They’re showing my tattoo?—
The car jolted forward, and Wraith released me. I sat up with a jerk, hand flying to the back of my neck as if that would protect me. Wraith and Lock stared forward, as if nothing had happened, as if this was all fucking normal.
I crossed my arms. I’d act as if this were normal too.
We drove through inky black. I could barely see the shadows of the trees against the sky. How did the light from the city not reach here? It reached even Crowne Point.
I heard a creak—heavy wrought iron gates were opening. Then…it appeared.
I nearly gasped.
Crowne Hall had been called palatial, but this was like the castles our ancestorshopedto emulate. Grand obsidian towers and spires swept up into the shadowy sky. Stone gargoyles perched on ledges, the onyx in their eyes glittering.
Invitees streamed through pointed arches, their dresses better than any bespoke item I’d ever worn. Black diamonds glimmered on necks and wrists.
There was something off about everything. The shadows were velvet and every person was tattooed.
Even still, I knew this dance, even if it was more ominous. I’d been raised for this dance. Beauty is armor, that was a lesson my mother taught me early.
“Don’t look at anyone,” Raze growled. “Don’t speak, even if someone talks to you.”
“Where are we?”
“We already told you, princess,” Lock said. “The Underworld.”
FORTY
GEMMA
So this was the Underworld—not the glamour they sold to my friends for a thousand dollars a bottle or the illusion that had girls and boys lining up at the bottom of the stairs—therealUnderworld.
Everyone was in black tie, wearing inky, muted colors like scales.
I glanced down at my pink dress.
You look like bait.
I followed Grim with Lock and Raze at my back. I didn’t know where Wraith had gone—this place was almost entirely shadows—he could’ve been anywhere.
The Underworld—therealUnderworld, apparently—was a wicked Greek bacchanal, complete with dancing on pedestals next to ancient columns sweeping up to the skeleton vault ceilings. It was shirtless men adorned with golden black horns, and girls with only diamonds covering their breasts, rubbing against each other as they danced.Every movement was sensual, leaden, like a silk scarf caught on a breeze.
Grim wound through bodies, and something overcame me. I began to feel leaden as well. I blinked, trying to steady myself. The flames blurred and slowed, and in front of me, Lock seemed to grow taller, more shadowy.
You okay, princess?
“Did you say something?” My voice sounded underwater.
Lock didn’t turn around.
Dancing stilled, heads turning to watch us as we walked by. In the shadows, thick-lashed cat eyes stared, illuminated by the burn of a cigarette.
At first I thought they were watching the Horsemen, but no, they were looking atme.Hair pricked the back of my neck. I was used to being watched—I was a Crowne, after all—but this was something else. There was a glimmering in their eyes I couldn’t decipher.
But the feeling, yeah, I caught that. I was a cow walking into a slaughterhouse.
We turned left—right into a naked woman arching on a black chaise. Over her curved belly, the tips of golden black horns were visible. As we continued to pass, I saw why. A demon had buried his face between her thighs. She gripped his horns, pressing him deeper into her.
But right before he was to obey and bury himself into her, he jerked his head to the side and locked eyes with me. His eyes were white—no black at all.
