In a hidden world where angels and demons clash, Cecelia White's life takes a thrilling turn when she discovers her connection to a powerful relic, the Angel Key. With her best friend Evie by her side, Cecelia is thrust into a supernatural conflict...
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Cecelia was feeling fantastic. Better than she'd ever felt before. She felt loose, confident, and ready for whatever the night threw at her as she made her way down the street toward Christoph and Erik's apartment. She and Evette had made friends with some girls named Margot and Cynthia on the subway ride over. The girls had generously shared some pineapple-flavored vodka from a flask. Cecelia had never been much for drinking. She honestly couldn't even admit that she'd ever been drunk before, unless she counted that one time over winter break.
Her friend Blake had convinced her to smuggle a bottle of her father's scotch back to school. She'd kept that bottle hidden for weeks before she and Blake found the opportunity to try it. She'd never forget the repulsive taste of the amber liquid or the burning sensation it left as it made its way down her throat. Cecelia knew then that she hated scotch. But this made her wonder—maybe she'd been missing out by writing off alcohol altogether based on just that one experience. The first real cocktail she ever had was the mojito Christoph had taught her to make tonight, and it was incredible. She now knew she had most definitely been missing out.
The boys had assembled quite the ragtag group before leaving the club. There were at least twenty people following behind Erik and Christoph as they led the way down the street. There were her friends, Margot and her group, some bartenders, and other staff. More people were expected to join later.
Standing outside their apartment building, Cecelia thought it didn't look like much. It was a nice brick structure, about six stories high with a small driveway and a parking garage. Christoph led them up the front steps and unlocked the main door. The group followed him inside and down a short hallway to a door on the left marked '1'.
"Welcome to our humble abode," he said as he unlocked the door. "It's not much, but it's home."
He held the door open, and the group began to pour through. Cecelia wasn't sure exactly what she was expecting when she entered the apartment, but it wasn't this. She should have known better than to judge a book by its cover.
"Wow. Spiffy place you've got here, guys!" Evette said aloud.
"Thanks, Eves. Why don't I give you the grand tour?" Erik replied.
"Definitely. Lead the way, pretty boy," she said, slapping his butt and following him.
Cecelia stood at the entrance, taking in the scenery of their apartment and appreciating every little detail. Frankly, she was impressed. The main living room was neatly arranged, not at all in the way she expected boys their age would decorate an apartment. They had antique couches set along the back right corner, with a unique coffee table that Erik quickly walked over to and somehow maneuvered into a mini fridge. He just lifted the edge, and the top slid back. He was currently removing chilled bottled beverages from it and handing them out to his friends. They had black leather electric recliners and art deco shelving units positioned along the front and back walls. It was modern, with a uniquely refined touch of class.
