Page 32 of Shadows of Perl

“Willam expected that to be your decision.” She parts the door wider, rolling aside to hold it open for me.

“I think what you’re both doing here is really important. And I’m sorry about everything. I didn’t want it to go this way.”

“I hope you find what you’re truly looking for, Quell.”

I grab my bag from the door and leave. I will find my mother and master this toushana inside me, whatever it takes.

When the fall wind hits my face, I pull a slip of paper out of my pocket, stewing over Knox’s words. The paper Beaulah shoved into my hand as I fled my Cotillion has faded a lot. My path is mine to choose. And I’ve made my decision. I’m not sure what the future holds, but it includes my mother and my magic. No one will take that from me. I summon the comforting chill in my blood to cloak.

I have to go to the last place my mom was seen: House of Perl.

Part Two

Nine

Quell

The sharp night wind blows my cloak away, and the feeling of being watched snakes its way around my throat. On either side of the winding street are trees with thick trunks and sprawling branches draped with rusty golden leaves. The crisp, cold air hums with a distant thrash of water. I walk, but I’m unsure which direction to go. Why here? The magic is never wrong: when it’s told a location, it takes you there. But there isn’t a rooftop or paved drive cutting through the trees.

Lights glow in the distance, and suddenly a horn rips through the air. An old car, polished brand new, swerves around me, and my heart thuds in my chest. It skids past, then screeches to a stop, and the driver window comes down.

“Get out of the street, crazy lady!” The man’s middle-aged with salt-and-pepper slicked-back hair, dressed in fine pants and a fancy bow tie. His passenger leans out her window, wrapped like a present in a tight red dress. Pearls dangle at her chest and long gloves cover her arms.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

I bite my lip. “I had a flat tire down the road. I was almost home.”

He and his date share a glance, then his expression darkens. “Fratis fortunam.”

They’re from House Perl. I could have guessed by the colors they’re wearing. I feel for the slip of paper Beaulah gave me with her address. She invited me at the end of my Cotillion, but I don’t exactly trust her. Jordan never had anything good to say about this woman. It’s better if she doesn’t know I’m coming. No time to hide anything.

“I’m sorry?” I feign ignorance. “I’m not very good with Latin.”

“Good enough to recognize it’s Latin.” He steps out.

“Charles, come on,” his date pleads. “We’re already late.”

“Where’s that car?” He looks around, closing his door. “How long have you been on foot?” He cocks his head, walking closer. Silver glints at his throat, and gold buttons trail down the lapel of his jacket. A Dragun. “If you’re looking for Old Greenwich, you need to head that way.” He points. “Back here is private property.” The night shifts slightly as something dark ripples through the air.

Toushana curls in my bones. I clear my throat.

“I don’t want to cause any problems.” I just want to find my mom.

“Then you should repay the greeting.” A mask of black, trimmed in gold, bleeds through his skin. I swallow. Ice creeps into my veins, trailing into my wrists and through my fingertips. I can expose myself or get rid of them some other way…Magic prickles my fingers, but I tighten my fist. I’m not hurting anyone. My only way out of this is the truth. As little as I can share.

“I have an invitation from the lady of the House.” I pull out the slip of paper and show him.

“You should’ve said something sooner!” He lugs an arm over my shoulder and drags me along.

Moments later, I’m in the back of their car, flying down the road until we abruptly slow and turn down a narrow gravel inlet to the nest of trees. We hit a jarring bump.

“Ow!” his date yowls.

“Sorry, doll. The DB5 wasn’t made to go off-road.” He draws circles on her knee. “I keep telling Mother to pave this entrance. How do you know Mother?”

The question is for me. I sink deeper into the seat. They haven’t asked my name. Nor have they offered theirs. His is Charles, because I heard her say it. “I met her at a ball once.” That feels like a decently convincing lie. Charles is about to ask another question when we come to a sudden stop in the middle of the woods, with no sign of a house anywhere. We get out and my magic picks at me like an itch, fearing I’ve made a mistake.

“Where are we?”

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