The Underworld Crown (Series)

Chapter 1

I'd never known anyone stupid enough to dance upon their parent's grave – or to even dance near it. But then again, I never thought I would have been caught dead at a party in Milton's quaint graveyard, on the anniversary of my mother's passing. Yet here I was.

Classmates masked in costumes headed towards the entrance gate, moving with all the grace – or lack thereof – of newborn foals. Based off their smiles and loud chatter, the party had started early. They whispered hurriedly between themselves, shushing each other as they struggled to contain their excitement. Then the figures were submerged by the night's cloak, heading towards the deepest nook of the town's cemetery.

"Serena! Are you listening to me?"

Camilla's voice snapped me back to our conversation. She turned off the car engine, letting the heater settle. The chill from outside began to seep in, brushing along my legs.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologised, just as shrill screams, followed by laughter, echoed through the car park. "I don't think Lizzy will have copied your costume."

Camilla frowned, pivoting in her seat to look at me. "Clearly you weren't listening. I was talking about you. Please tell me you brought your costume with you."

I paused, looking over my sleeveless white dress, which fell demurely to the top of my knees. "I'm wearing it?"

Camilla halted, failing to hide the shock plastered on her face. "Serena, I gave you five weeks' notice, not five seconds. This is a Halloween party, not a Sunday morning at church."

My eyebrows rose. "Hey, just be grateful I came. When you rocked up at my house, I'd completely forgotten about the party."

Camilla's hazel eyes rounded and her mouth fell open, but before she exclaimed her disbelief, she hesitated and her features softened. She took a deep breath. "You're right, I'm sorry. I know what day it is. I thought this Halloween bash would be a good distraction," she continued, somewhat uncomfortably, "from, well, you know." 

I almost barked a laugh at the ghost in the room. But instead, I fiddled nervously with my dress hem and peered back towards the cemetery, wanting to face anything but her sympathetic expression. The truth was, in the seven years that had passed, I'd gotten no better at talking about her, and Camilla had gotten no better at broaching the topic.

Her eyes widened and she let out a squeal of excitement, reaching over the centre console into the back seat.

"I've got an idea about how to fix your costume," she said. When she returned, breathless, it was with a wicked smile and a gleaming pair scissors in her hand.

"Camilla–"

She held up both hands in defence. "Just let me try something. If it doesn't work, I'll buy another napkin for you to wear, okay?"

I looked between the pair of scissors and the dress. I'd bought it years ago but had only worn it once. Since then it had been sitting in my closet, growing dusty. Camilla held the scissors up with an excited glint in her eyes, looking like an artist who'd just discovered how to remedy a bludgeoned painting.

"I'll act like I didn't hear the napkin part," I said with a small smile. "But fine, cut it to your heart's desire."

I tried not to wonder how much I'd regret letting her use that pair of scissors later.

*****

I had to hand it to her; Camilla did a better job than I gave her credit for. The newly styled dress had an edgy cut yet somehow managed to appear angelic. Camilla had cut the neckline a little lower and taken an inch or two off the base of the skirt. I threw on a pair of white feathered wings as Camilla locked the car, then threaded her arm through mine.