Chapter 36
36
NICK’S WORDS KNIFE through me, slicing my lungs until I’m breathless. Then, indignation roars up from my gut to burn the shock away. “May I ask why I’m so horrible to be around?”
Nick’s jaw works back and forth, and I watch something real move behind his eyes before he shutters it. He takes a deep, slow breath and leans back in his chair. Mikael has stepped away from the stage, but the room is still buzzing with energy. Now that the weekend stay at Penumbra has been announced, dinner service has begun.
“You can ask me anything you want,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”
“So that’s how it is?” I ask hotly. “You’re a whole jerk now?”
He answers without looking at me. “Very possibly.”
I gape. “Were you always like this?”
He blows out a breath. “Depends on who you ask.”
“Well, we can always switch back, you know,” I say, pointing my chin to where Ava is seated. “You can go back to your real fiancée. I’m sure you’d rather spend three days with her instead.”
“Bianca has seen us together. So has the server. So has Mikael now. We can’t switch back. No matter how much I wish we could.” His jaw tightens. “No matter how much we should.”
“Wow,” I whisper harshly. “I thought I wanted to know more about us and—and who we were before, but now, I think I might be better off not knowing anything about you at all!”
“You’re lying.” A quiet observation and close-lipped smile. “But I don’t blame you.”
The desire to throw my drink over his head seizes me so entirely that my right hand is on my glass before I know it—but Nick’s hand is a blur. In a blink, his fingers catch my wrist with easy strength.
“Now, now, fiancée of mine,” he murmurs, tilting his head to catch my eye, “it wouldn’t do to blow either of our covers with a public quarrel, would it? Not when we have three more days to finish what we started in the basement.”
I grit my teeth but don’t let go of my glass. His left hand dwarfs my right. Veins and fine muscle engulf my wrist. I could break his grip, but it’d draw attention. My left hand, still free, slips below the table. “What did we start in the basement?”
“Something you know we can’t continue, so why even ask?”
“Call me curious,” I bite out, yanking my right hand—to no avail. His grip is iron.
“Call you vicious , you mean.” His eyes flick down to the table, amused and knowing. “Are you really going for that dagger strapped to your thigh, right out here in the open?”
My left fingers have already grasped the hilt. How long has he known the dagger was there? When did he notice? In the darkened basement? When we were pressed together in the elevator, torso to torso and legs to legs? “No.”
“You are .” Wonder fills his expression. “Look at you. Incredible. You’re a gorgeous, powerful, violent little enigma who would stab me in front of all these people just to make a point.” He uses the tight fist around my wrist to draw himself closer, as if to see more of me. “Is that how it was?” he murmurs. “Were you always like this?”
“You know I was,” I whisper cruelly. “So why even ask?”
His grin is quick. Secret. Then his eyes travel over my shoulder, expression mild, while the first course is served. “I can’t let you stab me in the middle of dinner, but if you did, you’d have to make it quick. Somewhere hidden. Can’t call attention to either one of us.” He tilts his head, considering. “Avoid the femoral artery; too much blood. Upper outer thigh, maybe? The tablecloth would cover it.”
“Now I don’t even want to stab you,” I hiss.
His mouth quirks roguishly. “Did I spoil your fun?”
“You spoiled my fun in the basement when you showed up out of nowhere.”
“You do realize that, from my perspective, you’re the one who showed up out of nowhere?”
Why am I so flustered? I growl behind my teeth. Servers wind through the room setting down salad plates, bread baskets, and fresh butter dishes in front of hungry guests. The table closest to us has just received its dinner rolls. Nick and I only have a few more minutes to ourselves before we’re overheard. “What were you doing there, anyway?”
“Guess.”
I glare at him while our hands are locked tight, while I squeeze the hilt of my dagger beneath the table. “You were looking for something that hadn’t been prepared for public display yet.”
“Correct.”
I take a wild gamble. Get specific, but not too specific. “Are you here for something magical?”
“Yes,” he answers. “I want something magical. Like you.”
I don’t deny it. With a very palpable effort, I release my fingers from around the stem of the glass. Nick dips his chin toward my lap. “Now the dagger.” I scowl, abandoning my hidden weapon to pull my left hand back to my lap. He hums his approval. “Smart girl.” Only then does he let me go.
My cheeks flame. “Why do you want it?”
He chuckles. “I have my reasons.”
It feels risky to keep talking. Like I might say more embarrassing things. Or reach for something else to throw—and inadvertently invite him to grasp me again when my wrist is still practically humming from his touch. So I don’t say anything at all.
He chuckles at that , too.
This boy is infuriating.
Mikael’s voice rolls through the ballroom, settling like a blanket over the sound of clinking silverware. “If you don’t mind, as dinner is served I’d like to address a bit of housekeeping.” He raises a hand, waving someone to the front of the room.
Bianca and Lawson approach the stage—and guided between them is the Collector guest who got caught by the mansion’s entryway ward. My stomach goes cold. Elijah didn’t know what the ward was designed to catch, but it seems we’re about to find out.
The man stumbles a bit as he is moved forward between tables. His frantic eyes dart around the room, but he can’t escape the heavy grip on his shoulders, and no one comes to his rescue.
“We may not follow the laws of the outside world,” Mikael says to the room, “but we have our own values of discretion and truth. It brings me great sadness that in addition to the two violations I have already shared tonight, we have uncovered a third. A violation of discretion.”
A few gasps and whispers rumble through the seated Collectors. Nick and I exchange nervous glances. What are we about to witness?
The Collector steps forward before Lawson yanks him back. “Mikael,” the man says, pleading, “I don’t even know why they’ve been questioning me! You know I would never do anything to harm the community—”
Mikael silences the man with a look. “As soon as someone crosses my threshold, I can sense betrayal in their hearts. You know that, Eric.”
“I wouldn’t betray you!” Eric exclaims.
Mikael frowns. “But you came here tonight with the intent to expose us, didn’t you?”
Eric’s face turns the color of paper. “I… it was just… just a thought, Mikael, not a real idea. Nothing I was going to act on—”
“But our thoughts and desires are everything , my friend,” Mikael says. “And yours have violated our code. Violations come with consequences. Consequences you have agreed to, year after year, have you not?”
Eric’s shoulders drop. “I have.”
“And so you accept them?”
Eric bows his head. “Yes, of course. I accept the consequences.”
“In the name of discretion and truth?” Mikael prompts.
Eric’s hands ball into fists. His eyes squeeze shut. “In the name of discretion… and truth.”
There is no warning—only the dip of Mikael’s chin.
Without saying a single word, Lawson slips his hand to the back of Eric’s neck… and squeezes. Eric’s body seizes. His eyes roll back in his head—and then he’s gone.
Lawson bends quickly to catch his body before it falls, cradling the Collector close to his chest as if he’d only fallen asleep.
And then Nick’s hand is on my knee beneath the table, pressing firmly against the bone—before acidic horror strips my insides. My body, understanding that I’ve just witnessed a murder before my mind has caught up. When sounds filter back into my ears, I realize the dinner service is still going. Silverware never stopped clinking against plates. Waitstaff never stopped moving. A fresh glass of wine is being poured. When Lawson and Bianca make their exit with Eric, my lungs burn against my rib cage. Nick’s hand is the only thing keeping me from howling, from screaming, from bolting from the room. From becoming a violation myself.
“If you notice any other unsavory violations this weekend, my friends,” Mikael says, “please do alert our staff, at any time of day. Your loyalty will be handsomely rewarded, as an insult to one of us is an insult to all of us.”
The low smattering of applause shakes me to my core.
Mikael’s words are those of a congenial host and gentleman, but I hear the warning: any Collector who appears to step out of line this weekend can, should, and will be reported by another Collector to Bianca and her team, where they will face Eric’s same fate.
Ten minutes ago, Nick and I were worried about the few people who might see us as Benedict and Iris. Now, we need to worry about who might see us as threats. Mikael could set up another ward to surveil the mansion, but why bother? The Collectors will do his work for him.
Across the room, Zoe’s arm is wrapped loosely around Mariah’s shoulders, offering awkward comfort to a girl she barely knows as they both stare down at their table with wide, unseeing eyes. Next to me, Nick squeezes my knee in silent question. Can you hold it together?
I hate that I’ve met death frequently enough to understand how to survive its arrival. I answer his question with a stiff nod because I have to. If we want to make it through the next three days alive, we all have to hold it together.
“Please enjoy your meals.” As Mikael strides away, the jazz music from earlier returns to accompany the rest of the dining service. Whatever this music is, I know I will never forget it.
Our dinner plates arrive, but neither of us can eat anything. Thankfully, we don’t have to wait long before an exit strategy reveals itself. “Heads up.” Nick points his chin at the group of Collectors near the ballroom doors. It seems people are forming a line to make arrangements with Mikael’s small army of estate attendants.
I catch Zoe’s eye. She and Mariah are murmuring together. Ava, on the other hand, seems to have disappeared.
When our server returns with a black lockbox in tow, Nick raises his brow.
The server gestures to the other waitstaff drifting around the room with similar boxes. “As part of the security process, we’ll be taking devices and storing them securely.” The server points to an electronic keypad embedded in the top. “You will set the code, sir.”
Nick makes a sour face but reaches into his breast pocket. “Fine.”
When the server looks to me, I raise my empty hands. “No phone.” The server’s gaze turns skeptical. “I went low-tech to fit the vintage vibes.”
The server looks as if he might question me further, but decides against it. Once Nick locks his phone in the box, the server walks away.
Nick sighs. “ That’s uncomfortable.”
“I had to do the same thing once,” I explain. “Handed over a necklace to get into a bar.”
His expression flickers, the Benedict facade slipping momentarily. His eyes drop to my bare clavicle and sternum. “A necklace?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“What kind of necklace?” The question rakes out of him, enough so that I look up to see if his face matches the ragged sound. It does.
“A gift.” And suddenly, my blood is rushing in my ears, and my breath catches in my throat. A gift. A gift. A gift . I see uncertainty pass over his face before his mask returns.
“We need to find the others. Talk about how we’re going to handle all this.”
“Right.” And he is right. Zoe and Mariah are heading toward us, walking nearly in unison with three overnight bags in their hands, when they freeze mid-step.
I don’t need to guess at what caused their reactions. Not when I can feel it. The demon staring at the back of my head and shoulders is very, very old. Six months ago, this attention would have sent me to the ground. The burning sensation, the scalding-hot scrape against my skin. Now, after living and training with Erebus in his Shadow King form, Mikael’s attention feels more infuriating than dangerous. Like something I could crush in my hand.
I mouth a silent message to Zoe and Mariah: “Go. Find you later.”
Zoe tugs on Mariah’s elbow, leading the other girl toward the exit. Whoever Mariah is, she’s a quick learner; she lets Zoe guide her away without risking a second look at the demon at my back. When Zoe passes our old table, she drops my overnight bag on a chair without stopping, leaving it there for me to retrieve on my own later.
As I stand, Nick rises with me. We do not turn around. Our eyes meet, and even though neither of us has turned to acknowledge our host, I can tell Nick is aware of who is watching us. Somehow, Nick knows .
We make it a single step.
“You must be Benedict and Iris.”
We pivot together.
Nick speaks first. “That’s us.” He intercepts Mikael’s handshake, even angling his body slightly so that Mikael can’t get a full view of me. I’m relieved of Mikael’s attention and grateful that Nick seems to know that demon attention is a physical sensation for me. Or maybe he just knows that, since I’m the Scion of Arthur—and the person who knocked out one of Mikael’s guards—I’m the exact person that our host shouldn’t spend too much time engaging with.
“Congratulations are in order,” he says, “on your upcoming nuptials.”
When Mikael’s gaze lands on me, my skin erupts in stinging sparks. Up close, I see that his eyes are a warm honey brown instead of deep goruchel red. Contacts, maybe? When he grins, I wonder if his canines have been filed down to their nearly human length. Then, that stinging electricity from before zips down my skull. I smile, but it takes effort. “Thank you.”
Nick runs a hand through his hair, appearing for all to see like a distracted mini mogul. He glances over his shoulder. “So, putting us up for a full weekend? Nice of you.”
“The least I can do after putting you through a dreadful evening.”
The sensation at the back of my skull rises again, zapping up and down my spine. His magic, whatever it is, is wound between his words. I step out from behind Nick. “Kind of exciting, if you ask me.”
Mikael beams at me. “What a gem you are,” he says. His eyes flit back to Nick. “I’m so happy that the two of you are staying. Communions will take place over the next few days, but they will be painless, I assure you.”
“Communions?” Nick asks. “As in… a religious thing? I’m not sure we’re comfortable with—”
“No, no, goodness me, nothing religious.” Mikael waves a hand. “These are lowercase ‘c’ communions. Intimate conversations that promote fellowship and trust. Our way of ensuring that everyone present has been identified as a trustworthy participant through a guided discussion.”
Nick’s smile doesn’t budge. “Sounds kind of like an interrogation.”
“You are new to our community, so I understand your confusion. Since neither our thief nor our assailant has been captured and the premises have been secured by guards and barriers since the beginning of the evening, we can only assume that our two suspects are here at the event. Perhaps even working together.” His eyes darken ever so slightly. “If I allow these insults to me and my property to go uninvestigated and unpunished, I’m sure you can imagine how that would tarnish not only the reputation of these exclusive events but the credibility of my business as a whole worldwide.”
“Even the suggestion of weakness can spread like poison,” Nick says.
“Exactly.”
So this is what Erebus meant when he said that Mikael had become taken with humanity and its vices. For all that Erebus has done, he has never seemed hungry for this type of worldly power. This type of devotion and praise. This is a demon who wants to be king and who is clawing his way there, one mind trick and one black-market deal at a time. An aspiring king who creates a kingdom just so he can rule it. Just like Arthur, the Order, and the Regent s, a quiet part of me whispers.
Nick turns to me. “That makes sense, doesn’t it, honey?”
“Perfect sense,” I say with a nod.
“I’m so glad you both understand,” Mikael says. He holds an arm out to gesture toward the line at the door. “Bianca and her team will be here to ensure you have a wonderful stay.”
“You won’t be here to host us?” I ask innocently.
Mikael is obviously pleased that I’ve asked after him. “I will see you both for communions and then on Sunday evening, of course, for our rescheduled auction. Please, enjoy my property.”
“Cool,” Nick says. Bro face is fully on, and I’m thankful for the shield of it. For the glazed look it inspires in Mikael’s eyes and the eagerness with which he walks away from us to speak to other guests lingering to meet him.
Before we approach Bianca, Nick pulls me to one of the tall windows facing the front lawn. He brings his mouth close to my ear and pitches his voice low. “Look.”
I follow his gaze through the glass. There, just wrapping around the edge of the property, is a freshly cast, shimmering green ward. “No.”
“Yes,” he mutters. “An affective ward that looks pretty brutal from here. Mikael must have cast it while we were all figuring out which identity we wanted to play with.”
“I can break it.”
He looks at me. “You can break wards?”
“Yes,” I say.
“He’ll notice or his warlocks will,” Nick replies. “Take us down before we get far. We’re in the middle of nowhere, and all the taxis and rideshares have already left.”
“So what do we do?” I ask.
“Nothing we can do. We’re trapped. We need to be Benedict and Iris like our lives depend on it, because they do.”
When we join Bianca’s line, our masks are back in place, even though my heart is thundering in my ears with the echoes of Nick’s warning. I check my root furnace again and again, even though I know it’s sealed shut.
Finally, it’s our turn. “Hello, Benedict and Iris,” Bianca greets us, and pulls out a tablet with a map of the house.
As Nick makes small talk with Bianca, I glance over my shoulder only to see Mikael gone again and waiters removing the dirty linens from the round tables, breaking down the room for the night.
“You’ll be on the third floor,” Bianca’s saying, swiping through what must be a hastily scribbled list on the tablet. A list that must now match the guests’ names to the dozens of bedrooms across Penumbra’s four floors. “In the Chambord Suite.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, more sharply than I intended to.
Nick’s voice is tight when he replies. “She said we’ll be staying in the Chambord Suite, babe.”
I glare at him, but his gaze is fixed on Bianca’s tablet. No doubt imagining all the reasons he doesn’t want to be forced to be in such close proximity to me—much less sleep in the same room—for the next three days. I can only imagine how much of a wrench this must be in whatever mission he and Ava came here to complete.
He’s so frustrated—or disgusted—at the prospect of being attached to me that he won’t even look me in the eye.
I flush, my own frustration and fury rising behind my clenched teeth. “I see.” I turn back to Bianca and give her what I hope looks like a grateful smile. “Sounds lovely.”