A bottle uncorked, followed by liquid pouring into glasses. Jaw clenched, I stepped back from the door and turned to find Delilah peering at us over a glass of blood-red wine in the open space of the suite. The three assholes who’d trapped us in here were seated around the polished dining table by the window, waiting like we were insolent dinner party guests.
“I’m enjoying the show, personally,” Delilah said. “Why don’t you try again? I’m sure you’ll get lucky this time.”
Ben groaned, shooting her a look from where he was perched on the back of a chair. “Do youhaveto antagonize them, Lilah?”
Cursing loudly, Cliff stepped back from the door in defeat with only calloused palms to show for his effort. He took a few threatening steps into the room.
“Alright, you’re fucking comedians. We’ve all had a great time with your demented little show and tell.” His sardonic smile could have cut glass, every muscle taut with utter restraint. “Now let us the hell out of here, or I swear to God you’re gonna find out why being locked in a room with me is a bad idea.”
“Just sit for a second—have a drink.” Lee pushed one of the crystal glasses across the table. “If what Sylvia said is even half true, I’m willing to bet we have a common enemy right under this roof.”
“Nightcap with a witch?” I folded my arms over my chest. “Yeah, how could that be a bad idea? Pass.”
“Oh, hunters who hate witches.” Delilah pouted mockingly. “Howoriginal.”
I glared, letting her feel every ounce of my derision. Her stunning exterior didn’t sway me in the slightest. Much like with sirens, allure was often just another weapon. Witches were known for their unquenchable vanity, and for all I knew, she was a withered, hateful thing under that dewy skin. Sylvia may have softened me on the use of magic, butherbeauty radiated from within like sunlight, while there was something undeniably cold about Delilah.
Her spellwork was largely shrouded in mystery, but witch magic was fueled by blood—that part was universally known. Who knew how many had perished to make her this powerful?
“What enemy are we talking about?” Sylvia asked. Looking exhausted, she hovered too close to our unsavory hosts for my liking.
“You really have no clue, do you?” Lee tilted his head at her, a faint furrow between his eyes. “It’s frankly impressive you made it here without an invitation. The glamour shield around this place is like Fort Knox on crack, assembled by some of the most notorious warlocks and witches in the country. Delilah excluded, of course.” He smiled at Sylvia, genuine and all too knowing. “You must be something special to have gotten your friends here through the barrier.”
A shiver crawled down my spine at the memory of the voice coming from the GPS, the utter loss of control over my thoughts and actions. Sylviawassomething special, and more than anything, I wanted her away from these damn people.
Lee produced a slip of cardstock from his pocket. Unfolding it, he pushed the paper across the table, between the two empty chairs.
“Consider this our white flag,” he said.
With little other choice than to play along, I cautiously took one of the seats and glared at the offering. The heavy parchment was oddly radiant, light glittering off in tiny prismatic spreads.Black and red ink was scrawled across the page in an elegant hand.
You are Cordially Invited
To an Evening of Curiosities and Acquisition
The Crimson Gala, hosted by selected patrons
On the Night of December 16
Reception to begin at 8, Auction to begin at 9
Thornhall Hotel
Strictly Formal Attire
Present this invitation upon arrival
Curiosities and acquisition. This had to be what Tammy was investigating before she got in over her head.
I glanced at my watch tensely. It had been less than five hours since we’d received her urgent text. Tammy had endured longer than that before, but my lungs still went tight at the thought of her. The sooner we found a way forward, the sooner we could get to her.
Cliff read the invitation over my shoulder and scoffed under his breath. “Thanks, but no thanks. We’re not in a partying mood, shockingly.”
He sauntered over to the French doors on the other side of the table that led to the balcony and pried at the curved handles—which didn’t budge, of course. While Lee and Delilah scarcely bothered turning to watch Cliff’s struggle, Ben huffed and rubbed his temples like the constant pushback against his wards was a nuisance.
“This little party is bringing the world one giant leap closer to the end of days, but no big deal, right?” Lee drawled.
Sylvia finally got off her wings, landing delicately on the table in front of me to inspect the invitation.
