The Masquerade (Den of the Fallen Book 0)

by Miranda Bridges

  The Masquerade

  Miranda Bridges

  The Masquerade — Den of the Fallen Prequel

  by Miranda Bridges

  Copyright © 2019 Miranda Bridges

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

  https://mirandabridges.com

  The reader:

  Thank you for taking a chance on me, a new author. Your willingness to read my book is humbling, and I want you to know I appreciate you. I hope you enjoy these characters as much as I did when I wrote them.

  Den of the Fallen Series

  The Masquerade

  The Maverick

  The Marquess

  The Madam

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Next in Series

  The Maverick

  About the Author

  Also by Miranda Bridges

  Chapter 1

  19th Century, London

  Gwendolyn Trescott’s hands fisted as her magic began to gather in the center of her palms. The reaction was immediate, a weak attempt to stifle her treacherous power. Wearing a cloak of invisibility would do her little good if she blasted the jailer across the room and he sounded the alarm. She wanted to unlock a cell, not be thrown in one.

  How was she to get those bloody keys?

  The jailer continued to chew noisily, eating his afternoon meal with relish, whilst Gwen worried her lip between her teeth. The sense of urgency to reach her mother was slowly decreasing her patience and increasing her anxiety. Fortunately, her mind remained sharp.

  Taking cautious steps across the room, she placed herself to the right of the door and banged on it loudly. The jailer’s head snapped up and she sucked in a breath as he rose from his desk and strode toward her. Even though she was invisible, she was still corporeal.

  She pressed herself against the wall when he wrenched the door open and stuck his head into the hallway. As soon as he took a step through the door frame she ran to the keys, keeping her steps as light as possible. Her clothing made no sound as she moved, and she was grateful for the foresight to wear pants instead of a dress. She definitely would have been caught if she would have had those heavy layers of material to contend with.

  The jailer’s voice echoed down the hallway as he called out to a presumed visitor and Gwen reached the desk. With a shaking hand, she took hold of the cool metal ring, lifting it slowly. It would not do well for her to alert him to her presence by the clinking of the keys.

  Once they were in the pocket of her cloak they became invisible and she almost released a heavy sigh of relief. The jailer chose that moment to step back into the room, muttering to himself. His profane words burned her ears, but did not stop her from taking action. Skirting around him, she reached the door which had been left wide open. After waiting for over an hour for him to make an appearance in his office, she was finally able to leave.

  The journey from the jailer’s office to her mother’s designated floor was long. It would not have taken the time it did, except Gwen had to stop quite often to allow guards to pass her by. Twice, she got turned around or went down the wrong corridor even though she had memorized her mother’s location. She blamed her confusion on the disconcerting wails and putrid smells that emanated from the cells. When she finally reached the section of the compound intended for the upper class inmates she breathed a little easier.

  After locating her mother’s cell, she tried a number of keys until one finally worked. With a small shove she pushed open the door to reveal the Duchess of Fairview. Meredith Trescott rose from her chair and narrowed her eyes in Gwen’s direction.

  “Mother, it’s me,” Gwen whispered as she pushed the door closed. The sound of wood scraping across stone drowned out her words, but her mother’s gasp was quite loud. Gwen hastily locked the door, ensuring their privacy and safety, before she removed her hood. The moment she did, Lady Trescott swept her into a tight embrace. The sigh of relief that Gwen had been waiting to expel finally came, and along with it, hot tears pricked her eyes.

  “What on earth are you doing here, Gwen?”

  Her mother’s cultured tones could not hide the fact she was worried about seeing Gwen in such a place. Nor could her aura. Shimmering, dark gray tones surrounded the duchess and Gwen vaguely wondered if they matched her own. Since she was the only one with the gift of seeing them, she would never know.

  “You were gone when I returned home, and Sofie told me what happened,” Gwen said. “They took you away and it’s all my fault.” Her voice grew thick with emotion and the tears which had welled upon seeing her mother, began to fall. “It should be me in here, not you.”

  “A mother’s love knows no bounds,” the duchess whispered softly as her aura turned a light shade of pink. “I would never have let them take you.”

  Lady Trescott made soothing noises and stroked Gwen’s hair until her tears dried. Taking Gwen’s hand, she led her over the bed which was along the back wall. Once they were both seated, she looked Gwen straight in the face, her eyes piercing and her aura darkening. “We do not have much time, so I need you to listen to what I have to say.”

  Gwen nodded as she wiped her face with the sleeve of the cloak.

  “You need to find a woman who goes by the name, Sunny. Her father and I were second cousins, and that makes her family. From what I hear, she is an accomplished witch, and can help you control your magic,” the duchess said.

  “Why have you never mentioned her before?” Gwen asked.

  “She is not an active member of the coven and the time was not right until now.”

  “Did you have a vision?”

  “Yes,” the duchess answered.

  “I wish your gift of foresight had prevented this entire debacle,” Gwen muttered. “What good is magic if it only brings trouble?”

  “You will not always feel this way towards your gift, but I do not have the time nor the inclination to convince you.”

  Her mother’s grip tightened on Gwen’s hands. “You will seek out Sunny and master your magic. This is not a negotiation.”

  “What about you?” Gwen cried. “You can’t possibly stay in this godforsaken place.”

  The jail cell was minimal, containing a bed, desk, and a chair. It may have been located away from the other inmates, but it was a far cry from being worthy of an extended stay. If this was what the upper class members were entitled to, Gwen shuddered to contemplate what the alternative was. Even now, the dampness of the brick was seeping into her clothing, and the lack of window made the dimly lit space appear all the more dreary.

  And what about your trial?” She shook her head vehemently at the thought of her mother being found guilty of witchcraft. A life sentence in jail or execution were not options Gwen could think about without wanting to panic. “I’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “You will not,” came the firm reply. “You will st
ay with Sunny until you have mastered your magic and are no longer a threat to anyone, including yourself.”

  Gwen’s mouth dropped open, but at the narrowing of her mother’s eyes, she pressed her lips together.

  “My trial is weeks, maybe months, away, which will give you the time you need,” the duchess said. “Although this not the best of settings, I will be comfortable here. I believe the charges will be dropped and my legal council is putting together a strong defense on my behalf. If not...” She let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, and then gave Gwen a half-hearted smile. “We will figure something out, if this does not end favorably.”

  “Have you seen how the trial will turn out?”

  The duchess shook her head slowly.

  “Then how do you know all will be well?” Gwen asked on a whisper.

  “I don’t,” her mother said, lowering her gaze. When it returned to Gwen’s, it was full of conviction. “What I know is what will need to take place now. Go to your cousin and come to me when she says you are ready.”

  Gwen bit her lip to keep from voicing her doubts about her ability to master her magic. She was twenty three and way past the age when witches could perform the simplest of spells without disaster hovering in the air. But her mother’s aura was a warm yellow, informing Gwen that her mother was at peace with her decision.

  The duchess glanced at the door over Gwen’s shoulder and she knew her time with her mother was nearing its end. Throwing her arms around her mother, she held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair, memorizing the feel of her delicate frame. Based on her mother’s instructions, it could be a long while before they saw each other again.

  “I will do as you say,” Gwen promised.

  Her mother’s grip on her relaxed at her acquiescence, which was a huge concession on Gwen’s part. It was her stubbornness that had led to the argument which had brought about this whole debacle. However, if her mother wanted her to train, then that was what she would do.

  Exiting the jail had not been as difficult as the entry, but the knot of tension in Gwen’s stomach grew with each step that took her further from her mother. She wasted no time traveling to Sunny’s address. She hired a hackney instead of taking the family coach, as per her mother’s instructions. Although she’d found it odd, she did little more than wrinkle her nose at the interior before getting inside.

  The hackney rolled down the cobbled streets as the lamplight cast an eerie glow, an aura of its own. Every human had an aura, making Gwen’s worldview a kaleidoscope of color. When her powers had manifested at the age of sixteen, she’d thought it beautiful, but soon learned different. Being able to discern someone’s emotions was very close to reading their mind, which was not always pleasant.

  The hackney came to a stop and Gwen stepped down before the driver could offer his assistance. As she walked up the front steps, she marveled at the neighborhood in which she found herself. It was one of the best London had to offer, only outdone by Gwen’s residence. Although she doubted the interior of her cousin’s house was as dilapidated as her own.

  Reaching the door, she knocked twice, grateful that her magic did not shoot out from her anxious hands. It would have been very hard to explain why the door fell from its hinges, as if a mighty wind had pushed it down. Maybe Sunny would have understood, but Gwen knew it would not make a great first impression, and she really needed her help. She kept her hands clenched as the sound of footsteps drew closer.

  The massive door was opened by a tall, bald man who blinked several times as his gaze met hers. He peered behind her, as if looking for someone else, and then brought his eyes back to settle on her. She returned his stare, unsure if he was a butler or some type of body guard disguised as one. It made her wonder if she was at the wrong address.

  “What can I do for you, Miss?” he asked, his voice gruff.

  She gave him a fake smile, easily performed after years of expectations pressed down upon her. His aura was not a hostile red, but the flickering orange did not comfort her much. He was on alert or feeling cautious. Was it because of her?

  “I am Lady Fairview, and I am here to see Miss Sunny. I believe this is her residence.”

  “Aye, it is.”

  After an extended pause, she cleared her throat in hopes he would take the hint and allow her inside, or go seek out his employer. Didn’t he know it was rude to keep a lady waiting on the front stoop?

  “Can you please inform her that I am here to speak with her?” she asked, wondering what color her aura was now. She guessed it to be a dull red, most likely matching her cheeks, which were hot with embarrassment.

  “I don’t know if that is such a good idea,” he said.

  She waved a hand in dismissal. “Once she sees me, all will be well,” she lied.

  “Er, are you sure you want to come inside?”

  “Absolutely. She is my cousin.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her briefly, but his face relaxed as he lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.

  “Right this way, m’lady.”

  As she made to cross the threshold a strange current of energy brushed past her, almost like an electric shock. It wasn’t painful, but neither was it pleasant. Magic was present, a confirmation she was definitely at the right address.

  The sound of laughter met her ears as soon as she was inside and it took all of her discipline to keep from looking into the parlor that they passed. It was the laughter of several men and women, which only made her curiosity burn all the more. Was Sunny hosting a gathering?

  The “butler” stopped and rapped once on the closed door at the end of the hall and she stood up a little straighter. Although she’d never met her cousin, she was hopeful that Sunny would come to her aid. She assumed her mother would not have sent her otherwise.

  “Enter,” came the muted command.

  Gwen frowned at the male voice.

  With a tight nod in her direction, the man left her staring after him. Gwen turned towards the door and took a deep breath as she turned the knob. Three pairs of eyes latched onto her as she entered and she came to an abrupt halt.

  The first person was presumably Sunny. Her hazel eyes widened in surprise before a honey colored brow was arched in Gwen’s direction. Her aura was a light yellow, but it shimmered, denoting her status as a witch. Sunny’s gown was cerulean blue, with a low neckline and billowing layers of fine material were draped over the settee where she was seated. Gwen smothered the urge to run her hand down her own shabby gown, a dull, pale pink, dingy from being overused.

  The second person was a dark-haired male whose gaze flickered over her for a quick moment, but returned back to the flames in the fireplace. He braced his forearm on the mantle and leaned his head against it, looking into the fire as if it contained secrets or answers. His tortured expression cut her deep and it was not a surprise his aura was nearly black.

  The last person was a blonde man who was laid across the other settee, looking as though he was a fallen angel. At her arrival, he sat up and his sharp gaze pierced her. His movement was fluid and graceful, like a predator.

  She drew a deep breath to help suppress the shivers which wanted to travel down her spine. Although she was scared, she was determined not to show it. She hoped Sunny could not see auras as well, or her bravado would be for nothing.

  “And you are?” asked Sunny. There was more curiosity in her voice than anything.

  “I—”

  “She’s frightened,” the blonde gentleman said quietly, as though he didn’t wish to startle her. He looked over at Sunny, who met his gaze. “She knows,” he said.

  “She can’t possibly, Ethan,” Sunny argued.

  “Her fear is permeating the room,” the dark haired man said. His nostrils flared ever so slightly and his gaze flickered over Gwen once more. “It wasn’t present until she walked in here.”

  So much for pretending to not be afraid.

  “But how does she know?” Ethan asked. He stroked his chin in thought and h
is eyes gleamed. “If she knows, then maybe she won’t mind if I sample her.”

  “Ethan, don’t be ridiculous,” Sunny said, sending him a look of reproach. Her gaze slid to the dark haired man she said, “Lucas, please talk some sense into him.”

  “She’s right, Ethan,” Lucas said. “Leave her be.”

  “Always so practical,” Ethan said, his expression sullen. “Very well, but she will not leave this room until she explains herself.” He squinted in Gwen’s direction, making her want to squirm under his heavy perusal.

  “Perhaps we should begin with your name my dear,” Sunny said gently, looking back in Gwen’s direction. “Would you like to have a seat?” She patted the space unoccupied next to her. “It seems you have much to say.”

  Gwen started forward, avoiding Ethan’s gaze. He looked upon her as if he would like nothing more than to devour her, despite Sunny’s wishes. Lucas paid Gwen no mind as she sat down, but she was now close enough to see his gray eyes which were full of turmoil. Tension radiated from his body and the curious part of her wondered what it originated from. It couldn’t be easy being what he was.

  Sunny gave her an encouraging look, which Gwen hardly found comforting. What had her mother been thinking in sending her here? As far as she knew, Sunny wasn’t married, so why was she entertaining two men behind closed doors, without a chaperone? And who were all of those people in the parlor? Not to mention, the supernaturals present.

  Gwen cleared her throat. “My name is Gwendolyn Trescott and my mother is Lady Meredith Trescott, Duchess of Fairview.”

  Ethan let out a low whistle and even Lucas turned in her direction, those haunting eyes sweeping over her.