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 didn't mind coming to the club alone. Evie had left early in the afternoon to go last-minute costume shopping with Erik. Since she already received her costume weeks before, courtesy of Amazon's prime two-day shipping, she agreed to arrive at the club early. She took a taxi, compliments of Christoph. He insisted on arranging it as a precautionary measure since she refused to let him come pick her up. She figured he knew a guy. He always knew a guy. She knew how busy he was at the club and felt awful tearing him away from it just for a ride. So, taking a cab was a fair compromise.
Cecelia never understood how New York City taxi drivers got a bad rep. She always enjoyed talking to them while they drove. They were such interesting people, full of fascinating stories waiting to be told. This man was paying his way through medical school. His name was Prakesh. He was in love with a woman named Preeti. They were childhood best friends, and she was in love with him too. He was determined to make a career for himself before proposing, and she said she'd wait for him. Cecelia thought that was so romantic.
He spoke highly of Christoph too, like they were old friends, telling her that she found a good one. If there was one thing you could say about Christoph, it was he knew how to pick and choose his friends, and Cecelia was always impressed with his choices.
"Thanks!" she called to Prakesh before shutting the door and turning to the building.
"Mmm," she purred. There he was, outside patiently awaiting her arrival, always the gentleman. Ugh, she thought. He was looking more handsome than ever. She climbed the stairs to meet him.
"So you're a Gryffindor?" he asked, commenting on her garb.
"Surprised?" she smirked. "Do you like it?"
You better like it, she thought. She picked it out looking to impress him. She knew how big he was into Harry Potter and thought it whispered his name when she saw it.
He was leaning against the corner of the building near the entrance to his club, smiling at her with that grin of his that drove her nuts. It turned her to liquid. God, did she love that look. It made her want to shake him, slap him, grab his face and kiss him all at the same time.
"Yeah, of course," he chuckled to himself. His black glittering nail polish caught her eye. "I just always pictured you as a Ravenclaw."
"I'll take that as a compliment," she nodded, knowing Ravenclaws were brilliant.
"I'm actually a Gryffindor myself," he smiled proudly, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, the way he and Erik tended to do.
She adored his little mannerisms. The way he talked with his hands when he was excited about something, the way he quoted his favorite authors with such charisma and enthusiasm—all his little ticks had become ever more endearing with each day spent with him.
"A Gryffindor, you?" she teased.
"Oh, you don't think so?" he raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief.
"Oh no, I believe it," she giggled. "You one hundred percent would be." She smiled, taking him in from head to toe, admiring the blue suede shoes, slim-fit grey dress pants, and navy blue smoking jacket he had on. His face was done up like an 80s runway model, with blue sparkly makeup around his eyes, darkened brows, and sparkling glitter in his hair.
