Forged in Fire (27 page)

“Do you think Bamal’s men will know how to find me?”

“Oh yes. They’ll be there. Without the cast of illusion, you burn like a bonfire.”

I was thinking the same of him. Illusion or not, Jude was a constant burning flame.

“It’s kind of funny, but I’ll have to focus to not use my VS tonight. It seems to snap on without my even thinking about it.”

“VS?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh yeah. My VS. You know, Vessel Sense. Sort of like spidey sense.”

“Ah.” A smirk lifted his beautiful lips almost into a full smile.

“Why, what do you call it?”

“I don’t,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, he didn’t. Men just plundered along, never thinking too much about stuff. Women liked to name things and overanalyze everything. Curse or gift, it was a definite difference between the sexes.

“Do you want to see my dress so you can find me at the ball?”

“Oh, I’ll find you,” he said, stepping closer, hands still in his pockets.

I froze like a statue, the anticipation of his touch an exquisite torture all its own. But he didn’t touch me. He stopped an inch from my body, leaning down toward my neck, his breath skimming my skin. I waited for the kiss of lips. It didn’t come. His whisper caressed and tormented.

“Vanilla and—what’s the floral scent?”

“Cherry blossom.” I reddened at that, especially when I received a full smile for the response and all its implications—sweet, innocent and bursting with flavor.

“Mmm. Perfect.”

Jeezum crow. I was about to crumble, and the man hadn’t even touched me. Embarrassingly, goose bumps rose all over.

“Are you cold, Genevieve?” I nodded, breath catching, refusing to admit it had anything to do with the temperature in the room. “I want nothing more than to warm you right now. But my hands on your body at the moment wouldn’t be prudent.” Then I felt a soft, warm caress of lips on the slope from neck to shoulder—so sweet and too quickly gone. I whimpered. “It will be worth the wait. Trust me, love.” He took a step back, removing the luxurious heat of him. A shimmer of amber in fiery eyes. “Oh. And the weapon wasn’t the gift.”

He nodded toward the bedside table, winked at me, then sifted out with a snapping whoosh. A blue velvet box with silver-metallic ribbon sat on the table. I instantly tore off the ribbon and opened it, never having been prissy or patient with wrapping paper.

“Oh my.”

On a delicate silver chain in a thin but decorative silver setting was a perfectly round, unbelievably beautiful opal. I pulled the necklace from the box, holding the weight of the jewel in my hand. The iridescent stone was colored with blue and lavender waves. There was a small square of cardstock on the inside of the jewelry box. I snatched it up, thinking it was a note from Jude. But it was the stamp of the maker with small print reading “Crystal Opal from Lightning Ridge in New South Wales, Australia”.

“Wow,” I admired, gazing at the gem again. There was something so familiar about the transparent markings—crystal white opaqueness swimming with smudges of blue and purple. Then I realized what it resembled.

“The moon! How lovely.”

I went to put it on and saw something inscribed on the back. In delicate script were the Latin words:
Mea luna in tenebris.

“Oh, Jude.” I clasped the necklace securely around my neck, butterflies flitting around as it settled beneath the hollow between my collarbones. “Mea luna in tenebris,” I whispered to my reflection.

My moon in the darkness.

And he was my guiding star. If he only knew.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Holy smokes! A Roman empress and an Egyptian queen. Girl, we are so going to be the hottest chicks there.”

Mindy never lacked for confidence, but I had to agree we looked pretty damn good. Mindy wore a silvery-white, flowing chiffon dress that draped perfectly on her petite body, scooping across her breasts and hugging slim but nicely curving hips. Blonde curls piled on her head with a silver-roped tiara coiling into her locks, she did indeed look like a Roman patrician. Her strappy matching sandals with mere two-inch heels were way better than the ginormous Jimmy Choos.

My golden gown, sweetheart cut and strapless with corseted boning, hugged my waist and hips, then dropped straight to the floor. The burnished fabric shimmered with lighter flecks like gold dust. The effect was quite dramatic when I walked under the light. A gold cuff in the shape of a snake with a ruby-red eye coiled around my upper arm. Mindy had straightened my hair and braided gold thread into single thin braids, one on each side of my face. My hair brushed the middle of my back, much longer than portrayals of Egyptian queens. But coupled with Mindy’s expert makeup effect on my almond-shaped eyes, lined black and extending beyond, with indigo-blue hugging the dark liner, I did indeed look like I’d stepped out of a period movie like
The Mummy
. The only difference was my skin was creamy pale rather than bronze.

“And now for the final touches,” said Mindy, passing me my mask.

Her cat-eyed mask was satin white with silver swirls, embellished with wispy feathers on one side and only covering her eyes. Mine covered more cheek and nose in the Venetian style—gold under black lace studded with small white rhinestones. This one touch of silver enhanced the crystal opal hanging below my throat. I was thankful for Mindy’s high-maintenance shopping spree to find the more expensive masks that looped almost invisibly around the ears like glasses rather than a hand-held one. Much more convenient.

“Oh! They’re here!” squealed Mindy, shoving her phone into her small white pouch-purse that hung from a silken rope around her wrist.

We stepped out into the driveway, where a black stretch-Mercedes limo awaited. The chauffeur already had the door open. Mindy giggled, bright blue eyes twinkling, as we scooted in.

“Good evening, ladies,” said a dapper gentleman stretched out with casual grace next to Mindy’s mom.

“Oh, girls, don’t you look gorgeous!”

“Thank you, Miss Donna,” I said, doing my best not to catch my heel on her burgundy dress.

“Hi, Bill. Thank you so much for the invitation,” said Mindy, bouncing closer to her mother.

“I’m delighted, Mindy. So, should I call your friend Cleopatra, or does she have another name?”

“Genevieve Drake.” I smiled.

This very cheesy introduction would ordinarily rub me wrong, but Bill seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. Attractive too. Jet-black hair with streaks of gray at the temples giving him sophistication. In a sharp, black tuxedo and with that indefinable blue-blood poise, he was a stunning older man. Miss Donna complemented him with her petite, fair features so similar to Mindy’s, slightly aged with laugh lines at the eyes and a lighter shade of blonde.

“And you are Mister…?”

I dragged out the Mister, hoping he would fill that in. Gentleman that he was, he did.

“Mr. Bridges, Genevieve, but please call me Bill.”

“Yes, Gen. He prefers Bill.”

“I do believe I will be the envy of the ball with the three most beautiful ladies there.”

Mindy and Miss Donna giggled in unison. I smiled at Mr. Bridges, I mean Bill, as he passed us each a flute of Cristal champagne. We toasted and sipped as the city faded behind us, embarking farther into bayou country toward La Blanche Plantation Home where the Crescent City Masquerade was held each year. On the final rural tract, the limo followed behind another one onto a long, paved drive. Passing under a canopy of centuries-old live oaks and through a line of torches lighting the path, I twisted around to see limousine after limousine filing behind us. Mindy squeezed my hand in girlish giddiness. My stomach flipped in fear and excitement for two different reasons—that I was bait for Bamal’s assassins and that my demon hunter would be here among the masked men. The idea sent a thrill of anticipation through me.

The chauffer opened the door, and we followed Bill and Mindy’s mom up the outer steps into the throng of New Orleans’ finest. The gowns on these women were stunning. I leaned over to Mindy.

“I’m glad I let you convince me to charge the more expensive gown now.”

She nodded and winked behind her pretty mask. The antebellum home was a Greek revival, complete with two stories of wide verandas, and gardens that wound for acres beyond the home. When we walked into the main foyer, I thought we’d stepped back in time. Candelabra burned everywhere, bathing beautiful people in ethereal light. Servants in full tuxedos and black masks greeted the guests with a choice of champagne or wine. Mindy picked up two glasses of red wine and passed one to me.

“Cheers,” she said, clinking her glass to mine.

“Mindy, come here, dear,” called her mom, waving us over into the main ballroom.

The room was mostly an open dance floor, the orchestra set up on the far end. On the outer rim of the stage and dance floor were alcoves draped with curtains of red velvet and gold trim, partitioning off private sitting areas. I scanned the room, searching for Jude, but didn’t see him. I’d know him with or without a mask. There was no mistaking that man.

“Mindy and Genevieve, this is Mr. and Mrs. Clark and their son, Nathaniel.”

The Clarks nodded graciously in greeting. Nathaniel, a tall, russet-haired guy about our age gave us one of those smiles that put me on edge, brushing a kiss on the top of my hand. Hooded hazel eyes assessed from behind a navy blue mask. His lips lingered longer on Mindy’s hand with a wider smile. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, this one. But the wolves here were camouflaged in designer Italian formal wear and plastic faces. I remembered what Kat had told me.
“A gentleman of the gentry in evening dress is the perfect mask to hide the wolf beneath.”
Too true, Kat.

“Ladies, let me show you to our private area,” said Nathaniel.

Apparently, Mindy’s mom and Mr. Bridges had already agreed to share a private space with the Clarks. Who was I to argue even if the guy gave me the creeps? He ambled slowly toward the middle of the room, gesturing toward an alcove where the curtain was drawn to the side. I saw that you could either keep the entrance open with a drawstring or close it for a more private party. We stepped into the small space furnished with three round tabletops spread with white linen and red roses as well as a sofa to the back.

“Whoohoo! Look at this, Gen.”

“Nice, isn’t it?” commented Nathaniel. “We can bring in bottles of wine from the bar to avoid trips back and forth.”

“Sweet,” said Mindy. “This is my kind of party.”

Nathaniel’s wolfish smile showed teeth as he watched her bend over the table to smell a vase of roses. I noticed hazel eyes dipping to take in the revealing view when Mindy leaned over.

“Well, take it easy, Mindy. We don’t want a repeat of our last night out,” I said, bumping her to stand upright.

“Stop your frowning, Gen. We’ve got a fabulous designated driver tonight.”

I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t what I was worried about.

“Don’t be concerned. I’ll take care of her,” said Nathaniel.

Now,
that
was what I was worried about.

“May I have the first dance, empress?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“Of course.” She giggled.

“I hope to have a dance with you as well, Genevieve.”

I nodded tightly, trying to smile. I didn’t like him but couldn’t be rude either. He was the son of Mindy’s mother’s friends. We were their guests. And what was he doing that other guys didn’t do on a regular basis? Ogling pretty little Mindy was a regular pastime for most guys in her vicinity. It was the hunger in those hazel eyes that made me nervous. I might be oversensitive due to recent events in my own life, suspecting every man when it was unwarranted. But still.

“Relax, Genevieve,” I whispered to myself, downing my wine in two gulps and strolling out to find another.

An orchestra of strings played at the front of the ballroom along with a modern band onstage. In sleek black suits, two men played electric guitars in accompaniment with the classic instruments. The drummer wore black slacks and a white T-shirt, his hair a wild mess. A statuesque redhead in a floor-length green gown stepped up to the microphone. Her hair draped in shining waves over one shoulder. Were it not for the full-sleeved tattoo on one arm, I’d have thought she fit right into the mix. I liked this touch of incivility in the room. It made me more comfortable. As she began to sing a soft, melancholy melody, I drifted farther across the hall. The effect of violins and cellos in harmony with the electric guitars was haunting and lovely.

I drew closer, seeing a server holding a tray of red wine. I knew I should refrain from drinking too much, but I needed a bit more liquid courage. My VS tingled with Flamma present. I knew Jude, Kat and George were here somewhere, but there were others as well.

I took a glass and sipped lightly from the sidelines. The myriad of masks had a fantastic effect in the dimly lit room while the ghostly melody echoed through the grand hall. Vibrant colors, curving shapes, glitter and satin, all enhanced the beautiful dancers under crystal chandeliers. Then there were others. Strange and bizarre masks—animalistic, suggestive of large cats, predatory birds and ravenous wolves—adorned the more eccentric.

Nathaniel spun Mindy close by. She tossed her head back, laughing.

“Hmph. He should be wearing one of those,” I said to myself, thinking of the slit-eyed wolf mask I’d just seen.

“Who should be wearing one of what?” came the feminine voice next to me.

I jumped, then relaxed. “Kat! Geez, don’t do that.”

She wore a formfitting gown in leopard print, a feline mask framing green eyes swimming unnaturally with eddies of black. Her platinum hair spilled over her shoulders in crimped waves. I’d never seen it down. She was breathtaking.

“Damn, Kat. If you’re trying to blend in, it’ll never happen.”

“All in a day’s work, my friend. Just trying to fit in with the nobility.” She said the word “nobility” as if it were something contemptuous that might bite. Who knows? Maybe it would.

“Has George seen you in this dress yet?” I grinned.

Her head snapped to mine. “What do you mean? Who cares if he sees me?”

“Oh, I think you care very much, Kat.”

She huffed out a breath, gulping her pink champagne. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah. But he’s got it bad too. The way he looks at you.”

“Really?”

Her austere gaze transformed to something more vulnerable. My heart hurt for her. I wondered what had happened between them, but this was certainly not the time or place to get the details.

“Oh, without a doubt, Kat.”

She swigged the rest of her champagne and placed the empty flute on the tray of a passing server.

“So, have you seen any demons?”

She asked this so casually I would’ve found it funny if it weren’t for the fact that they were here to kill me.

“No. But I feel them.”

“Yes. They’re definitely here. At least three, maybe more,” she calculated, scanning the crowds. “Bamal knows you have protection now, since his last two lower demons were expelled. He’ll have sent higher demons this time, some of his dukes or earls, so be careful. They can shape-shift. And sift you out of here.”

“Awesome. I feel great now,” I said, a tremor quivering down my spine.

Kat glanced at me and smiled. “Gen, you’ve got the leader of the demon hunters, the oldest and strongest demon hunter there is, and me here for your protection. You’re covered, girl. Don’t fret.”

Jude was the oldest demon hunter? I didn’t realize that. I wondered for the hundredth time how one became a demon hunter. This secret was guarded, hidden for dark reasons, I was certain. But what?

“Have you seen Jude?” Kat interrupted my thoughts.

“No. Not yet.”

“Okay. I’m going to mingle. You should move around. Let the demons see you. We need our bait out in the open.”

“Terrific. A lamb in a den of wolves,” I said, tossing back the rest of my wine.

Kat grinned at me, appearing even more like a cat with narrowed green eyes. She glanced at my dress for a second and let out a feminine laugh.

“Just you wait till the alpha gets a look at you in this.”

I knew she didn’t mean George, making me wonder why she considered Jude more dominant. Of course, I knew who was more dominant but found that intriguing, as George was their leader. I shivered, peering out across the crowd.

“On that note, I’ll go mingle. Here goes the little lamb.”

Kat laughed and stepped toward the crowd.

“Kat, wait,” I stopped her. “What about Danté? Could he be here too?”

She shook her head definitively. “No. Now that George has given you his power of protection and Jude plans on keeping you pure, though I’m sure it’s killing him, you’re safe.” She grinned.

“Stop that, Kat!”

She let out a throaty laugh. “Anyway, Danté will have to come up with some other plan. I’m sure he’s scheming, but he’s less powerful than Bamal and some of his other brothers.”

“Seriously?”

He seemed pretty damn powerful to me. I shuddered, remembering how easily he made me his puppet.

“Just get out there. You have nothing to worry about.”

With a wink, she pressed her way through the socialites laughing near the stairwell and headed toward the balcony on the second floor overlooking the ballroom.

“Let’s go, little lamb,” I muttered to myself, steeling my spine and sauntering out into the open.

While many men admired my passing, they were just men. My VS was sensitive, able to penetrate casts of illusion quickly. I was progressing in power. I focused to keep my cast of protection from wrapping my body—barring other Flamma from seeing me. Forcing myself to wander through the throng, knowing demons were here, made me feel vulnerable on a painful level.