by Kari Gray
Lily frowned. “Dahlia, be honest. Have you seen anything? About tonight?”
Dahlia winced and shook her head as she retrieved Lily’s elbow-length gloves. “I keep trying, but I got nothin’.”
“It’s ok,” Lily said as Dahlia slipped the glove onto her left hand and up her arm. “It’s all going to be ok.”
Dahlia chuckled and reached for Lily’s right hand. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’ll start believing it. Ok, you sure you want to take off the splint?”
Lily looked at her right wrist, which still ached. “Yeah. The swelling has gone down, it just hurts. But it hurts with the splint on, so it doesn’t matter. And I can’t wear just one glove, it looks weird.”
Dahlia removed the splint, slipped the other glove over Lily’s fingers, and Lily bit down on her lip to keep from crying out.
“You ok?” Dahlia asked as she tugged the glove into place just over Lily’s elbow.
Lily nodded and blinked back the moisture that gathered in her eyes. It was more than just pain, it was terror that lurked below the surface and Lily knew if she gave into it, she’d crumble to the floor in a pathetic heap. She slipped into her shoes, also a purchase she’d had to make and one she’d like very much to charge to the bokor.
A knock sounded at the door and she crossed the room, opening it to find Bennett, phone to his ear and a small bag in his hand, which he was looking into as though taking inventory of the contents.
“Yeah, get into position, I’ll call you as soon as she has it on…” Bennett looked up at Lily and his mouth went slack, the hand that held the phone slowly pulling away from his ear. “Holy shit.” He dropped the bag.
“Yeah, I know.” Lily scowled, feeling a sense of anger that such an awesome reaction from the man she loved came because of a dress from a really creepy giver. “I look amazing. He must have sized me up quite well.”
“Call you back,” Bennett said and stuffed his phone into his pocket. “Oh, Lil. I know, baby doll, but holy shit.”
Lily exhaled slowly and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”
“Hey, come here.” Bennett placed his hands at her waist and pulled her into the hall. She drew her arms in as he gathered her close, resting her hands against his chest as he enfolded her. She wanted to curl up into a ball and just stay there.
“I’m scared,” she whispered and this time, the tears escaped.
“Listen, I’m going to wire all three of you, ok? It’s really thin, won’t even show beneath the dress, which is really…wow. Well-fitting.” He placed a hand at her neck under her hair and tilted her face toward his. “I’ve been working with Jeremy all day, trying to figure out the best way to do this. See if you can get ‘Othello’ talking, to admit he was behind the bomb. Then we’ll have something to get him on.”
“He said as much in the phone call to me, why isn’t that enough?”
“It becomes a matter of he said/she said. The part I recorded isn’t incriminating and we need something solid that will stick. A good defense attorney will be able to shoot all kinds of holes in your story and he’ll be out again in no time. We’ll give Dahlia and Poppy ear pieces as well, then Jeremy can give instructions. The other girls probably won’t be close enough to the bokor that he’d notice their ear pieces, but he might see it in you.”
She closed her eyes.
“It’s ok,” he whispered. He lay the gentlest of kisses on her lips and thumbed away a tear. “I’ll be right outside, we’ll finish this tonight. I feel better knowing your sisters will be in there with you.”
Lily opened her eyes and looked at him, nodding. She appreciated the fact that he was trying to be so reassuring. His entire body was tense, agitated. She knew he was angry about all of it, about how little control he had over any of it. It was weird; if someone had told her a month ago that the shop and her home would be destroyed, her aunt would be lying in a coma, and she would be going to a masquerade ball because of a voodoo king, and—maybe the most shocking of all—that she would be kissing Bennett Duschesne, she would have laughed herself silly.
“Come on,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. “Let’s get you wired.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bennett secured the wires to Lily’s abdomen and tucked the microphone in place in her bra, but it wasn’t nearly the sensual experience it might have been—for one, she was being wired for reasons she didn’t even want to contemplate, and two, her sister was helping him.
“Wait.” Dahlia examined Lily, whose gown was pushed down to her waist. “If you’re dancing with him, like this, he’ll feel that wire on your back.” Dahlia pulled Lily into a traditional stance and glanced at Bennett, brows raised high.
Bennett swore under his breath and repositioned the wire farther down on Lily’s waistline. “If he has his hands any lower than this, I’ll kill him.”
“I’ll be fine,” Lily said as Dahlia helped her reposition the dress and zip her back into it. “It’s a house full of people, right?”
“I don’t like this.” Bennett ran his hand along the back of his neck and rotated his head as though easing tension.
“I’ll watch her the whole time,” Dahlia said. “Plus, I’ll have this. And I know how to use it.” Dahlia crossed the room to a chair that held a pile of her belongings. From her purse, she withdrew a knife in a sheath, which she then proceeded to strap to her thigh.
Lily bit the inside of her cheeks and looked at Bennett, who watched Dahlia with his mouth slack. He shook his head once and blinked, and glanced at Lily. “Can we get you one of those?”
Lily laughed, glad to feel the tension in the room ease just a bit. “She’s actually trained with that stuff. I’d just end up slicing open a vein or something. It’s why I majored in business.”
They heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps bounding up the front stairs and down the hall. Poppy entered in a flurry and paused as she assessed her sisters in their ball gowns. “Wow. Lookin’ good, ladies.” She moved over to the bed and dumped her backpack onto it with a tired sigh, shrugging out of her shoes as she looked at the dress meant for her. “Pink, huh?”
Dahlia scowled at her. “What’s wrong with pink? Lily chose it. Suits your coloring.”
“Awfully sweet, isn’t it?”
Lily tipped her head to one side. “You’re not sweet?”
“In your mind, I’m perpetually 12, Lil. But the dress is beautiful. Really.”
“What did you learn today?” Dahlia asked, straightening her dress and shaking the skirts over her armed thigh, and bringing the subject at hand back to the fore. Lily felt the pit settle into her stomach again.
Poppy grasped the hem of her shirt, glancing at Bennett seconds before she moved to begin undressing.
He held his hands up. “I’ll leave.”
“No, just turn around. You’ll need to hear this. In fact, where is your friend, the cop?”
Bennett turned his back to Poppy. “He’s setting up the surveillance van. You’ll all be wired, but Lily won’t have an ear piece. You’ll be able to hear everything we say, and everything Lily says.”
“Well,” Poppy said as she kicked off her jeans, “I have a lot of little tidbits that don’t add up to much, but I think our best bet is that the talisman is indeed hidden in Lady Chamonix’ family mausoleum. There’s an old graveyard outside of town, closer to the bayou where her house is, and I came across an obscure journal reference in the archives that tells of her spending hours there. It’s pretty flimsy, but I think it’s all we’ve got. She was apparently fond of her great grandmother and used the mausoleum as a place to conduct rituals and rites.”
“So since we can’t get there in time to search before the party,” Lily said, “I either have to make Othello give us more time, or we have him meet us there to look for it.”
“Why don’t we just tell him where it is and leave it at that?” Poppy asked.
Lily moved to her side and helped her step into the ball go
wn. “Because somehow, we have to keep him from actually getting his hands on it. You heard Mimi.”
Bennett groaned. “Lily. How are you going to keep him from it? I don’t want you doing anything at all, we’ll be there right behind you.”
“Well, yeah, my hope is the heroes in the cop cars will save the day just as he does something stupid. That’s the point of all the wires, right? To make him incriminate himself? Get him to say or do something?”
“Say something is fine. Do something is not fine.”
“Bennett, we don’t have much of a choice.” Lily looked at the clock on the mantle and sighed. “We need to go.”
“This is so gross,” Poppy muttered as Dahlia helped her into her gloves and messed with her hair for the briefest of moments before handing her the matching mask. “I didn’t even have time to shower or anything.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Dahlia said as they left the room. “This isn’t even close to a celebration.”
The masquerade ball was held in one of New Orleans’ oldest and grandest homes, a few miles away from Bennett’s family home. It was everything a party of that sort should be—glittering lights, beautifully dressed guests with masks that were works of art, subtle music wafting from inside—and as Lily approached the front gates with her sisters, her stomach was in knots and her breathing was shallow. What her broken ribs didn’t prohibit, the tight lines of the bodice did. Her mask itched just enough to be irritating and she regretted that it obscured her peripheral vision.
She wondered if Bennett, sitting down the street in a prototypical unmarked police surveillance van, could hear her heart thumping through the tiny microphone nestled inside her bra. The one piece of comfort she now had on her person was a small square of fabric hidden in her pocket that contained Lady Chamonix’ single strand of hair. She’d grabbed it last minute on the way out of the house. She figured it was kind of morbid, but she needed all the help she could get to keep her courage in check. If Chamonix was with her, even a little bit, it helped in a weird way.
“We look like Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather,” Poppy muttered as they approached the footman at the front gate of the gothic old mansion.
“I like to think we have a little more sense three stupid cartoon fairies,” Dahlia murmured.
Lily shook her head. “Not much. We’re walking into the lion’s den like a bunch of dumb sheep.” They didn’t have a choice, though, and she knew it. “Remember everything we talked about, and don’t do anything to attract his attention. We’ve all got our phones, right? And don’t touch the ear piece, it’ll make you look like cops.
“Lil. Give us a little credit.” Dahlia paused for a moment and her mouth quirked in a smile, and Poppy chuckled. “The good detective says you need to relax,” Dahlia told her.
“So not fair I can’t hear anything,” Lily murmured and approached the footman at the wide front doors with a smile. She handed him her card, which he examined, and then she said, “This invitation also covers my two sisters.” She gestured to the girls as he frowned and began shaking his head.
Poppy stepped forward and lay a hand on his arm. “How silly of our sponsor to have forgotten our names,” she said softly with a smile that ought to have been able to charm anyone into anything on its own merits. That she had a push behind the smile was an added bonus and Lily wondered how her sister had gone through her young life without abusing it to its fullest.
The footman slowly nodded and grinned at her. Dahlia pulled on Lily’s arm and the two moved ahead as Poppy thanked the man and took his hand in a gentle handshake.
“These are not the droids you’re looking for,” Dahlia murmured to Lily as Poppy caught up to them in the grand foyer. “Works every time.”
“What do you mean, ‘every time’?” Lily asked as Poppy threaded an arm through hers. “How often do you guys use that?”
“Not often.” Poppy glanced at her, lips quirked. “But we do need to get moving. Won’t be long before he wonders what the hell happened to him.”
Lily shook her head, a reluctant smile of her own finding its way to her mouth. “You’ve grown up a lot since I moved out, Poppy. Here’s hoping I never get on your bad side.”
“Whatever. I don’t use it on family.”
“That we know of,” Dahlia scoffed.
Lily scanned the crowd as they followed a stream of people entering a set of French doors just ahead. The light inside was significantly dimmer, and as they entered the large ballroom, they paused for a moment. The center of the floor contained couples that danced, the colors of their costumes making for a spinning display even in the muted light. Others lined the walls of the room, laughing, flirting, tipping their wine glasses together and snagging hors d’oeuvre from passing waiters. If not for the downright bizarre array of some of the ensembles—the occasional implied personae of werewolves and vampires—it might have been a scene from a bygone era.
“Oh look,” Dahlia whispered. “A witch. How charming.”
Lily nudged her. “Behave.” She took a breath. “Ok, if he’s watching for me, he knows you’re here now. Be careful.”
Poppy squeezed Lily’s arm and Dahlia looked at her for a long moment with a nod before the three separated, as agreed upon beforehand. The girls would circle the perimeter and Lily would wander and make herself visible. She shook her head at a passing server as he held out a tray of wine glasses and moved slowly forward, subtly casting her senses forward to get a feel for the general aura.
The resulting slam was not unlike the time she’d learned to drive a standard transmission. She’d lurched forward and stalled multiple times before finally managing a smooth shift from one gear to the next, and as she reined her senses back in now, she tried again. She filtered through the mass of crazy colors that clashed together and made the room into some kind of macabre rainbow, and dimmed them so that she dealt with the feel of the room, rather than the visual.
That wasn’t much better, and she focused again as she walked, imagining turning down the dial of an old radio—like the one she’d had growing up, the one her mother had told her to envision when she’d first begun teaching Lily how to control aura perception. As the room became more manageable, she allowed herself one tiny breath of satisfaction and hoped desperately her mother was watching, that she was proud. She was in control of her gift for the first time in over a decade and wasn’t hating it.
She swallowed as she felt the emotions of the people who crowded in around her. It was worse when she brushed up against them and she held her breath as their sensations washed over her in an intense mix of despair, anger, hope, excitement. Someone bumped her and caught her arm, laughing as he stammered an apology.
Lily shuddered even as she smiled and tried to casually extract her arm. “It’s ok, no worries,” she said to the man who had already had a few too many glasses of wine. He also was hoping desperately to get lucky before the night was over, that his wife wouldn’t find out he wasn’t at the bar watching a game.
She felt it all, read him like a book, and knew it was because she’d cast her senses out, looking for it. She firmly withdrew her arm and moved out of his reach, allowing the crowd to swallow him up behind her. “I think I need a shower,” she muttered. “And some sort of memory blocker.” Her mother and Mimi had never told her the extent to which she’d be able to read another person. Maybe they hadn’t known.
Lily looked through the crowd to the ornate, gothic designs painted on the walls and the huge indoor trees that extended upward toward the ceiling which was open to the second floor. She looked for Dahlia and Poppy, wanting just a glimpse, but saw only strangers laughing, spinning, everyone behind a mask that not only maintained anonymity but released customary inhibitions.
A sense of foreboding crept upon her and she looked down as thick, black tendrils snaked their way around her feet and slowly inched their way upward, wrapping around her waist and across her chest, settling on her neck as she turned, her hand at her throat. The sensation w
as heavy, toxic, and she looked for the source as a man walked toward her with slow, measured movements. The tendrils extended from him and pulled her subtly forward as he approached.
He was easily a head taller than she was, dressed completely in black from mask to shoes, in a suit that fit his form to perfection. As she drew inexorably closer, she saw the chiseled lines of his face, the olive complexion, the full lips that lifted in a small smile that showed perfectly white teeth. He looked like a model, maybe no more than thirty years old, and when he finally stood mere inches from her, she was forced to tip her head up to see his eyes, which were a startling silver in color.
With an effort, she mentally shook free of the dark tendrils and brushed her arm as if traces of them still lingered. He tipped his head slightly to the side as if in assessment and held out his hand. “I believe this dance is mine,” he said, and she recognized the same smooth voice she’d heard on the phone.
And it’s on, she thought, placing her gloved hand in his and feeling a chill shoot through her arm and settle tight in her chest.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Othello,” Lily said through tight lips as she completely withdrew into herself again and shut out all aura reading. She knew what he was like—it wasn’t as though she had to probe him to discern his true nature. “I wish I could say I find it a pleasure to finally meet you.”
He smiled as he guided her to the center of the ballroom and swung her around, pulling her close with his right hand at the small of her back, his left holding hers in a traditional stance; she mentally blessed Dahlia for having the foresight to secure the wire lower. She was cold, so incredibly cold.
