If I could only open my fucking eyes.
50
The lock didn't stand a chance against Max’s illicit skill set.
I slip inside the dark room, and shut the door behind me, significantly reducing the thrum of music and chatter. The library is vast, the smell of old parchment and secrets has my gryphon immediately interested.
It takes a while to undo the vitrine lock, it’s a complex spell, but I finally manage it.
The stacks of parchment contain the knowledge I’m hungry for. I want to shift, but the fragile papers will not take kindly to being clawed. My beast nudges at my skin as I flick through the sheets.
This is going to take too long, I need to shift.
—Can I get help in here…someone to turn the pages so I can read in gryphon form—
Immediately, Bloomhower responds. —I’ll do it…two minutes—
It's only one before she slips in through the door. “Naomi and Max are on watch,” she whispers. “What do you want me to do?”
I gesture to the glass case. “I need to be able to see all sides of the documents, ten seconds per page. Understand?”
She nods, gulping. “Ready.”
I shift. Now back in my beast, I feel fear rolling off Willow. I don’t reassure her, there is only one focus. Padding over to the girl, I nudge her to get moving. My beak on her arm does the job and she scurries forward. “OK, OK,” she hisses. “Just had to freak out for a moment.”
Quickly she gets to work, moving the fragile papers so my eagle eyes get a glance at each. Yes. Good. The massive amount of documents should take thirty-seven minutes, according to my internal calculator. It’s a dangerous amount of time to be in here.
My beast begins to memorize the information.
51
Ifeel like a caged animal.
My dragon is tearing at my chest, wanting to burn down the crystal chandeliers, silk drapes, and all the rest of the ridiculous decor, not to mention the power-hungry Elites who are eyeing Theo like she’s the tastiest treat on the buffet.
Beside me, Jordan is giggling and giddy; her skin has been tanned so hard it’s glowing orange, even more startling against her stark white gown. Her hard terracotta tits are bursting the seams of the white lace.
She shakes her bright blonde hair and it whips me in the face. Next to Theo she looks like a Vegas showgirl in the presence of a goddess.
“A beautiful evening for a beautiful couple,” Sylvia Singleton-Smith slurs, drifting toward us. My future mother-in-law has vacant, glassy eyes and a trail of gin down the front of her maroon taffeta. She reaches out, her hand shaking slightly as she pats my cheek, smelling of juniper and Chanel no.5. “Try to look happy, Cosmo. It’s... it’s a celebration.”
“Absolutely, Sylvia,” I reply, my voice as flat as the champagne in my other hand. She’s already looking past me, searching for the next refill. Next my own mother wanders closer.
“Cosmo,” she whispers.
Mother has an ‘attendent’ called Marta. It’s been years since I’ve seen my mother without Marta holding her upright.
“Good evening, Mother.”
Her pupils are huge, and her body is stick thin. She’s dressed in a burgundy gown that is at least a size too big. I wouldn’t be surprised if Marta chose it. I’m sure Mother can no longer dress herself.
I wonder for a moment what her current drug of choice is, but then remind myself I don’t care. Why should I?
I turn away.
Janine Hart is still standing beside Theo, resting a possessive hand on her shoulder. Theo’s eyes are calm, her expression bland.
But I can feel the vibration of her terror. Since we kissed it’s as though her every emotion is broadcast straight to my heart.
