by Kim Liggett
I’d never seen her this worn-out before, but I’d never flown to another country with her, either.
“She’ll want for nothing,” Lucinda said. “I’ll see to it personally.”
Lucinda wasn’t the warmest caregiver, but Dane said he trusted her with his life. That should count for something.
I turned my attention back to Beth. “I’ll come and check on you as soon as I can,” I said, brushing the hair away from her forehead.
“We’re going to find him,” Beth whispered. “It’s almost like he’s already here with us. It won’t be long.”
Lucinda tapped her designer heel on the slate floor. I looked up to find her glaring down at me and I wondered if this was a small preview of what I was about to walk into tonight—a den of vipers.
As they closed the iron door, I watched Beth pull the covers up under her chin, a haunted look on her face as she gave me one last wave.
15
LUCINDA POWER WALKED down the stone steps to a long corridor, through a dizzying breezeway that connected the tower, leading to another enormous corridor. There were only two doors on the entire floor.
“This is the oldest part of the castle, the original master’s quarters. Of course, Mr. Coronado made some adjustments over the past year, in anticipation of your arrival.”
She used one of the ornate iron keys to open the first door. I stepped inside. It was like walking into a dream. A gorgeous mahogany sleigh bed with sumptuous linens, windows opening up to a formal garden, and, beyond it, the sea. Marble inlaid floors covered in hide rugs, a massive fireplace, and rugged stone walls.
“Where does this lead?” I pressed my palm against a door next to the bed.
“To Francisco’s chamber—I mean, Dane’s,” she corrected herself. “Mr. Coronado said that you are the only one to have a key to this door,” she said as she removed it from her key ring and handed it over.
As curious as I was to see Dane’s room, I tugged on the doorknob to make sure it was secure, then placed the key in an elegant agate box on the bedside table.
Fetching a robe from the closet, she placed it on the bed. “You will need to get washed and changed. I’ll start the bath—”
“No,” I said a little too forcefully, remembering my creepy welcome party in Quivira, but then quickly dialed it back. “Thank you, but I can bathe myself. Been down that road. Not gonna happen.”
“Americans,” she muttered as she started to leave.
“My bag?” I asked.
“By the time you get out, you’ll have everything you need.”
As soon as she left, I locked the door and looked for a place to stash the phone Timmons gave me. I knew Dane said he trusted Lucinda with his life, but I was getting a completely different vibe from her. Sort of an I’d-like-to-kill-you-with-my-death-stare vibe. Under the mattress: way too obvious. I looked under the rugs for a loose tile, but this place was impeccably maintained. I was going to have to get creative.
I went into the bathroom to look for a hiding spot. I was shocked to find it fully stocked with every beauty product under the sun. Makeup, hair supplies, lotions, face creams, powders, but no perfume. He remembered that I didn’t wear perfume.
I grabbed a plastic shower cap and wrapped the phone, then submerged it in a jar of body cream.
Beth would be so proud. This was straight-up MacGyver-level sneaky.
I turned on the faucets of the pink tub, then realized that it wasn’t just pink—it was made from a solid piece of rose quartz. I’d never seen anything like it.
After pinning up my hair, I went back in the bedroom, stripped off my clothes, put on the robe, and grabbed the notebook Dane gave me.
“I have to hand it to Mr. Coronado,” I said as I submerged myself in the steamy water. “He seems to have thought of everything.”
The notebook was full of names with thumbnail photos attached. Histories full of devious deeds. Slave traders. Blood diamonds. Aristocrats and thieves. But there was nothing on Lucinda. I wondered what her deal was. She was old and full of secrets. I could smell it on her. But who was I to judge? We all have things we need to hide.
Just as I was rinsing the soap from my shoulders, I heard the lock to my door unlatch, followed by a flurry of footsteps.
“Excuse me,” I called out. “The door was locked for a reason.”
“Calm yourself,” Lucinda scolded. “We are only dropping off your things.”
I heard the rattling of wood, a match being struck, the pop of a cork, followed by retreating footsteps. All but one set.
Lucinda. I could smell her—beneath her heady, ancient blood and the freesia lotion she used, there was a sharp disinfectant smell tinged with iron—and she was standing directly in front of the bathroom door.
I gripped the loofah brush in my hand. “If you even think about coming in here, there will be blood.”
“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered. “Our guests will be arriving in an hour. Mr. Coronado’s very anxious to see which gown you’ll choose.”
“Gown?” I leapt out of the tub. “Hey, wait a minute.” I grabbed a towel. “I didn’t bring a gown.”
I raced out of the bathroom, to the door, peeking my head out into the corridor, but Lucinda was already gone.
I looked over the room, now transformed by flowers and firelight. The scent was captivating—honeysuckle, peonies, and violets, cedarwood burning in the fireplace, along with the smooth notes of ripe fruit from the bubbly that was nestled in a silver ice bucket.
It was a bottle of cava. A glass had been poured, and there was a note propped against it.
Dane’s handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere.
The pain of finding that letter under Heartbreak Tree came back to me in a searing flash as I ran my fingers over the script.
The choice is yours.
I will follow your lead.
All my love,
Dane
I stared at the two garment bags draped on my bed. Afraid to open them. Afraid not to.
I unzipped the black garment bag first. It was a beautiful gown, similar in color to the one Katia was sort of wearing in the portrait. Midnight-blue lace and silk, with a sheer but demure high neckline and delicate cap sleeves, but the back . . . well, there was no back. It was like somebody forgot to sew on half the dress.
“Nice try,” I said, laying it down on the bed.
But when I unzipped the white bag, my blood turned cold.
It was a wedding dress. Absolutely stunning, but no fucking way.
I wadded it up, cramming it into the bottom of the armoire. I didn’t even want to look at it.
And it appeared that Morticia Addams had already taken away the clothes I came in with, probably buried them along with my bag from the car.
I had half a mind to go down there naked. That would serve him right, but I’d only be hurting myself.
As irritated as I was, I needed to be smart about this. Not only for Rhys’s sake, but also for Dane’s. Timmons said that if he didn’t deliver me, they were going to “retire” him, whatever that meant. I couldn’t let that happen. No. I needed to play my part to perfection: the ruthless immortal who stole Coronado’s heart.
Holding the deep blue gown in front of me, I looked in the mirror. “If they want a villain, I’ll give them a villain.”
16
WHEN I FINALLY worked up the nerve to leave my room, I noticed how quiet the house felt. Too quiet for a party. The only sound was the click of my heels, followed by the silk of my dress swishing against the marble floors. As I descended the staircase, I found the staff bustling with overflowing trays of food and drink.
“Don’t mind if I do,” I said as I snatched a glass of bubbly off one of the passing trays and followed the server to the back of the house.
Beyond the open French doors, the formal garden, and th
e gorgeous black-bottomed pool was a huge expanse of grass, with at least a couple dozen people standing around in tuxes and gowns. To be more specific, twenty-five immortals who were hell-bent on killing my brother. Some I recognized from newspapers, magazines, CNN. The top one percent of the one percent. And now I had to pretend to be one of them.
I wanted to run back upstairs and hyperventilate for a while, but my heels were stuck in the soil.
“You’re late,” said Lucinda, who’d snuck up behind me.
“Jesus.” I flinched. “You might want to consider wearing a bell.”
“I hope you realize how lucky you are to be welcomed here, after everything you’ve done to him.”
“To him?” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, but when I looked over at her, I felt the heat of her emotions—longing, pain, devotion, pure jealousy—smoldering behind her golden-hazel eyes.
“Luckiest girl in the world,” I said as I slipped off my heels and handed them to her.
“And what am I to do with these?” she asked, her dark eyebrows knitting into a thin grim line.
“I’m sure you’ll find a place to stick them,” I said before stepping forward.
The grass felt good between my toes—it wasn’t Quivira grass, but it felt right.
As I moved through the crowd, I let myself remember what it was like to have Katia’s power running through my bloodstream. I needed to channel her strength, her confidence to get through this.
I sensed eyes on me as I passed—their judgment, hate, and fear trying to penetrate my skin.
Maybe it was just the cava or the jet sag, but I swore I felt something . . . a darkness reaching up through the soil, taking root in my body.
I couldn’t get the alchemist’s words out of my head. What would make me give away my light and succumb to the darkness? What would drive me to burn down the world and bathe in its ashes? Not wanting to give in to my fear and paranoia, I tuned everything out and concentrated on Dane’s scent.
I opened myself up to him in a way I hadn’t allowed since Quivira.
It wasn’t hard. It was a relief.
Dane was surrounded by a group of men, but as soon as his eyes met mine, a flood of feelings came over me, making my blood sing. I wasn’t sure whether the feelings were mine or his, or one and the same, which made it all the more alluring. I was all tangled up in him, and we weren’t even touching.
He excused himself, and although I knew they were probably watching us, we only had eyes for each other.
He looked down at my feet. “I see some of Quivira stuck with you.”
“But not with you,” I said, studying him, looking for the slightest trace of the boy I’d met at the junkyard. He seemed perfectly at ease here among these horrible people. It made me wonder how much influence Coronado had over Dane.
“This will do, even though I’d have preferred the other dress.” He looked me up and down. “But something’s missing.”
“Oh, I know,” I said. “It’s the entire back of this dress. Thanks for that.”
“The pleasure is mine. Truly.” He smiled, that sexy dimple peeking out. “I know what it is,” he said, pulling a black silk ribbon from his pocket.
“It can’t be.” I reached for it, the ribbon coiling around our wrists. To outsiders, it would look like nothing more than the wind picking up the strands, but I knew better.
I felt the darkness rise inside of me. It felt too good not to be dangerous, but I didn’t step away.
“Love will always bring us back together,” he said as he stepped behind me, fastening the ribbon around my throat. I hadn’t worn it this way since Quivira. I thought it would feel suffocating and wrong, but it felt like it was the only thing holding me together.
“Are you ready?” he asked, caressing the length of the ribbon, his knuckles skimming my spine, sending a surge of electricity through me.
“Yes.” I exhaled a shaky breath.
“Then it’s time for you to work your dark magic,” he whispered in my ear.
I tried to play it off, but the goose bumps exploding across my skin gave me away. In that moment, I hated myself. I hated my blood, for answering to his touch so easily.
“Where would you like to start?”
I scanned the crowd, making a concerted effort to look into every set of eyes that dared to meet my gaze. I remember how that felt, having Katia stare at me that way. I could’ve sworn she was looking straight into my soul.
I gravitated toward a man and a woman standing near a bronze sculpture of a sea nymph. Easy prey.
“Please, introduce us,” I said to Dane, in a low, controlled voice as we approached a stout, red-faced Englishman, accompanied by a glamorous woman with lush red hair, her long delicate throat dripping in emeralds. She was relatively new; I could smell it in her blood. He must’ve paid a hefty price to have her made.
“Grant and Ellen Davenport, may I present Katia Ashlyn Larkin.”
“We’ve met,” I said, remembering his profile in the notebook.
“Yes.” His eyes raked over me. “How marvelous it is to see you again. We were beginning to wonder whether you would show.”
“But now here you are,” the woman said, a futile attempt at sincerity. “And look at the two of you. Blood bound. A love for the ages.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” I murmured into my glass as I took a healthy sip.
“Where have you been hiding all this time?” the woman asked.
“The Americas. But your husband already knew that.” I looked at him pointedly, remembering from Coronado’s notes how he’d made his fortune in the Indian Wars.
“Honestly, who can remember? The years slip by so fast,” Mr. Davenport sputtered. “The 1700s were a complete wash for me.”
They both laughed like being on a hundred-year bender was charming.
“Yes.” I took in a deep breath, feeling a dark tickle in the back of my throat. But it wasn’t a tickle, it was a whisper. Coaxing it forward, I narrowed in on him like a crow pecking at a carcass. “The tribes you slaughtered on the shores of the Narragansett . . . do you hear them screaming in your dreams? Is that why you don’t like fire? Do you smell their charred flesh in the flames?”
“H-how do you know about that?”
Mrs. Davenport pulled her hair seductively over one shoulder, kicking up the distinct scent of bloodlust.
“And you,” I said, turning my attention on her. “Does your husband know you’ve slept with half the men at this gathering? Including my immortal mate.” I took a step toward her, watching her eyes dart from Dane to her husband and back again, the slightest quiver in her bottom lip. Leaning forward, I whispered in her ear, “You’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood. Now run away before I do something I may regret.”
Her husband grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her across the lawn.
“Well done.” Dane tried to suppress a smile. “That was a bit risky, guessing the details of the slaughter, but I’m quite certain Coronado wasn’t on the list of Mrs. Davenport’s conquests in that little book I gave you. How did you know?”
“Black magic, of course,” I teased. But how did I know? It was so subtle, a tiny hint of recognition, a tug in her direction. Maybe it was just female intuition, but I could smell it on her. As for the details of the slaughter, that came in clear as a bell, a distant whisper etching that horrible scene into my consciousness.
“A little harsh calling her out like that in front of her husband, though.”
“Believe me. I went easy on them. He knows. He’s only pretending to be appalled.”
“Wow. Okay. That definitely wasn’t on the list,” he said as he dragged his hand through his hair. “You’re not jealous that she slept with Coronado, are you?” He grinned down at me.
“Please.” I forced a throaty laugh. “Look at her over there, trembling, telling
the others how I got into her head. She’s doing half of my work for me,” I said as I watched her from across the lawn. But maybe I was a little jealous. After all, Coronado was now a part of Dane. I still wasn’t exactly sure what that entailed, but I didn’t want her thinking she had any claim to him.
A couple strolled over. Curiosity overruling caution. I didn’t need an introduction. It was Brent and Julie Bridges. I’d know them anywhere from those late-night infomercials Beth liked to watch. Bridges to Youth. They were the official face for the Arcanum’s exclusive serum. No wonder those actors never seemed to age; they were probably ingesting immortal blood like water. They also peddled a more affordable line for the masses, which did absolutely nothing.
Dane said, “May I present—”
“I know exactly who they are,” I replied, taking them in, letting my eyes linger, but they didn’t seem afraid, only more intrigued.
“It’s amazing what you’ve done for Coronado. We were getting a little tired of his face, too,” Brent said with a laugh. Julie nudged him, and he cleared his throat. “A vessel. Imagine getting a new body. A new identity. Julie and I would do anything for the opportunity. No price is too high.”
“Even your soul?” I asked. “Because that’s what the Dark Spirit would demand.”
“Souls?” he asked with a crooked smile. “You won’t find many of those here. Most of us gave those up long ago.”
“I suppose it would be difficult having to constantly reinvent yourself.”
“On the contrary.” He grabbed a canapé off a passing tray and popped it in his mouth. “The key to immortality is change. If you can embrace change, find a partner to weather the gales and fair seas alike with you, then immortality can be a gift. But if you let yourself grow stagnant, holding on to the old ways, soon you will move through decades like a ghost. Until you become one.”
He was a charmer, to be sure. That might work with his clients, but even without Coronado’s little black book, I could see right through him.