“I saw it. I interpreted it as a trick in and of itself, you know, a tongue-in-cheek sort of thing. I figured you were simply pretending to be an evil witch, demanding all your guests wear a particular shade of purple. Honestly, who would take that seriously?”
Colt lost all composure and threw his head back, laughing. Blake was a bit better at muffling his amusement, but not enough.
Blair’s smile grew wicked. “As a matter of fact, everyone here seemed to take it seriously, except you, that is.”
A sudden hush fell over the room.
“And her,” said Blake, his gaze focused on the ballroom entrance.
Ivy, dressed in a daring orange gown, glided into the room, demanding the attention of every eyeball in attendance. It was no wonder she was the lure; stunning would be an understatement.
“Unbelievable,” Blair muttered under her breath.
“She can wear orange,” said Colt admiringly.
“Well, that isn’t exactly the point now, is it?” Blair said with a false politeness she had honed to perfection.
“It’s the point of every man in attendance,” Colt teased.
Ignoring his statement, Blair added, “And I see she’s on the arm of Mankazian’s nephew. She does get around. It amazes me how she seems to always get an invite to these functions.”
“It shouldn’t amaze you,” I said. “Look at her. That’s why she gets an invite to everything.”
Blair unleashed an uncomfortable laugh. “I guess she’s trying to make her way through society before age catches up with her. Pretty soon, she’ll have gone through all the men and not have any options left.”
I glanced up at Blake, wanting to roll my eyes.
Smirking, Blake said, “I think where that lady is concerned there will always be a man available.”
“Yeah, and age? Screw age. There’s no such thing as old with women like that,” offered Colt.
It was all Blair could do to keep the corners of her mouth turned upwards.
Ivy gently touched her date’s hand while whispering something in his ear. Soon after, they were cutting through the crowd and making their way towards us.
“Well, so good to see you both,” said Blair, her voice going unusually high.
“Aw, Blair, don’t lie on my account. Mr. Traverz, Charlotte, and I forget your name, cutie,” said Ivy.
“Colt Krane.”
Ivy tilted her head to one side. “Colt. Like a little pony that needs breaking in.”
“Quite an unexpected dress,” Blair said sneeringly.
Ivy grinned. “Hope you don’t mind I didn’t stick with black or purple. It’s just, when I think Halloween, I think pumpkins. And when I think pumpkins, I think orange. It is the unofficial color of Halloween.” Ivy shifted her gaze to me. “I see someone else dared to go against the asterisk. Beautiful gown.”
“Thank you. Yours is spectacular,” I said.
“Hmm. I know. And yours, Blair, is quite interesting. The spider web effect is fantastic. It’s like you’re all caught up in your web, right? I’d be careful with that one, Mr. Traverz. Must mingle. Happy Halloween, all.”
Blair tried to widen her smile, but it ended up making her face look creepy. “Well, I’m afraid we need to mingle as well. Guests to greet, you know. Enjoy yourselves.”
Blake paused as he passed me. “Good to see you again, Charlotte.”
“Likewise.”
He brushed his fingers against my dress before following Blair on her turn as the proud hostess.
“Nice job taking responsibility for the beer,” said Colt once we were alone.
“Wanted to spare the renegade waiter,” I said with a shrug.
“And we renegade waiters, both past and present, thank you. So, what do you think? Should we…A. bail, B. catch one of those damn ghosts and rip it apart, or C. play the role of a good little guest while getting discretely drunk?”
“Hmm. Tough one, but I think given your job and my reputation, we better go with C.”
“Damn. You’re sadly right.”
“Hey, at least there’s the discretely drunk part, and I dare say you could probably get away with indiscreetly drunk and just write off any bizarre behavior as your ode to Halloween.”
“I do like how your mind works, Miss Canteberry,” said Colt.
“Colt! Colt, my boy! Come meet some wonderful donors,” bellowed Mr. Huntslee.
“Right there, Sir,” Colt called before turning to me. “Oh, yeah, I’m using Halloween as an excuse for my behavior. Bank on it.”
I laughed, watching him pick up two champagne glasses on his way to muck it up with Blair’s dad and his deep pocket patrons. Now, it was time to focus on my part in tonight’s recon. My assignment was simple: observe Ivy. It wasn’t hard; Ivy stood out, and it wasn’t just because of the orange gown. She was elegant, yet sassy, challenging when necessary, a mystery men and women alike were desperate to solve. As I shadowed her throughout the evening, I saw how effortless her movements were, from something as small as a smile to the way she caught someone’s attention or started a conversation. The longer I studied her, the more relieved I was over Blake’s reluctance to ever make me a lure. I just hadn’t reached the level of confidence I needed to emulate Ivy.
“Impressed, gnat?” asked Ivy, turning away from her date to speak with me via the communication device.
“Immensely,” I replied honestly, feeling a little weird talking to the air.
“Don’t worry. You have the ability,” Ivy reassured me. “It’s all in the mind. If you think you’re irresistible, others won’t have a choice but to see you the same way.”
“That and don’t give a crap about what others think about you,” I added.
“Ah, she’s learning folks.” Pride bubbled in Ivy’s voice. “Time to get back to my date. He’s needy.”
“If anyone can out-lure Ivy, it’s Mags,” Pike said, giving me his vote of confidence.
“Thanks, Pike,” I said.
He was standing in the far back corner of the room, at least for the time being.
“Screw you, you little prick,” said Ivy, to which we could all hear her date reply with, “What’d I do?”
“You, darling, didn’t get me another glass of champagne, like I asked,” said Ivy.
“Oh, sorry. Here, let me get you one.” I watched her date scurry off to find her a fresh glass.
Ivy sighed. “Have to say, when they roll over and give into whatever I want, it takes all the fun out of the game. I like to tenderize my meat a little, shake the male dominance from them before I devour them.”
We all enjoyed a good laugh until Greg’s very serious voice chimed in. “Okay, I’m in. Ivy, you can place the info catchers now. Ty, place the ones I gave you in the rooms I pointed out.”
“It’ll be done in under five minutes,” Ivy answered.
“On it,” said Ty, stealthily exiting a door near where I was standing.
Uh-oh. I overheard Colt asking for the men’s room, which would mean he’d cross paths with Ty moving in and out of the rooms. I couldn’t risk him catching Ty. What if he catches Ty lurking about and then points him out to Blair or her dad? Just then the band started playing a truly iconic song that had long been deemed a must for Halloween.
With the nugget of an idea forming, I hurried up to Colt, stopping him just shy of the door, and said, “Dance with me.”
Colt, his expression somewhat stunned, replied, “You want to dance? With me? Here?”
“Yep, sure do.”
“Nobody’s dancing.”
“And that’s the travesty! Who let’s a classic like this song go without getting in the middle of this crowd and doing the dance moves from the video?”
A huge smile stretched across Colt’s handsome face. Grabbing my hand, he said, “I warn you, I intend to channel my inner pop king and zombie dance all over that unused dance floor.”
“Right there with you, pal,” I said, squeezing his hand.
We march
ed to the middle of the room, Colt yelling, “Make way, Halloween crazy coming through.”
“Ready?” Colt asked.
“You bet I am.”
And we danced, tossing in a little video pizzazz here and there. Some guests bore bewildered faces, but most laughed jovially, even applauding our efforts. Soon, we were joined by a fair number of folks eager to do the legendary zombie moves. I spied Blake leaning against a nearby pillar, watching me, a warm smile on his face, his eyes radiating devotion. No matter how we tried to turn our faces into masks tonight, our hearts simply wouldn’t comply. Fortunately, everyone was so enthralled with our last second flash mob imitation that I doubted anyone noticed the way Blake looked at me. Hell, even Blair was too dumbfounded and possibly too annoyed by the sudden turn in her party’s atmosphere to notice her date’s obvious detachment. When the song ended, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Even the band stood up and clapped in our direction.
“Well done, Mags,” said Greg. “Ty and Ivy got everything in place. We’re good to go.”
“Think you might be redefining lure, and I like it,” Ivy added.
I didn’t hear anything from Blake, but I knew he was restricted by Blair’s presence.
“Thanks,” I said, thanking my friends.
“You are welcome!” said Colt. “And thank you!” He pulled me into his arms and continued dancing, only this wasn’t the silly, fun kind of dancing; it was slow and much more intimate.
“Oh!” I giggled uncomfortably. I was pretty certain I heard an indistinct grumble from Blake because behind that grumble I also heard Blair’s voice say, “I think it’s time to begin our grand finale. Tell them to get started.”
Colt’s voice brought my attention back to my area of the ballroom. “In case you couldn’t tell, I’m glad to have met you, Charlotte Canteberry.”
“Well, thank you, and likewise,” I said in all sincerity.
We danced for a few minutes, and I could tell by the tension in his arms, coupled with the clearing of his throat, that he was gearing up to ask me out. My stomach churned at the thought. Theoretically, Charlotte was unattached, but the real me was very much attached.
“Charlotte, I was wondering if you had any plans for—” began Colt when the band suddenly stopped playing.
Out of nowhere, the power surged; the lights flickered madly; loud cackles echoed from the corners of the ballroom; and an enormously loud clap of thunder caused a rumble among guests. A blanket of fog rolled along the floor from one side of the room to the other, thrilling partygoers. As the lights continued to flicker, an eerie voice filled the room.
“Did you think you were just going to walk out the doors?” One by one, each set of doors around the ballroom slammed shut. The voice continued its creepy soliloquy. “For what would Halloween in New York City be without a ghost or two or three? I dare you to be still when goblins and ghouls surround you to kill.”
I looked around the room at the many alarmed faces. With each flicker of the lights, I saw a different expression: some perturbed, others exhilarated, and even a few sported frightened, worried brows. Frankly, I had to hand it to Blair—this was sufficiently spooky. As the ghoulish guy’s voice droned on with his warnings of dark dangers, I continued scoping the room…until something strangely familiar caught me eye. My throat closed; I couldn’t breathe. It felt as if some creature had reached straight through my chest and rammed its nails into the middle of my heart. There, just feet away, I saw the talon tattoo. I grabbed Colt’s arm.
“Charlotte? You okay?” he asked.
I couldn’t speak. Not a word could find its way out. The lights finally came back on, only they were quite a bit dimmer. It didn’t matter how bright or dim the lights were, for the man attached to that talon tattoo was my father’s murderer. As if sensing my glare, the man turned to face me, his eyes black and empty as a shark.
“Charlotte?” Colt inquired more urgently.
Ignoring him, I lunged forward through the crowd, needing to reach my dad’s killer. I was halfway there when a loud clap of thunder nearly burst my eardrums; the lights went out again, plunging the ballroom into total darkness. A mix of yelps, laughter, and Colt calling my name could be heard.
“Beware the storm!” cried the eerie voice yet again.
Flashes of fake lighting briefly lit up the room; but the light didn’t stay long enough for the eyes to focus on anything. Rain began to fall in the form of candy, and guests cheered wildly. But all I could think about was finding my dad’s killer. As I made my way forward, stumbling through the darkness and desperately wishing the lights would come back on, something slammed hard against my back. I thought for a moment it was a scared patron or someone who had lost their balance. But it happened again, only this time a pair of large hands grabbed hold of my arm and waist, shoving me hard against one of the large pillars. The hand that was on my waist moved to the middle of my back, pinning one of my arms in a painful, awkward position, while the other grasped my hair, pushing my face into the pillar; I thought the bones in my face were going to crack with as hard as he held me there.
His putrid breath was like mold against my cheek. In an almost inhuman voice, he said, “Tick-tock, tick-tock. Real soon.”
All the pressure disappeared as the man let me go. I slid down the length of the pillar and collapsed to the floor, hugging my knees. The voices of my friends screamed in my ear, but they sounded so far away. Just then, the lights came back on. A few people asked if I was okay, but I wasn’t mentally there. I was floating above myself, staring down at my seven-year-old self. I had reverted to the same freezing fear that had gripped me so many years ago. Had I been in the grasp of the talon-tattooed man? Could he have recognized me? If it hadn’t been him, who attacked me? And where did my father’s killer go? Who was he here with? How’d he get an invitation?
I heard someone say, “I think this girl needs a doctor over here. Something’s wrong with her.”
Soon, I saw a flash of an orange dress. Stooping beside me, Ivy quietly said, “Maggie? Maggie? Are you with us? Jesus, Maggie. Get your crap together. You’re causing a scene, and this isn’t the best kind of scene to have, you get me?”
I was there somewhere inside my head, but I wasn’t attached to my body. I felt exactly the way I did when I was a little girl, watching my dad’s blood creep towards my feet.
“Yeah, Blake,” said Ivy. “We’ve got a major code screwed.”
Through my earpiece, I heard Blake say sternly, “Greg, sprinklers. Now.”
Two seconds later, water rained down on guests as they yelped and scattered about.
“Ty, make sure this place clears out through the front. Yeah, Finn? Bring the car to the back—you know the place,” said Blake, barking orders. “Maggie?”
I was surprised to feel his hands on my knees.
“She’s not there,” said Ivy. “You can knock-knock on her as much as you want, but she’s not answering.”
“Come on, come on, Maggie. Put your arm around me,” said Blake. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Blake, she’s a liability,” said Ivy.
“Not now, Ivy.”
He scooped me into his arms and carried me from the ballroom, along a hallway, down a staircase, and out into a dark alley. At the end of the alley was Finn, standing beside the car. With no questions asked, Finn opened the door and Blake carefully set me inside. He said something to Finn outside. Moments later, Blake slid in beside me, and Finn awaited instructions on where to take us.
“Brownstone,” said Blake.
Finn took off immediately, and my body lost all strength, collapsing in Blake’s lap. He immediately began stroking my wet hair, calming me instantly.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said weakly. “About me.”
Chapter Fourteen
The time for truth, my truth, had finally arrived. There was no escaping it now, no point in even trying. After tonight, I could no longer keep my past from Blake.
Almost as quickly as he carried me from the ballroom, Blake and I arrived at his brownstone, a place that had become distinctly ours. Without a word, Blake guided me from the car to the townhouse, up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Still soaked from the sprinklers, Blake stripped himself of his jacket and shirt before hurrying to pull a change of clothes out of the dresser for both of us—a pale aqua Lake George t-shirt and polka dot pajama bottoms for me, and a black t-shirt and gray pants for himself. Always the gentleman, Blake disappeared into the bathroom with his clothes, giving me the privacy of the bedroom to change. Once I had peeled the wet gown from my body and slipped into dry clothes, I collapsed on the bed, my legs, like the rest of me, too emotionally spent to hold me upright. The vision of the man with the talon tattoo burned my inner eye. As ridiculous as it sounded, I wondered if he recognized me; if he was the man who attacked me tonight, the man whose touch and evil whispers made my skin crawl. No amount of soap could wash away the evil that touched me tonight.
Blake emerged from the bathroom, towel in hand, and sat behind me on the bed. He gently towel dried my hair. The sensation made me feel so safe…until the reality of what I was about to reveal to him crashed down on me. Would tender moments such as this one continue? Or would he see me as a low-life liar, someone who used his status as the Manx for my own agenda? Oh, God.
“Shall we go downstairs to the living room? I can start a fire, grab us some beers,” he suggested.
I nodded and accompanied him to the cozy living room. Curling up on the couch, I started shivering a bit. Clearly keeping a watchful eye on me, Blake retrieved a crocheted blanket from an adjacent chair and wrapped it around me. He stood over me, undoubtedly concerned about my distant behavior. When I never looked up to meet his gaze, he proceeded to start a fire and grab a couple beers from the kitchen.
When he sat down next to me, handing me a beer in the process, I said flatly, “All I ask is for you not to make any judgments until I’m done telling you everything…until I’ve explained every detail.”
Watercolor Hearts Page 20
