Chapter Sixteen
Downstairs, most of the guests had arrived. Representatives from every magical family in the country sipped fine wine and pretended they weren't all secretly plotting against each other.
My mother was at my side the moment I descended the stairs.
"Where have you been, young lady?" Leonora cast her critical eye over me. "You look lovely."
"Thank you."
"I'm announcing dinner in just a moment." My mother didn't look at me as she spoke, clearly distracted. She wrung her hands together as she scanned the room. Her hair was caught up in an intricate knot at the back of her head. The look should have been severe but she managed to project an aura of casual elegance, something I knew I'd never be able to emulate.
I suddenly felt an inexplicable need to reassure her. "Everything looks great, Mother." I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.
Leonora swept me up in an unexpected hug, made more awkward by the fact that I towered over her by several inches.
"My darling." She patted me on the cheek. "Go find your place at the table."
The dining room was softly lit by dozens of tapered candles. Flames licked in the mirrored surfaces of silver flatware. Ever a master of detail, my mother had placed a placard above each setting with a name written on it in careful script. Trust her to plan a seating chart.
Guests slowly filtered into the room. My father strode past me without a glance and took the seat at the head of the table. People that I didn't recognize surrounded him but their sycophantic conversations floated clearly down the table. He was powerful. There was always someone trying to curry favor.
Emily Anne slid into a seat across the table and gave me a jaunty wave. My relief was short-lived. She was immediately caught up in conversation with her dining partner, Countess Alexa Von Strausberg-Canton. The countess was an aging and dotty Manhattanite with questionable ties to Russian royalty. She talked loudly and often. Emily Anne would be stuck until at least the main course.
The flow of guests finding their seats began to ebb. I sat in the corner of the table with only one neighboring chair. With dawning horror, I noticed that the seat next to me remained conspicuously empty. I snuck a glance at the name placard next to mine and almost gasped aloud. I should have known.
Red-hot anger washed over me. I caught my father's eye and he returned my gaze with an expressionless stare that spoke volumes.
At least I wasn't surprised when my dining partner slid into his seat and draped the embroidered napkin over elegantly crossed legs.
Valentine's smile was sardonic when I turned to face him.
I gestured to the glass that dangled from his long fingers. "I see you found the wine cellar."
He swirled the liquid so it coated the sides of his glass. It sparkled in the candlelight like garnet. "It's an acceptable vintage."
"You'd prefer the blood of the innocent?" I was goading him. I knew it was dangerous but I couldn't seem to stop myself.
Valentine surprised me with a small laugh. "Perhaps."
Stone-faced servants laid out the appetizer, salmon paste with stone-ground bread and chutney. It barely resembled food. I pushed the plate away and stared down at my hands, clenched hard in my lap.
His whisper washed over me like a cold rain.
"Do you remember Tuscany?"
I remembered the warmth of his hands on my skin. I remembered the feather-light touch of his voice in my mind.
"I remember pain." I cursed the breathy quality of my voice.
"Pain and desire are two sides of the same coin."
I risked a glance at him and he stared me down. Only the licking candle flame reflected in the darkness of his eyes. His fingers stroked my cheek, a touch that could caress or kill.
"Don't you miss it?" he asked softly.
The world around us slowed and stopped. We were alone in the universe. "Miss what?"
His breath tickled across my skin as he leaned close. "The power." His fingers smoothed a strand of my hair. "You were a wonder to behold. Once."
I pulled away. "The world isn't ours for the taking."
"There are rules to the game," he agreed pleasantly and lounged back in his chair. "That doesn't mean we can't have fun."
My mind was in turmoil. It had been so long that I'd forgotten what it was like to be near Valentine. He had a pull on me that I couldn't deny. I was a moth to his flame.
The wait staff moved silently down the table and our plates were taken away untouched. I couldn't stomach the thought of eating and Valentine rarely did. I'd never seen him so much as nibble on a piece of bread.
Valentine gestured and a waiter materialized over his shoulder with a bottle, the label worn with age. He raised an eyebrow and I slid my empty wineglass to the edge of the table. Dark liquid spilled into it, thick and red like fresh blood.
I held the glass up to the light. Colors swirled and coalesced in its depths and I was mesmerized by the intensity. My fingers clenched on the crystal stem and I downed the wine in one long draught.
Our eyes met as I lowered the glass and Valentine smiled. "That was a very bad idea."
My hand was a little unsteady as I placed the glass back on the table. A waiter appeared as if by magic and tipped the bottle over it, refilling it almost to the brim.
The sound of a spoon lightly tapping against a water glass floated down the table. Conversations quieted as Marco rose from his seat.
"We drink in the spirit of brotherhood." He held his glass aloft and spoke with an uncharacteristic solemnity. "May End-of-Winter bring bountiful harvest."
The blessing was repeated along the table. I took a sip and wine slid down my throat with a slow burn.
When Marco spoke again a sly smile played in the corners of his lips. "In the spirit of brotherhood, I've brought a guest to join us. Everyone please make her feel welcome."
My heart stopped.
If I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own personal drama, I would have noticed earlier. Sitting next to Marco, looking pretty and fresh in a pink dress obviously recycled from the most recent school dance, was Sam.
She was in my house at the worst possible time. There was absolutely nothing I could do to protect her.
Sam caught me eye and I tried to convey the sheer terror I felt for her. She merely cast me a confused smirk and turned back to my brother, hanging on his every word with sycophantic attention.
Marco sank back into his seat, accompanied by a smattering of applause. Attention riveted on Sam, the mood in the room turned suddenly predatory. Her cheeks colored and she giggled, the innocent sound was like a beacon in the night.
"A spring lamb has wandered into the lions' den," Valentine murmured from beside me.
I glared at him, anger quickly winning out over fear. "This ends now."
Valentine leaned back against the chair and gestured with his wine glass. "I'm always up for a show."
I stared at them during dessert, spooning chocolate torte mechanically into my mouth. Marco kept Sam near to him. His arm played along the back of her chair and he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. She probably thought he was being romantic, but I saw through it.
He was staking a claim.
The moment that my father announced that dinner was adjourned, I was out of my chair like a shot. I heard Valentine's laugh as I maneuvered past him.
I shoved my way through the crowd, ignoring the gasps of outrage and comments about my alarming lack of couth, following the bob of Marco's head as it rose over the crowd.
Marco stood with Sam in the corner of the dining room, surrounded by a group of our cousins. A sardonic smile stretched across his lips when he saw me approach. He murmured to the man standing next to him and Sam was suddenly whisked away in an improvised waltz. Her laughter trailed behind them.
I tried to follow but the group quickly closed ranks around me.
"What are you playing at, Marco?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"And good evening to you too, dear si
ster." Marco folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Where's Sam?" I demanded.
"Sweet Samantha—" He closed his eyes as if savoring the taste of her name on his tongue. "—is otherwise occupied. What can I do for you?"
"I'm only giving you one warning. Stay away from her."
"You're warning me?" Marco eased closer, a dangerous light in his eyes. "You're the one that brought her here."
"I did not."
"You dangled her in front of my face like a scrumptious dessert." Marco circled behind me as he spoke. I held my ground and he leaned in close. "Can you blame me for taking a taste?"
"I'm taking her out of here." I swung around to face him and pushed my hands against his chest. It was like trying to force my way through a brick wall. "You won't stop me."
"It's almost the witching hour." He easily pinned my arms to my sides. "You wouldn't want to miss the festivities."
I saw it clearly. Sam lying spread-eagled on the grass, still and lifeless, the bubblegum pink of her dress gone dark with blood. A fitting sacrifice for End-of-Winter.
Marco released my arms so quickly that I stumbled.
"You can't just kill an innocent girl," I whispered. "Her parents will call the police."
"What do I care about human authorities?" he asked with a careless shrug. "Try again."
"So it's a game then?"
A dark smile stretched his face into something inhuman. "You hide and I'll seek."
I found Sam in the ballroom. One of Marco's cronies led her in an intricate step around the dance floor. I waited until the harpist played a final chord and the couples bowed low, before swooping in.
Ignoring her startled expression, I grabbed Sam's arm in an unforgiving grip. "Let's go fix your makeup."
Her partner made a sound of protest but I was too fast. I pulled Sam out of the ballroom and down the hall into the first floor powder room, closing and locking the door behind us.
Sam stumbled into the room and turned on me. She tried to smooth the ruffles in her dress. "Are you crazy?"
I pressed my back against the door, the flimsy wood and push lock did nothing to reassure me. "You have to leave."
"Marco said you'd do something like this." She made a sound of disgust. "I'm sorry you're so embarrassed of me."
That made me straighten. "I'm not embarrassed of you."
"I know you'd rather be hanging out with Princess Cynthie and her bitches-in-waiting." Sam eyed her reflection in the mirror and pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to pretend we're friends, just because I was nice to you on the first day of school."
"You are so wrong, that you and right aren't even in the same universe. Where is this coming from?"
"I see it at school. When Cynthie says jump, you practically pull out a trampoline."
"Let's talk about this somewhere else." I touched her shoulder. "I'll take you home."
She yanked her arm away. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Marco says that you don't think I'm good enough for him. Because I'm not rich or connected or beautiful like Cynthie."
"Marco is a liar, Sam." I wanted to scream. "When did you have these deep conversations with him, anyway?"
"I saw him at the library after you left. He gave me a ride home and invited me to the party. Something you didn't do, by the way." She pointed an accusatory finger at me. "Noelle and Jade are here tonight. Are they family now, too?"
"This is complicated. Our families have known each other for a really long time." I grasped for words. "It's like a tradition."
"Marco wants me to be part of a new tradition," she countered triumphantly. "He said so."
I valiantly resisted the urge to shake her. "If you knew what that meant, we wouldn't be standing here right now."
"Whatever, Hex." She brushed past me and grasped the door handle. "I'm going back to the party."
My reaction time was too slow and Sam pulled the door open before I could stop her. Marco stood in the opening, backed by two of his friends. I took a step back and pulled Sam behind me.
"Tsk tsk," Marco chided. "You can hide better than this." He advanced into the room, followed closely by his backup.
"What's going on?" Sam asked with a slight quaver in her voice.
I spared her a quick glance, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Now she was scared.
"You've had your fun," I said to Marco. "Game over."
"I don't think so," he replied pleasantly. "I've come to claim my prize."
The powder room was small and practically shrinking by the second. The only window was too narrow for either of us to use as a means of escape. Sam gripped my arm, her nails digging deep into the skin, but her voice was impressively steady when she spoke.
"Let's go back to the party." She smiled at Marco. "You can have the next dance."
A cruel smile stretched his face and I shivered in recognition. It was an expression he wore whenever he was considering something particularly heinous. I'd spent several years of my childhood hiding from that look in his eyes.
Screaming for help wouldn't do any good. Assuming anyone would even come if we called, the party was in full swing and our screams wouldn't penetrate the crowd. Unless Sam's hairpins or the decorative soaps on the counter were lethal, we were completely defenseless.
The two men with Marco slunk behind him into the room, flanking us on either side. They were burly and scowling like overgrown gorillas. Sam's breathing came in frantic gasps. If she hyperventilated and passed out, at least it would be over quickly for her.
I was out of every option but one. One last despicable option that I promised myself I would never use again. A promise I knew I was about to break.
My vision blurred and I begged him one last time. "Please don't make me do this."
Marco cocked his head to the side like a cat watching a mouse make one last desperate run for freedom. "Show me something wicked," he whispered.
Tears rolled down my cheeks, leaving a burning trail. The sensation spread until my entire body prickled with stinging heat. I embraced the fire, fanning the flames underneath my skin until my entire being was consumed in an inferno.
There was fury. Against Marco—against my whole family—for dragging me back into their labyrinthine struggles for power. Anger at myself for becoming the monster that I swore I would never be again. Even my resentment of Sam—for being too weak and simple to help herself—added fuel to the fire.
I screamed.
It was primal sound, all force and raw power. An unnatural wind hurtled past me and I closed my eyes against the strength of it. Sam fell back but I was too lost to help her. I heard their shouts of surprise but the sound came from far away. Heat and hate rose up in me and I pushed them out, my emotion made physical force.
I opened my eyes.
Both of Marco's men had been thrown back. Scorch marks were outlined in the walls where they made impact. Sam lay on the floor with both arms covering her head, making small whimpering sounds. Marco had been pushed out into the hallway. His hands were thrown up in a defensive posture and I could see angry red blisters forming on the skin of his forearms.
A crowd gathered in the hallway. Cold eyes took in the damage with detached curiosity. I wouldn't have been surprised to hear a smattering of light applause. The wall surrounding the door was black and peeling. The whole room carried a faint smell of burning.
I helped Sam up off the floor and wrapped a protective arm around her. Marco stepped back with a mocking bow but his eyes watched us carefully. The crowd parted as I guided Sam down the hall. Valentine stood near the front door. Our shoulders brushed as I past him and he made no effort to move away. Our eyes met and something dark flashed in his. I felt his gaze on me as I turned away, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Little Helena has come out to play," he murmured.
"My name is Hex." I pushed Sam out the door and slammed it shut behind us. br />