“You ran away with my prize.” Elisabet pressed a cool finger over Tana’s chin, making her flinch.
“Oh,” Tana said, dread shivering up her spine. She realized with a lurch of nausea that she’d seen Elisabet before, in Lance’s house, her face so bloated from feeding that until this moment, Tana hadn’t realized who she was. She thought of the gore-streaked walls, and there was a ringing in her ears, shock drowning out all other sound.
“Where is he?” Elisabet whispered against her ear, impatient, as though maybe she was repeating herself.
Tana had no idea what to say to that. Fear made her stupid.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Tana forced out, not bothering to disguise her terror.
“My mistake,” Elisabet said, lips cool against Tana’s skin. “Enjoy the party, sweet girl.”
And with that, the vampire spun away.
Still shaking, Tana closed her eyes and let the noise of the party wash over her—the music and the conversation and the moans. Let all her thoughts go, hoping that the fear would go with them.
“What the hell just happened?” Valentina asked.
“Please tell me she isn’t Jameson’s girlfriend,” Tana said, and, finally, sucking in a deep breath, opened her eyes.
“Of course not. Are you crazy?” Valentina didn’t look ready to calm down. “I thought Elisabet was going to kill you and eat you right in front of me. Let’s go.”
Tana shook her head vehemently, but she thought of sharks that bumped against their victim several times before they bit down. Maybe Valentina would be smart to get far away from her if Elisabet was just circling. “We both need to find a different person. How about we split up, take a quick sweep, and meet by the stairs? We’ll take ten minutes, tops. And if one of us doesn’t show, the other goes back to your shop and waits.”
“And if one of us never shows?” Valentina asked, looking at Tana as if she knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
“Then I guess the other one can feel pretty lucky,” Tana said with a halfhearted shrug.
“Be careful,” said Valentina.
“You, too.” Tana took a deep breath and kept moving through the rooms, only looking back once. She wanted to turn around and tell Valentina that she’d changed her mind. She didn’t want to be alone. But it was safer this way.
Find Aidan, she told herself. Then go, go, go.
She came to a huge ballroom next, with a ceiling of windows like a massive gazebo, all tinted black. The panes glittered and flashed like prisms with the reflected light of three brass chandeliers, each arm in the shape of a dragon. During the day, the ceiling must flood the room with strange gray light. Tana still hadn’t seen Aidan or Midnight, but the crowd was bigger here, so she carefully picked her way through, looking for them.
From behind her, she heard a rasping voice, as brittle as dried leaves.
“He’s here,” it said.
She froze, transported to Lance’s party, hearing the echo of the vampires on the other side of the door. She was sure it was one of them speaking—the others were here, too, not just Elisabet. Maybe the one that had scraped her. She had to lean against one of the walls for a long moment, trying not to hyperventilate. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the vampire who’d spoken. He had white hair and long, jagged fingernails. The other one appeared younger; he was brown-haired, with a pointed chin and freckles that stood out against the pallor of his skin. Both wore matching black suits with mandarin collars.
A visceral, full-body shudder passed through her. She reminded herself that she wasn’t the one they were looking for. They were hunting Gavriel. To bring the Thorn of Istra back to the Spider and to his prison, to pay for letting Caspar Morales go. To make sure Gavriel stayed there, mad as ever, as though the world hadn’t changed and the ancient vampires were still in charge, even if nowadays they ruled over what they barely understood. And if Elisabet had been with them, then maybe Lucien was helping the Spider—sending out his own people to make sure Gavriel wound up right back in a cell.
He’s here, they’d said.
And it was Gavriel they were looking for, so did that mean he was at the party? She craned her neck, trying to spot him in the crowd.
What she saw instead was Lucien Moreau walking into the room, unmistakable and oddly magnetic. People turned toward him automatically, as flowers align themselves toward the sun. Elisabet was on his arm, looking as remote as she did on the Coldtown feeds.