Chapter 24
We hurried out into the main thoroughfare and traveled down the road for the promised half block.
One of the larger houses was decked out in streamers and lawn lights, and a large crowd gathered along the walk that led up to the open pair of doors under the huge porch.
The house itself was three floors, with wings that spanned almost as much space as the main body of the house.
Every window on the ground floor was illuminated by light, and much of the upper floors were likewise a shining welcome to the well-dressed crowd on the walk.
The people slowly milled into the house, stopped only by a gentleman with a clipboard and a constantly upturned nose. They chatted with him only briefly before he inspected the board and waved them through. Marc and I slipped into line just as the steady flow hit a snag.
“But I’m sure my name should be on there!” The insistence came from a man of thirty. His well-dressed wife clung to his arm as he glared at the uniformed door watcher. “Look again!”
The man lifted his nose even higher. “Your name is not on here, Mr. Sufta. You must leave the line and the property this instant.”
Mr. Sufta stamped his foot on the walk. “I refuse to leave until Lady Worthington herself informs me why my wife and I have not been invited to this party!”
A dark scowl twisted onto the door watcher’s face, and his eyes glowed a soft yellow color. “You cannot remain here, Mr. Sufta. Please leave at once, or I will be forced to remove you myself.”
Mrs. Sufta’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare!”
The man turned away and hung his clipboard on a hook attached to the wall.
The lights from the house cast his shadow across the couple, and it grew larger as he turned back to them.
Fur sprouted from his flesh, and his hands lengthened into claws.
He grabbed the pair by the backs of their collars and lifted them off the ground.
The man stretched his head up, and his whole body stretched with him, increasing his frame to well over six feet tall.
His face stretched into a snout, and his ears stretched up into sharp, furry points.
The servant strolled off the porch, and those in line hastily made room for him. Marc pulled me onto the grass as they passed, and a tingle of fear ran up my back. The monster’s nostrils flared at passing us, and I could have sworn his eyes flickered in my direction.
I shrank against Marc, who was only too glad to take me in his arms. The servant stomped past and reached the road, where he held up his captives and opened his hands. The pair was deposited without ceremony onto the cold, dirty ground.
The woman let out a screech like a cat and kicked her legs against the ground. “Do something, Harry!”
Harry lifted his gaze to the shadow that still hung ominously over them and shrank from his duty. “There isn’t too much I can do right now, darling.”
Laughter erupted from the crowd. The two scrambled to their feet, their cheeks ablaze with embarrassment.
They hurried to a parked carriage and climbed inside.
One of them struck the ceiling so hard that the driver jumped and cracked his whip.
The horses took off down the road with the din of the crowd following them.
The servant turned and stalked up the walk. Everyone who had stepped onto the path once again scurried out of his way.
“You show him, Whelan!” someone in the crowd shouted.
The wolf man whipped his head around and snarled at the speaker. “I do not do this out of delight, sir, but because it is my duty.”
The man shrank from that hideous glare and bobbed his head. “Y-yes, of course! Carry on!”
Whelan returned to his post, where he shrank back to his human shape. He took up the clipboard and turned to us. “If you will return to your places in line, we will resume the admission.”
The crowd jumped back to their spot, with not a person out of place. I bit my lower lip as I imagined Marc and me being likewise rejected. Or worse. His teeth had been very sharp, and he had given me a funny look.
I leaned toward Marc and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Are you sure we’ll get in?”
He grinned and replied with a volume that made me wince. “Of course we’ll get in, darling. They won’t refuse someone who has so much to offer them with those trade routes.”
The man in front of us, a hefty gentleman of fifty, twisted around. “You deal in trade routes?”
“Only between the Starfall Strait and the Obsidian Current,” Marc replied.
“Truly? And what do you offer the islands along that route?”
“Stormglass.”
The man’s face lit up. “That must make you quite a lot of money. I have heard it’s also quite difficult to harvest.”
Marc wrinkled his nose. “It’s not so much the difficulty as the waiting. A mana storm doesn’t come up just any time. Sometimes my ships must wait for weeks before one passes.”
“Might I ask if you own your enterprise outright?”
My companion chuckled. “Naturally. The stormglass trade has enough risks without adding a disagreeable partner to the mix.”
“What if you were to find the right partner? Or perhaps investors?” the man persisted.
Marc stroked his chin with his fingers. “That may be something I’d be willing to consider. That is, if the right person came along for either of those options.”
The man held out his hand. “I might just be that man, Mr.-”
Marc clapped his hand around the stranger’s. “My name is Ramaro, and this is my lovely companion, Thorn.”
I choked on my spittle before I whipped my head up to his smiling face. His eyes twinkled with mischief, but also gave me a look of warning.
“I haven’t heard your name before, Mr. Ramaro.”
“And I haven’t heard your name at all, sir.”
“Chapman. Jonathan Chapman.”
Marc’s wimpy eyebrows shot up. “Not of the Chapman trading company.”
The man smiled and inclined his head. “The one and only, good sir.”
“You are most famous in my circles, Mr. Chapman,” Marc informed him.
I rolled my eyes. I could only imagine why a merchant would be famous in a circle of pirates.
Chapman perked up at the compliment. “I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Ramaro. Perhaps we can speak about our respective companies inside.”
Marc leaned to one side and looked past the man to the door. “I very much doubt we’ll get in. I may have a lively route, but I don’t tend to frequent these parties. I’m only here because lovely Thorn wanted to meet other people.”
I slapped a smile on my face and bobbed my head. “T-that’s right. It’s really exciting to see all these people. They must all be very important to be here.”
Chapman puffed out his ample chest. “I should say so. Lady Worthington doesn’t allow just anybody into her parties.”
“Unfortunately, our names aren’t on the list,” Marc warned him with an exaggerated sigh. “Whelan will undoubtedly turn us away.”
Chapman clapped him on the back, and Marc played the part perfectly by stumbling a few steps. “Nonsense! You’re my guests, and I won’t allow you to remain here on the street!”
Marc bowed his head. “That is most kind of you, Mr. Chapman. If there’s some way I can repay you, don’t hesitate to ask.”
The merchant grinned from ear to ear. “You needn’t worry on that account, Mr. Ramaro. I intend to do just that.”
The line moved, and we soon found ourselves before the imperious Whelan. The servant turned his nose up at me, especially. “Good evening. What are your names, please?”
“Our names won’t be on the list,” Marc admitted.
Whelan’s gaze fell on me, and his nostrils flared again. “Ah, yes. That would explain the woman with the distinct scent of fear.”
I shrank beneath the moniker and sheepishly smiled at him. “I guess that’s me.”
“They’re with me, Whelan,” Chapman spoke up as he lifted his chin even higher than the imperious servant. “I will vouch for their behavior.”
“Very well, Mr. Chapman,” Whelan confirmed as he studied his list. He wrote a few notes before he stepped to the side. “Have a pleasant evening.”
We slipped past the servant and into the grand entranceway of Worthington Manor.
A huge chandelier hung over our heads, and its light sparkled off the countless gemstone necklaces, rings, earrings, and bracelets.
There was enough jewelry to start a whole chain of stores.
Silk dresses matched silk suits, and I suddenly felt woefully underdressed.
“Mr. Ramaro.” Chapman’s eager voice turned us toward the merchant. He gestured to the west wing. “I have a few business associates with whom I am to meet this evening. Would you like to join me?”
“We’d love to,” Marc accepted as he looped his arm through mine.
“I’m afraid this is a rather private affair,” Chapman warned us as he pursed his lips. “Perhaps your friend can entertain herself while we discuss business matters. Otherwise, I might begin to think that you used me to get into the party.”
Marc dropped his gaze to me. I smiled and shrugged. What could he do? The man would snitch on us if he didn’t agree to a little tete-a-tete. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. There are a lot of people and lights in here.”
Marc squeezed my hand. “Call if you need help.”
I nodded. “Definitely.”
Chapman escorted my compatriot away, and I got to work searching for the food bar.
The crowd eyed me with disdain equal to my nervousness.
I avoided eye contact and focused on my sense of smell.
My nose led me into the wing opposite where Marc had disappeared, and I discovered a long row of tables loaded with goodies.
Servants stood behind the tables, at the ready with plates and forks to gather up the food for the hungry guests. I strolled over to them with more confidence than I felt and pointed at some of the delicacies. “I’ll take some of those, and that.”
The servant lifted his nose, but did as I requested and handed me the plate. I slipped away with my treasures to a far corner, where I watched the other guests enjoy conversations and stifled laughter. My plate was soon done, and so was the magic.
Being among swells was boring. Really, really boring. I set my plate down on a nearby windowsill and sighed.
“You must be a stowaway.”