Eric holds up a hand, disturbing Charles, who’s asleep on his lap. The cat fusses and then goes back to sleep. “Uh, boss? Since when was that a rule?”
“Since yesterday morning.”
I sit back in my chair, nibbling the inside of my cheek. Funny how it seemed like such a sweet gesture yesterday.
“Since it’s possible the rule has been recently violated, I feel it’s a good time for a reminder.”
The rule was possibly violated? I freaking kissed Jonathan in front of the entire team. Of course it was violated.
“You're a contemptible troll of a Wolf,” Jonathan says under his breath, plenty loud enough for everyone to hear. He softens the words with a laugh, but it too is irritated.
“That may be, but I care about this team—I care about each of you as if you were my actual family, and I don’t want us to suffer any more fallouts.” Gray’s not looking at Rafe, but the room goes still as if he is. “The first was devastating. You all know what I did; you saw what happened. Don’t be me. As Jonathan so eloquently put, I’m a contemptible troll of a Wolf.”
I glance at Rafe. He stands toward the back, separate from the team, but still here, and he listens to Gray with a masked expression.
“What if I don’t like your rule?” Jonathan sits on the end of the bed, calm as you please.
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I don’t dare look at the Griffon I spent the night with.
Gray turns to Jonathan, and the two study each other. The Wolf looks mildly surprised, as if he fully expected Jonathan to toe the line. “Then you and I will discuss it further at a later time, but for now, let’s figure out where Jenna disappeared to.”
After a long, uncomfortable moment, Jonathan nods. I release a held breath.
Gray seems to relax as well, if only marginally, and he glances down at his phone. “Also, after the fluke imp attack last night, I called Callie at the guild.”
Who’s Callie? And why does he know so many women?
“Apparently, in the last few months, there’s been a strange influx of the shadow creatures making themselves known across the globe. There have been hundreds of attacks, far above the norm. We were advised to be especially cautious until the guild can pinpoint what’s drawing the beasts out of hiding.”
My heart nearly stops. Gray’s words align with what Joel said when he passed around his phone. But hundreds of attacks? Hundreds?
This is my fault.
I used my magic, and now they’re gathering. Readying themselves for some kind of mass assault.
“Madeline,” Gray says, scaring me half to death.
He gives me a curious look when I jump like a cat doused with water.
“Yes?” I manage.
“You and I are going to use our persuasion on the guests and staff to see if anyone knows where Jenna is. I’m tired of screwing around. This is our last day.”
“What do you want me to do?” Eric asks, scratching Charles under the chin.
“How about you put down the stupid cat?”
Rafe snorts, and I turn my eyes on him, surprised. It’s slow, tedious, and generally frustrating as all get-out, but I think he and Gray are making progress.
Gray ends the short meeting, and Rafe comes to my side. “I’ll see what I can find out about the Heron as well.”
I grasp his arm, my fingers digging into his skin. “Why didn’t you tell me the beasts are coming out of the woodwork?”
Nonchalant as can be, he studies me. “What would you have done?”
“I don’t know. Something.”
“All right.” He pats my hand like an old man. “We’ll get right on that something when we’re done here. You do want to help the team find the Heron, don’t you?”
I nod, though I’m still feeling ill.
“Okay then.” He starts for the door, but I pull him back.
“Thank you for all this,” I tell him grudgingly. “I know you’re humoring me.”
He nods, not even bothering to deny it. I give him a small smile and then slip out the door with Jonathan, off to use my magic on a bunch of unsuspecting, wealthy humans, trying to ignore the mass monster uprising that I’ll have to deal with very, very soon.
***
I step up to the old-fashioned, wooden refreshment stand next to Will, my least favorite cop, accepting a glass of cider from the man distributing refreshments. Today’s outing has brought us to a local orchard. They’re pressing the apples right out in the open, where everyone can watch.
A pumpkin patch sprawls in the field next door, and it’s filled with big orange pumpkins. Families have shown up in droves on this beautiful Saturday afternoon, and they load wagons as they make their way down the rows.
It’s a perfect autumn afternoon, but I can’t enjoy it, not when I’ve spent so many fruitless hours trying to find someone who knows where Jenna went. The smarmy police officer is the last person I have to question.
“What do you know of the chef’s disappearance?” I say, cutting to the chase, putting a wallop of persuasion into the words. “Any idea where she might be?”
The man frowns, the strangest expression crossing his face. He doesn’t look stupefied or pliant. In fact, he looks rather unaffected.
Then, as if it takes the magic just a little longer to kick in, he leans forward conspiratorially. “I’m going to tell you the truth. I have no idea.”
I frown. “None?”
What kind of terrible cop is he? A woman disappears, and he hasn’t the slightest idea what happened to her?
He shakes his head, and then he leans closer and drops his voice. “Doing a little detective work?”
I give him a one-shouldered shrug.
After studying me for several moments, he says, “If you could be persuaded to have dinner with me, I might be inclined to help you out.”
“Aren’t you married?”
“No more than you.” He lifts his glass to his lips, taking a long drink. I study him, wondering if he’s acknowledging we’re both married…or that he knows I’m not.
Giving him a tight smile, I infuse magic into my words and say, “How about you tell me what you know, and we skip dinner?”
A slow smile builds on his face. “That doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun.”
Honestly.
The man doesn’t know anything, or he wouldn’t be able to resist, which means he’s worthless to me.
I walk away, not even bothering to excuse myself, and head for Jonathan. He’s standing with another couple, subtly questioning them the old-fashioned way—without magic.
As I make my way over, he subtly shakes his head. He’s got nothing.
We’ve questioned everyone present, nearly everyone staying at the mansion, and it’s all the same thing. Nobody knows anything.
It’s our last night in the mansion, our number one suspect has up and disappeared, and we have no idea where she went. The masquerade is in a few hours. My only hope is that Jenna will return to attempt to snare another victim.
“Let’s head back to the room,” I say to Jonathan. “I want to take a nap before tonight. You know they’ll have something magnificently spooky planned, and right now, I’m not up for it.”
Jonathan thankfully agrees. When we return, the mansion’s staff is busy at work, decorating the ballroom. I stand by the door, peering in, a large part of me wishing I were in charge. Setting up tables and adorning them with large black lanterns and fall-foliage wreaths looks a lot more satisfying than trying to find a murderous Heron who disappeared in a puff of smoke.
“You don’t have a lot of time to rest,” Jonathan reminds me as I linger in the doorway.
I turn from the room and head down the hall, toward the back stairs.
It’s been tense between us since Gray’s lovely reminder that teammates can't date. We’ve kept our distance, even in public. We barely speak as we make our way down the hall, past a bunch of mirrors that only reflect our image, and we don't walk too close together.
I glance around when we enter the room, expecting to find Charles, only to remember Eric still has him. Soon, I’m going to have to sue for custody rights.
“You know,” I say to Jonathan, walking to the floor-length mirror, removing pins from the bun I pulled my hair into this morning. “Jenna’s disappearance might be part of the haunted mansion hoax. Maybe they always have her disappear the night before the masquerade, just to add a little more excitement and mystery.”
“I didn’t think of that.” Jonathan sits on the couch. “Did you speak with Elizabeth or Rodger?”
“No, I haven’t seen them today.”
“Olivia was at the cider tasting. She cornered me when you were talking to Mr. and Mrs. Ingram.”
I turn to him. “What did she want?”
“Nothing really. She talked a bit about the cider.”
“Are you sure she’s not Aparian?” I ask, taking the risk of sounding like a broken record. “There is something really off about her. She was with John the night he disappeared, I saw her talking to Phillip before he died, and she’s enamored with you.” I pause, realizing something. “You don’t think she abducted Jenna, do you? The Heron disappeared right after Olivia saw her invite you to her room.”
Jonathan frowns, mulling the words over. “She carries no magic—she’s as human as a…”
He trails off, looking for the right word.
I give him a wry smile. “As a human?”
He grins, a welcome sight. “Yeah.”
“And there’s no chance she has a medallion?” I ask.
“There’s always a chance, but we’re talking slim to none. Like, win the lottery twice in a month kind of chance.” He gives me a rueful smile. “I’m sorry, Maddie. I don’t think it’s Olivia.”
I sigh, feeling he’s probably right. “Nevertheless, I think she likes you.”
“What’s not to like?” he teases, crossing the room, stepping behind me and meeting my eyes in the mirror. I pause, watching him in the reflection, wondering what he’s doing. He brushes my hand away from my hair and carefully uncoils the bun, setting my curls free. They cascade past my shoulders in blond-gold waves.
“I thought your hair was straight,” he murmurs, running his fingers through the locks. The gentle tug feels so good I almost close my eyes and focus on the sensation.
“Only when I straighten it,” I answer. “It’s naturally wavy, so it curls easily, especially when it’s been up all day.”
“You should wear it down tonight.” Our eyes lock. Softer, he adds, “I like it down.”
Every inch of me grows warm, and my stomach flutters.
We’re alone. Technically we can do whatever we want—we’re adults after all, and Gray’s not here to act as a chaperone.
But what do we want? What does Jonathan want? He’s been sending some pretty serious mixed signals.
Jonathan doesn’t do casual relationships, and I don’t know that I can commit to something serious, not when being around me is proving to be dangerous.
“What is that look?” he asks, brushing my hair aside. He hesitates only a second before he throws caution to the wind and presses a kiss to my neck, making me shiver. Giving in almost immediately, I tilt my head to the side, allowing him easier access.
That's right—my willpower is astounding.
You almost died last night, I think, knowing he’ll hear me.
He trails his lips down my neck, undaunted. “Please. I was fine.”
You weren’t.
In response, he gently scrapes his teeth against my skin, sending a riot of butterflies winging in my stomach. “Stop dwelling on it,” he murmurs.
I turn, pulling away from his soft, delicious kisses, needing to face him for this conversation. “I’m dangerous, Jonathan. I didn’t fully realize it before. But I am. Knowing me, being around me…it’s not a good idea.”
A shadow crosses the knight’s face, but he chuckles, thinking I’m joking. “Madeline—”
“Did you hear Gray? The beasts are coming out of hiding. For hundreds of years, they’ve stayed in their dark crevices. And now they’re gathering—because of me.” I set my hands on his shoulders, my eyes searching his. “You shouldn’t get close to me—none of you should. What if next time we can’t find a healer in time?”
“Don’t,” he says softly. “You can’t push me away before we’ve even begun.”
“I can’t put you at risk—I won’t put you at risk.” I press my lips together, trapping in a whole lot of messy emotion. “I don’t have enough friends to lose my very favorite.”
He pulls my hands from his shoulders and clasps them in his own, his jaw working. “Madeline, listen to me. I am a knight marshal—one of the highest-ranking knights in the guild. I have trained since I was five. Let me assure you, I can take care of myself.”
“Then what happened last night?”
“I let my guard down. That just happens sometimes.”
“Because I was a distraction.”
He frowns as the memories of the night flit through my mind, passing to him through the connection. If nothing else, that’s a perk to his magic. I don’t have to explain myself—he understands me like no one else ever will.
I don’t hold back—I let him feel the panic that clawed at me, the crippling fear that we might lose him.
I can’t go through that again, Jonathan. Please don’t make me.
After a long moment, he breaks the link, pulling his hands back. He stares at me for a long while, his expression shielded. One heartbeat passes, then a few more.
Finally, he says, “All right.”
But it’s not all right. It’s never going to be all right because these creatures don’t belong here. They’ve never belonged here.
“I need to…” Jonathan trails off, looking toward the balcony—searching for an excuse to leave. After a moment, he turns back, looking at me but not looking at me. “Rest a little if you can. It’ll be a long night. I’ll meet you downstairs before the masquerade starts.”
He then heads toward the narrow wardrobe, pulls out a tux, and walks out the door.
I stare after him, a dull ache in my chest. It’s better this way.
It is.
And very soon, I’m going to deal with the shadow creatures. I just have to figure out how.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It looks like I walked into a scene from a movie. One thing about the rich—they don’t spare any money on their costumes. There’s a multitude of ball gowns in dark, jeweled colors, and the masks are nothing less than works of art.
My own black strapless gown molds to my chest and then flairs dramatically at my hips, falling to the ground in a glorious bell of fabric.
I turn, searching for Jonathan, confident I’ll recognize him behind his mask. The foyer outside the ballroom is full as we wait for the Monroes to toss open the doors. Already, strains of eerie music filter to us. It sounds like they have a small orchestra on the other side, including an organ.
A touch at my back startles me, and I turn, sending my gown swishing around me.
Jonathan.
He wears a tux, as he did at our dinners, but this one has tails. Though some of the men have added top hats to their ensembles, Jonathan’s gone without. But his hair is tame, and he’s freshly shaven.
“Nice mask,” I say, hoping to put the awkwardness from the room behind us.
He touches the simple swatch of black fabric that covers his eyes. “I look like a raccoon.”
“Yes, but a dashing raccoon,” I tease.
His eyes wander over me, lingering momentarily at the tight, corseted bodice that I swear is suffocating me. “You are…” He shakes his head, acting as if he’s almost at a loss for words. “Stunning.”
It makes my heart hurt.
Before I can answer, the doors slowly open, not an attendant in sight. Low lying fog billows out, most likely a product of smoke machines by the entrance.
The massive crystal chandelier
lights the dance floor. The perimeter, where the tables are set, is dark. Candlelit lanterns act as centerpieces, creating a spooky, romantic ambiance.
The crowd presses forward, murmuring, all eager to enter. I watch, enchanted by the costumes. They’re brilliant. Many of the women have masks that mimic an animal—peacocks, butterflies, foxes, deer—and their dresses are made to match.
“I feel like I missed an opportunity,” I whisper to Jonathan. “I could have been a fox.”
He chuckles under his breath and presses a guiding hand to my back as we walk into the room.
I look around, wondering if Jenna is here somewhere. Maybe she’s hiding in the masked crowd. I spot Elizabeth almost immediately. Her gown is cream, Italian Renaissance in design, and her mask has a plume of white feathers that cascade from the side. Rodger stands next to her, his white hair a beacon that gives him away. He too wears a design that’s Italian in nature.
Olivia stands to the side of them, petite and perfect in her soft pink gown. To complete the outfit, she wears long black gloves and a matching mask, and her hair is styled in shiny pin curls. She looks young and vulnerable in the big room. Her eyes fall on Jonathan as we step through the door, and a smile flutters over her lips.
Despite Jonathan’s insistence that she’s not Aparian—can’t be Aparian—I still don’t trust her.
“Not even a little wisp of magic?” I ask Jonathan, nodding subtly to the young woman.
Jonathan pulls his eyes from a massive jack-o’-lantern flickering from a table next to us. He follows my gaze and shakes his head. “Sorry, Madeline. Nothing.”
I nod, trying to squelch the growing feeling of certainty in my stomach. I'm positive something is not as it appears.
Food tables line the back wall, and punch bowls steam. I have no doubt the food will be excellent, but I can’t eat, not now. My nerves are wound tight as intuition tells me something is going to happen tonight—I just don’t know what.
Will strides past us, heading toward Rodger. The two begin a whispered conversation as the rest of the guests filter into the room.
Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2) Page 18