Page 145 of You’re So Vein

“What about Hannah?”

“Irene took her.”

Dante appears at the doorway, his eyes as dark as the storm. “I tried to stop her.”

“They didn’t say where they were going,” Beth adds sadly. “All Irene would say was that she’d made her decision, and Hannah needed to go with her.”

No.

I turn to Augustin.

This can’t be happening. We didn’t just go through all of this to save her, only to lose her again.

“We’re going after her, right?” Dante steps forward. “I’m already packed.”

“We’re here to help,” Beth says. “We were all set to go after her ourselves before you both showed up. Isis had almost convinced us to lift the purple cloth.”

“What’s under the purple cloth?” Winnie asks, a little sharply.

“It’s best you don’t know,” Celeste says quickly. “We don’t have to use it if Komal has a plan.”

Beth drops a couple of vials into my hand. “For Hannah. When you find her. You do have a plan, don’t you?”

I turn to Augustin. “Any idea where she would have taken her?”

“To Dusk Court.” Augustin’s mouth forms a thin, worried line. “It’s here in England, but it will take time for us to get there, and she could—”

“You’re forgetting we have something that others don’t.”

“Sheer, unhinged determination and bedazzled shoes?”

I grin. “That, and a helicopter.”

54Komal

Beth: I hope you find her! If you need us to follow you into the magical vampire court, the Nevermore Coven is ready with swords drawn and our pockets stuffed with garlic.

(Which Arabella still says doesn’t work, but she also refuses to wear my new garlic-scented perfume, so I think she’s been bullshitting us.)

“WHERE ARE WE?”

With Aishwarya full of Reginald’s Russian jet fuel, we make it to Augustin’s coordinates in no time. Now I’m standing on a beach, freezing my tits off, staring out at a wide, wild ocean.

Augustin sets down his sword and starts rolling up his trouser legs. “This is Dusk Court.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as a mermaid.”

“Oh, sweet summer child.” Dante laughs. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you, Augie?”

Augustin mutters something in Latin (typical) and sweeps his hand in front of my eyes. When he pulls away, I gasp.

In front of me, where before there had been only waves, a dramatic stone causeway juts out into the ocean, meeting a circular island from which emerges an enormous castle that rises like a fever dream to meet the turbulent sky. A jagged crown of spires and arches circles the island, the walls thick with moss and stained from sea-spray, the gargoyles lining the roof absolutely judging my outfit. Beneath is a faint tremor of magic – ancient, powerful magic – that dances across my skin like static.

It’s like Mont-Saint-Michel if it were designed by Nick Cave.

“That’s some serious security,” I murmur.

“It’s how we’ve remained hidden for centuries,” Augustin answers. “For the last time, you shouldn’t come with us. Un-Thralled humans are forbidden at court, and Dante and I have already broken every law. They will not look favourably on us.”