Page 7

Maxine

Brookfield Place was everything I adored in a shopping destination – grandiose, glitzy, and unapologetically indulgent.

Soft light filtered in from the soaring glass atrium overhead, a lovely outdoor illusion as I hauled Leah through one of the most luxurious malls in the city.

My heels clicked on polished marble floors that gleamed beneath our feet, each step a crisp echo.

Designer boutiques lined the corridors, immaculate displays flaunting handbags, shoes, and clothes of the highest exclusivity.

Every detail of the mall was carefully curated, from the elegant black-and-gold signage to the sculptural light fixtures that cast a warm, flattering glow on anyone lucky enough to bask beneath them.

The acrid scent of espresso and fluffy wafts of fresh pastries beckoned from an artisanal café nearby, mingling with the faint hint of leather and designer perfume. I felt at home here, among the stylish shoppers and the soft murmur of wealth exchanging hands.

Leah, however, looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

I cast a glance over my shoulder to where she trailed behind me, her arms folded and her face contorted in barely concealed disapproval.

She stood out here; practical boots coming apart at the seams and her frayed corduroy jacket a stark contrast to the tailored suits and skirts of the strangers milling around us.

With her bangs askew and her mouth open in a kind of aghast grimace, she looked like a fish out of water.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” I gestured to the sweeping staircase ahead of us that led to the mezzanine. Beyond it, the Hudson River winked and glinted through the floor-to-ceiling windows, boats bobbing gently in the marina.

“Impressive is one word for it.” Leah wrinkled her nose, glancing at the nearest storefront, where a mannequin in a sequined gown shimmered like a disco ball. “Intimidating is another.”

I tsked at her comment, looping my arm through hers despite her initial resistance. “Relax. You’re with me. And we’re only window shopping – for now.”

“Window shopping?” she echoed, arching an eyebrow as her gaze flicked to the price tag on a pair of boots in the display beside us. “I don’t think my wallet can even afford to look at this stuff.”

“ Ugh. Unclench. I’m not asking you to buy anything.” I hooked a left and tugged her into a boutique, marveling at the crystal chandelier hovering over our heads. “Look at that, how gorgeous?”

Leah stomped along beside me, grumbling something incoherent about overpriced footwear and absurdly tiny handbags.

The boutique was lovely, and I itched to run my fingers over every strip of fabric, every embroidered slipper and shiny clasp purse.

I drifted over to a tailored coat on display, beckoning me with that subtle blue sheen, luxury in every soft swish .

I flipped the tag over and scanned the composition: 70% wool, 20% cashmere, 10% nylon.

Good blend . I mused over it, my mind ticking through the pros and cons I knew by heart.

Wool for warmth and elasticity, cashmere for softness, nylon for durability.

It was a trifecta of practicality and indulgence, though the shoulders could use reinforcement if someone actually planned to wear it often.

My gaze shifted to a nearby stack of sweaters, and my hand paused over a thick, ribbed turtleneck in a soft beige. 100% wool . Classic, but you’d better learn to darn those elbows if you want them to last.

“Do you actually know what all that means, or are you just pretending?” Leah’s voice cut through my calculations. She gestured vaguely toward the sweater. “The tags. The fibers. All that.”

I tossed my curls, indignant. “Of course I know. You have to know exactly what you’re buying.

Wool, for example – it’s wonderful, but don’t ever throw it in a dryer unless you want it to shrink into a dog sweater.

And polyester? Avoid it like the plague unless you want to contribute to microplastics in the water systems.”

Despite the judgment in her raised brow, Leah’s eyes darted about, taking in the glitz and glamor.

She wouldn’t admit it, but some part of her had to have been intrigued.

I turned my attention back to the rack. This – this was why I loved shopping.

To immerse myself in details that felt concrete, controllable.

The fibers, the stitching, the craftsmanship of each garment.

While I shopped and Leah sulked, my mind muddled over her desire to tag along, her sudden phone call out of the blue.

She hadn’t mentioned our tense conversation at the aquarium and I was hesitant to bring it up, unwilling to rehash what had already been covered.

She was angry, and that was fair. I was the one who disappeared.

And she wanted answers which was… also fair.

But the truth was something I could not give her.

So we were at an impasse, tip-toeing around the elephant in the room.

I could not tell her of my vampiric nature or the Leyore coven.

I could not explain why I left. And I certainly could not tell her that my family would never have approved of my friendship with Leah, or with any human, for that matter.

To them, humans were food, a resource to be used, not bonds to be cherished.

That was why I kept her away from them. Why I kept her a secret.

Leah stopped at one of the racks I was sifting through and picked up a blouse, squinting at the price tag like it might bite her.

“Two hundred bucks for this?” she muttered, holding it up like it was a crime against humanity. “It’s barely even a shirt.”

I shook off the tension in my shoulders and smirked, sliding a silk scarf through my fingers. “It’s not all about practicality, Leah. It’s about how it makes you feel.”

“Broke?”

“Shush. Like I said, you don’t have to buy anything.” I looped the scarf around my neck to test the look in the mirror. “Just enjoy the ambiance.”

“Ah yes, ambiance,” she grumbled, turning her nose up as we passed a rack of velvety garments. “That’s exactly what I’m here for.”

We drifted toward the shoe section, where I found a pair of silvery heels that were practically begging me to take them out for a spin.

I perched on a leather stool, slipping them onto my feet, while Leah flopped into the chair next to me, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “You always did have a thing for shiny, expensive things.”

I tilted my head, studying her reflection in the mirror as I adjusted the ankle straps. “I like what I like.”

She rolled her eyes and I stuck out my tongue, earning a low chuckle from her in response. It was almost like old times, except there was a tension between us now, a fragile thread that could snap at any moment.

After a few minutes of me parading back and forth in the – rather uncomfortable – heels, Leah met my eyes, mouth hewn in a straight line. Her lips parted and I faltered, dreading whatever impossible question she was about to ask.

“Why didn’t I ever meet your family?”

The question rocked me like a sucker punch, but I masked it with a breezy shrug, toeing the ground. “We’ve talked about this before. They’re… private people.”

“Private?” Leah raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to put it. You dodged every question I ever asked about them. You still do.”

I focused on the shoes, slipping one off and pretending to inspect the sole. “It wasn’t about you, Leah. My family… they had certain expectations. Certain standards they wanted me to uphold.”

She frowned, leaning back in her chair, blowing her bangs from her eyes. “And I didn’t meet those standards. Is that why you kept me a secret?”

I didn’t answer right away, tipping the shoe back and forth in my hand.

I couldn’t give her the truth, not all of it at least. But I could give her this. “I didn’t want them interfering.” I met her gaze – held it. “Our friendship was ours, and I didn’t want them ruining it.”

Leah’s expression softened, but there was still a flicker of doubt in her eyes. “You could’ve just said that back then, you know.”

That ever present guilt twisted in my chest, suffocating like a too-tight corset, but I forced a small smile, teetering in one heel with my bare foot balanced in the air. “I probably should have.”

She didn’t push further, but I could see the gears turning in her head, slotting this new information in place. As I slipped my own shoes back on I inspected her, the way she slouched in the chair, her fingers tapping idly on the armrest.

She was out of place here, surrounded by luxury she clearly didn’t care for, but she was here anyway. For me.

“Thanks for coming, by the way.” I spoke quietly, a whisper across the chasm between us.

She shrugged, but a small, wry smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret it.”

It was about an hour of non-stop outfit changes on my part before we eventually left the boutique behind and stepped out into the concourse. My arms were heavy with shopping bags and my heart lighter than it had been in days. That was always the case after a successful shopping spree.

Leah followed close behind, her hands jammed into her jacket pockets, a bemused look plastered across her face.

“You know–” Her eyes flitted across the assortment of bags in my grasp. “If excessive spending was a competition, you’d have it in the bag.”

“Excuse me! There are some truly timeless pieces in here, every one of them a damn necessity if you ask me.”

“I’m sure they are.” Leah snorted. “And nothing says ‘timeless’ like that frilly monstrosity you grabbed.”

“It’s called bold fashion, Leah.” I turned my nose up, strutting ahead of her with my bags jostling on my elbows. “Not that you’d understand, Miss Functional Outerwear.”

We weaved through the crowd, my heels clicking rhythmically against the gleaming floor, blending into the symphony of mall life. My gaze wandered idly, flitting over window displays until something stopped me dead in my tracks.

The store across the way was sleek and modern, the mannequins in the window dressed in a muted palette of chic, minimalist designs. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught my attention.

It was the woman.

She stood among the mannequins, utterly still. Her waxy, pale skin was blemish-free, poreless like pouring cream. Dark, vacant eyes like marbles in her skull. Staring at me.

She didn’t belong there – not in her old-fashioned blouse with delicate lace detailing, her long, high-waisted skirt, or her polished boots. Her hair was perfectly styled in soft waves of platinum blonde, her presence as deliberate as it was unnerving.

My breath hitched and I stared back, the scene around me fading to grey like the woman was draining the color from the world.

“Maxine?” Leah’s voice cut through the fog.

I blinked, and the woman was gone.

In her place stood a mannequin, pale plastic face turned downward, hands posed elegantly.

My pulse drummed in my ears, prickles of unease trickling down my spine.

“ Maxine ,” Leah said again, this time with more force.

I turned toward her, startled to find her standing at my shoulder. “What?”

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I hesitated, my mouth dry. “I’m fine. I just... thought I recognized someone.”

Leah’s brow furrowed, but she let it go, her gaze dropping to the bags I was carrying. “You’re not seriously planning to haul those around all day, are you?”

“Of course not.” I shook my head, easing out my coiled nerves and shooting her a grin. “That’s why I brought you along.”

She rolled her eyes, but stuck out a hand to relieve me of my bags, muttering something under her breath about poor financial decisions.

As we moved toward the escalators I glanced back over my shoulder at the store window.

I told myself it was nothing – stress, maybe. Definitely stress. But as we descended to the next level the faint unease remained, the unsettling feeling of being watched curling around the edges of my thoughts like smoke from an extinguished flame.