Page 130 of House of Marionne

“You—”

The thrung of Manzure’s briefcase clicking open shut Charlie’s mouth and sent shivers up Yagrin’s spine. Out of the suitcase he pulled a nail clipper and file, then proceeded to manicure his nails.

“And as you consider siccing your dogs on me, if I am not back upstairs by the stroke of the hour, my Shifters—strategically placed around this hotel—have instructions to seal the exits and shift the air to methyl chloride. The entire ballroom, all your lovely guests, would be dead within minutes. And not to mention the legal implications for dear Mister Wexton and his precious hotel. It would be the top news in all the papers. The scandal.” He cupped his cheek, as if smitten with himself.

Yagrin and the others gape at each other first, then Charlie.

“It’s as I said, Charlie.” Manzure tapped his temple. “When you are older, you will plan with your head, not just muscle.”

Yagrin’s gut lurched as he looked to the others for some sort of direction. Each of them wore blank stares. His heart thrummed. They had to do something. Fast. Red was up there.

“Charlie, this guy is a bluffer,” Yagrin whispered in his ear, but his Dragun brother was frozen with indecision. He could sit there and wait for someone else to decide Red’s fate or he could do it himself.

Yagrin pulled at the cold dead trickle of darkness and twisted his torso until he disappeared. Charlie glared in shock as Yagrin encircled the room in a dark fog. The world darkened at its edges as he lassoed his shadowed self around Manzure. Yagrin jerked his body and his cloak cinched tight, squeezing Manzure’s neck, choking him with darkness. He swatted at him, but Yagrin was no more than air.

Manzure may have been older and wiser, but he was human, and like anyone else, when it came down to it, he would save himself. Everyone was a coward in the end. Just as he was.

“Let . . .” He coughed. “Me . . . Go!”

Yagrin squeezed. He hadn’t brought a single person of protection into the meeting room. He was all bluff. The Shifter threat was a bluff, too, he would bet.

The world’s color faded, and for a moment Yagrin’s grip on Manzure slacked as his cloaking magic drained him, as if he’d been hanging upside down too long. Manzure grew woozy. But Yagrin wasn’t much better. He needed to let go, soon. Once Manzure’s will buckled and he sagged in his chair, Yagrin reappeared, breathless. He staggered, then steadied himself and grabbed Manzure in a Dragunhold, hand cupped on the back of the neck, thumb pressed up into his chin. Manzure wriggled like a fish caught on a line, then stiffened as the paralyzing magic set in.

“His phone,” Yagrin said to Charlie, who tossed it to him. “Call them now. These Shifters of yours. Go on.”

Eyes around the room darted in every direction. Charlie’s lips thinned. But Yagrin tightened his grip. He knew what he was doing. There were no Shifters. This would prove it. He released his hold on him, and Manzure sank in his chair. Then tapped Call on his phone.

“Sir?” the voice on the phone said.

Yagrin’s heart leapt. He wasn’t bluffing.

He had to salvage this.

“I—” Manzure started, but Yagrin was faster. He summoned all the magic he could muster. Heat pooled in his gut, and he shoved up into his chest, into his head until magic burned behind his ears, down his throat, and onto his lips. He blew, air rippled through his fingers, and he pictured himself plucking the notes of Manzure’s voice one by one, mimicking their pitch and tone.

Manzure opened his mouth, but it was Yagrin who spoke.

“The deal is done, abandon your positions,” he said, in Manzure’s voice. The man’s eyes widened as if he’d seen a ghost, and his briefcase slipped from his lap. Yagrin’s Housemate with the long dress plucked the envelope from the fallen briefcase.

“Thanks for the charity,” she said.

Yagrin collapsed in relief.

* * *

By the time he could stand without swaying, almost all of Yagrin’s peers and Manzure had been cleared out. He checked his watch. Past midnight.

“Come on, then,” Long Dress said, roping his arm around her shoulders to lug him up. “I misjudged you, I guess.”

“Did you?” A scowl stained Charlie’s expression as he appeared behind them. “Or did you peg him just right?”

Yagrin steadied himself on his own feet and dusted off his jacket. He needed to get back upstairs to Red. “Manzure was going to take out the whole ballroom. I did something good.”

“Since when do some Unmarked in silk suits matter more than getting Mother her payment?”

Red’s face was on the back of Yagrin’s eyelids. “Some of our people are up there. They’re not all Unmarked.” An excuse, but still true.

“Look around, Yagrin. Our people are all down here.”

---