Ignited

The summoning

I wake up, tangled in Hermes sheets that feel as suffocating as everything else in my life lately. I long for a fresh start, a clean slate, but it seems impossible. I can't change the past, but I can hide it. No one has to know. I head to the bathroom, flicking on the light to reveal yesterday's mascara smudged across my face. As I step into the shower, I hope to scrub away the weight of expectations like dirt from my skin. Each time I hide behind a tweed Chanel suit and red lipstick, I lose another piece of myself. It's been this way for the past seven years.

My parents have always been money-hungry, clawing their way out of the poverty they were born into. Part of me respects their determination, but another part resents them for pushing me into a mold I can't fit. We pretend to be the perfect family, but beneath the façade lies Mackenzie's string of failed relationships with men old enough to be her father and our father's addiction to infidelity. They may be perfect to some, but not to me.

It all began with Georgina Viola, my mother, and Carmichael Bonavich, my father. They married young to salvage what little reputation they had when my mother became pregnant with Mackenzie. Mackenzie Varvara Bonavich—my sister. My parents never wanted children, especially not more than one. Yet, here I am, Lilith Elisaveta Bonavich, or Lil as they call me. Ironically, they named me Lilith when we were Russian and Catholic, which only underscores the fact that I was not planned.

As I finish blow-drying my hair, I can already hear Mackenzie and Kat gossiping about the latest party they plan to attend. It's just another reason for me to want to leave this town behind and never look back. I struggle to tie my shoelaces, cursing under my breath, when Mackenzie's voice pierces through the air, calling for me.

"What?" I respond, frustration evident in my tone.

"Mom and Dad are gone for the weekend. Want to throw a party?" Mackenzie yells from the couch where she and Kat are lounging.

"This is the smartest decision you've ever made. Yes."

I'm not usually one for parties, but given the current state of my life, I've never wanted anything more. I need an escape. Despite being a senior in high school, I've never felt more trapped.

School drags on excruciatingly slow when all I can think about is drowning my troubles with alcohol at tonight's party. I want to act my age, just this once. After the final bell rings, it's all a blur. I remember getting ready, slipping into one of Mackenzie's dresses. Mackenzie and I were never close, but in moments like these, we're inseparable. I descend the stairs in a little red dress that fits me like a glove. I hardly recognize myself after Kat finishes my makeup. As I step into the chaos of the party, "Babydoll" by Ari Abdul blaring in the background disorients me. Before I can even reach the bottom step, I spot him—a hotter version of Jagger, the cockiest, most beautiful senior who happens to be dating my sister. But he's not Jagger; he's taller, hotter, and entirely unfamiliar.

I try not to stare too long as I head to the kitchen to mix myself a drink, hoping to forget everything tonight. While pouring my "drink," I hear that familiar slimy voice.

"Lils," Irving drawls out.

"I'm not getting back together with you," I say, drawing out the words in the sweetest tone I can muster.

"You know you miss me," Irving says, walking closer,

I feel a hand on my lower back before I even register it.

"Is this bothering you, malyshka?" the mystery man asks.

I'm shocked. Only someone who speaks Russian would understand what he just called me.

"Who are you?" I ask, turning to face him. He's a living sculpture, flawless except for a bruised lip and a scarred brow.

"Priyatno poznakomit'sya," I greet him, unsure if speaking Russian to a stranger is wise.

To my surprise, he responds in kind, admitting his Russian isn't perfect.

"I'm Lilith, or 'Lils' to most. And you?" I reply, feeling his hand's warmth lingering on my lower back.

"Nice to put a name to a face, Lilith. I'm Dom," he says.

The name rings a bell—I've heard Jagger mention it once or twice. Dom's his brother, supposedly off at boarding school or maybe juvenile detention.

"You're brave for using such an evil name in the presence of all these Catholics," I tease, trying to create some distance between us.

"We're not as 'holy' as we act," Dom responds, air-quoting the word 'holy' as he balances his drink.

"You say that while wearing a rosary, Dominic," I chuckle, taking a sip from my cup.

"Mhm...Baby Lilith knows my name, huh?" he smirks.

"Yes, she does. What makes me a baby?" I inquire.

"Your age, Lilit," he says with a devilish grin, backing me against the kitchen counter.

"Stranger danger, Romeo," I slur playfully.

"I don't think 'Romeo' really describes me," he murmurs, leaning in close. "Sweet and soft aren't my style, malyshka. I think you'll come to learn that." His breath tickles my ear as he speaks.

I meet his gaze, tilting my head toward his cup and taking a sip.

"You like whiskey? Rare for a woman," he remarks, eyebrows raised.

"I think you'll come to learn that I am a rare woman," I reply, looking at him through my lashes. I know what I'm doing, and he does too. That's the fun of it.

"God, you're so beautiful, just like Lilith," he whispers in Russian.

"Thought you were Catholic. We were taught to hate Lilith," I respond in the same language, ignoring his broken Russian.

"I never did. She sounded like a dream," he admits, reverting to English as he leans in for a kiss. Just before our lips meet, his phone rings. He ignores it, glancing at the caller ID.

"I wish I didn't have to go, malyshka, but you'll be seeing more of me," he says, sliding his phone into his back pocket. With one last look, he flashes me a grin and disappears into the crowd. I want to chase after him, give him a reason to stay, but I'm not desperate, and I won't act like it. Girls acting like lost puppies without a man in their lives—that's my pet peeve.

I try to rejoin the party, but it loses its appeal once Dominic's gone. So, I finish my drink, retreat upstairs, and slip under the covers, hoping to dream of him so I can see him again.

I wake up with a blistering headache that feels like it's infesting the rest of my body. The light peeking out of my curtains feels like acid on my eyes. I wish more than anything that last night wouldn't have ended, or maybe it was a fever dream I conjured to escape from the way life is now. After the only time I truly felt like I liked myself and someone liked me, it ended. I probably won't see Dom again, and everyone will go back to how they were before. I don't feel the same; it felt like more than just a random guy at a party. It felt like a piece of my fate had clicked into place, like a little part of my life had just changed. I will do anything before I let another piece of my soul get ripped away from me.

I spend hours on social media, searching for any trace of Dom. Twitter, YouTube, TikTok, Instagram—all lead to dead ends. However, a faint glimmer emerges: a private account linked to Jagger under the enigmatic username "D. Pereira." Delving deeper, I uncover a revelation that unsettles me. Dom and Jagger once bore different surnames, unraveling the façade of the seemingly flawless Pereira lineage. It's a labyrinth of secrets, hinting at complexities far beyond what meets the eye. Though peering into another's personal life feels invasive, an undeniable intuition whispers that this is merely the prologue to a deeper entanglement.