“I’m delighted by your invitation, but I’m afraid I cannot.” He grins at the silly carpet. He’s looking at his hands. I’m reminded of the day we met. I knew then that truth is harder for him than lies. Then his dancing eyes flick to mine,snick.
I want to burst. Why is he declining her advances? Is it me? Or something else?
He stands abruptly, his silver-green eyes still locked on mine. “I must leave the country for a while. I have some business overseas.”
Ah, I see. My heart plummets. Why would I assume he’d make choices with me in mind?
Evalyn pooh-poohs him. “Oh, all right, you spoilsport.” Shehops to her feet and climbs the trio of stairs. “Just remember—youdidsay you’d mention my name to the Broadway producers you know.”
Pax grins, and I can tell Evalyn is electrified by his smile—she literally shivers. I am one of his many admirers. “I will,” Pax promises.
Evalyn blows him a kiss and folds herself under the thick curtain at the back of the balcony.
Our eyes meet,snick!I have so many questions for Pax, but I think I surprise him with the one I choose: “Do youknowany Broadway producers?”
Pax smiles his lopsided smile, and he lowers his chin, and he lifts his eyebrows, and dammit if his green eyes aren’t dancing.
“No.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
The sky is black velvet and stars twinkle like stolen diamonds when we return to William’s home, hand in hand. My hand in his feels like that safety, that security he promised when we first met. Safety and security I swore I didn’t need.
We’re sneaking into this lavish house, and Pax’s eyes gleam. “We did it,” he says, his hand squeezing mine. “We actually got away with it, didn’t we?” It’s delicious and devilish.
William’s voice sneaks to us from down the hall: “Pax? Stella? In here, please?”
There’s an edge to his voice that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.
The lights are dimmed, and the fireplace from the library throws looming, leaping shadows down the hall. We turn the corner and my breath is stolen:
Reverend Jenkins. Here. And he holds a large knife against Nirav’s neck. Light flashes off the blade like lightning, and my wrath is just as immediate.
Bile splashes up my throat. Every muscle clenches. Red washes my vision. The Dark Trio crawls out of the fire, expanding, filling this whole room with smoke and ash. Nirav!
Pax growls.
Elizabeth, William’s staff member who has looked down her nose at us since our arrival, crosses her arms. “That’s her, innit,Reverend? That’s the witch. I recognized her right away.”
William strains to make his voice heard through the fear he shares with Nirav. “Do not hurt that boy.”
Reverend Jenkins grumbles, “I don’t want the boy. You’re the one I want, Lady Rose. I need you to turn yourself in. Yousinner. Youthief. You are brimming with evil.”
The names pelt me like stones. I am these things, am I not? It kills me to see the terror in Nirav’s wild eyes. My vision blurs, and under the blade of the knife, there instead is Daisy. Daisy! Writhing, struggling to wrench free. I see her, but it’s not reallyher, I know this. Her face—it’s blank. No eyes, no mouth—just a terrifying illusion, a blur of horror.
Sickness and rage wash over me. I blink, shake my head. It’s Nirav, there, struggling to save himself. It’s my family—my new family—and I won’t let this happen again.
I won’t let my actions hurt Nirav the way my actions hurt Daisy.
My vision deepens to the color of blood. “I’ll go with you,” I hear my voice snarl. “Take me instead.” I hold my hands up and step toward this vile man. It’s as if I’m watching this happen through another person’s eyes, my panic has taken over so completely.
The Dark Trio slithers toward me, around me, heckling, spitting. They’ve been so quiet these last few hours. I thought, perhaps, they’d had enough of me after their reign of terror during the séance, after I refused to kill Max Blanck at their urging. But they’re here.He’shere, Asomoday. I smell rot; they reek of dread. Three heads, three slimy, slithering voices, harmonizing as one.
Sssssstellllaaaa! You’ve managed to endanger yet another loveddd onnnneee…
The person under the knife. It’s Nirav. It’s Daisy. Either way, it’s my heart.
“You sorceress. You conjurer. You witch,” Reverend Jenkins hurls names at me while keeping his blade trained on Nirav. He is frothing at the mouth, his spittle flying. Each insult cuts me, blisters me, burns me.
