Chapter 45
SOBBING IN THE MUSIC ROOM
Ican feel Jude’s eyes on me as I take Rafe’s hand and follow him out onto the dance floor. I dare one glance over my shoulder. He watches in taut stillness, the kind that crackles with tension.
The music begins, soft and slow.
Rafe sets his hand on the small of my back and draws me close. “Do you want to make him jealous?” he whispers in my ear. “It would be so easy. A well placed kiss … ”
I lean away, trying to maintain space as the melody draws us into its rhythm. Rafe sweeps me across the floor with ease. His steps are deliberate, perfectly timed, his dancing skills every bit as honed as his acting.
“It’s so cute, watching you trail Lainey around like a little hall monitor. Tell me, Selah. What do you think of her performance so far?”
“She’s stirring up a lot of drama.”
“She’s good at it, isn’t she? An event like this, with so many people packed into one space. It’s already ripe with emotion. Then you add Lainey and she just has a way of making it all sing.”
I narrow my eyes, looking from him to Cossette Everly, who’s having an animated conversation with her befuddled husband in an alcove nearby.
I don’t like the Everlys. They’ve always looked down their noses at Maggie and Walt.
But I’d never go so far as to mess with their marriage for sport.
“Why do I have the feeling you never saw Henry in Elkins with Loraine?”
His smile widens.
“What are you up to?”
“I thought you knew.”
“I mean tonight. What’s the point in having Lainey perform at all? What are you trying to accomplish by stirring up drama? How does this fit into your master plan?”
He laughs low like I’ve said something amusing. “You ask a lot of questions, Selah.”
“And you tell a lot of lies.”
He spins me in a circle, then brings me close. “You want a truth?”
“If you’re capable of giving one.”
“Lainey reminds me of Molly.”
A shiver runs down my spine.
He wants me to feel afraid, and I do. But unlike this morning, I refuse to show it. This time, I’m not caught off guard. I know what I’m facing. I lift my chin and stare straight at him. “Are you going to dispose of her, too?”
“I didn’t dispose of Molly,” he says, giving me another twirl. “She did that on her own. I will admit, I did have a hold over her. The same hold I have over Lainey. The same hold I have over any of them I want. Except you. It’s fascinating, the way you resist my charm.”
“Your charm is poison.”
“Ah, but most of your kind don’t know this. And even when they do, they still can’t resist. It’s quite tedious, to be honest. A lion does like to hunt, you know.”
He’s admitting it, then.
Whatever power of seduction Seraphina possessed, she passed on to him when she brought him back to life. Molly didn’t stand a chance, and neither does Lainey.
“Two hundred sixty-eight years is a long time to be bored. Imagine my intrigue, running into you that day in the graveyard. A girl not only immune to my allure, but the very one from my brother’s painting.
” He chuckles wistfully, as though recalling a fond memory.
“You were such a source of torment to him in his final days.”
His words set my teeth on edge.
“What do we think? Were you a symbol of hope? He painted a girl who could not be so easily swayed as his beloved Molly. And yet, in the end, he had to know it wouldn’t matter. I might not be able to have you, sweet Selah, but neither can Jude. If he tries, the curse will win.”
His words cut like a poisoned blade as the music rises and we circle the floor.
A small, wild piece of me wants to grab onto his lapels and beg.
Plead with him to break this curse. At least tell us how.
Instead, I take a steadying breath and pivot the conversation.
“Why send Lainey after us about the onyx and the pearl. Do you really think we’d tell her anything? ”
“Of course not. But that doesn’t mean you didn’t give away your hand. Your tells are louder than Lainey’s flirting. I didn’t think it possible, but Twig’s are even worse.” He glides backward, drawing me with him. “Now, I know what I only suspected before.”
“Which is what?” I ask warily.
“You have them, and they’re somewhere close. Which means …” He pulls me against him, removing all the space, and trails a finger down my arm. “You shouldn’t have a problem handing them over to me tomorrow by midnight.”
“I think that’s enough.” Jude cuts between us.
“Took you long enough.” Rafe leans close to my ear. “Tick tock, Selah.”
Then he’s gone.
And I begin to tremble, a shiver deep down in my bones.
Jude’s hand finds the small of my back, the warmth of his touch dizzying and steadying all at once. “Are you all right?”
I nod, but it isn’t true.
I was just dancing with a monster. A murderer. A wicked shadow that has darkened the doorstep of Jude’s family for centuries.
A new song begins, soft and aching.
He doesn’t ask. But he doesn’t let go, either. With his eyes locked on mine, he steps closer and lifts my arms around his neck. Then he slides his hands down my ribcage, setting off a trail of sparks.
With Rafe, I wanted distance.
With Jude, I want none.
Closing my eyes, I savor his nearness. The feel of his body against mine. The intoxicating scent of his cologne. The warmth of his breath against my ear.
“I think he’s going to kill Lainey,” I whisper.
For a moment, he goes still—a hiccup in the middle of our dance.
“He knows we have the gemstones. He wants them tomorrow by midnight.”
Or else.
The threat may have been unspoken, but it was crystal clear nonetheless.
My mind grapples for a solution.
“We can give him what he wants,” Jude says. “He still can’t open the tomb.”
I lean back to look him in the eye.
“He needs mortal blood, willingly spilled. Whatever he is, it’s not mortal.”
“You think we should give him the stones?”
“If it buys us time.”
The clinking of silver against glass cuts through the moment.
The music halts.
Conversations die.
Jude steps away.
And I feel bereft.
Rafe stands at the microphone with a champagne flute in his hand. “At this time, I’d like to invite all guests to return to the ballroom for a special performance by our very own Blackwillow Ballet Ensemble.
“And if I may, I’d also like to offer a quick toast.” He lifts his glass.
“To Foggy Hollow, for being so welcoming. I’ve only been here a short time, but somehow, it feels as though this town has been my home for ages.
” His sparkling eyes find mine. He shoots me a devilish wink.
“To Isabel, our lovely hostess, who has gone above and beyond to make this event one for the ages. And to my cousin.”
Rafe tips his glass in our direction. “I’ve cherished our time together these past two months. I was hoping we’d have longer, but I suppose I understand why you want to get back to your life in the UK. Let’s make the most of the time we still have, shall we?”
Glasses rise in unison.
Polite applause ripples through the room.
Meanwhile, my heart thuds—a dull, heavy beat in my ears.
“And now,” Rafe continues, “let’s clear the floor for the Blackwillow Ballet Ensemble, proudly presenting ‘Ashes to Light’, an original piece choreographed for Foggy Hollow’s Bicentennial celebration.”
The dance floor begins to clear.
But I remain in place, hardly breathing.
I look up at Jude. “You’re leaving?”
His expression says it all.
Finally, Rafe has given me a truth.
With my heart in my throat, I make a beeline for the nearest exit.
I spot Twig and Naomi entering from the terrace and change course.
Mr. and Mrs. Calloway laugh as they come in from the antechamber, and I pivot again.
I head toward the far doors leading into the east wing like a salmon swimming up stream.
By the time I reach the corridor, it’s empty. I tear off my mask and stride toward the conservatory. From there, I can slip into the night. I can catch a proper breath.
Jude takes my arm. “Selah, wait.”
I turn on him.
He’s removed his mask, too, and for a moment, his tortured beauty undoes me.
“You’re just going to leave?” I ask. “Disappear?”
The same as my mother.
But I can’t say those words.
They’re too painful.
“I’m trying to keep you safe,” he says.
“How will that possibly keep me safe?”
“If I stay, you die!”
The lights flicker.
Jude shoves his hand into his hair, then grabs at his chest like he’s trying to tear out his own heart. Like doing so might show me the truth of it.
He opens his mouth.
I wait with baited breath, but no words come. We stare at each other across the impasse, a chasm too immense to cross.
He drags his hand down his face. “We just need to get through this week. If we can keep him from the tomb—”
“You think this will be over in a week? He’s been waiting for two hundred and sixty-eight years, Jude. If he doesn’t get what he wants, there will be hell to pay.”
“Then let me pay it,” he says, his voice ragged. “He needs my blood. If I keep it from him, he’ll come after me. In Europe. If he wants to torment Ezra’s descendants, then let him torment me there.”
While I’m in torment here.
Tears sting my eyes. A knot of emotion rises in my throat. Jude looks at me like I am spun from glass and he is nothing but a hammer. But he’s not the hammer. Doesn’t he see? It’s the curse, not him. Maybe together, we can figure out how to break it.
The sound of weeping intrudes upon my pain.
Someone is crying.
It’s coming from the music room.
Together, we move toward the sound.
Jude pushes the doors open.
My blood runs cold.
Because there, in the middle of the room, stands Lainey Sikes. On top of a chair with a rope fastened around her neck.
Rafe steps out of the shadow, a serpent on legs, and sighs a theatrical sigh. “My, my. Cosette was right. We really have stepped back in time.”