Chronicles Of A Fallen Angel-Chapter 38: Power Plays

Three days after securing VIP access, I was in the middle of studying the Velvet Room’s upper floor layouts when my phone buzzed.

Vivienne: I need a favor.

Me: What kind of favor?

Vivienne: The kind that involves you wearing a suit and pretending to like boring people.

Me: Sounds terrible. I’m in.

Vivienne: There’s a supernatural community gala tomorrow night. Thornwood Coven is hosting. I need a date who won’t embarrass me.

Me: You sure I’m the right choice for that?

Vivienne: You’re a good liar who can hold a conversation about art and doesn’t try to impress everyone in the room. That’s exactly what I need. Plus, my coven keeps trying to set me up with ’suitable’ men and I’m sick of it.

Me: Using me as a shield. I’m honored.

Vivienne: Don’t be. I’ll make it worth your while. Pick you up at 7?

Me: I’ll be ready.

I set down the phone, and Sarah looked up from where she was cleaning weapons across the room.

"Something came up?"

"Networking opportunity."

"Mmm." She examined a blade. "You’re juggling a lot right now. The Velvet Room, the retrievals, now a coven event. You sure you can handle it all?"

"I’ve handled worse."

She smiled as she grabbed the weapon and turned to leave.

---

The next evening, Vivienne picked me up in her car looking stunning in a deep purple dress that matched her coven colors and hugged her figure in a way that could make one drool. Her hair was up in an elegant style, and she wore jewelry that I could sense was enchanted.

"You clean up well," she said as I slid into the passenger seat.

"So do you. What’s the occasion again?"

"Quarterly supernatural community gala. All the major factions attend – covens, vampire courts, shifter packs, demon representatives. It’s basically a political peacocking contest disguised as a charity event." She pulled into traffic. "The Thornwood Coven is hosting this quarter, which means I have to be there and be charming."

"And I’m there to...?"

"Be my date, look impressive, and deflect the inevitable questions about why I’m still single many months after my divorce." She glanced at me. "Think you can handle that?"

"I’ll be fine."

"Good. Because my coven sisters can be... intense."

The gala was held at an estate in the Garden District – old money, immaculate grounds, the kind of place that screamed generational wealth. Cars lined the circular driveway, and I spotted several that probably cost more than most people’s houses.

"Big event," I observed.

"The biggest of the quarter. Everyone who’s anyone in the supernatural community will be here." She handed her keys to a valet. "Stay close to me, smile and nod at the right times, and don’t insult anyone important."

"No promises on that last one."

We entered through grand double doors into a ballroom that was straight out of a period film. Crystal chandeliers, marble floors, waiters circulating with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. And everywhere, supernatural beings pretending to be civilized.

I recognized some faces from the Velvet Room. Others were new – powerful presences wrapped in expensive clothes and practiced smiles.

"Vivienne!" An older woman approached, wearing Thornwood Coven colors and an expression of polite interest. "So glad you could make it. And who is this?"

"Alexander Cross, this is Margaret Thornwood, our coven’s high priestess." Vivienne made the introduction smoothly. "Alexander is a... friend, visiting from the West Coast."

Margaret’s eyes swept over me, assessing. "A pleasure, Mr. Cross. What brings you to our city?"

"Business and pleasure," I said, keeping it vague. "Vivienne was kind enough to show me around."

"How lovely." But her tone suggested she didn’t find it lovely at all. "Vivienne, dear, could I speak with you for a moment? Coven business."

"Of course." Vivienne squeezed my arm. "I’ll be right back. Try not to cause trouble." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

She was led away by Margaret, and I was left alone in a sea of supernatural elite.

I grabbed a champagne flute and moved through the crowd, observing. The social dynamics here were similar to the Velvet Room but more formal. People clustered by faction – vampires with vampires, witches with witches, shifters keeping to themselves.

I was examining an expensive painting when a voice spoke beside me.

"Interesting piece, isn’t it? Eighteenth century, if I’m not mistaken."

I turned to find a man who looked in his forties, perfectly groomed, wearing a suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. He had the air of old money and older magic.

"Seventeen-eighty-three," I corrected. "The artist was a witch who specialized in capturing magical resonance in oil paint."

His eyebrow raised. "You know your art."

"I know enough for events like this."

"Clearly." He extended his hand. "Sebastian Thorne. I don’t believe we’ve met."

"Alexander Cross."

His handshake was firm, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Cross. The mysterious newcomer Vivienne brought as her date. I’ve heard about you."

"Have you?"

"The supernatural community is small. Word travels fast when someone new enters our circles." He sipped his champagne. "Especially when that someone appears to have caught the attention of one of our most eligible witches."

There was something in his tone. Not quite hostility, but close.

"Vivienne and I are friends," I said carefully.

"Friends." He smiled. "How quaint. Tell me, Mr. Cross, what do you do? For work, I mean."

"Consulting. Problem-solving for clients who need discretion."

"Vague. How very mysterious." His smile sharpened. "You know, Vivienne deserves someone who can provide stability. Security. Someone established in our community."

Ah. There it was.

"And you think you’re that someone?" I asked.

"I think she could do better than a drifter who showed up a few weeks ago with no history and no ties to our world."

"Our world? You mean the supernatural community you were born into? The one where you’ve never had to prove yourself because your family name does it for you?" I matched his smile. "Must be nice, having everything handed to you."

His expression hardened. "Careful, Mr. Cross. You don’t know who you’re talking to."

"Sebastian Thorne. Old bloodline witch family, significant political influence, probably been courting Vivienne since her divorce became final and seeing it as a good match on paper." I tilted my head. "How am I doing?"

"You’re doing a good job of making enemies."

I smiled.

"I’m doing a good job of reading the room. You’re interested in Vivienne, she’s not interested back, and now you’re irritated that she brought someone else to an event where you expected to have her to yourself."

He stepped closer, magic crackling faintly around him. "You think you’re clever. You think you understand how things work here. But you’re just a nobody playing in a world too dangerous for you."

"Maybe. Or maybe I understand it better than you think, and that’s what really bothers you."

We stared at each other for a long moment. Other people were starting to notice the tension.

Then Sebastian laughed – forced and loud. "You’re entertaining, I’ll give you that. Enjoy your evening, Mr. Cross. And enjoy Vivienne’s company while it lasts."

He walked away, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

"That looked intense."

I turned to find Jade Lin standing beside me, wearing an elegant green dress. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing everyone else is. Networking, making appearances, pretending to care about charity." She nodded toward where Sebastian had gone. "Sebastian Thorne is not someone you want as an enemy. His family has serious influence."

"He started it."

"And you finished it. Very alpha of you." She smiled. "Word of advice? He’s been pursuing Vivienne for months. Very publicly. Very persistently. You showing up as her date is a direct challenge to that."

"She didn’t mention that."

"She probably didn’t think it mattered. But to Sebastian? It matters a lot." Jade sipped her drink. "Watch your back. The Thornes don’t forgive slights easily."

Vivienne found me a few minutes later, looking relieved to escape whatever conversation she’d been trapped in.

"Sorry about that. Margaret wanted to discuss coven politics and – " She stopped, reading my expression. "What happened?"

"I met Sebastian Thorne."

Her face went carefully neutral. "Ah. What did he say?"

"That I’m a nobody and you deserve someone established. Among other things."

"That pompous ass." She grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and downed half of it. "I’m sorry. I should have warned you he’d be here."

"Jade mentioned he’s been courting you."

"Courting is a strong word. Pestering is more accurate." She sighed. "His family and mine have been trying to arrange a match for months. Good bloodlines, political alliance, all that aristocratic bullshit. I’ve turned him down repeatedly, but he doesn’t seem to get the message."

"And bringing me here sends that message?"

"Bringing you here tells everyone – including Sebastian – that I make my own choices." She linked her arm through mine. "Come on. Let’s circulate before Margaret corners me again."

We moved through the crowd, and I felt eyes tracking us. Whispers followed in our wake. Vivienne seemed oblivious, or at least practiced at ignoring it, but I caught the looks.

Judgment. Curiosity. In Sebastian’s case, outright hostility.

"This is exhausting," Vivienne murmured as we escaped another conversation with a coven elder. "I need a break."

"Want to leave?"

"Can’t. Have to stay for the speeches and the auction." She checked her phone. "That’s not for another hour. I might die of boredom first."

An idea formed. Petty. Definitely ill-advised. But after Sebastian’s condescending attitude and the general stuffiness of the event, I was feeling reckless.

"I can think of a way to make the time pass faster," I said.

She looked at me, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Cain. We’re at a coven event. There are people everywhere."

"There are also private rooms. Bathrooms. Quiet corners." I leaned closer. "And I’m willing to bet Sebastian is watching us right now, trying to figure out what you see in me."

"You want to prove a point."

"I want to make you feel good. Proving a point is just a bonus."

She bit her lip, and I could see her considering it. The proper response would be to say no, to maintain decorum, to act like the respectable coven member everyone expected her to be.

But Vivienne had never been particularly interested in proper.

"You’re a terrible influence," she said, but she was smiling.

"Is that a yes?"

She glanced around, then grabbed my hand. "Follow me. And be subtle."

We moved through the crowd, Vivienne leading me with practiced ease. She nodded at people, made small talk when necessary, but kept us moving toward the back of the estate.

We passed through a hallway lined with expensive art, then up a set of stairs to what looked like a private wing. Vivienne checked doors until she found one that opened into a luxurious bathroom – all marble and gold fixtures, probably meant for important guests.

She pulled me inside.

"This is insane," she said, but her breathing was already quickening. "If anyone finds out – "

"Then we’ll be quiet." I moved closer, backing her against the marble counter. "Think you can do that?"

Her eyes were dark, pupils dilated. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

"I know. That’s what makes it fun."

I could see the war playing out on her face – propriety versus desire, what she should do versus what she wanted to do.

Desire won.

"Fuck it," she breathed. "But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."

"Deal."

I kissed her, hard and hungry, swallowing her moan. My hands found the zipper of her dress, and hers were already working at my belt.

Outside, the gala continued. Music drifted up from the ballroom, along with the murmur of conversation and laughter.

And somewhere down there, Sebastian Thorne was probably wondering where we’d gone.

The thought made me smile against Vivienne’s lips.

This would be fun.