Page 13 of Consume Me
“I think this is one vision I should keep to myself,” she says, shaking her head so the beads in her hair click together. She motions for Max to start moving again.
“Is it… my death?” I whisper, suddenly rooted to the spot where I stand.
She turns back, still smiling in a way that makes me think it’s not nearly as bad as I fear. “Not at all,” she says. “It’s your life. And by the way, she was right.” Her gaze flicks down to my dress then back up. “That dress really is a weapon in itself.”
“Wait, who…” I trail off, remembering Natalia’s parting words.
Tamsin and Max are already halfway up the path. “Enjoy your night, Kendall.”
She sounds smug as hell. Like she knows my future in a way that I don’t.
Fuck.
It’s not nearly as fun when the shoe’s on the other foot.
As tempting as it is to chase her down and make her tell me, I don’t. Partly because I don’t want the daggers to hear anything that might help them screw me over. But mostly because I can’t let myself hope too much.
When Max and Tamsin have rounded the bend, I take a step.
And then another.
The blooms along the path are blinking now—beckoning, alive. Each step I take makes the next flower bloom and blink, its light making my dress shimmer and glow. Like the magic wants me to arrive in style. Up ahead, a huge estate house beckons. It’s grand enough to make me glad all over again that I have a dress to fit the occasion.
Natalia’s—and now Tamsin’s words—echo in my head.
I straighten my spine, roll my shoulders back, and increase my pace. If I’m going to kill for my freedom, I might as well look good doing it.
Chapter 5
Noctan
At precisely the hour prescribed, I step through a portal of my own making and glare at the scene before me. My distaste isn’t for the ancient trees surrounding me. It’s not even for the iron gates covered in sigils swinging open as I approach. No, it’s for whatever lies inside Vaelora’s spell-charmed mansion.
If only I were here simply to hunt and destroy those daggers, but no, it can’t be that simple. I have to mingle at a party while I await my prey. My cadre is probably laughing their asses off at me from the Afterlife right now.
Makim should have been the last one standing. That asshole loved a good party. Even Liara would have enjoyed this more than me, and she hated crowds. I’m not as picky as she was. I hate anywhere that has people who don’t serve my immediate goals. So, basically, I would rather be alone in the wilderness for months than spend five minutes at this ball.
But here I am.
For my fallen brothers and sisters, I suffer.
With a snort, I start forward.
As I walk, the air shifts. Warms. The chill that’s been clawing up my spine disappears as if the mansion ahead is breathing heat straight into the night.
The moon glows full above the estate, casting silver light across the cobblestone driveway and the towers beyond.
I’ll give it to Vaelora. She doesn’t do anything halfway. The mansion is massive. I knew that from my first visit, but portaling directly inside wasn’t an option tonight. Apparently, she has wards against it for this event. Probably smart of her, considering she’s letting all sorts of unknown riffraff into her home tonight.
From the outside, the effect is stunning. Gothic and elegant, with sharp angles and smooth stonework. Fog curls around its base like a shield of protection. A three-tier obsidian fountain bubbles in the courtyard, runes flickering faintly beneath the surface. Light dances across the surface like fireflies.
It’s inviting, I suppose.
Or it would be to anyone but me.
The moment I enter the house, my inner beast snarls its displeasure at the confinement. I ignore him, knowing he’ll only be satisfied when we’re back underneath the sky. Or when the daggers are destroyed.
The first thing I can think as I look around the space Vaelora has so fully transformed for tonight is: I don’t belong here. The floors are too polished. The air too perfumed. The kind of place that stinks of softness andromance—drenched in power that’s meant to dazzle, not defend. I’d rather be in a cave. Or a forest. Or a battlefield, covered in mud and blood.
