Clarissa and Joel stand near a table. Somehow, they’ve already found the buffet, and they each have a plate in their hands. Clarissa looks like a chocolate cupcake in her voluminous, brown polyester gown, complete with a Victorian satin bonnet, though I’m not sure dessert was the look she was going for.
Joel’s gone for a full-out steampunk look, with a ruffled collar, multiple chains and buckles adorning his jacket, and a top hat with a set of aviator goggles perched on the brim.
Their equipment sits on the table next to them, and I have no doubt they’ll soon prowl the room, wands in the air, looking for signs of ghostly activity.
“Should we dance?” Jonathan asks as the dance floor begins to fill.
Of course I want to dance—there’s nothing I want to do more than lose myself in the night. But we have a murderess to find.
“Come on,” he coaxes. “It will be easier to keep an eye on the room from the center of it anyway.”
Good enough.
I feel like I’m practically floating in my gown as we cross the great room. Jonathan steps close, presses his hand to the curve of my side, and takes my other hand in his. “Nice gloves,” he says wryly, nodding to the material that keeps us separated.
So very thankful he’s teasing me again, I grin. “Thanks.”
The music begins, and Jonathan leads me into a dance that’s not quite familiar but easy enough to get the rhythm of.
“You dance?” I ask, surprised to find he knows what he’s doing.
“My grandmother made me take lessons when I was eight. She said it would help my fencing.
“Your fencing?” I widen my eyes. “You took fencing?”
“It’s a requirement. We have to take a certain number of years of all kinds of things before we’re accepted into the academy.”
“What else?”
“Gunmanship, various martial arts.”
I bite my lip, hiding a wicked grin. “And ballroom dancing.”
He rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t exactly a requirement, but I did graduate top of our swordsmanship class at the academy, so maybe she knew what she was talking about.”
“Do you see your family often?”
He nods. “Fairly often. Dad died a few years ago, so we try to go home to visit Mom as much as possible.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
It’s obvious he still feels the loss, but he dismisses it for now. “We miss him, but we’re getting by.”
Remembering that I’m supposed to be watching the guests, seeing if I can spot anything out of the ordinary, I sweep my eyes over the room. But all I see are people enjoying themselves—some sip cider, many dance, a few get cozy in the dark corners.
My eyes land on Will. He stands near the edge of the dance floor, and he watches Jonathan and me with a strange, almost hungry expression that I find disconcerting for several reasons. The first is that it’s downright creepy. The second is that it’s familiar. I look away, racking my brain, trying to figure out why the police officer is giving me an unwelcome case of déjà vu.
“See any sign of Jenna?” Jonathan asks, pulling my attention from Will.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
Suddenly, the chandelier above us flickers. A hush falls over the crowd, and the music slowly comes to a stop. After a moment, the light steadies.
But just as the crowd is releasing a collective breath, the light goes out completely, and we’re plunged into darkness.
People begin talking abruptly as they shift around. The only light comes from the lanterns on the tables and the glow of the candle-lit jack o’ lanterns.
As we’re standing here, literally in the dark, a ghostly howl echoes through the room. It sounds as if the apparition is with us, shifting as it moves over the guests.
A woman screams, and other guests press together, ready to run. Jonathan grasps my arms, holding me close as people surrounding us begin to panic.
Even though I know it’s fake, the hair stands on the back of my neck, and goosebumps prickle my arms. A crash of thunder practically shakes the mansion, and a gust of wind beats against the wall of windows, speckling the glass with rain.
Jonathan tenses. “She’s here.”
“It was part of the trick,” I say, excited. We just have to find the Heron. We push our way to the exit, but there’s a mass exodus, and we’re stuck in the very middle of it. Another woman screams from behind me, and then another.
Just as we’re almost to the doors, the lights flair back to life. Harried guests look about the ballroom, sure they’re going to spot the ghost.
But the room looks just as it did before.
Clarissa and Joel, ghost hunters extraordinaire, cower near the wall. Several women clutch their chests, diamonds glittering as they tremble. Even the men look more than a little shaken.
I think deep down, most of us believe it’s a farce, but it’s still disturbing, no matter what your head tells you.
I’m just gaining control over my breathing when I spot the bodies on the ground. They lie motionless, blood pooling from their necks in a gruesome display. People begin to shriek, practically bleating like sheep.
“Wait!” Rodger hollers from the back of the room. “Everyone needs to calm down.”
But no one is listening to our host.
“It’s not real, is it?” I ask Jonathan, my eyes on the women and the very convincing-looking blood oozing from the slashes at their necks. “This is part of the show?”
Jonathan pulls away from me, crossing the room to the closest woman. He kneels, checking her pulse even as others shy away. He turns to me, our eyes locking across the room, and frowns.
She’s dead.
And that’s when I sense them, the creatures in the room, hiding somewhere in the shadows. My throat begins to close, and I scan the area, frantic.
I don’t know what they are, but I can feel them.
The lights flicker again, and the people who didn’t manage to flee scream again. In the stuttering light, I see movement on the high ceiling, several shadows making their way to the center of the room, gold eyes shining.
“Jonathan!” I yell, pointing to them.
He looks up just in time to see the grand chandelier wobble.
“Get back!” I pull several people with me.
Olivia stands dead center, looking bemused. Jonathan lunges for her and shoves her out of the way as the room goes black and the massive collection of glass and crystal comes crashing to the ground.
“Jonath—” I start to yell, but a hand wraps around my mouth, and I’m yanked backward.
“Pretty, pretty girl,” the cop says in my ear, and memories flood back. “What a delightful mess you’ve created.”
I struggle against Will, but he continues to haul me back. I kick out, trying to catch the door jamb with my foot, but the man pulls me from the ballroom and down the hall, forcing me into the same closet I visited with Rafe.
“Your little pets are getting dreadfully out of line, don’t you think?” he says.
Desperate to get him off me, I bite his hand. He jumps, startled, and releases me. Unfortunately, he’s still blocking the door.
“Let me out, Trent,” I snarl, mentally berating myself for not realizing sooner that Will the Smarmy Cop is actually Trent the Smarmy Pixie. I glance around, eying the mops. Maybe I can smack him over the head with one.
“Oh, tsk, tsk.” The pixie leans against the door, crossing his arms. “That was terrible. Maybe if you used your persuasion?”
With a mocking raise of his eyebrows, he gives me a slow, sick grin.
“What are you doing here?” I demand. Though the pixie terrifies me, I try not to let it show. He feeds off fear, off desperation.
“Killing humans,” he says almost as if we’re having a friendly conversation. “I thought you noticed.”
He takes a step forward, and I instinctively step back, though I don’t have anywhere to go. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t that w
hy you’re here? To find the villain who’s abducting the mansion’s guests?”
You have got to be kidding.
“It’s been you this whole time?”
He holds his hands out, dipping his head as if acknowledging praise—praise I certainly didn’t give. “I infiltrated the Knights’ Guild, sent your team on the assignment, lured you here. I even suggested they pair your good friend Jonathan with Linda. I knew the knight wanted you, knew he’d jump at the chance to get you to himself. I wasn’t wrong.”
I stare at him, feeling ill. He did all that? He’s been messing with us for the last three months, and we didn’t even know it?
“I hired Jenna to spook the humans—made them wonder if their ruse didn’t get away from them. And I’ve been here, orchestrating the whole thing, keeping it running smoothly.”
I stare at him. “But your eyes…you look normal.”
He gives me a gracious smile. “It takes a few weeks to settle into a role, but I like to think I’m skilled once I have the feel of the character. Will’s wife fell for it, and you can imagine the perks I’ve been enjoying thanks to this arrangement. I buy her pretty things, and she’s been most generous in return.”
My chest squeezes painfully as I realize that Will—the real Will—isn’t Trent’s creation. He’s an actual man—an actual man Trent murdered.
“All the men who disappeared—that was you?” I ask, still unable to wrap my head around it. “And Phillip’s heart attack? How did you do it?”
“I’m afraid I can’t take credit for that one, though I wish I could.” The pixie looks truly saddened by the fact. “He simply didn’t have the constitution to keep up with his brunette minx. But don’t worry about poor, sweet Misty. I’ll track her down when I’m done here, offer her my unique brand of comfort.”
His words make me nauseous, but I fight the urge to be ill. “And Olivia? Was she in on it too?”
Trent’s expression becomes wicked. “No, but she’s delightfully promiscuous, isn’t she? What a perfect suspect she made, especially since I myself led your team to believe they were looking for a woman when I gave them the initial reports.
“I have to tell you,” he continues, “she had her eye on Jonathan, but I needed Jenna for that role.” He takes a step forward, his gaze growing sick and hungry. “I expected him to succumb to her, but he never did. I think he likes you.”
“You are a snake, Trent.” He has me cornered, and panic claws at my chest, squeezing my heart.
“Oh, darling, don’t be angry with me. You looked so lost and confused earlier, using your magic on me. I almost felt bad.” He steps forward, his eyes darkening further. “If you’d shared my bed, I would have told you.”
“This whole time you’ve been toying with us when you could have just snatched me.”
He makes a noise of agreement in the back of his throat as he presses forward. “That’s because you need to learn—you’ll never escape me. I am a cat, and you are a delectable, helpless mouse. We can play for years if you want, but in the end, the mouse is mine.”
“How did you lure the creatures here?”
Trent tips his head back and laughs. “That’s the best part—I didn’t. It’s all you.” He meets my eyes. “You brought them here. The chaos in the ballroom is your fault. The swarms flocking the mansion even as we speak…that’s your fault too.”
Swarms flocking the house?
“That’s right,” Trent all but purrs. “They’re in the staff quarters right this moment.”
The staff quarters?
Trent runs a finger down my collarbone, far too close to me now. “Someone cut the electricity so they could enter.” He looks up, raising his eyebrows, silently laughing at my terror. “No clue who.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Backed into a corner, I yank up my skirt, reaching for the Taser that’s strapped to my thigh. As I hoped, Trent’s eyes follow the movement, and he doesn’t notice me grabbing the mop handle with my other hand.
Without the slightest bit of finesse, I jam the handle into his chest. He hollers out in pain and surprise, and I shove past him. Just before I reach the door, he grabs me. I ram my head backward, hitting his face. There’s a sickening crunch as I connect with his nose.
And ow.
Pain echoes through my head, making me momentarily dizzy. It hurts so much more than it looks like in the movies.
Still, it gives me a chance to escape. He crumples to the ground behind me. I dart from the door, running down the hall, bursting into the ballroom.
“Enough!” I scream into the darkness. Most of the guests are gone, have fled for their lives or are dead, but a few attempt to fight the beasts. “Cease your attack!”
“Madeline!” Jonathan hollers from somewhere in the middle of the room.
I run for him, tripping over something that feels a whole lot like a body. He finds me and catches me in his arms.
“What happened?” he demands.
“The shadow monsters are in the staff quarters,” I say, out of breath from the run.
“Are you sure?”
I’m already yanking him toward the doorway. “Trent told me. Thank goodness for evil villain monologues.”
“Trent?” Jonathan demands.
“He’s here—he’s Will. He’s behind everything, said he lured us here himself. I left him unconscious in a closet. We’ll deal with him later.”
Jonathan runs with me, right on my heels. He throws open the large entry door and then promptly yanks it shut.
There are hundreds of them out there—every monster you can imagine and more. They’re in the sky, crawling on the ground, running about, creating destruction and havoc. The storm stretches across the sky, dark clouds sinking to the earth. It’s far larger than the work of a Heron, but it feels equally as ominous.
“I’ll go out first and command them to back down,” I tell the knight. “Then we can go to the staff quarters together and do the same.”
He nods, not liking the idea of sending me into something that looks very much like the apocalypse. “Be careful—don’t let anything grab you.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. I can do this. After all, this is my mess to clean up. Feeling like I’m going to be sick, I step out the door, closing it quickly so nothing can slither inside. The noise is deafening. It’s a buzz of pandemonium, and I almost put my hands over my ears to block it out.
“Stop!” I yell into the night, throwing all my magic into it. “Back down!”
Many of the creatures near me come to an abrupt halt, falling to their bellies. But the others don’t hear me.
“ENOUGH!” I scream again, but it’s to no avail. Panic rises, threatening to choke me. What am I going to do?
Quickly, I dart back into the mansion and slam the door behind me. “It’s not working!” I tell Jonathan, desperate. “It’s too loud—they can’t hear me.”
The Griffon’s tux is ripped in several places, and his hair is a mess. He has a gash on his cheek, but thank goodness, he seems to be free of bite marks.
He swears and runs a hand through his hair as he thinks. Then he looks up. “You need Rafe.”
“What?”
“He’s your knight—you need him. He has the same magic—you’re stronger when you’re together. You’ll be stronger if you link.”
Jonathan’s right. I don’t know how I know it, but I do.
I pat my hand over the dress, realizing I have a problem. “I don’t have my phone!”
The irony.
Jonathan produces his, and I frantically call my dark knight.
“Where’s Madeline?” Rafe demands the moment he answers. There’s screaming and crashing and general chaos in the background. It sounds like he’s standing in the middle of a battlefield.
“It’s me,” I tell him. “I think I need you.”
“Just a minute,” he says. There’s a loud, guttural scream followed by a gurgle that sounds…well, it sounds bad. He then comes back on the line and de
mands, “Where are you?”
“In the house, right at the entry. I tried to send the creatures away, but they couldn’t hear me over all the noise. Jonathan thinks we need to link our magic—that maybe it will make it stronger.”
There’s a long pause. “We can’t.”
Two gunshots are followed by a really disturbing screech.
“Do we have a choice?” I demand, raising my voice so he can hear me over the noise.
“Stay put. I’ll come to you.”
“No, wait—”
He ends the call before I can finish. The fool knight isn’t going to try to cross the garden, is he? Surely not. They’ll eat him alive.
“I’m going out there,” I tell Jonathan, heading for the door. When he begins to protest, I assure him, “I’ll be fine.”
His hand latches around my wrist, and he tugs me back, twirling me to face him. I stumble, startled by the abrupt change of direction, and fall against his chest.
“Madeline,” he breathes, his dark eyes on mine, his fingers twining through my hair.
Then he kisses me.
And oh. It’s not a sweet, soft kiss, nor is it a friendly peck. It’s a lips-crushed-together, can’t-breathe, tasting, touching sort of moment that sears into a girl’s memory for the rest of her life.
The outside world melts away. I grasp the knight as I sink into him, and he wraps his arms around my back, holding me steady.
His lips move with mine—demanding, giving, needing. Desperate. I press against him, wanting more, digging my fingers into his shoulders, begging him to continue this sweet assault to my senses. He makes a noise deep in his throat, one that fans flames low in my belly.
“Madeline,” he growls, a man starving. His hands move from my back to my rump as he lifts me higher. Without hesitation, I wrap my legs around his waist, letting the skirt hike up around my thighs. I cup a hand around the back of his neck, diving my fingers into his glorious, thick hair.
It’s just him and me. No death, no monsters, no darkness.
Just Jonathan. My Griffon. The man I can’t be with because I’m cursed with vile magic.
“I’ll understand,” he says, never breaking the kiss.
Princess of Shadows (Obsidian Queen Book 2) Page 19