Page 9 of Craved

Fuck charm.

I was blood-hungry—I hadn’t drunk in days—and on edge. Each day I wasted trying to find Zoe was another day Zaq spent in captivity.

“Isle de Minuit.” Fear emanated from Felix in sour waves.

I took a calming breath. Felix wasn’t the problem here.

“Midnight Island? That’s northeast of here, right?”

I’d heard the Tremblays owned a private island. Hell, they probably owned more than one. My family did. But last I’d heard, Zoe had been living with Victorine in the Old City mansion. Maybe she’d finally asserted her independence from the vicious two-hundred-year-old bat.

Felix bobbed his head in a jerky nod. “Oui. On the Rivière des Mille-Îles. The Thousand Islands River. But the only way to reach the island is by a private causeway owned by the Tremblays.”

I set a stack of large bills on the counter. “How do I get to her?”

Felix licked his lips and eyed the money like he wanted to grab it and run. “You can’t. The causeway is guarded twenty-four/seven. The only other way to reach the island is by boat, and there’s an electrified, silver-reinforced fence around the entire island. You could take a chopper, but the guards would have you surrounded the moment you landed.”

“There has to be a way.”

“I’m sorry.” He spread his hands. “There’s no way on or off without the Tremblays’ permission. You’ll have to wait until the princess returns to the city.”

“That’s not good enough.” By then, Zaq could be dead. I reached for the money.

His fingers closed over mine. “Wait.”

I snarled and showed my fangs. Felix snatched back his hand.

I waited a few beats, then nodded. “Go ahead.”

He shot another anxious glance at the door. “The Crimson Ball. It’s the big party the prima throws for Princess Zoe’s birthday every year. But you can’t attend without an invitation.”

My skin prickled and my heart picked up speed.

I pushed the cash at him. “July twenty-fifth, right?” That summer two years ago when Zoe and I had first met, preparations had been underway for her birthday ball. Not that I’d been invited.

“Oui. In the Tremblay Chateau ballroom.”

“Which is on the damned island.”

And July twenty-fifth was Thursday. Four nights from tonight.

I shoved a hand through my hair and stared at the shop’s black-and-white checkerboard floor.

I had to attend that ball.

“If that’s all, M’sieur?” Felix attempted to shoo me out of the shop.

“Who prints the Crimson Ball invitations?” I tossed more cash onto the marble counter.

“Please.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “They’ll kill me. Or make me a blood slave.”

“The name.” I shoved my face into his and put the force of compulsion into my voice. “Now.”

Felix’s thin face contorted as he fought the urge to speak. But he gave me the printer’s name.

“Good man,” I said. “Now forget I was ever here. You never saw me. You didn’t speak to me. As far as you know, I’m not even in Canada. Got it?”

“I never saw you,” he repeated, eyes glassy. “Never spoke to you. You’re not even in Canada.”

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