I’m so busy searching for her that it takes me a moment to feelhisgaze on me. Out of a crowded room of at least a hundred people, Brontë’s watchful stare makes me stop in my tracks. My feet come to a slow halt as the tray wobbles in my hand.
He’s across the atrium, standing in the all-black uniform security wears. He’s been permitted to dawn a sleek mask that covers the upper portion of his mangled face. An exception Nolan must’ve negotiated on his behalf.
No words are needed between us for me to understand what he’s communicating.
Our silent language has proven useful in moments like this, where we’re surrounded by others.
I give a nod and then set my tray of champagne down on a credenza display of fresh calla lilies and nerines. A few masked guests nearby gasp in scandal, clutching at their chests as if insulted I would dump the champagne tray off by their precious flower display. They’re ignored as I rush off to meet Brontë near an entrance to a hall.
He leads me down the dimly lit passageway as sounds from the masquerade party fade into the background. Once he reaches a door, he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me inside with him.
I don’t bother resisting.
I let him guide me into the shadowy room that seems to be some sort of private lounge for guests.
“We’re leaving,” he says, turning to face me.
“Leaving? But the party’s not over.”
“I have spoken to the society council. Raskova won’t be showing up tonight. He’s been invited to the annual event.”
“Annual event? Then my sister will be with him. What’s that going to be?”
“The Midnight Games.”
27.Brontë
We’re in This Together - Nine Inch Nails
The Isle of Hurst is shutting down when we arrive.
The final ferry departs from the isle as our private boat heads toward it, cutting through the black waters.
For the foreseeable future, the Isle of Hurst is closed to the public. All tourists have left either by ferry or small charter planes.
It’s in time to escape the impending storm. Thick clouds roll in from the east and the sea churns restlessly in response, crashing against the sides of the boat. Salt hangs in the air, both the scent and taste, as we make our way toward the small island.
I grip the railing and watch the land draw closer. The Hurst Manor can be seen even from afar, the castle-like home the biggest landmark on the isle.
Beside me, Jael’s silent. She leans forward slightly, bundled up in a raincoat, her pruned fingers curled around the rail. We’ve been drenched by the splashes of water, but it doesn’t faze her. Her face is set in concentration, brows knitted and eyes on the path ahead.
We’ve entered this new phase in an unspoken pact that we could be meeting a deadly fate. We could be in over our heads infiltrating the Midnight Games.
There’s no telling if Nolan helped conspire against us or if he truly gave his recommendation to the Hostess and other ranking members in the society.
When I met with them during the party at the Winchester, they were impressed by my size. The Hostess was amused I was even alive.
“I’ve heard the rumors. The ones about you surviving that fall all those years ago,” she’d said. “But Cornelius would never confirm either way. It seems he really was ashamed of you.”
She concluded my size was useful. The brawn and intimidation I could bring as a game keeper.
“Wear the mask,” the Hostess had simpered. The others in the room joined in, amused by the prospect of my deformities.
But I wasn’t doing this to be part of their world. I didn’t want to be included in their club.
I was no longer the boy with the silver spoon in his mouth who attended a private academy with their sons. That boy died when he stumbled off that cliff. The boy who lived was a monster.
He was an outcast destined to lurk in the shadows and never exist in civilized society again.