Kicking out in her attempt to get away, her efforts were rewarded by sharp grunts when she made contact. Her attacker managed to crawl out of range but she continued kicking and throwing punches. Fury cast the world in red shadows. She wanted to hurt all of them.
“Easy, Owl! Easy!” the man who’d distracted the group called out. He didn’t try to touch her.
Her mask had come off during the scuffle. The cloak had been ripped away as well. Heat rushed to her face as people walking by peered curiously at her. She felt naked!
The man looming over her wore a green dragon mask, his azure eyes gleamed with concern from behind the emerald leather. His mouth formed a hard line as he bowed lower. This was the man from the pony races at Halloween. The man who had seemed disappointed when the women tried to twist an enjoyable game into cutthroat competition.
“Where’s your mask?” he asked.
She lowered her gaze with a mute shake of her head. Her words were locked in a stutter behind her teeth.
Several men in suits were dealing with the attackers. There were two suited men for each of her assailants. One of the doormen came to kneel beside her next to Dragon, his frowning expression behind the domino mask matching the other man’s.
She must look like a wreck. Every joint ached from the tussle and tumble. Her body would be bruised everywhere. Her emotions spiraled from relief to fury then fear to horror.
“Do you know those men? What happened?” Dragon asked. He remained near, not reaching for her.
“N-n-no,” she said through gritted teeth and willed herself past her adrenaline-hazed response. “They ambushed me. I t-t-turned them down and they said they have a c-car here. I didn’t think that was allowed.”
“It’s not, lady,” the doorman answered firmly. “Are you all right? Can you stand? We should get you inside where it’s warm and see to your wounds. This is not how the house conducts or supports play. We will question them inside and would like a statement from you.”
Was she all right? Unprotected, unshielded, shaken and sore but she felt okay. She nodded, reaching out to take Dragon’s hand for assistance standing. Only when she got to her feet did she remember her satchel. The bag and envelope were gone, along with her cloak and mask.
She frowned from Dragon to the doorman in the suit with a sinking feeling in her stomach. “My things are g-g-gone,” she whispered.
All her tokens. Her card. Only her key rested safely between her breasts. She reached up to grasp it, reassuring herself it was safe. A bruised ache of fear replaced the relief at being safe.
“House Mistress will be pissed,” Dragon rumbled at her side. He used his large body to block her from curious gazes. “Let the doorman take you inside. I’ll let her know what’s happening.” He squeezed her arm. “Don’t worry, they will take care of you.” He looked past her to the doorman in question, and inclined his head before drawing away to stride to the house, his expression grim.
“Lady,” the doorman said, offering his arm, which she took, glad of aid as she limped along beside him. They walked off the stairs and onto another path leading around the house and away from the sound of people and music. The quad of young men in their masks went in silence with their escort.
The door he unlocked opened into the kitchens and the group of baffled cooks looked up from their meal preparations at the appearance of people through that door. The doorman led her through the kitchen and storage room and down a long, quiet hallway. He unlocked another door and held it open for her. “Please have a seat.”
A sofa and chairs faced the fireplace where a bearskin rug stretched before the flames, jaws gaping and black fur gleaming. Fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a cheerful light. Nearby, a table offered a bottle of iced Taittinger and a tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries.
She slipped out of her broken heels and limped barefoot across the hardwood floors and eased onto the leather couch, glad for the warmth. Her knees, shins and elbows burned, and blood trickled from several spots where the skin was stripped away. Looking down at her hands, she saw that the palms were scraped open as well. She frowned at the man escorting her.
“We’ve never had a situation like this before.” It was as though he read her thoughts. “At most, our guests or patrons get a little overzealous because they don’t want to use a safe word. No one wants to get removed from the list.” He drew in a soft breath before asking, “Do you have any idea why someone would want to take your tokens and mask?”
She thought of the ex and of the women so driven to win the pony-play races and felt her throat constrict. No one would care enough about her to go to that length to get at her. She rolled one shoulder up and let it fall, feeling foolish.
“You can talk to me. It’s all right.” He filled the glass with the champagne and offered it to her before kneeling on the floor beside her, holding out a tray of colorful domino masks for her to select from. “If we can get to the bottom of this, we can root out the problem. No one else needs to be harmed. If a guest or patron is going to this length, we need to know about it.”
She accepted the drink and pulled a white mask from the selection and slipped it on. It made her feel less naked.
“Your partner won the race at the October Masquerade. Right?” he asked, setting the tray of masks on the seat while he remained kneeling, watching her adjust the one she’d chosen.
“Yes.”
“Did you have any contact with those women or men between then and now? I hear there were some attempts to derail the event at the time. Dirty sportsmanship has been increasing a lot in the event.”
“I wouldn’t know without their masks. I had n-nothing to do with the race. Cupid ran and won,” she answered.
“I see.” He frowned, taking out a notepad before sitting in the chair beside her. In silence he made a note and then asked, “Would you be willing to look at your attackers without their masks to see if you know them? We respect your wishes if it’s too difficult.”
She wanted to look them eye to eye without their masks. It was only fair since they had seen her. “D-do you think they are working with the women? The pony-play women?” With a sick lurch, she imagined the one person in her life who proved willing to hurt her. Vans. And just as quickly she shoved the idea away. Even if she would have followed them, surely Vans wouldn’t know about the masks. Would she?
“It is one suspicion right now.”
She closed her eyes with a horrible realization. The person could get to Cupid in her disguise. Just as Vans had tried to deceive her earlier that night. Someone had her mask, cloak, card and tokens. Her Cupid had the green light to screw her without protection. Wearing her mask, someone could trick him into believing they were she.
“What happens if someone uses my identification to trick people?”
“That person will be removed from the house permanently. That has never happened, lady. Are you worried someone is trying to—” He started with sudden comprehension and stood, striding to the door. He spoke with someone on the other side.
Her hands shook and she clutched them around the wineglass. Should she look for Cupid? Make sure he wasn’t being seduced. Her stomach twisted into knots. Another doorman came in with a bowl of water, cloth and bandages. Silently he set to work cleaning her wounds. He was completing the task when the House Mistress came into the room, flanked by two more doormen.
The woman looked furious behind the bronze-and-gold colored mask. Upon seeing Ursa, her expression grew stormier. She closed the distance, demanding, “What is going on? There was an assault in the driveway? Theft of property including what might be personal information of a patron? Why didn’t someone act faster?”
“We acted fast, House Mistress. They weren’t able to get to their destination with her.”
“They never should have been able to lay a hand on her. Period!” House Mistress seethed. “People walking to the house saw this and did nothing?” She settled beside Ursa on the couch, her frown deepening at each of the marks, s
crapes and bruises. “We will get to the bottom of this. I’m on my way to talk with the boys involved. Would you like to come with me?”
“What about…Cupid? Is he all right?”
House Mistress frowned past Ursa at the gathering of doormen. “I have not heard. Anyone?”
“We have someone watching the door of her assigned suite. Doormen in the other rooms with special access are on the lookout for the use of her card. No one has seen the Owl mask or the man in question.”
“Keep an eye out for them. Send someone to search the stairs and alcoves. Do it discreetly. When you find the Owl-masked person, bring them to the library’s back room.” House Mistress swept to her feet, a crease between her indigo eyes. “We will be in the next room.”
Ursa felt slightly better knowing they would comb the house for him. He was not tucked away in a private suite or the playrooms under her name. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t be waiting in the foyer for her. They would find him soon. The house couldn’t be that large.
Could it?
Outside the room, heading down the hall, House Mistress looped an arm around Ursa. “Don’t worry, we will get to the bottom of this. So help me, God. No one gets hurt this way in my house.”
Inside, four men sat on a couch, looking stubborn and dejected with their fancy masks off. None looked very old, maybe late teens. The one man with rose petals attached to him looked closer to eighteen.
“Oh, so here comes the bitch,” the young man in feathers sneered. “You can’t keep us here.”
“I’m not going to keep you here. The police are on their way,” House Mistress said. “You’re trespassing on private property and you assaulted a guest with intent to kidnap and who knows what else.”
“You bitches like that sort of thing,” the youngest of the men said belligerently but glanced worriedly at the others. “You said she wouldn’t turn us in. You said she’d be afraid of letting anyone know what happened here.”
“Shut up, idiot. The police aren’t here yet. Are they? She’s bluffing. Of course, she doesn’t want anyone to know what sort of sick sex games they have going on here.”
“What would you know about the sort of sex games I have going on here?” House Mistress asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “You heard about what goes on here and you decided to drop in on the party because you think you’re into some hard-core sex? You misunderstand that BDSM is consensual rather than your rape kink! The police will be delighted to educate you about the crime of rape.”
“But we didn’t—” The youngest of the men gaped past her at Ursa and his mouth fell open. “Oh shit. Oh shit! She wouldn’t. You fucking bitch, you wouldn’t—”
“Oh, I’m going to,” Ursa assured him, voice flat with determination. “I’m going to go in for a rape kit, too.” She motioned to her knees and the bruises on her arm. “I’ll press this to the extent of the law.”
“But we didn’t…”
Ursa stared back at him and the young man shrank back, eyes rounding wide with understanding. Good. The little shits. She had no doubt of their intent. They thought she was an easy mark, with such low self-esteem she would let them get away with it. “Tell me why you did it. Where are my things? Who took my mask?”
“It was Elane. She said to come out here and we could get laid real easy. She said there would be a lot of easy women out here and we could have our pick. Would be real easy to get them out to the car and no one would question things. Rough sex and all that. Right? You like it rough?”
“You fucking idiot!” the feathered ex-Hawk snarled. He reached across to punch the younger man but one of the doormen got between them, pulling him down to the floor. Setting his knee into the small of his back, the doorman pinned the man’s arms behind him.
“Let’s not get rough now. Police will be here shortly and I don’t want blood on my furniture if I can avoid it,” House Mistress said. “You are all idiots, by the way. Elane you say? All right, and you wanted something rough? You’ll get a lot of that from what I hear. Do you know what they do to cute would-be rapists in prison? I think you’ll get to see what it’s like being on the bottom.”
That sobered them. Another of the men grumbled, “We didn’t think it would hurt anyone if you’re all into kinky sex shit.”
“That is not the way it works. You want something kinky? Does that mean you’ll be all right with me using a strap-on on you? I bet I could make you come while I do it,” House Mistress said, watching the young men, her eyes gleaming. “It would be very rough.”
“That’s not the sort of rough sex we wanted.”
“Really? But you think my guests deserve to be roughed up without ever asking you? Strange. Well, never mind. Tell us what happened to her things and why Elane wanted this.”
“She didn’t say. She just said the owl would be up for rough sex. We didn’t do anything with her shit! We’ve been in here the whole time.”
House Mistress glanced toward the doorman at her side and murmured to him, “Find her. Bring her down to the library’s back room and let others know the room is closed tonight. Don’t let on that there is any trouble, if possible. Tell her I want to talk with her about the race tomorrow, hmmm? The police will be here shortly and afterward we’ll join you.”
The young men looked close to tears by the time the police arrived. Ursa wasn’t relenting on her threat to press rape charges. Let them feel the same stress she did about Cupid. Who was Elane? The ex? One of the women from the race in October? Where had her Cupid gone?
Ursa gave her statement in the privacy of the room with the bearskin rug. She took off the temporary domino mask while she spoke with them. Then she let them photograph her injuries. If they judged her for the muddy and torn outfit of silk and feathers, they didn’t comment. None of her attackers were familiar to her. While she felt disappointed that she couldn’t offer the police information, she was thankful the jerks didn’t know her either.
At last she stood alone, toying with her mask without putting it on. Someone tapped on the door and when Ursa called to enter, House Mistress stepped inside, her mouth a tight line and her eyes hard behind the mask. She noticed Ursa’s lack of a mask with a purse of her lips. “Ah.” She paused a long few breaths before asking, “Having second thoughts about this?”
Ursa turned the mask over. “It was more fun when I had the fancy disguise and thought this was a game where I wouldn’t get hurt in a nonsexual way,” she admitted, and after a hesitation affixed the small strip of leather against her face. “I’m not really an Owl now.”
Looking down at herself, she dusted at her blood-spattered side and the dirt smudges. She didn’t look pretty or graceful anymore. She felt sullied.
House Mistress smiled and said softly, “You’re still an Owl. Come along, night huntress. Let’s go save your boy from some evil clutches, hmmm?”
“Did you find him?” Sudden hope spiked, making her heart race as she hurried forward on bare feet.
“We found her. Still looking for him, but they are reviewing the camera footage of the public rooms. It won’t be long now.”
Disappointment crystallized in her pounding heart, threatening to shatter her. She wanted to curl into his warmth. The ache twisted inside her stomach at the thought that something horrible might have happened to him.
They moved down the back halls and passed through a room with a bar where people were engaged in a loud drinking game that involved heavy-looking metal rings and engorged cocks. The goal of the contest apparently was to see who could support the most rings. A few hours ago, she might have spent time watching this sport, but the lively entertainment was lost on her.
Past a living area strewn with festive decorations, lights and pillows, they stepped to a set of double doors where a trio of guards stood at attention. They looked grim-faced when they asked House Mistress for her card and pass key.
House Mistress provided the two guards her code and entry and they unlocked the door. The expansive library st
retched out, silent and almost completely dark. The vaulted skylight dome above was black and all the reading were lights dimmed. Bookcases lined the walls and elegant couches offered comfortable spots where guests would usually read or visit.
The room had the comforting scent of books, old paper and linen, leather and beeswax. A central display featured several books open to lewd artwork, undoubtedly set up for this event. At any other time, Ursa would have stopped to admire the selection. Tonight, however, her focus was only on Cupid.
Inside they found the woman who had instigated the evening’s chaos. Even without a mask, Ursa didn’t recognize her. She was tall and thin, her features strained as she sat with Dragon behind her and a watchful doorman at her side.
Lying on the table nearby was the ruin of the owl headdress and mask. The once-beautiful enamel face was cracked and splintered, one side scuffed and smeared with grime. The white feathers were broken and a scattering of cracked opals dappled the wood like snowflakes. The cloak lay over the back of the chair with a rip down one side and mud spattered along the other. Ursa felt a stab between her ribs at the ill treatment of the most beautiful objects she had ever owned.
Even House Mistress sucked in a sharp breath as she looked at the items. She frowned at the woman, Elane, before addressing Dragon. “Thank you for taking time out of your evening to deal with this crisis. I am embarrassed that my fail-safes for the house have broken to this extent. You can be assured I will be making adjustments to avoid this happening in the future.”
“Of course. I want to make sure friends are safe.” Dragon inclined his savage head to Ursa, blue eyes gleaming fiercely behind his mask.
Friends?
Ursa forced a smile and returned the nod with one of her own while her heart skipped a beat. Did she know this man? Why would he go out of his way to help her? What did she matter to any of them?
Elane spat out an angry oath and squirmed against the hold of the guards. The movement drew House Mistress’s attention back to her. “The police are here with your companions. You’ll be escorted off the grounds.”
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