by M. J. Scott
From the protesting conversation, I gathered that only those with tokens were being admitted upstairs tonight.
Three Blood actively on the watch for interlopers was too chancy a proposition, even with an invisibility charm. They could smell me or hear me and I’d be caught.
I craned my head, trying to locate Guy and Fen through the crowd. I could just see the top of Guy’s blond head back at the table. Both he and Fen were watching the dancers. Not looking for me. Yet.
Time to think of another approach.
My head had started to ache from the heat, and the sticks of my fan dug into my palm through my glove. As I hovered around the staircase, trying to work out what to do, movement on the staircase caught my eye. The man—Beast—descending was someone I knew.
Christophe Favreau.
He was frowning as he straightened his cuffs. Two younger Favreaus—neither of them Henri unfortunately—trailed behind him wearing angry expressions. I turned away, heart beating fast.
What was Christophe doing here? He didn’t like Ignatius. His disgruntled expression suggested nothing had changed that fact.
What had just happened upstairs? What might still be happening?
I’d never know if I didn’t get up there myself. I turned my back on the main staircase and moved deeper into the Assembly. There must be other staircases. The ones the Trusted and the servers used.
I spotted a serving girl, dressed in filmy white gauze like the rest of them, not far from me. Time to see where she went.
I trailed her a little way, ready with a story of overindulgence and confusion if I was confronted. Soon enough, the serving girl vanished between a thick set of black velvet curtains.
I looked down at what I was wearing. If I moved behind the scenes, there was no way anyone would mistake me for a servant. Nor a Trusted. The Blood tended to dress female Trusted as scantily as the servers. No, I was clearly a guest.
On the other hand, the Trusted and the servants were generally human. Far less likely to detect me if I used the invisibility charm.
Now or never.
I yanked the charm out of my bag and activated it.
Then I stepped cautiously through the curtains and set off once more.
Behind the velvet, Halcyon was far less sumptuous. The wide hallway had black-painted walls and gas lamps bare of the elaborate decorations of the public rooms. I hugged the wall and moved forward cautiously.
The kitchens, I reasoned, would be toward the rear of the building. And, presumably, the servants’ stairs to the upper floors would be close to the kitchens so that food and drink arrived promptly when required.
The hallway turned a corner and I caught a waft of roasted meat in the air. Good. I was headed in the right direction.
As I got closer, the halls got busier. But most of the servers using them were laden with trays of drink and food, or were returning empty ones, and they kept to the middle of the hall except when they passed each other. I was safe enough if I kept to the edges and moved carefully, keeping my breath silent and easy.
It seemed to take a long time to reach the kitchen, though I knew it to be only a few minutes. I poked my head around the corner of the hall where it branched in either direction. Straight ahead was the kitchen. Two big doors stood open, giving me a perfect view of the many cooks hard at work. To my right, two servers moved away from the kitchen, their trays laden, and I saw them enter another doorway. That had to lead to the stairs to the upper floor.
I craned my neck in the other direction before I moved off, checking for threats. The left branch of the corridor was shorter, ending in a heavy door that was ajar. In the doorway, a male Trusted in the clothing of a guard was talking to someone. Just before I turned away, the Trusted moved a little and Henri Favreau’s angry face came into view before the Trusted moved to block my line of sight again. Relief poured through me. I hadn’t killed him. But just as rapidly, curiosity replaced it. Why was Henri trying to come through the back door?
“No, sir, I cannot admit you,” the Trusted said.
Now, here was a conversation I needed to hear more of. The upper floors could wait a few minutes.
I had hear-mes in my purse. I moved as fast as I dared down toward the door, bringing one of the charms out as I did so, taking care to keep it close.
I stopped a few feet away, not willing to chance coming any closer. The Trusted wouldn’t scent me, but Henri just might. But my hear-mes have a decent range. It was close enough.
The Trusted had one arm against the door frame. Brave man to stand against a Beast, but the Trusted are fiercely loyal to their Blood masters.
“No, sir,” he repeated.
“Let me in, you insolent moron. I have a token.”
“I have express orders not to admit you, sir.”
“To hell with that, I got shot. I am owed.” Henri’s voice rose indignantly.
“Then I suggest you discuss that another time,” the Trusted said. His tone was still scrupulously polite but steel-edged. Henri was going to have to go through him to get in, that much was clear.
“My lord won’t thank you for causing a scene,” the Trusted added. “You should leave.”
“I . . .” Henri’s voice sputtered and then died as the Trusted drew a pistol from his belt. “All right,” he said in a low, furious tone. “But this is not the end of it.”
“I’m sure you’ll be more than welcome on another occasion, sir,” the Trusted said. He stepped back and slammed the door closed, affording me another pleasing glimpse of Henri looking outraged before he disappeared from view.
I shut the hear-me down and pressed myself back against the wall as the Trusted came back up the hallway.
“Idiot,” he muttered as he passed, and I fought the giggle that rose in my throat.
I waited a minute longer, half expecting Henri to pound on the door and demand admittance a second time, but the corridor stayed quiet. I looked down at the hear-me. Proof. Proof of a connection between Ignatius and Henri.
True, no names had been used, but Halcyon was clearly under Ignatius’ control tonight. The Trusted had referred to his “lord.” Tonight that could only be Ignatius. Henri’s voice could be identified from the recording. Hopefully it was enough to tie them together.
I should take the charm back to Guy and Fen. This was the start of the proof Guy needed. But if I left now, I doubted they would let me come back to try for the upper floor. And I still needed to know if Cormen was here.
I didn’t yet have the proof I was looking for. Was he involved in whatever it was Ignatius was up to? More important, was he still in the City? Did he still have Mama and Reggie hidden here somewhere? If he did, there was still a chance I could discover where. And with a Templar knight at my disposal, surely we could get them back?
If I could steal them back, send them somewhere safe, then everything else became simpler. Even if I couldn’t avoid giving Cormen what he wanted, my family would be all right.
I couldn’t lose this chance. Guilt curled through me, but I pushed it away. Guy could wait. I put the hear-me back in my purse and continued back the way I’d come.
I had to wait another few minutes for the stairs to be clear of servers, but eventually they emptied and I ran up them as lightly as possible. At the top of the stairs was a small foyer with curtained doorways leading left and right. I paused, trying to guess at the layout from what I knew of the building.
Left, was my best guess, so I stepped through the curtains carefully, shrinking away as the fringed velvet brushed over my skin like tiny ghost fingers.
The hallway beyond was dimly lit and I couldn’t hear anything. In fact the whole upper floor was eerily quiet. Too quiet. Almost . . . dead feeling. Which either meant nothing was happening in this part of the floor or that Halcyon had excellent aural shields.
I suspected the latter. I considered my options. Go with instinct or try the other way. I decided to stick to my original decision and moved farther along the corridor.
Up here, the floor was covered in a thick carpet of black with fine traceries of white.
The walls were papered in a dark red with little vignettes bordered in fine black lines forming a diagonal pattern enclosed by flourishes that looked unpleasantly thorny. I didn’t look too closely at what the images actually depicted. Nothing terribly pleasant, I would imagine.
I moved cautiously, nerves stretching to catch a hint of sound. Up here, the air smelled like the Blood. A mix of the incenses they favor and blood and other smells I didn’t want to identify.
I was definitely back in their territory, not the more human world belowstairs.
Which meant, I realized, that I needed to turn off the invisibility charm. My stomach twisted uneasily, but I knew the instinct was right. Dressed as a guest of the Assembly, I might pass in unchallenged up here—after all, if reaching this level required a token, there would be no reason to suspect me if I looked as if I belonged. But if a Blood smelled or heard me while I was invisible, then my purpose here would be crystal clear.
I doubted I would survive such a discovery.
Still, it took me quite a few seconds to convince my suddenly frozen fingers to reach for the invisibility charm and deactivate it.
Fortune favors the brave, I reminded myself, trying to calm my racing heart. Sweet Lady, be with me tonight.
I had only walked a few more feet before I turned another corner and ran into one of the Blood.
He looked at me with cool gray eyes, one white brow lifting. “Lost?”
“No. I was just returning to the party,” I lied.
“Really? Then in that case, let me escort you.”
A cool hand clamped around my arm before I had a chance to react.
“That is most kind of you.” I managed to keep my voice calm with an effort. There was no way for me to break free of a vampire’s grip, but perhaps if he thought me unconcerned, he would let go. “I would hate to miss the entertainment.”
The vampire looked down at me, face neutral. “Is that so?”
“Yes.” I smiled up at him, then faked a stumble. He caught me, then, as I had hoped, let me go.
“My apologies, my lord. My shoe.” I bent for a moment, tugged at my shoe beneath my skirts. When I straightened I made sure I was a little farther away from him. Not that I could react fast enough to block a vampire.
“If you would be so kind, my lord.” I inclined my head at him and gestured for him to lead the way.
My fingers gripped the strings of my bag tightly. I couldn’t help tracing the edge of the flower that masked my alert charm. If I triggered it, Guy and Fen would come.
The question was whether they would be fast enough.
Not yet. Not before I’d found anything.
The vampire seemed to come to a decision. “Follow me.” He turned on his heel, moving too smoothly, in that eerie way the Blood do, and led the way down the hallway.
There was the same dead silence as we walked. The carpet muffled my footsteps, and the Blood made no noise as he moved, which only made me more unsettled.
The smell of incense grew stronger, heavily spiced with cloves and sandalwood and smoky herbs. It made my nose twitch as if some part of my brain were trying to tell me that there was another smell being hidden by the smoky odor. A less pleasant smell. Blood maybe. Or fear.
There was a sudden burst of laughter from farther down the corridor. Was this Ignatius’ private party?
Apparently it was. We reached another curtained doorway where the laughter came louder. The vampire held the curtain aside and gestured me through.
“After you, lady,” he said smoothly as I moved past him. The noise in the room cut off abruptly, leaving an eerie silence. Like stepping into a dark cave and knowing something lurks in the dark but being unable to hear anything.
It was too late to change my mind, so I kept walking. The conversations started again, though, to my ear, the tone now had a nasty edge to it. Avid, almost. The room was brightly lit and larger than I had expected. There must have been thirty people standing or sitting on the low sofas. Mostly Blood, though there were a few barely clothed human women and men kneeling by some of the sofas or curled into laps. No Fae. No Cormen.
Just vampires and those who came willingly to them.
Fuck.
I looked away from the humans. Nightseekers or Trusted, either way they had chosen to be here. As had I. I forced myself to look calm as I scanned the room.
There. At the far end of the room, seated in a chair that bore a strong resemblance to a throne—carved from some heavy black wood, its cushions made from an equally black satin brocade that gleamed sullenly in the gaslight.
Ignatius Grey, his long white hair falling free over his shoulders, sat in the chair, his posture a lesson in studied power. He wore black-and-white, the only color in his face the strange light brown of his eyes. Which were full of satisfaction as he surveyed his surroundings. Several of the half-naked humans sat around his feet, waiting to serve. The rest of the party seemed to keep one eye on him as they talked and laughed.
No hiding his ambitions here apparently.
As I approached, Ignatius stopped his contemplation of the room and stared at me. I dropped my gaze politely, stopping a little distance from the naked back of the woman closest to Ignatius’ feet.
“Well, well, what have we here?” he said. His voice had a rough burr, even though his accent was very correct. A little too correct, I thought. Rumor had it that Ignatius Grey had been a Seven Harbors pickpocket when he’d been human. He would have worked hard to lose the traces of the gutter from his voice.
I wondered if the rasp had been there before he had turned. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, much as he was not unpleasant to look at, if you liked rough and brawny. The Blood do not, as a rule, turn those who are unattractive.
I dropped into a curtsey, felt the comforting weight of the razor strapped to my thigh. It wasn’t much, but it made me feel a little less vulnerable. “My Lord Grey.” Not Lord Ignatius. Not yet. I looked him in the eye as I straightened.
His gaze sharpened. “And where did you spring from?”
“My lord?”
“Come to offer yourself, have you?” He gestured around the room. “As you can see, we are not lacking in morsels this evening. Tempting though you may be.”
I hoped the shiver of disgust crawling down my spine didn’t show. “No, my lord. That isn’t my interest.”
He frowned, white brows drawing together. “Truly? Then you’re wasting my time.”
“I—I have a message, my lord.”
“From whom?”
I drew my pendant from beneath the neckline. Time to roll the dice and pray the Lady was on my side. “From the one who gave me this.”
Ignatius leaned forward, face gone still. “Go on.”
“He sends his regrets, my lord.”
“Does he indeed?”
I bowed my head, feeling triumph surge beneath my fear. Ignatius knew my father.
“Interesting that he feels it necessary to send them twice,” Ignatius continued in a flat tone.
Fuck and double fuck. I’d screwed up. Question was, could I talk my way out of it? “Twice, my lord?”
“The sa’Inviel had already sent a message. So, what are you? My consolation prize?” There was heat in his eyes now and anger in his voice. I clamped my mouth shut, trying to think.
Ignatius leaned farther forward. “Does he think he can buy me off with a hai’salai? He knows half-breeds are no use to me.”
I definitely didn’t like the sound of that. My fingers slipped to the flower, pressed the charm. Time for backup. “I was only told to give the message. And his assurances that all your needs will be met.”
“And if my needs include you?”
Fear arced through me.
“Ah, he didn’t mention that part to you, did he?” Ignatius’ eyes narrowed. “You must be trusting, to walk in here for him. You must think much of him.”
�
�Yes, my lord.” The lie stuck in my throat, but I would do anything to stall for time. Guy and Fen would find me. They would get me out of this.
“So, what will you give to walk out of here again?”
Ignatius stood. I steeled my spine. I would not step back. No retreat.
“You need the evening star’s goodwill, my lord,” I said.
“Oh? And does he value you so highly? That it would offend him if I . . . indulged myself?”
“He protects what is his,” I said with a false smile. Bravado. When surrounded by predators, you don’t survive by acting meek. “He said you were an honorable ally.”
Surprisingly, he laughed. Less surprisingly, it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I don’t know who has been telling him tales about my honor,” he said. “But I think they have led you both astray.”
“Perhaps you don’t know yourself, my lord.” Around us, the room had grown very quiet. I didn’t dare look away from Ignatius. He moved closer to me, close enough that I could see the tiny pinpoints of red starting to flare in his pupils.
“Oh, I think I do. Much as I think he knew what would happen to you.”
Chapter Seventeen
HOLLY
My pulse started to beat far too fast as the scent of vampire—blood and something acidic that couldn’t be masked by the cologne Ignatius wore—filled my nose. “And that is?”
He leaned in, close to my ear. “A taste. That is the price of exit, little hai’salai.”
His voice was edged with more than its usual rasp. There was threat in that tone. I moved backward; I couldn’t help it. “No.” The denial was instinctive.
Ignatius leaned closer. “So fast, with her refusal.” Around me, I felt the silence, if anything, grow deeper. Bottomless. A endless pit waiting to swallow anyone who made a wrong move. If the other Blood were chilled to silence by Ignatius’ tone, what should I be? My pulse sped. I had to lock my knees against the urge to run.
“He will pay more. If I am unharmed,” I said, trying to slow the pounding in my ears with a deep breath. This was about Mama. About Reggie. I had to get out of here. I had to save them.