She became a ghost sailing through the trees, up the heavy dark wood stairs, fingertips trailing the banister as she floated higher and higher.
The song did not have a crescendo. It became quiet and still. For the crescendo was the secret itself, and Elysia knew it lived down the hall and two doors to the right. The heart of the song beat inside that room. Waiting impatiently. Just for her.
She ignored the sound.Don’t worry, I’m coming for you.And slipped into a bathroom down the hall, dropping her large purse to the floor. Her dress went up in the air, tossed over head. Oil poured out over her skin. A soft wash cloth was brought to her face, scrubbing away any last sign of Georgia Parker. Fresh faced, she switched her wig and clothes. Auburn hair, her mother’s eyes, and a corseted curve-inducing dress she’d stolen from Remy.As long as I don’t look like me.
Dressed as a stranger, she walked down the hall with a soft sway in her hips. She rested with her back against the wall, listening to the voices rumble and spill out into the hallway. She was unsurprised to detect the weaselly tones of Scarzan. He was her target after all, yet she still hesitated outside the door, apprehension sinking low into her stomach.
Her head fell back as she tried to muddle through logic, instinct, and the magic that ignored both. She’d made it this far, she reasoned. She’d gotten past the Doorman. Past hersister. Her own godsdamn sister hadn’t even blinked at her appearance. This was no different from any other night she flitted from room to room, gathering secrets out of the dust in the air.
The brick in her stomach argued otherwise, but it was too late.
She was here. Scarzan was just steps away. And she had promised Beatriz.
Now or never.She reached for the door.
Chapter 12
The door swung open smoothly,releasing the sounds of scattering dice and slapping cards. Booming alcohol fueled voices shoved over the top of each other to be heard. She came in quietly, observant of the chaos billowing around her. There were men entwined in a corner, lost to the world around them. Players held in the grip of a games table, sweating with fear and money. And music drowning any inclination to escape before it was too late.
All the occupants were so entrenched in their games that nary a single eye turned in her direction. Her feet didn’t make a sound on the thick carpet as she tiptoed past, girding herself for what was to come. Because he was here. And not even the magic in her chest could mute the growing feeling of foreboding zinging through her blood.
Scarzan sat at the center chair of the main table, his pointed face splotched and red with drink. Her nose wrinkled, watching his eyes twitch with each play of the game. His forehead looked moist, and even though she couldn’t possibly smell him from here, she just knew the man smelled like stale sweat and onions trapped beneath his ugly suit.Gross.Between the drunk and high bodies and the size of the room, Elysia felt a wave ofclaustrophobia. Too many mindless people crammed into one space. It made her skin itch.
She was safe where she was—out of sight and with a good view. She couldn’thear,though. She edged closer, leaving the safety of the shadows where no one had noticed her.
Her earlier fear whispered that something was ever so very wrong, but Scarzan’s secrets shushed the sound and filled her ears with promises of a payout worth her while.
She found herself folding into a chair two seats away from the rat. Her heart pounded.What am I doing?She forced herself to relax, crossing one long leg over the other.Getting what I came here for, that’s what.There was no reason to panic. This was her job, for the undead gods’ sake. Scarzan had just managed to crawl under her skin and make her doubt grow loud. But there was nothing to fear.
The dealer motioned for her to be brought a drink. “This round’s full, miss. You’ll have to wait.”
Elysia nodded and curled her fingers around the damp glass, giving it a sniff.Gin and juice. She didn’t want to play, anyway. The man to Scarzan’s right turned to her with a laugh. “Are you sure you want to play at this table, miss? There’s lots of other rooms in the House.”
Elysia looked up with interest at the stranger next to her, smiling knowingly. “And why would I not? Do you think the stakes are too high for a girl like me?”
He let out a booming laugh that matched the slight crook in his nose and sat back in his chair. Crossing his arms over a broad chest, he leaned in close to her ear. “Our friend in the middle here is never happy with an ordinary game.”
Elysia slid her drink around in a circle and considered his words. The dark honey colored liquid funneled into a mimicry of destruction. She dropped her voice. “You mean to say money is not the prize?”
The man slammed down his empty beer mug and laid three cards along with a tiny gem.
“No, love, not tonight.”
She frowned. “Then what are we playing for?”
The secrets danced in a whirl around her head now, and she felt a single bead of sweat form on her brow. She hadn’t trained enough for a place like this with secrets new and old forming and escaping with every breath and movement in the House.
By the gods, Beatriz was going to owe her.
Scarzan’s ears turned up at their conversation. He appeared ready to bark until he registered what was resting two chairs away from him like a young, untouched daydream. Liquor-shot eyes groped downward, lingering where jewels glinted against skin.
He didn’t even bother ripping his eyes away as he directed the dealer.
“New game. Deal the girl in. No one sits at this table without playing.”
He looked her in the eyes with a certain smug satisfaction on his face. "The price is yourself unless there’s someone else you’d care to bid. Winner chooses their prize from the losing participants.”
Unsmiling, he held her stare several seconds longer than was comfortable. She would’ve expected the disgusting sludge of his insides to reflect in his eyes, but instead she found them to be flat and void beneath the red spider veins of alcohol. The man was an empty, hateful vortex, walking around, pulling in anyone and everyone he could into his depraved existence. Everyone knew too. And yet he remained a diplomat for his people. Practically untouchable.
