Page 48 of Black Hearts

15

Celeste

From the secondI pushed the silver service cart through the ballroom doors, I felt as if I were in a dream. Not a good one or a bad one; it was just the strange, ethereal vibe I got from being right back here in this room, the place that had simultaneously haunted and eluded me for so many years. My head was spinning and I felt distant and dizzy, as if none of this were actually happening, but another part of my brain was cool and focused, acutely aware that I was here in the lion’s den.

Hardly anything had changed. The same classic art adorned the walls and shelves along the edge, and I swore the jazz music drifting throughout the room right now was the exact same song that was playing fifteen years ago when I first stepped into this place with my father.

Looking out on the sea of faces bathed in the soft, warm light of the chandeliers, baroque lamps and flickering firelight, it was hard to believe that everyone in this room was pure evil to the core. They looked friendly, amiable, and it was only when I focused hard on the shadows on their faces that I detected an undercurrent of darkness.

No wonder I was so confused by being here all those times when I was a very young child. Some deep part of me knew that something was amiss, but the majority of my mind was focused on the seemingly nice people and the opulent surroundings, too enthralled and awestruck to believe it was anything more than what it seemed on the very surface—a rich man’s party.

I slowly moved through the room as if I were in a trance, breathing in the air scented with cologne and cigar smoke. Empty champagne glasses and canapé plates littered the dark wood accent tables that sat along the walls, and I quietly gathered them up and put them on the fourth tier of the cart as I surreptitiously checked out the guests.

Many of them were familiar to me, now that I was seeing them all again. They’d aged somewhat, with grayer hair and a few extra wrinkles here and there, but the faces were still mostly the same. There were a few newer members around as well, some well-dressed, pretentious-looking men who looked to be in their late thirties or early forties. There was no way they’d been here fifteen years ago, so the Circle was obviously (or at least once had been) open to recruiting.

Now that I was older and wiser, I recognized several of the members for who they were on the outside. I spotted a respected banker, a few City Council members, a couple of well-known CEOs, and even a few popular politicians. In his public life, one of these men often advocated for more serious punishments for child abusers… and yet he spent his private time committing heinous acts against children. The sheer hypocrisy was incredible.

I pushed the cart farther into the ballroom, pausing to let guests take cocktails or demand other drinks. If I craned my neck, I could see Bill Francis—or William, as nearly everyone here called him—on the far side, smoking a cigar as he leaned on a walking stick by the roaring fire. He was with the two guards on duty in here. All three of them were frowning and staring coldly at the other guests, occasionally ducking their heads and talking in what were probably low, secretive mutters.

From that, I realized Bill had confided in them about what tonight’s true purpose was. They must’ve been his most trusted security guards, and he was allowing them to help him analyze every Circle member in order to try and figure out who their problem guest was. There seemed to be one member in particular they kept returning their cool gazes to, so it seemed like he was their prime suspect.

Too bad they’d never figure out the real problem in this room. At least not until it was far too late.

I glanced at the clock. I’d only been in here ten minutes. Nowhere near enough time for Alex and Emily to get all the innocents out of the house. They were probably still explaining what was happening to everyone.

“How’s it going?” I whispered into the mic, leaning down to put some more dirty glasses on the bottom of the cart. I wasn’t sure if Alex would even pick up my faint words, but he replied a moment later.

“We’ve just started getting the kids from the second floor. It’s gonna take a while. They’re scared and they don’t entirely trust me, even though Emily is explaining it all. The other maids are mostly okay, though. Are you doing okay in there?”

“Yes,” I murmured, covering my mouth with my hand and hoping the music would drown my voice out to anyone standing nearby.

“Good. We’ll try and get this done as quickly as possible. You’re doing great, angel. Remember to breathe.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bill look across the room and stare in my direction for a moment. Lazy curls of white smoke drifted from his cigar as he watched me, winding upwards toward the high ceiling.

Anxious twinges snapped at my guts, and a pit of fear formed deep inside me as I took deep breaths, willing my pulse to steady. What if he’d figured out who I was, despite the blonde wig, hazel contacts and heavy makeup? What would he do?

It was incredible how a man I’d once seen as a friendly old neighbor could inspire such cold terror in me now. Luckily, there was still enough adrenaline pumping through my system from my earlier bravery to keep me outwardly stable as I pretended I didn’t notice his gaze and slowly walked around, letting people take drinks from the top tray of the cart.

I realized seconds later that Bill hadn’t recognized me. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at me. He’d actually been staring at a bald man near me, who was now heading over to him for a chat. I was just being paranoid.

With a quick sigh of relief, I kept working the party.

None of the other guests recognized me either, so my disguise was obviously working well. No one even asked me if I was new or seemed to register that I didn’t belong. A few men glared at me when I didn’t fill their scotch or wine glasses quickly enough, but those disdainful sneers were as far as it went. They didn’t suspect a thing.

I kept the maid act up for what felt like an eternity, slowly circulating around the room with the cart and pouring drinks. My voice never went above a deferential murmur, and I didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. The Circle members seemed pleased with that, and I knew exactly why. They didn’t like to think of the maids and kids at the mansion as real human beings, so acting like we were simply soulless automatons was typical behavior. If I met their eyes for even a second, it would remind them that I was actually a person, and that would make them angry.

My rapid heartbeat sped me on like loud, pulsing war drums. The longer I spent walking around and playing this role, the better I felt, and soon, my earlier courage had returned in full force.

Facing this room and confronting all my fears was the right choice, because now I knew for sure that I could do it. It made me feel infallible, stronger than ever, like I could handle absolutely anything on my own.

Alex was right about me the other day—I had more inner strength than I ever knew.

“Celeste.” His voice came through my earpiece just before nine o’clock. “We got everyone out to the driveway, and I’ve set up the stuff out here. You can leave now.”

The plan was for me to make my exit from the ballroom as soon as the kids and maids were safely out of the house. Some of the Circle would notice after a couple of minutes that their maid had vanished, but by then, it would be too late for them. A couple of minutes was all I needed.

Obviously, I couldn’t leave in a way that drew attention, because then someone might suspect something and come after me, and we didn’t want anyone leaving the house or figuring out what we were up to before we carried out the final phase of our plan. We needed them to stay inside, as ignorant and oblivious as sheep.

It wouldn’t be that hard for me to slip out relatively unnoticed. The top tray of Old Fashioned cocktails was empty now, so all I had to do was steer the cart toward the doors and leave with it. If anyone happened to ask where I was going, I would politely say I was heading to the kitchen to get another tray of drinks, seeing as they’d been so well-received. Most of them would probably just glance at me and assume that’s what I was doing anyway, as soon as they spotted the empty tray.

“Okay. Leaving now,” I murmured into my mic as I leaned down, pretending to rearrange some glasses on the third tier.

I stood up straight and headed toward the other side of the room, making sure I wasn’t pushing the cart too speedily, seeing as that might attract some strange looks. As I expected, a couple of people glanced at me with vague interest as I passed them, but then they saw the empty tray on top of the cart and looked away, their suspicions appeased.

The carved wooden doors were coming up fast. Just a few more feet and I’d be out, safe and sound.

When I was only a foot away from the doors, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder, and Bill’s voice boomed in my ears.

“Stop.”

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