Callista sat to his right. “What’s intriguing?”
“A woman’s tolerance of pain for the right pair of shoes,” he said without hesitation.
Shay took the empty chair to my left. “Where have you been hiding then?”
“Around. Where did your admirers go?” I teased.
“Hopefully, to the other side of the planet.” He grinned. “Didn’t think you’d make it this long.”
“And miss the food? Pfft.”
James, the human representative on the Senate, led a vaguely familiar man to the table. “Declan wanted to say hello,” he explained.
I recognised the comb-over from the news.
“Oh,” Phoenix said coolly. “Hello then.”
Declan leaned over the table to shake Phoenix’s hand. His comb-over moved with him. My fingers itched to fix it.
“It’s been a great night,” he said. “I wanted to thank you for your donations, forces me to up mine.” His bleached, toothy smile was dazzling. “All in the name of a good cause.”
“There are so many good causes,” Phoenix demurred.
Declan looked at me and nodded. “That there are.” He held out his hand to me. “And you must be the infamous Ava Delaney. How nice to finally meet you.”
I shook his hand reluctantly. His palm felt clammy.
He looked far too amused. “Have a great evening, all.”
He and James left to sit at their own table.
“Do you think he looks in the mirror and imagines that people can’t see his hair?” I whispered to Shay, who nudged me.
“Don’t be mean,” he said.
Phoenix draped his arm over the back of my chair to get closer to Shay. They spoke about something dull while I surveyed the room, seeking out the timid reporter again. She was sitting at a table by the kitchen doors, her cardigan wrapped over her shoulders. I wondered if the paper had bought her ticket.
She and I were the odd ones out in a room full of people willing to put on a mask. Miss O’Neill didn’t disguise how miserable she felt. I found her more intriguing than anyone else. What was with the weapons? Had she been attacked? Was that why her articles had become so vitriolic?
As I mused on her circumstances, noises outside the room caught my attention. Shay stood as his phone beeped, but the kitchen doors burst open, and a crowd of protesters tumbled into the room, tackled by Integration Agents, Gardaí, kitchen staff, and hotel security. They shouted words like boycott and peaceful protest, but there was nothing peaceful about the way they pushed and elbowed their way into the room.
“What the hell is going on?” Shay said.
In the mayhem, another disturbance attracted my attention. Over at Áine’s table, a man had jumped to his feet and smashed a bottle of wine. He grabbed a young woman who looked like a glamour model out of her seat. She screamed as the broken glass bottle went to her throat, and that corner of the room appeared to freeze.
The man ripped her dress, revealing fang marks on her bare neck. “The only ones sicker than the monsters in God’s eyes are the deviants who allow themselves to be defiled!” He held up the bottle as though in prayer, pulling the girl after him by the hair. One or two Integration Agents stalked him, waiting for their chance to move in, but they also had to deal with the overwhelming number of protesters who had barged in and caused their own ruckus. “The only salvation is to cleanse the dirty from the earth!”
12
The room descended into mayhem. Almost everyone who realised what was happening stood at once, and the sound of screeching or falling chairs joined the panicked screams and shouting.
In the wave of movement, the IAs were pushed farther back from the man with the hostage.
“Try to get behind him,” Shay murmured. “I’ll confront him while the others get that mob out of here.” He gestured to a couple of his people then moved on.
I nodded at Phoenix and slipped off my shoes. We separated. I crept around tables to the left of the protester, ducking behind the crowd trying to leave.
Cameras flashed around the room. Half the room seemed too confused to understand what was happening, while others were desperate to leave. Nobody appeared to want to help the girl caught up in the violence. I spotted Phoenix across the room, reaching into his pocket as though for a weapon.
With a rush of clarity, I realised how bad that would be. The cameras were watching our reaction, and if we harmed a human, we would only fuel the hate. There was only one solution: disarming the glass-wielding idiot without harming him or the woman. Easier said than done.
I signalled at Phoenix to wait. He frowned, but his hand dropped. We both continued to force our way through. Phoenix’s path wasn’t as clear as mine because the scuffles were drawn in his direction.
As though sensing our approach, the lone attacker backed away slowly, finding his way toward the kitchen doors as the Humans First group interfered with security, giving him a clear path. On bare feet, I hurried across the cold, sticky floor. Ducking, I managed to run across the room unnoticed until I came up behind the attacker and his hostage, narrowly avoiding being drawn into the scuffles.
Spotting a shocked-looking Áine O’Neill still seated at the closest table, I picked up her bag, which was heavier than I’d expected, then swung it at the back of the man’s head while he had his bottle safely in the air away from anyone’s neck. He went down like lead, falling face-first onto the floor.
The woman screamed and ran, and I looked over my shoulder at the reporter. “Seriously, what the hell is in that thing?”
Her eyes widened. “Look out!”
At that second, I was rugby-tackled by a group of protesters who had broken free from security. We all piled into the nearest table, upending the contents so that most of them landed on us. Something wet and sticky slid down my jacket as I squirmed out of the reach of grasping hands. The people sitting at the table were long gone, and a serenade of camera flashes almost blinded me. I managed to crawl away as Shay’s team helped sort out the brawlers.
Phoenix helped me to my feet. “Nice work.” His lips twitched.
“Not a word,” I said, shrugging off my jacket. “That’s never coming out, is it?”
I looked around and grabbed a cloth from a passing waiter to help wipe filth off my trousers.
A large man came at me—my presence apparently drove the supernatural haters wild. I sidestepped out of the way as the cameras flashed again. Phoenix dealt with him, shoving him toward a pair of red-faced, extremely pissed-off IAs. Shay and Mick were busy shepherding innocent guests away from the mayhem. James was comforting the weeping model, while Callista spoke loudly, trying to calm the rest of the guests.
The following hour was spent dealing with the madness while I mostly stayed out of the way in case my presence caused more drama. Many of the guests managed to leave while the protesters were being arrested. The more vocal ones swore blind that they had nothing to do with the still-unconscious attacker, but it was a funny coincidence that they had showed up as a distraction right before he attacked.
The female hostage appeared to be completely unharmed, and the worst injuries elsewhere were a couple of bruises. The reporter escaped before I could ask her more questions. The management seemed horrified by my appearance and offered to pay for my dry-cleaning, but I asked for dessert instead.
* * *
The place was almost empty. The last of the protesters were being transported to a cell for the night for public disturbance or something equally benign. Shay didn’t seem too concerned, figuring that the protesters had just been riled up past their limits and gone into foolish mode. I wasn’t sure if the girl who had a glass bottle held to her throat would be as blithe about the whole thing, but then I spotted her posing for the cameras. It was all part of the entertainment in the end.
The drama was unfolding in the foyer and outside, so I went back to my dinner table for some peace. The clean-up crew were the only ones in the room. With a heavy sigh, I sat on a chair, stretch
ed out my legs on a second seat to rest my aching feet, and settled down with my dessert. I had lost my shoes, and my jacket had been murdered by an indistinguishable creamy sauce, but at least I had ice cream to console me.
Phoenix came over, lifted my feet, and sat down under my legs. He watched me eat, his gaze drifting to my mouth and back.
“Would you like some?” I asked pointedly.
He shook his head and smiled, looking away. “Shay’s almost done. It’s been an interesting evening, no? And you thought you would be bored.”
“Remind me not to say stupid things like that again,” I said, wincing. “The woman seemed to recover quickly enough.”
He shrugged. “She’ll tell herself it was nothing so that it’s not so scary to deal with.”
I held up my bowl. “She should have had the ice cream instead. So what happens to the protesters now?”
“They’ll get warnings, most likely,” he said. “It would be bad publicity if they all ended up in prison. There are mothers and fathers amongst the group.”
“You’d think they’d have better sense then.”
“Witnesses outside claim that a couple of people in the crowd riled up the rest,” he said.
“I heard one of the IAs say the fool with the bottle had a ticket,” I said. “Is he okay? He went down pretty heavy. Stayed down for a while.”
“Concussion. He’ll spend the night in the clinic. You hit him with a handbag, Ava.”
“It was a heavy handbag.”
His lips twitched. “My point is that you could have dealt with him… more harshly.”
“In front of the cameras?” I said with a snort. “Giving those protesters exactly the reaction they want to prove? No, thanks. There’s no going back from that, and I don’t want to turn more people onto the side of fanatics.”
“Interesting,” he said. “I wouldn’t have expected you to take that stance.”
“Because I’m tainted?” I said sharply.
“Because the alternative is easier. Are you all right?” There went that twitch again. “They hit you pretty hard.”
“Don’t laugh. I’m fine. The management have offered me pretty much everything as an apology. Hence the ice cream.”
He did laugh then. “You saved the day, and all you got was an ice cream.”
“I’m happy.” I yawned. “And wrecked. I can’t wait to get home and into the shower. I’m pretty sure there’s wine in my hair.”
He reached out and pulled my chair closer to him. He twisted a stray curl around his finger. “Definitely wine.” He rested his other hand on my thigh. “You don’t have to go home for a shower.”
I stared at him.
“We could always stay here tonight,” he continued, putting pressure on my leg. “I’m sure they’ll find us a place after everything that’s happened.”
I set down the bowl just to break away from his gaze. I wanted to spend the night with him, but if I didn’t go home, everyone in the cul-de-sac would know. Emmett would know. Peter would know. And it would hurt them both. Swallowing hard, I sat up straight, trying to come up with words that didn’t sound as lame in my mouth as they did in my head.
“I don’t think I can.”
“You’re not thinking of you, are you?” he said in a low voice.
I met his gaze. “Things I do affect other people, whether I like it or not.”
“People aren’t supposed to carry their pasts around to berate them when they try to step into the future, Ava. They make choices, and they make mistakes, but they’re not supposed to drag their baggage around forever.”
“Emmett’s important to me.”
“And when he’s grown and has a life of his own? Are you allowed to have a life of your own then, or is your past still allowed to punish you? When do you get to stop paying for caring about him and his father?”
“It’s not like that.” My cheeks burned. “And for the record, I’m not saying no.”
He leaned closer, a smile creeping across his lips. “Then what are you saying?”
“What are we doing here, Phoenix? What even is this? I mean, where does this end up?”
His smile died. “I’m not looking for another wife, if that’s what you mean.”
I shoved his chest, but he didn’t budge. “I’m not looking for a husband, either, your highness.”
He held my gaze. “We’re friends, and I like spending time with you.”
“I’m glad we’re friends,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “But do you have a lot of friends that you like to spend time with in hotel rooms?”
He grinned. “Not so many, no. Would it bother you if I did?”
“It’s just…” I stared at his hand on my leg. “I do care about you, and the twins, and if things get weird…”
“Why should they get weird?” He tipped my chin to make me look at him. “We’ve been through many things together since we’ve met. We’re still capable of holding conversations, aren’t we?”
“That’s true.” Still, I had a habit of falling hard for men who were wrong for me.
“Ava, I like… experiencing things with you. Tonight, I know I’d enjoy your company. I don’t know where it ends up. I can’t see the future.” He leaned in and brushed his mouth against my ear. “Will you keep me company tonight?”
He held my gaze, and I wasn’t sure if my imagination was particularly vivid or if he had a similar gift to Lucia, but I suddenly saw a flash of us both together, naked and sweating, and it was hard to concentrate on much else.
“I—”
His phone rang before I figured out my answer. He ignored it, but when my phone beeped less than five seconds later, I got worried.
“This could be something.” I checked my phone. “It’s Noah,” I said. “They need help at the children’s home.”
Phoenix checked his phone, and the colour drained from his face.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“The baby,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Ava. She’s gone.”
13
“You blame me,” he said. Phoenix had kicked the driver out of the limo to drive us himself.
“I’m not blaming anyone,” I said, gritting my teeth. Except myself. “Let’s just hurry up and find out what exactly happened.”
“This could be a good thing,” he said after a few minutes. “Whoever took her must have left clues. It makes it clear that—”
“Shut up,” I said, clutching the seat. “Just shut up talking about good things until we get her back.”
He glanced at me. “You care more about the welfare of the child than the person who took her.”
“So?”
“Just an observation.”
I glared at him. “I really hope you’re not judging me right now, Phoenix.”
He murmured something under his breath. I didn’t care to work out what it was.
I was still in my bare feet. My jacket was gone—and so was the baby. The baby I was supposed to somehow take care of. The baby who was a slave. The baby who meant something. My head went to places I wasn’t ready for, and my gut churned at the thought of her fate.
I punched the glove box. It popped open, and I slammed it shut. “For fuck’s sake! She was at the children’s home. How the hell did somebody take her?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” he said calmly. “And we will find out.”
“We’ve found out nothing so far,” I said impatiently. “Everything just slips out of my grasp before I can make bloody sense of it. Somebody brought her to me for a reason. All of the things that have been happening have been for a reason, and I feel like I’m the one to blame. I’m cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“How else can I explain the bad mojo? Lately, everything I touch fails. It goes wrong, things get twisted, and I…” I blew out a heavy breath. “I try to fix things, to do the right things, and it just blows up in my face.”
“This is not your fault,” he said. “Calm yourself
, or you’ll be no help to me when we start searching for her.”
“The werewolves,” I said. “Can we use them to help?”
“If they can, they will.” He reached out and touched my hand, his quiet calm spilling over to my side of the car. “This child will be found.”
But what if she wasn’t? What if she was harmed because of me? My thoughts spiralled, and numbers threatened to spill off my lips. I had to draw back, rein in my panic, and regain my control. My fangs had even protruded. I made an effort to retract them then concentrated on breathing deeply. I was no use to Noodle if I couldn’t even think straight. I had to think.
“I don’t like the timing,” I said after a few minutes of silence. “We’re off getting distracted by drama, and somebody snatches the baby.”
“Coincidence,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.
Maybe he was thinking along the same lines I was: we’d had plenty of distractions lately. What if even the baby was one?
The journey felt endless, but we finally pulled through the gates of the children’s home then took a road away from the main building. “The witches and the child were holed up out here,” he said. “Far away from the children’s home. In hindsight, she would have been better off with the other children.”
“If whoever took her got past a working coven of witches, then maybe it was for the best that the kids didn’t get in their way.”
Clementine was waiting for us outside a cottage. The windows flickered as though lit by candlelight. “You’re here,” she said nervously when we got out of the car.
“What happened?” Phoenix demanded.
“We’re not sure,” she said. “We saw nothing, heard nothing. We were finishing off the spell, then the child was gone. Without a trace.”
“How is that even possible?” I demanded.
She looked exhausted. “We were so consumed with the spell that we missed something.”
“Is the spell complete?”
“Almost,” she said. “In less than an hour, we’ll find out where the child was born. Whoever took the child was too late to stop that spell, at least.”