Page 67 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 1

Have you spotted anyone useful for me to talk to? I asked. Because if I have to hear one more rumor about how somebody snubbed somebody else at poor little Lacrimosa’s turning party, I might snap and start staking people. I don’t even know who Lacrimosa is!

She’s the daughter of one of the lesser clan heads. Wait, what happened at the party?

I did my best to convey an unimpressed glare telepathically.

No, you’re right. Not important, Gabriel agreed apologetically. I’ve been pressing a few of the clan higher-ups for information, but none of them seem to know anything.

Well, keep your eyes peeled, I thought. Or your brain, I guess. Wait, scratch that. It sounds too gross. Gabriel’s amusement flowed through the connection freely, without any of his usual poker-face bullshit. My smile grew a little more genuine.

Wait, he sent suddenly. The man who just came back in from the garden. Black suit, raven mask.

The big guy over by the stairs?

That’s the one. He’s wearing a signet ring I’ve seen before, Gabriel told me. One of the vampires we took care of in the shadow village remembered it. The man’s face was magically concealed, but he was wearing that ring.

Can you pick up anything from him? I asked.

Frustration and worry came through our mental link. No, his mind is shielded.

Well, that’s suspicious as all hell, I said, and Gabriel agreed. I’m gonna talk to him—see what I can get out of him. I brought a little something, just in case.

Gabriel’s worry grew stronger, and I tried to send him some of my confidence. I made my excuses to my dance partner, straightened my skirt, and went over to the man in the raven mask.

The guy was big and bulky, built like a wrestler. Whoever tailored his suit had done a great job—I’d been around enough people hired for their muscle to know that it was easy to put them in shapeless blobs of fabric. Something in his posture said bodyguard, at least to my practiced eye. Off the clock, though. No professional wore pants that tight if they expected a fight to break out.

His raven mask covered most of his face. Even his eyes were hidden, concealed behind mesh panels and feathers. The only cut-out was for his mouth, leaving a trapezoid of bare skin that extended a few inches past his chin on either side of his jaw. He gave me a closed-mouth smile as I approached.

“Gorgeous night, isn’t it?” I said, brushing my thumb over my ring.

The man hummed. “Clan Alinejad always throws great parties.”

“It’s my first time,” I confessed, looking up at him through my lashes. “Do you come to a lot of these?”

“More than I’d like, honestly,” he told me. “I don’t have much of a head for politics. Especially not politics about who stole whose tie pin.”

I let out a bright, tinkling laugh. “I know what you mean. I’ve been stuck listening to gossip about people I don’t know since I got here.”

“That sounds like thirsty work,” the man said. “May I bring you some champagne?”

“Such a gentleman. I’d love some, but only if you get some for yourself. I can’t stand drinking alone.”

The man smiled, and I saw a glint of metal. One of his fangs had been replaced with a gold replica. “Well, if the lady insists,” he said. As he went to get our drinks, I grabbed a little vial from my purse, popped the cork, and palmed it.

When the guy came back, he handed over a champagne flute, and I took it, clinking it against his in a toast. A silver signet ring gleamed on his finger, the light dancing over the shape of the crescent moon etched into it. A very faint bell rang in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t figure out why.

“Oh, you have…” I murmured, leaning forward to brush a nonexistent piece of lint from his shoulder. As my hand passed over his glass, I poured the contents of the vial into his champagne.

“Thanks,” he said, voice low. I didn’t have to see his eyes to know he was looking at my cleavage. When I pulled back, he cleared his throat and took two long gulps of his champagne. I watched in satisfaction as he swallowed the truth serum I’d spiked his drink with.

“You caught my eye as soon as you showed up,” he told me. “The man you came in with… is he…?”

“Just a friend,” I assured him, and I felt a flash of hurt through my connection to Gabriel. I lowered my voice, pretending to be embarrassed. “I’d… actually hoped to meet someone here tonight. Nothing like a masquerade for that perfect fairy tale moment, right?” I looked up at him sweetly.

“Right,” he murmured. He lifted his champagne flute again and drained it in a few sips. The band began to play something loud and quick, and the crowd cheered. I winced.

“It’s so loud in here,” I said. “Do you want to find somewhere quieter? So we can… talk?”

“I know just the place,” he said, voice rough. I followed him past one of the fabric draperies and through a hidden door, making sure to catch Gabriel’s eye as I went past. His face was utterly expressionless, but he nodded minutely.

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