average human’s Reviews > Control My Night > Status Update

Which was how I found myself walking down the passage with Anika as she shone a light from her newly acquired phone. I glanced behind, expecting to see Steadman or one of the guards ready to pounce. Goosebumps ran up my arms, along with an urge to whisper weshouldnotbehere, and yet curiosity overpowered me. I wanted to see where it led.
I’d been correct in thinking the passageway had access to all rooms in this wing. We crouched under the window panels connecting the interior walls to outside. Blackened keyholes reflected the silvery phone light.
A shaft of amber shone further down, bouncing off the stone—“My room,” Anika winked, “in case you need a bedtime story or two”—and a few dark keyholes later, we came to another illuminated from inside.
Through that keyhole—
I gasped, wincing as the dusty floorboards creaked.
“A cleaner dancing naked?” Anika guessed.
“Worse. It’s Silas.”
At least he was alive. I’d resisted asking Anika about him, figuring questions would draw the wrong attention. The knot in my stomach over his safety eased, dominated by a knot of a, um, different kind.
“Silas is dancing naked? That sounds better, not worse.” Anika shoved her eye against the keyhole, exhaling roughly. “Hail Mary,” she said in an exaggerated southern accent. “He’s doin’ push-ups.”
I shushed her. “We really shouldn’t—”
“Uh, yes we really fucking should—”
“But this is an invasion of privacy!” I hissed. “And he might prefer to be alone.”
“And miss us showing adequate appreciation for this display of masculinity? I think not. Here.” Anika thrust the bottle at me, ignoring my protests, as she contemplated the keyhole and the handle underneath. “Did yours open without a key?”
At my nod, she grabbed the handle. Ancient hinges groaned, the door shifting inwards.
Silas yelped. He jumped to his feet, hair mussed and damp from exercise, chest heaving from exertion. Bewildered looked cute on him.
Everything looked cute on him. Dammit.
I tried not to notice how the bedside lamp threw muted light over the curves of his exposed biceps, or the way his shirt stretched across his chest. Anika tugged the door open wide enough for us to slip through. She raised her fists in triumph.
“What the—”
“—fuck, right?” she finished, inviting herself inside. “Caught Keanna being a little voyeur skulking in the passageway”—my mouth fell open—“so I thought we’d join you.”
“I wasn’t.”
Anika gave an exaggerated wink. “This is a safe space, babe. We’re not here to yuck your yum.”
I glanced at the ceiling. What was the likelihood of it collapsing to save me from my embarrassment?
When it didn’t, there was nothing left to do but hold up the bottle. “Night cap?”
Silas pulled on a sweater as he came closer, studying the camouflaged keyhole. Like in my room, it sat flush against a picture frame, embedded into the wooden panels.
“I wasn’t spying on you,” I reiterated, just in case, “but there’s a passageway behind this wall. I’m six doors down and have the same thing. I’d patch this up, if I were you.”
“No kidding.” He rubbed his face. “Passageway, you said?”
“Yep,” Anika said. “Steadman unfortunately mislaid this whiskey. Wanna help us finish it?”
Silas grabbed something from the pocket of his leather jacket lying across the arm of the couch. His room, similar in layout and furnishings to mine, was littered with books and tossed clothes. They carried his spicy scent and laced the air with it. “After tonight, I won’t say no.” He jammed gum into his mouth, chewing, before smushing it inside the hole.
Gross, albeit effective.
“I feel like Arwood would have an issue with us drinking together.” There. I’d said it. “And Steadman.”
“Don’t worry, they’re distracted.” Anika plopped to the ground cross-legged. “Got something to pour this into, or are we all sharing mouth germs?”
Silas plonked down a glass, teacup and mug, taking a seat adjacent to Anika. He pushed a decorative cushion from his unmade bed toward me.
I eyed them as they debated which drinking game to play. Talking like this would be a great way to get more information on Arwood, or Isobelle, or both. But did they want me to stay? Their bond was obvious. Both mages, close in age …
Jealousy prickled cold under my sternum.
“Sit, Keeks.” Silas nudged the cushion again and turned to Anika. “And I’m enforcing a ban against strip poker.” I froze as I sank down, imagining having to remove items of clothing in front of these insanely attractive people, only relaxing once he said, “Two lies and a truth, please.”
“You’re such a Sagittarius.” Anika poured several inches of amber liquid for each of us and handed the cups out. “Fine. Let’s start with childhood hobbies, they say a lot about a person. What did little Silas do—or not do—in his lunchbox days?”
Silas’s swig was interrupted by her sigh.
“Breaking the rules already. Great start.”
He swilled the remaining whiskey in his mug. “Sagittarius, remember? Okay. Growing up, I a) sang in an acapella group”—Anika snorted—“b) participated in a professional parkour championship or c) spent my weekends ballroom dancing.”
We locked eyes. His had a knowing gleam.
Anika started playing some music from her phone. “You, my friend, are tone deaf. I vote parkour.”
“Are you sure?” I blurted.
“Absolutely,” Anika said. “I’ve seen this guy in action. Parkour. Final answer.”
I took a sip, trying to play down my confidence as dry, malty whiskey seared my tongue. I hoped it wasn’t misplaced. “I pick ballroom dancing.”
“I’d reconsider, banshee,” Anika interjected. “This guy doesn’t dance.”
Again, my gaze found his. My pulse raced like we were at the ball all over again, his grip tightening and releasing as he led me through the steps.
I see you, his eyes said.
I suppressed the desire to break out into a Taylor Swift song about red lips and nice dresses at sunset. “I’m keeping my answer.”
“I know a lightweight when I see one,” Anika said. “We need you lasting longer than the first round.”
But Silas smirked, tapping Anika’s teacup. “Drink. Keanna’s correct.”
Anika looked between us, dumbfounded. “Well. Shit.” She downed the whiskey, refilling it. “Beginner’s luck. Winner goes next.”
My chest loosened as Anika waited expectantly. There was no hint of impatience. She really wanted me here.
“Can you give me a subject?” I asked, circling the rim of my glass.
A wicked gleam pierced Anika’s eyes. “What’s the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done? Give us your worst.”
Thomas, crumpled beneath a shattered hotel window.
Gaping crimson pits where eyes used to be.
I took another sip, ignoring Anika’s protest about not drinking too much.
Matej tugging Ri’s lifeless body.
Concrete walls smeared with blood.
I forced my mind down a different track. I had to keep things light, or I’d make things awkward for everyone.
“A) I shoplifted a dress I liked even though I could afford it,” I said, watching the floor. On top of everything else, I was probably an even worse liar when whiskey was involved. “B) I ditched my security team when I was seventeen to attend a party—and passed out there, or c) I deferred my university degree and left Australia to live here with my father.”
The first two were urges I hadn’t given in to. I must have been transparent—or predictable—because Silas and Anika chorused without hesitation, “C.”
“Am I that obvious? I could have shoplifted.”
“How do I say this delicately?” Anika tilted my glass toward my mouth. “You reek of rule following.”
Something about the way she said that got my back up. “I’m here, aren’t I? You found me sneaking down a hidden passageway.”
“And I bet underneath that leather jacket you’ve been sweating ever since.”
I just stared at her, sucking whiskey off my lips because, well … she was right.
Her phone lit up with a shrill tone, interrupting the music. She raised a finger. “ALM Holdings, may I take a message?” she answered, transforming into a spiky-ponytailed secretary. After an uh-hum and yes, she responded, “We will confirm your appointment within twenty-four hours. Thank you for calling.”
ALM Holdings?
Anika waved for us to continue as she typed a message.
Silas leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Your accent gave you away,” he said, responding to my initial question. “How long have you lived here?”
Of course. My British accent had adopted an Australian drawl from the years living in Sydney, and provided a constant reminder I’d never found somewhere I felt truly at home. “Just over a year. My father wants to stay in Prague until he’s established our new division, then we’ll move back to London.”
“Does your mother live in Australia?”
An inevitable question. I smiled apologetically to lessen the sting. “My mother died when I was born.”
He didn’t say sorry, or share platitudes to try and improve a situation that was awful all round. In his eyes I saw empathy. Shared understanding. Who had he lost?
“I used to live in England, too,” he said instead. “Born in Sorrento, raised in Chicago. We moved all over when I was younger.”
“Hey, save it for the game,” Anika interjected. “You two are burning through topics. Finish your drink, banshee, so I can go.”
I pointed to her phone. “Do you have a side hustle?”
She resumed the music. “You’re looking at the Chief Executive Officer of ALM Holdings.”
“It’s a registered shell company for Arwood,” Silas explained. “The answering service acts as a screening filter for new clients and partnerships. Anika here manages exactly one person—herself.”

She nodded to my drink. “I’m hard to manage.”
I downed the rest of my whiskey, grimacing as it burned my esophagus. This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve seen, working here?”
“Ooh, I like this one.” Anika tapped her chin as she refilled my glass. “How about, a) selling an artifact to a suspected vampire, b) watching a banshee render a roomful of people blind, or c) seeing a witch bind an entire family with a spell?”
Was she being serious? “Vampires exist? And witches?” I should have contemplated this earlier. What else was out there?
Anika cackled, taking immense pleasure in my shock. “Maybe. If they do exist, I’ve never met one. But most people don’t think banshees exist either.” She winked.
I settled back onto the cushion, my brain whirring. “Except I don’t make people go blind.”
“Isobelle did. Does,” Anika retorted as I paused.
“Giving yourself away constitutes an immediate fail,” Silas told Anika. “Drink.”
“Wait. Wait,” I cut in. “Isobelle doesn’t kill people when she screams?”
“Not like you, babe.”
My dismay must have shown, because Silas said, “Being different isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
Except the killing people part.
“Your turn, avertat.” Anika prodded his shoulder. “Favorite sex position?”
I bit my lip. Thank God I hadn’t received that question. I’d suffered a handful of awkward dates throughout high school and my first year of university, and very few of those had led to a kiss, let alone sex. How would I have responded? Uh, no idea, because I’ve never done it.
Silas shook his head at Anika. “You just had to go there, didn’t you?”
“You wouldn’t let me have strip poker. You get this.”
“Well, it’s a wasted question.” Silas’s grin was anything but innocent. The whiskey must have gone straight to my head, because it was … hot. And endearing. “The real lie would be saying any position isn’t a good one.”
My chest warmed while my beast helpfully reminded me how Silas had looked while exercising. I studied the contents of my glass like my life depended on it, trying to ignore the stirrings low in my abdomen.
“I’m sensing some frustration there. Big shame you can’t leave campus to work it off.”
“Don’t brag about your excursions, subicite,” Silas replied, drinking. He gestured between me and him. “We get a different set of terms and conditions for being here.”
“My condolences to your libidos,” Anika teased. Seeing my frown, she explained, “Arwood doesn’t allow fraternization among his employees. It’s hypocritical as hell, but he doesn’t want someone taking a bullet for their lover instead of, say, Lissandra.”
I would not look at Silas.
“Wouldn’t that be tough for him to police?” I regretted speaking as they both stared at me. “I mean, it’s a big mansion and there’s a lot of, um, rooms.”
“Wow, Backhus. There’s your spine.” Anika sounded insultingly impressed at this development. “Look, it’s your life. Personally, no amount of getting railed against a headboard is worth pissing Arwood off and him throwing you at the mercy of the Sect.”
She’d laughed in front of a loaded gun. Anything Anika was wary of was something to note. “I’m almost afraid to ask what that is.”
“The Ripotesta—known colloquially as the Sect—govern mages and other supernatural beings who pop up to say hello.”
My lips parted, but nothing came out.
“With what we can do, someone has to make sure we’re not exposing ourselves to humans. These mages execute first and ask questions never. Unless you want them to unalive you, staying off their radar is the agreed approach.” As if reading my mind, she added, “The fact they haven’t come after you yet means they either don’t know you’re a banshee, or—more likely—Arwood’s protecting you from them. May wanna give him a reason to keep it that way.”
“How do you know this?”
Anika filled her teacup again. I accepted more whiskey before I realized I’d done it. “Tell her what happened to that guy three months ago,” she said.
Silas, too, held his mug out. “A ferox mage manipulated the water from the fountains into a tidal wave. He washed away the guards at the front gate and escaped—”
“Technically—”
“—but Arwood caught it all on his security cameras and gave it to the Sect. Less than a week later, the ferox was shot on a street in Zagreb.”
A tidal wave from a water fountain? That must have been what Silas meant by amplifying the environment. Instead of going down that rabbit hole—I’d have plenty of time for those questions later—I said, “But it could’ve been retribution from Arwood for desertion. How can you be certain it was the Sect who killed him?” The last thing I wanted was another Big Bad in my world. I already had Arwood. I didn’t need a faceless organization to deal with on top of everything else.
“Trust me,” Anika said, “I’ve had a front row seat to what they’re capable of. And also trust that I’m not drunk enough for that conversation.” If her tone didn’t shut the subject down, her skipping to the next song did. She visibly brightened and was up dancing before I could protest.
Silas’s expression mirrored mine as we brought our cups together to toast our messed-up situations. My limbs tingled like a heated blanket unfurling under my skin.
Anika got sick of dancing alone and grabbed my arm. At some point, somehow, I started dancing with her, self-consciousness ebbing as my body grew lighter, my movements fluid. A controlled sway became spinning around with her, then jumping on the bed to the music, and if part of me whispered I’d regret it all tomorrow, it was drowned out by the buzz from the alcohol and our off-key singing. The lightness in my chest helped my laughter come easy and often. A smile stretched across my face.
Anika pulled Silas into the fold—“So, ballroom dancing, huh?”—moving with him in an exaggerated waltz. Seeing them together unsettled my beast. I ignored her, not wanting to interrupt my bliss with inevitable self-doubt. Silas could dance with whoever he wanted. I turned around and around, until hands snagged mine and I slowed to a stop.
It was Silas. Mussed hair. Eyes sparkling. Beautiful, beautiful boy. “Whiskey looks good on you,” he said.
It did? “I feel good. Like I’m floating.”
His laugh sounded far away. “Which means you’re overdue for water.”
My vision spun, and my knees buckled like they had the structural integrity of a sponge. I sank against the adjoining door while Silas filled up my glass with water from his bathroom sink.
“Here. Garden buddy protocol. We need you functioning tomorrow.”
Our fingers brushed as I took it. The grin I gave him grew unabashedly wide. He met it with one of his own, regarding me with the same easy humor as the first night we’d met. Each glimpse of this Silas was something to savor. My fingertips sparked from his touch.
Or the whiskey.
“I heard Arwood got attacked,” I said above the music. “I’m glad I saw you tonight. That you’re okay. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep otherwise.”
Warmth rose in his brown gaze. “You don’t have to worry about me, Keeks.” At my eye roll, he ducked his head to hide a smile. Beats of the song passed as we watched Anika take another swig from the whiskey bottle, singing along to Rihanna. “Though I admit, I was worried about you, too,” he said. “Even if you were with Ms. Bulletproof.”
My heart beat a victorious ka-thump. “I think it’s justified. Everyone here is certifiably insane,” I quipped, sipping. “I won’t make it to my twenty-first birthday at this rate.”
He took a matching sip, his tongue flashing across his bottom lip. “I think the same way about turning twenty-four. Not many die of old age in this life.”
His full lips always looked soft, but especially so right now. I pressed mine together, remembering how his had felt on my palm at the ball. I bet if I got closer, he’d smell like whiskey. Cinnamon. Smoky remnants of a Prague night. The urge to press myself against the length of his body ran through my blood like a siren call. What kind of kisser would Silas be? Would he lead? Take and give in the same breath? Or—
“Keanna …” Silas uttered my name with a breathy groan.
A curl of hair brushed against the sharp swipe of his cheekbone. Hard muscle. Delicate skin. Would he feel like that all over?
I gave an answering “Hmm?” as my beast urged me forward, forward.
“You, looking at me like that,” he murmured. “I—”
“What’s with the side party?” I blinked at Anika’s question, my thoughts slow as her fingernails tapped against the bottle. “What am I missing?”
While there was a very valid reason Anika shouldn’t find out what we’d been discussing, I couldn’t remember what it was. My tongue sat like lead in my mouth while my beast urged me to stay quiet.
Luckily, Silas answered in that deep, unaffected voice of his. “Making sure Keanna doesn’t wake up regretting her life choices.”
Anika tapped the bottle again, considering. “You feeling sick, banshee?”
Heat of a different kind coursed through me. I drained the last of my water. “I hate that word. I wish you’d stop using it.”
“‘Banshee?’ Why?”
Blood, dripping from hotel room curtains onto the broken body below. The empty silence of stolen life. A beast clambering to be set free.
“It reminds me I’m a murderer.”
Silas’s expression softened.
Anika shook her head. “What you are, sis, is powerful. I’m respecting that. We both are.” Silas nodded, cradling his mug to his chest. Siding with her. “Own it.”
Ri’s face flashed in my mind. How he’d gone from accepting to terrified.
Silas and Anika locked eyes. Something unspoken passed between them, something I wasn’t privy to and never would be. They knew control. They had each other.
I had the specter of Arwood’s daughter. A graveyard of deaths on my conscience. An attraction to Silas I didn’t understand and couldn’t share details of with anyone else. An overlord who had nearly gotten me killed tonight and would no doubt endanger my life again before the week was done.
I’d landed in waters I’d never free myself from, my hands stained with blood.
The whiskey had helped me forget, but everything was catching up. God, I was so tired.
I placed my glass on the counter. “I think I’m gonna go to bed,” I said, heading for the passageway so they wouldn’t see me cry.
Anika followed silently. Once we returned to my room, she made a beeline for the bedroom door and slipped out into the hallway.
I skipped my night skincare routine, even though I knew I’d regret it in the morning. I had enough energy to clog the keyhole with wet toilet paper and shrug off my dirty clothes. The cold sheets provided no comfort to my spinning head. I curled into a ball, willing the silence to lull me to sleep.