "you guys can come with us if you like?" At that, they both turned around instantly, trying desperately to remain cool and casual, but you could practically see the waves of super excitement radiating from them. They were clearly thrilled.

Outside, the air was cool and crisp as it snaked its way across my exposed skin, causing goosebumps to form along my arms. It was a welcome contrast to the stifling warmth and oppressive energy of the ballroom. I walked toward one of the ornate stone benches nestled among meticulously sculpted bushes and sat down, placing my head between my hands, pressing my palms against my temples as if to still the frantic thoughts within. Yes, I was overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in there, the dazzling lights, the endless chatter, but that wasn't the sole reason I needed the escape. No, it was that guy. Somehow, he had captivated me to the point of utter stupidity, completely derailing my focus. I could still clearly see his face in my head, a vivid, lingering image: his chiseled jaw supporting his delicious, full lips; his nose perfectly sculpted to fit his face, almost impossibly symmetrical. But it was his eyes, those deep, fathomless chocolate pools, that had me drowning in their depths, never wanting to surface. He was that hot. And of course, he had to have a freaking girlfriend. The bitterness returned, sharp and unwelcome.

I could hear Farrah and the twins becoming acquainted, their voices a soft murmur in the night air, and I was about to tune into their conversation, to distract myself from the lingering image of him. But, as luck would have it, we were seated on a bench strategically placed where you could see directly into the ballroom through one of the large bay windows. At that moment, my eyes landed once more on the quartet that included him, who seemed content to mingle among themselves, laughing and gesturing animatedly. I decided it couldn't hurt to see if our new companions knew who they were.

"Do you guys know who that is?" I asked, keeping my voice low, subtly angling my head and discreetly pointing with a slight tilt of my chin, not knowing who else might be watching from the shadows. "The tall ones, over there."

Lyric was the one who spotted them first, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly before widening in recognition. She answered my question with an almost sigh. "Yeah, they're yummy, aren't they? Too bad they're totally off limits."

Farrah's head swiveled in her direction, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Off limits?" she asked, a genuine question.

"Well, yeah," this from Melody, her tone matter-of-fact. "They're werewolves, so obviously we can't, you know, 'date' one of them. According to our mother, the Academy is not the place to test out species boundaries; that was for high school. Now is when we focus on our craft and find someone suitable to settle down with." Wow, their mother sounded like a real pill, a strict adherence to arcane social rules.

"Anyway," Melody continued, smoothly changing the subject, "the shorter guys are Dennis and Ryan." She pointed them out, Dennis being the one with shoulder-length dark hair and Ryan the one with longer, flowing black hair. "The tall, sexy one, he's Echo, beta of the Cree clan's son."

So, his name was Echo, huh? I said the name over and over in my head, liking the sound of it, the quiet strength it implied. It resonated with something deep inside me.

As if he could hear my thoughts, or perhaps felt my gaze, his head darted up. His chocolate eyes, impossibly dark, locked with mine across the distance, a silent, potent connection that seemed to bypass all sound and space. He held my gaze for a few seconds, a silent eternity, before slowly, reluctantly, turning his attention back to his friends. "The girl with them is Eteneia," Melody finished, breaking the spell, "she is the Chief of the Cree clan's daughter."

"Step-daughter," Lyric chimed in, a quick correction. Melody shook her head, as if she'd only just remembered the detail. "Oh, yeah. A few years ago, the Chief married her mom, who had lost her husband in some sort of accident when Eteneia was a baby. The Chief himself had always been single, but I guess he decided to just marry someone so he'd be able to extend his bloodline. No kids of his own yet, though."

Ah, so the beta's son and the Chief's daughter. My mind, despite my nervousness, began to connect the dots. Usually, Chiefs would find suitable mates for their sons or daughters from other powerful clans, often another Chief's kin, forming strategic alliances. But it wasn't unheard of to set them up with the next strongest bloodline within their own clan, a way to consolidate power internally. See, paying attention to Lycan lore and history was definitely paying off. The pieces of the puzzle, though unsettling, were starting to fit.

I startled a little when the door we had come through suddenly opened, banging loudly against the outer wall, interrupting my internal musings. Three guys, obviously vampires from their pale, almost ethereal complexions, were walking toward us. Well, at least two of them were. One of them, taller and leaner than the others, simply oozed an aura I couldn't quite place. I didn't think he was a wolf, but something about his dark, piercing eyes screamed authority, a primal, ancient power. They were all immaculately dressed, their tuxedos perfectly tailored, and of course, insanely gorgeous, a dangerous, alluring beauty.

Who knew elite supernaturals were this hot? I sure as hell didn't.