A Witch's Feast (27 page)

She shuddered. “Of course.”
 

A heavy scent of roses hung in the damp air, mingling with the smell of decaying plants by the river’s edge. Fiona tilted back her head, glancing at the colored lanterns that dangled from the trees.

Alan spun her, and she caught another view of Mrs. Ranulf. Her glass was empty. “Okay, she chugged that one down. Time to find her another.” She pulled away from her dance partner, glancing back at Tobias. He glided across the dance floor with a beaming Munroe. The ice princess was whispering something to him, though his eyes were elsewhere—scanning the river as though he were waiting for someone to roll up in a boat.
 

Mrs. Ranulf stood by the edge of the dance floor, engaged in a lively discussion with a man dressed as a fox. The blond server wandered toward Fiona, who grabbed two glasses of a pink cocktail.
Mrs. Ranulf’s favorite.
 

She sidled up to the fox and the angel, taking a sniff of the drink. It smelled sweet, fruity—and very strong.
Unless Mrs. Ranulf has the tolerance of a sailor, a few of these should do the trick.
 

When she saw Fiona’s dress, Mrs. Ranulf’s fingers flew to her lips. “Fiona! What a resourceful girl you are. If I’d known such a beautiful dress lay in our basement, I’d have snatched it up myself.”

Fiona grinned broadly. “You couldn’t possibly look any more divine than you already do.”

Mrs. Ranulf’s chest swelled, and she smiled before a frown creased her brow. “Are those alcoholic beverages?”

Fiona feigned embarrassment—a quick laugh and a downward gaze. “Oh. Do these have alcohol? No one told me.”

Her pale eyes glimmering, Mrs. Ranulf plucked the drinks out of Fiona’s hands. “I’ll take those, Miss Forzese.” Her eyes flicked to the fox. “I don’t normally indulge, but someone has to keep these young people out of trouble.”

Fiona eyed the silver chain around Mrs. Ranulf’s neck. The key was nestled in her cleavage. “Well, I guess I’ll get back to the waltz.” She nodded, a smile plastered on her face, and turned back to the dance floor.
 

Alan was no longer there, but among the whirling birds, butterflies, and woodland creatures, fire and ice still glided across the dance floor. Fiona’s stomach fluttered.
How does Tobias know how to move so gracefully? There’s no way he took ballroom dancing in Maremount.
The pair danced closer to the edge of the dance floor, Tobias’s movements both fluid and exact. Munroe’s eyes glowed, but Tobias’s darted around, scanning the trees and the sky—searching for something.
He’s waiting for something to happen.
 

Munroe shot Fiona a victorious look before they whirled away again into the menagerie of dancers. A breeze chilled Fiona’s bare back. She felt a pang of emptiness, missing her best friend.
 

A warm hand brushed her skin. A dark-haired man with a gold mask—beaked, like a bird’s—stepped in front of her. He bowed, holding out his hand. “Care to dance?”

She should say no. She was on a mission, after all. But Mrs. Ranulf was loaded up with two cocktails, and Tobias seemed to be enjoying himself with Munroe.
Oh, why not.
She grasped his hand, stepping onto the dance floor. His face was completely obscured by the mask, but there was something appealing about his athletic frame. She had the feeling he was younger than most of the guests.

He slipped an arm around her back, and they joined the dancers, whirling through the crowd like eddies in a river.
 

She draped her hand over his shoulder. “Are you some sort of bird?”

“A plague doctor, actually. They wore these to keep out the lethal miasma and the stench of death.” The mask muffled his voice.

“It’s very pretty for something associated with the stench of death. Pretty and creepy.”

“Some would say that suits me perfectly.”
 

As they spun in a blur of color and lights, she thought of the twirling figurines in a music box she’d once owned.
 

He leaned into her. “Do you always linger on the edges of dance floors?”
 

“I’m not usually at this sort of party.”

“Neither am I, to tell the truth.” His fingers were soft against the bare skin on her back. “I’m usually engaged in more solitary pursuits.”

A dirty thought flickered through Fiona’s mind, but she resisted the temptation to voice it. “Like what?”

His hand rested lightly on her back, but his grip on her hand was firm. “You could say I’m the creative type.”

“And you’re here to support the Sanguine Brotherhood.”

“Not at all. I’ve had a devastating day, and I’m just here for the beautiful women and the drinks to cheer myself up. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to drink a pink cocktail.”

She smiled before a horrible thought churned her stomach. “They’re not made of blood, are they?”
 

He threw back his head and laughed, a throaty chuckle. “No. I think they’re called strawberry-tinis.”

“You must be very sure of yourself to drink something called a strawberry-tini.”

“I’m not going to pass up a good thing when I see it.”
 

She had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the drinks. There was something oddly familiar about him. Comfortable too, his easy manner so different from Tobias’s caginess.
 

For a moment, she caught a glimpse of Tobias over his shoulder. He wasn’t dancing anymore. He was just—glaring.
Jealous, probably. Serves him right.

Another twirl, and she caught a glimpse of Alan standing by the edge of the dance floor. He had something metallic gleaming in his hand and a smile on his lips.
He has the key.
Her mind suddenly sharpened. It was time to find Mariana.
 

“I have to go,” she said breathlessly.

“So soon?” The stranger was reluctant to release her hand as she pulled away. But before she had the chance to say another word, someone ripped off the plague mask from behind. The deep blue eyes staring into Fiona’s were at once haunting and terrifying.
Jack.
 

Tobias flung Jack’s mask to the side. For a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt when he caught a glimpse of Fiona’s horrified face. But the guilt was quickly replaced by a molten rage that ignited his limbs with an otherworldly power. His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl, and he gripped the athame in his hand.

Jack turned to him with a calm smile, black curls unruffled. His peaceful expression only inflamed Tobias’s anger.
 

Jack’s eyes darted to the athame. “So
that’s
where that went. You know, I’ve been looking it that all over.”

Heat roiled beneath Tobias’s skin. The goddess took hold of his body. Munroe was shouting something behind him, but it was as though her voice was underwater.
I need
 
to move the crowd away before my wrath incinerates them all.
 

He lifted the athame, chanting a barrier spell to repel the guests, and as they stumbled back, he arced it around his body. Flames erupted around him, enclosing him in a burning circle with Jack. Somewhere in the distance, Mrs. Ranulf shrieked.
Let her scream.
He’d taken the red dust and the chalice pendants from the guards hours ago. Pocket-picking was an easy enough task with the goddess’s grace flowing through his body.
 

In the circle of flames, he stared into the face of the man who’d burned his city—the man who’d tortured his neighbors, who’d starved Eden and left her broken body to rot in the square. His features were pretty as a courtesan’s, but Tobias could see the gray-veined spirit of death lurking beneath his porcelain skin.

There was no alarm in Jack’s blue eyes—just cool amusement.
 

Tobias prowled toward him.
I’ll tear that look from his face.
He slashed the athame downward, and a flame shot from the blade straight at Jack’s heart. Jack held up a hand, blocking the attack. Another slash of fire, and a look of concern crept onto Jack’s face. Tobias’s body was ablaze as he slashed again. Jack blocked it again, but this time, sweat trickled down his temples.
 

Tobias was a simmering cauldron of rage. Fire traveled down his arms, erupting from his fingertips. Flames seared the air. Jack crouched and then leapt upward, gripping a tree branch, its leaves singing with Tobias’s fire. In a single smooth motion, Jack swung his legs over the bough, standing upright. Tobias swung the athame again, unleashing a burst of fire at Rawhed. Black smoke swirled from the magnolia’s scorched leaves. In the next instant, Jack was on the ground again, gripping a twig in his hand.
 

Tobias stiffened.
Right. The tree god.
 

“You see,” Jack grinned. “I’ve got my own wand now.” With a lazy flick of his wrist, a strand of black vines unfurled from the wand, striking Tobias in the chest. Winded, Tobias gripped his heart as it filled with a gnawing dread. He stumbled back. A sharp emptiness spread through him, until Eden’s lifeless face flashed in his mind.
 

He clenched his fists, and the fire inside him raged again, hotter this time. He dropped the athame, letting out a roar. A primal part of him—no longer just Tobias, but something older than language itself—surged through him.
I left London in ash. I burned Rome. I rained fire on Pompeii.
His scream was no longer his own, but something deep and fluid, from a distant age.

He lunged forward, gripping Jack by the throat and knocking him to the ground. Strength coursed through his arms as he showered Jack’s pretty face with blow after blow. The smell of burning leaves filled the air. The magnolias’ crowns were aflame like candelabra all around the dance floor. Tobias drew back his arm again—but a few whispered words from Jack sent him flying into the air, breathless as he soared above the tops of the trees, their flaming leaves emitting tendrils of black smoke. He had just managed to catch his breath before plunging back down, sprawling on the parquet floor with a crack. He gripped at a stabbing pain in his chest.
My ribs are broken.
Screams and hysterical sobs from the crowd pierced the air, nearly drowned out by the Fury’s wails.

Jack stepped over him, a faint smile on his lips. “You’ve made friends with Emerazel, I see. You probably have no idea what you’ve done.”

Tobias gasped. He thought one of his lungs might be punctured by a shattered rib. His athame lay on the floor a few feet from him. Jack circled him, gripping his magnolia wand. He could have killed Tobias by now. Something—Fiona?—was stopping him.
 

Tobias closed his eyes, Eden’s dangling legs flashing through his mind. The image of her bare, dirty feet sent another rush of white hot anger through him. He turned his head, whispering to the athame, and the hilt flew into his hand. Another wave of heat swelled in him, starting to heal his broken body, and he jumped up. Roaring, he lunged for Jack again, pinning him to the ground. He raised his arm, slamming the athame into Jack’s chest. Jack’s blue eyes went wide.
 

Tobias tuned in to the panicked shouts around him. Some were screaming about fire, others for the red dust. He raised his head, looking for Fiona. She stood in the grass, gripping Alan’s arm.

The look on her face was enough to tell him that he’d been right to keep this from her. Her jaw had dropped, and she stared at him with a look that said,
Monster.
 

The blood pounded so loud in her ears that she almost didn’t hear all the yelling. There they were, Tobias and Jack—both powerful, both liars. Jack lay bleeding on the dance floor, and Tobias slumped next to him, holding his chest like something was broken.
 

Alan gripped her arm, key in hand. “We need to get Tobias out of here.” He pushed up his wolverine mask.

“What we need is to transform and free Mariana,” she shot back. “And Tobias just ruined our chances. He can’t transform now. His ribs are broken.”

Alan wrinkled his forehead. “We can’t just leave him here.”

She snatched the key from his hand. “You need to leave. I’m going to find Mariana. Tobias can obviously take care of himself.”

She glanced at her former friend, crumpled and gasping on the parquet floor. Mr. Ranulf prowled toward him, his angel mask pushed up on his head. He held a chalice pendant aloft, chanting. Tobias’s face drained of color, and he recoiled from the charm. Nearby, Jack’s body twitched. Why did the necklace only affect Tobias? What exactly had he done?
 

She didn’t have time to worry about that now. The simple fact was that he’d lied to her. Maybe he’d thought he was protecting her, but that was even worse. It meant he didn’t think she was capable of being involved anymore, ever since the Harvesters had stuck her on Maremount’s gallows. He was treating her like a child.

She stared into Alan’s eyes. “He wanted to this on by himself. So give him what he wants.”

Alan gaped. Before he could respond, she chanted the transformation spell. There was another outraged burst of shrieks as her body snapped into her bat form, her foot clutching the key. Around the dance floor, the trees blazed with Tobias’s flames. His magic would burn the place to the ground. She soared over the burning trees toward the crypt, the smoke stinging her eyes.
 

A rush of adrenaline flowed through her veins, lending her courage. She erupted into her human form while still in the air, clouds of dust rising around her as her feet hit the ground. She bent over, snatching the key from her feet.
 

Her hands shaking, she jammed the key into the crypt lock. The Fury’s cry was nearly deafening here. The gate groaned when she yanked it open. She pushed through the glass door into a dark hall, its walls rounded and dripping like a cave.
Perfect for a bat.
 

She transformed again, her wings carrying her past a long set of glistening stairs that led deep underground. The Purgators wouldn’t be far behind
.
The stairwell’s end opened into a long tunnel that curved back toward the house, and she followed the narrow passage. She must be under the gardens now. Somewhere above her, Jack lay on the ground with a knife through his chest.