Page 34 of Dark Night Golden Dawn
Enzo grinned, snapping a few more photos and then unpinned her from the gown. “I’ll get the finish work done shortly.”
“What should I do with my hair and makeup?” Harlow murmured, watching the fabric move in Enzo’s hands as she changed back into her clothes.
“Nothing fussy. Since you will already appear to be nearly nude, I’d go for something loose. Already mussed.”
Harlow smiled. “You are a gift, you know that?”
Enzo repinned the dress to the mannequin in Harlow’s size. “Oh, I know.”
Harlow scanned through the titles of the books on Enzo’s shelves. “Have you ever thought about writing a book?”
He looked up from his work, his dark eyes slightly surprised. “Yes, how did you know?”
Harlow shrugged. “You’re just so talented, and the way your magic manifested was so brilliant. I hope you’ll write lots of books. The world should know more about you.”
Enzo hugged her fiercely. “Thank you for saying that, Harlow. It means a lot. Now go! I have half a dozen dresses to finish.”
She kissed him goodbye, and left feeling thoughtful.
ChapterSixteen
Her conversation with Enzo made her think about her own magic as she walked through the vibrant atmosphere of Mulberry Street. Her entire life, she’d been surrounded by talented sorcière. People with innate gifts so strong, even before their magic manifested, that it was obvious what their magical abilities would mature into. She wasn’t like that.
Harlow couldn’t identify a single talent of her own. It wasn’t that she was mediocre; she was perfectly competent at many things, but unlike the other sorcière she knew, she wasn’t particularly good at anyonething. She had lots of passions, many talents, and as such was at a complete loss as to how her magic would mature, and the sorcière she would settle into. It made her feel like a flake.
She headed toward the Monas. She wanted to do some reading for the rest of the afternoon. The maters had a collection on manifestation; surely she could find the answers she sought and jumpstart her stalled progress. A nasty voice inside her reasoned that if her problems could be solved with books, she’d already have solved them. Harlow steeled herself against the voice, pulling her coat tighter around her body.
As she made her way through the crowded streets of the Row, a cold, hard body knocked into her shoulder, pushing her off course. She looked behind her to find Olivia Sanvier scowling at her. She was even lovelier in person than she was in photos, with shoulder length red hair, pale skin, and the kind of lips that made her black lipstick look elegantly gothic, rather than foolish. The intensity of the hatred the vampire was projecting was startling.
Harlow tried to move aside. “Oh, sorry. I must not have seen you.”
The vampire mirrored her movements with eerie accuracy, blocking her way. “Watch where you’re going, witch.”
Harlow felt the throb of her heartbeat in her veins acutely, as a chill slid into her bones. She was surprised by the tone the encounter was headed. She’d only met Olivia socially a few times, and they had been utterly unremarkable. Aside from the fact that Olivia was seeing Mark now, Harlow couldn’t think of any reason for her to be so hostile. She’d been jealous of exes before, but this was something else, something visceral. Surely this couldn’t all be about Mark, could it?
And like she’d summoned him just by thinking his name, Mark appeared, stepping out of a store that primarily sold divination tools, with a large shopping bag in his arms.
“Harlow,” he said with a tight smile. “It’s nice to see you. Liv, this is Harlow Krane.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “We’ve met. She ran right into me. She’s as clumsy as you said.”
Harlow’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. Of course Mark had been talking badly about her. That certainly wasn’t a shock, but everything about this encounter thrummed with an undercurrent that warned her to stay alert.
“Not really a surprise though, with all that body. She must run into things all the time.” Olivia laughed and took Mark’s free hand in hers. The gesture was possessive, and the air around her crackled with feral energy. Olivia Sanvier was a dangerous vampire, as petty as she was powerful, apparently.
Mark laughed, a cruel sneer on his lips, but added nothing, turning sharply away from her in abject dismissal. Harlow felt as though she would crumple into the sidewalk, flat under their feet. She couldn’t remember a time in the recent past that she’d felt so small. But then, she’d been back among the only people she was sure she could trust. Now, cowering here in front of Mark, she remembered too acutely what the last few months of their relationship had been like—the constant derision, interspersed with briefer and briefer periods of intense passion.
“Well, good to meet you,” Harlow said, unsteady on her feet as they passed her.
Olivia sneered, her fangs showing and her stony eyes fierce. “See you again soon, witch. Don’t worry, I’m takinggood careof your little kitty.”
Something splintered into dozens of jagged pieces inside Harlow as she watched them hail a cab and head uptown, towards the House of Remiel. Mark glanced at her from the back seat, a smug glint in his eyes. What had Olivia meant by that? She’d never heard of vampires feeding off animals, but of course theycould. They had blood, after all.Would Mark let Olivia hurt Axel?
Deep in her gut, she knew he would. He’d let the House of Remiel’s princess do whatever in seventeen hells she wanted to get whathewanted: more power. It was the only thing he’d ever been interested in, she understood in a sickening, enlightening moment. From the day they met, until the day he kicked her out, all he’d ever wanted was more power. He’d never wantedherat all.
For a moment, she understood it. Though the lower Orders were ruled just as stringently as the humans by the Illuminated, they were not their victims in the same way. But Mark was something else. Rich and powerful in his own right, he was exempt from things like the monthly blood donations required of other humans, and she knew the Eastons had never undergone the kinds of rigorous screenings most humans suffered in order to qualify to procreate. He’d had as much power as she had growing up, perhaps more, because his family was so much wealthier than hers. He’d never wanted justice or equality between the creatures of Okairos, not the kind she dreamed of.
How had she been so foolish? How had she ever believed he wanted the same things she did? How had she been so easily seduced by a few carefully constructed conversations in the beginning that never amounted to anything? How had she let things get so bad that she’d leave Axel with him?
