Mowbray blinked, as if his vision was fading. "Are you... an angel?"
"What did you give her?" Gemma shook him a little.
"The keys..." His breath started rattling in his throat as he clutched at her arm. "To all my... automatons. They're going to... burn it all... down. You have to... stop them." His breath started to wheeze and panic filled his eyes. "Stop them...."
"I will," Gemma promised as Mowbray's fingers loosened from her arm and he slumped to the floor. "Damn it."
Footsteps slapped on the marble as Obsidian sprinted around the corner, skidding to a halt when he saw Mowbray.
"Sir George was the diversion," she growled. "Either Jelena or Dido is here, and they took what they needed from Mowbray. Hurry. We need to find Malloryn. Because if it was Jelena, then she won't be able to stop herself from striking at him."
The first time Adele suspected she was being followed was as she made her way along the gallery behind the stairs.
There was no sign of Hattie, but several ladies laughed and twittered nearby, and a footman stood propped in front of the wall. The ballroom was mere feet away. So close, she had to be safe, didn't she?
It wasn't the first time she'd found herself stalked through ballrooms. And the woman behind her moved nonchalantly enough, passing laughing couples who'd sought some privacy in the hallway, pausing every now and then before a painting as if to examine it, that Adele almost doubted herself.
One could be forgiven for assuming she was just another guest, but there was a faint prickling sensation down Adele's spine. Something wasn't right, and she always listened to her instincts.
"Malloryn?" she whispered, touching the small auditory device in her ear. He'd told her not to use it unless strictly necessary.
Static shirred through it. "Where are you?" he demanded in his usual clipped tones.
"Behind the staircase. Hattie wanted to see me. You didn't happen to send one of your agents after me, did you? For protection?"
She could almost sense him pausing in whatever he was doing. "No," he said slowly. "Why?"
"I think I'm being followed. It's a woman," she whispered, hoping he could hear her through the communicator. "She's wearing a swan headpiece and a white dress."
So were half the bloody debutantes at the ball. White denoted a young woman searching for a protector. But there was nothing innocent in the way the woman moved, her eyes radiating a particular sort of menace as her attention locked on Adele.
She was definitely moving faster now, as Adele froze in front of a painting. The footman had vanished. The three ladies slipped past the woman stalking toward her, fans fluttering.
And the woman was between her and the ballroom.
"Blonde—very blonde—and... I think there's something wrong with her mouth. A scar, perhaps. Or one side of it is pulled up."
Silence loomed through the device.
Then her husband's voice cracked sharply through the auditory device in her ear. "Adele, where precisely are you?"
There was something about his tone that made her heart skip a beat. "I'm behind the staircase, but she's between me and the ballroom. Should I try and circle around?"
"Don't go anywhere," Malloryn snapped. "I'm coming for you, right now."
"What's going on?"
"You just described Jelena."
The dhampir woman who worked for Balfour. Adele's heart pounded. "I can't stay. She's herding me away from the ballroom."
"Find someone. Find people. You're not safe," Malloryn said sharply. "Gemma? Abandon Mowbray. I've got a possible sighting of Jelena near the back of the main staircase. She's following Adele."
Her device was only linked to his, so she had to assume the other woman answered.
Adele stepped back as the woman smiled and advanced upon her. There was light to her left. Laughter in the distance. Safety, perhaps. "I have to move," she hissed. "The ladies' powder room is just in front of me. I'll lock myself inside."
"Ava wants to know if you have your perfume," Malloryn demanded.
Her perfume?
Clarity dawned. The pretty blonde scientist had doctored it with the Black Vein toxin. "Yes. It's in my reticule."
"If you're trapped, squirt it directly in Jelena's face. It won't affect you, but warn any other blue bloods in the area. She said she hasn't tested it directly, but it might be strong enough to incapacitate her."
Hemlock in her ring. Black Vein in her perfume.
Who did they think she was?
She was no Gemma or Ingrid.
"I'm coming, Adele. I won't let her hurt you. I promise."
Another woman stepped into the hallway ahead of Adele, gowned in vibrant green silk. Her silvery blonde hair was knotted back into an elegant coil, and her eyes glittered.
But it was the pistol in her hand, held low against her thigh, that caught Adele's attention.
Dido.
"There's two of them," she breathed. "Malloryn, I can't escape."
"Where are you?"
"She has a pistol."
"Adele, focus. Where?"
Gaslights gleamed in their sconces. Doors lined the hallway. "Right outside the powder room."
"Get inside it and lock the door."
The woman in front of her began stalking forward.
Adele burst into the powder room and locked it behind her, relief flooding through her the second she heard voices. A trio of debutantes laughed in front of the mirrors, patting stray curls into place and squaring necklines.
Safe.
She was safe.
But even as she said it, the handle turned. Someone twisted it violently, as if realizing it was locked.
"They just unlocked the door somehow," she blurted through the listening device. Then she froze as the lock gave a telltale click.
In the mirror's reflection she saw the door begin to open, and Adele turned to find Jelena slipping inside, one elegant shoulder bare and her painted mouth widening into a malicious smile.
Not safe.
Trapped.
"Duchess," Jelena murmured, closing the door behind her—and locking it again.