by Imogen Rose
“Um, yeah. But this is too specific to be a random joke.”
I wanted to tell him about Quinn and my conversation with Faustine’s dad, but I couldn’t with her there. “You know, there’s not much we can do about it right now. I have my next student to test soon, so why don’t the two of you head off and ski, and I’ll see you later?”
Jagger shook his head, clenching his jaw.
“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Jagger. I was really looking forward to this. Please?” Faustine fluttered her eyelashes, giving him the full benefit of puppy eyes.
He didn’t even crack a smile, his gaze fixed on me.
“Jagger, Faustine is right,” I said. “I promise to hang out with you later, and we can talk about this some more then. In the meantime, just be careful, both of you. Promise?”
He walked over and kissed my forehead, and then moved his lips to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You be careful. And we’ll talk as soon as I get back from the slopes.”
I nodded and waved them off, locking the door behind them. I looked at my watch. It would be hours before King Sebastian arrived, so I decided to head over and help Henri with the next student. I carefully placed the note between two pages of my diary and stuffed the book into the back of my sock drawer. Then, I turned around…and walked right into King Sebastian. I stumbled back, trying to regain my footing.
He reached out to steady me. “My apologies, Cordelia. I had Spencer bring me over to save time. If you are willing, I’d like to take you back to London for a while.”
“London? Now? Did you find Quinn?”
“No, not exactly. However, if he’s somehow connected with the demon who possessed Frau Schmelder, we may be able to work that angle. I need you and Pascal to come with me to confirm the identity of the old woman.”
“You know who she is?”
“I’ve had some suspicions, but they were completely unfounded, and I still have no real reason to suspect her. More than anything, I want to eliminate her from my investigations.” He looked pensive.
“Why has it taken you so long?”
“Politics. Intercity politics is even more complicated than getting permission from Frau Schmelder to throw a party for my daughter.” He smiled. “I now have clearance from the New York sovereigns to bring you and Pascal to the city for this task. They had me seek your parents’ approval, as well. It took some time to convince them to allow both of you to assist me. However, they have relented on the condition that I stop by Paris on our way back, so they can confirm your safety in person. So, I’m cleared for our task. I just need you and Pascal to be on board.”
“Well, what did you have in mind?” Though I didn’t have any hesitation about going with him to New York to do whatever it took to find Quinn, there was no way I was placing Pascal in harm’s way. Not even for Quinn.
“Like I said, I’ve had suspicions about the identity of the old woman.”
“Who do you think she is?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
I scowled at him. “Why not?”
“Because I have no proof, just an intuition. Naming names is premature at this point.”
I wasn’t buying it, but I didn’t want to pry too much and have King Sebastian withdraw his offer to let me help. I’d find out anyway, when I saw her. I could wait. “What do you need me to do?” I asked.
“Listen. That’s all. I will place you in position where you can hear the suspect in question. All I need you to do is tell me if you recognize the voice. The woman is a confirmed guest at a benefit at the Waldorf. We can’t let her spot us; she’d know who we are. So, I suggest we possess the wait staff so we can mingle freely without being recognized.”
I nodded. “Good plan, but it won’t work for Pascal. He’s had his powers suspended after his mischief with Frau Schmelder.”
King Sebastian tipped his head back, running his hand through his hair. “That’s not good. I could find her and have her restore them, but we don’t have time for that.” He paused and walked to the window, staring out at the peaks. “Tell you what,” he said, turning around. “Let’s just go. If you confirm the voice, then I’ll arrange for Pascal to do his part at another time. Your part needs to be done first anyway. So, Cordelia, will you help?”
“Yes, sure.”
“May I have a look at the note before we go?”
I retrieved the note from my diary and showed it to him.
He studied it carefully before handing it back to me. “Any idea who’s writing these? Do you think it’s Mason?”
“No, I can’t see him writing poems. He just doesn’t seem the type.”
“How so?”
“I feel like I’ve gotten to know him a bit through his Initiation tests. He doesn’t seem particularly creative.”
“Are his male and female personas the same?”
That was a really good question. I had kind of assumed that they were; none of my research had suggested anything different. Paranormal gynandromorphism wasn’t a multiple personality issue; it was a physical phenomenon, as far as I knew. “I’ve really only explored his male side. His female side hasn’t manifested for months.”
“In front of you,” King Sebastian noted. “That’s not to say that it hasn’t at all. I don’t know much about his condition, but I wouldn’t rule him out as the author of the notes just yet.”
I nodded.
“And you don’t have any other suspects?”
“No. I can’t think of anyone. It’s been really quiet around here for months.”
He waved the note in the air. “Maybe, but this leaves me in a conundrum. Since Frau Schmelder hasn’t contacted me to cancel Faustine’s party, I take it you haven’t shown her the note?”
“That’s right. I was going to wait and let you make that decision.”
“The question is: What alternative would be safer? How about a party within the confines of the school? Faustine would probably be disappointed with that. I could bring her to London and have a celebration at my mansion.” He sat and pondered, looking as though he was weighing all the options in his head.
As far as I was concerned, if whoever wrote the note intended to try to turn Faustine’s birthday into a bloodbath, he’d do it no matter where we held the party. “To be honest, I like Faustine’s chances a lot more out in the mountains than in a confined space, where she’d be a sitting duck for a deranged killer. We’ve got her surrounded by the best of the ski team, including Jagger. She’s going to be skiing in her demon form, which is another plus. She still takes her sweet time transforming and would be more vulnerable in a formal setting, playing princess. Faustine on full-demon adrenaline would be nearly indestructible. I say we go ahead.”
“You have a good point. Plus, like you said, no action was taken after the last note. We can’t put her birthday on hold because of some veiled threat that will most likely come to nothing.” He stuffed the note in his pocket. “Ready to go? I have Spencer and his associate standing by to transport us.”
I nodded and closed my eyes, waiting for the wonderful feeling of wandering.
We were dropped off outside the Waldorf Astoria in Manhattan. I looked in awe at one of my most favorite art deco buildings in New York. The outside was lit and decked out for a reception. We stood hidden in the shadows and watched as limos pulled up to the red carpet, dropping off one dignitary after another.
The last time I’d been there, I was part of that arrival procession, accompanying my parents to my first official event. I watched carefully as the couples stepped onto the carpet, checking for familiar faces. I recognized quite a few. I had dined with many, both at my house and at other events in Paris.
“So,” I whispered, “what now?”
“We’ll move to the staff entrance. I texted Edith to let her know that Pascal wasn’t coming, so two members of the catering crew will meet us outside. They work for Edith, the witch sovereign of New York, and have already been prepped by her to serve as our hosts for p
ossession. Once we’ve done that, we’ll allow them to carry on their duties without any interference. We will merely observe from the inside. Keep your ears open. Do not instruct your host to do anything.”
“Okay, what if I pick up on something? How do I let you know?”
“You don’t. I don’t want to arouse any suspicion. We wait until the end of the first shift, when our hosts will come outside to take a smoke break. We’ll talk then and take it from there.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, Cordelia. I’ll be with you every step of the way. My host has been instructed to keep an eye on yours.” He smiled and ushered me toward the entrance where we were to meet our two humans. I was taken aback when I saw the two hot male waiters, having assumed that I would be temporarily residing within a human girl. They looked like University students working their evening jobs, smartly dressed in catering uniforms—black suits, black ties, and crisp black shirts.
They bowed when they saw Faustine’s dad.
He nodded at them. “Cordelia, Frank and Leland, our hosts for tonight. Take Frank, and we’ll meet back here at the end of the shift.”
It had been months since my last possession, and I hoped I wasn’t rusty. I took a deep breath and floated into Frank. I had to remind myself not to take control of his mind or body—King Sebastian had asked me only to observe. I was the worst backseat driver ever. The thought of just letting the human do whatever he wanted filled me with a sense of helplessness and dread. I fought the urge to take control of his legs and make him move faster. Seriously, did he have to swagger while serving his little canapés?
I hated every second he rushed around in the huge kitchen that served the Grand Ballroom. It was chock—full of people, all hurrying and scurrying in a frighteningly disorganized fashion, brushing against each other. I could feel every bump from within him. Humans were so clumsy. And noisy. How anyone could hear anything, with everyone shouting over each other was beyond me. I had never seen the background of the events I had attended in the past, and hoped I never would again.
Once Frankie had the correct platter—after two tries—he lined up with the other servers and waited his turn to enter the Grand Ballroom. It seemed as if we stood there forever, his arm, which I could feel, getting more and more sore. I hoped he wouldn’t drop the tray and put an end to his evening. I was tempted to help him hold it, but King Sebastian’s voice in my head warned me not to interfere.
I felt a tap on Frankie’s shoulder, and we were on the move again. As we entered the ballroom, I sighed in delight. The four-story room was magnificent enough to astound even the pickiest of princesses. The tables were covered in white cloths and laid out with the finest china. Flowers dominated the room—more like sculptures than mere arrangements. I wondered what kind of benefit was being held.
My host, Frankie, was smiling, seamlessly moving through the scattered groups of people. He held out his tray, offering guests small plates containing pumpkin-filled ravioli. I noticed how most people didn’t acknowledge or even notice him, just taking the plates and then returning to their conversations. The only ones who cast him looks of interest were the younger women. I was glad for the lack of attention. I noticed that Leland, King Sebastian’s host, was also serving hors d’oeuvres, but he followed Frankie as much as possible.
It seemed as if Frankie had been asked to concentrate on the older ladies in the room. The only problem was that there were about a bazillion of them, all decked out to the hilt, dripping in jewelry. And none of them showed much fondness for ravioli. I kept my eyes sharply peeled and tried to hone in on every sound, but I failed to recognize any one voice that sounded even vaguely like the woman in Mason’s room. Would I even be able to recall it after so long, having only heard it for a short time?
After walking around for an hour or so, with several trips to the kitchen for refills, Frankie finally made a move to head outside.
Someone grabbed Frankie’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”
Frankie turned and looked at an older gentleman wearing the same server’s uniform.
“I’m due a break.” Frankie’s voice sounded weird from inside him.
“You are?” The man checked a list. “Nope, not yet. I had to move you around. You’re on the floor for another half-hour before you get a break. Take one of the champagne trays out.” Then he turned and left.
Poor Frankie’s arm throbbed as he balanced the heavy tray on his palm and headed out into the ballroom again. I tried to detach myself from his pain, concentrating once again on the sounds.
Everyone had been seated in their chairs, with waiters buzzing around serving the appetizers. I could feel my own hunger as my hand wanted to reach out and grab the succulent slices of meat gracing the plates. What would be the harm if I made Frankie grab just one little piece to pop into his mouth? King Sebastian’s host was nowhere to be seen—probably outside having his smoke break—so no one would know.
I’d almost convinced myself that it would be totally cool to do that when I heard the woman. We walked past a table where her annoying cackling sound filled the air. I wanted to make Frankie’s head turn so I could have another look, but he kept walking. I had to exercise every ounce of self-restraint I could muster not to completely take over his body and march back toward the sound of the hooting. I made a note of the table’s position and kept my fingers crossed that we’d turn around at some point.
Frankie seemed determined to circle the room, going every which way but back to the vicinity of the table, sending me deeper and deeper into frustration. I noticed Leland’s arrival back into the ballroom, which probably meant that it would be Frankie’s turn for a break soon. Then what? Frankie suddenly brought his hand down, his tray empty, and headed back to the kitchen. I held my breath as we walked toward the table where the cackling noise had emanated.
I spied the woman straight away as her gaze bored a hole right through Frankie. It was as if she could see me. She smirked as Frankie walked past, her leathery skin crinkling. Her gray hair was gathered into a knot at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t a fragile old lady, though. Something about her screamed power. I didn’t think it was the way she was dressed, even though she was draped in a burgundy velvet ball gown and sporting some huge emeralds. No, it wasn’t the clothes; it was the aura surrounding her, one of undeniable confidence. It made me shudder.
I was happy when Frankie got outside—until he lit up. I immediately exited his body, not willing to put up with that nasty habit.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he muttered. “I couldn’t say no when I was asked to go back in.”
“No worries. Can you hurryso we can get back?”
“I’m on kitchen duty for the rest of the evening.”
“You’re not going back out to serve?”
“Nope. All done with that. Leland will be done any moment, so if you wait here, he’ll be back with the king.”
I considered making him go back in so I could have another look at the old woman, maybe even confront her, but I decided against it. There was no point in risking King Sebastian’s wrath. He’d send me right back to school, and that was the last thing I wanted. Frankie went back inside, and Leland came out about ten minutes later.
King Sebastian exited the human quietly and walked over to me. “So?” he asked, his tone hushed.
“She is definitely here,” I said unable to keep the excitement from making me almost shout.
“Shush, keep it down,” he warned. “What was she wearing?”
I described everything, her clothes, jewelry, where she was sitting, and the look she’d thrown me.
“You’re absolutely sure she was the same woman? Did you hear her voice when you walked past the table for the second time?”
I had to think about that for a second, replaying it over in my mind again. I finally shook my head. “No, she didn’t say anything.”
“So how can you be sure?”
“I don’t know. It was the way she looked at me…a
t Frankie. It was like she could actually see me inside him.”
“But you didn’t associate the voice with her directly?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling annoyed at having to second-guess myself. I was sure, but I couldn’t swear to it. “Can we go back inside?”
“Our time with the wait staff is over. They are not due to go back into the ballroom. Still, there’s nothing to prevent us from hitching a ride with someone else. Unfortunately, this is a paranormal reception, with a mix of all kinds of creatures, so we need to be extra careful who we choose.”
“Are the wait staff all human?”
“Yes, but we don’t know what their schedules are.” He looked over at the little gathering of smokers. “I guess any of them will do. We could just steer them into the ballroom.” He paused. “This hasn’t been cleared with the New York council, most of whom are inside that room. One wrong step and Edith will banish us from this side of the Atlantic forever.”
“Edith is in there?”
“Yes, sitting at the very table you described.”
My eyes widened. Could she be the old woman?
“No, I can see what you are thinking. Edith is wearing a navy blue gown.”
“Does the fact that our suspect is sitting at the same table as the sovereign witch mean that she is very eminent?” I asked.
King Sebastian didn’t respond.
I tried again. “Any idea who she is?”
He ignored me, instead pointing at two female waiters stubbing out their cigarettes with the toes of their lacquered black shoes. “Here’s our chance. Let’s get a ride in with them. Steer as much as you can without arousing any suspicion, and let’s meet back out here. Hurry!”
I jumped into the one on the left, not even taking the time to give her the once-over. I didn’t even know what my host looked like, but I had vaguely caught sight of a mass of brown locks neatly pulled back into a ponytail.
I took a back seat, letting my host carry on at will, until she turned to go into the restroom. I wasn’t putting up with that, so I took over and steered her toward the ballroom instead.