Wolf's Bane (Monstrous Hearts #2)

Chapter Fourteen

See how the girl sits there so stiff and proper, posed like a mannequin? She fits in perfectly with the other guests at the table, sheltered from the surrounding night by the warmth of candlelight and glittering like the crystal wine glass she holds. And yet, while the rest chatter over chèvre-stuffed figs, forks as arched as their eyebrows, her expression fills with something much darker than pampered delight.

She's afraid, this girl. Look how her eyes dart this way and that, studying the faces of those surrounding her as though one will at any moment twist into something else. As though a knife will slash at her own flesh instead of the delicate ribs of lamb served as the first course. The tight line of her mouth eases toward a smile only when she glances at the man beside her.

If one could call him that. Even in his fine suit, he carries the calm of a hunter. His jawline holds the lean strength of something hungry and his glance reduces people down to vulnerable flesh. The other guests don't know what he is but they recognize him all the same. He's the looming mountain that has no road cut into its sides, the prick of starlight in unending sky. He's the quiet in the woods when one is lost and panicked, desperate to hear anything above the frantic thrum of their own heartbeat.

He works in forestry, goes the whispers around the table, and the responding nods carry satisfaction, even relief at putting a name to what separates the man from them even as his cufflinks wink with the rest. At putting a name to what makes him so different.

Still... Don't heap too much scorn upon them. They're blind in the way of humans ignoring the darkness beyond the firelight, and all they can sense is their own hunger and the sating of it. They're lost in the succulence of duck breast crisped in its own fat, in the bright burst of pomegranate against their tongues. Wine brings its soothing warmth, and even as the sky above glitters coldly, their laughter rings out across the churning waters of the lake.

Sweet, foolish creatures. They don't perceive the thinning of the veil between worlds, or understand the power of the night so close to Samhain. Only the man, eyes gleaming as if he's still in the woods, and the girl, shivering as though she already feels ghostly fingers upon her skin, realize that the shadows loom larger than normal. That from the surrounding darkness stretches something hateful. Something hungry, itself...

"I don't understand," murmured Alice, shoulders rigid while her fork prodded at the uneaten miniature cake left on her plate. Even as her aunt's voice roused the rest of the guests, she leaned closer to Colton and added, "Why hasn't she done anything? I thought she'd spend the entire dinner tormenting people with her tricks."

There were only crumbs left on Colton's plate, and he'd already settled back in his seat to watch the others leave. His expression revealed nothing of what he thought as people drifted over to the sliding glass doors leading out to the deck. Waiters stood there with trays of dessert cocktails, smiling politely as each guest chose a drink. Everything seemed perfect. A sugar-crusted end to a pleasant evening.

"She's still here," said Colton, voice flat. "Not right here, but nearby."

Alice once more searched for any hints of Magdalene's presence. The rap of a heel, perhaps, or the flash of a familiar silhouette among the confusing mingle of pretty dresses and dark suits. A flickering from the lights strung all around the deck to indicate her presence. Even just a glimpse of that wicked crimson smile as faces turned this way and that, seeking out old friends and new conversations. But there was nothing, nothing at all.

And yet, something about the look on Colton's face, so keen and alert and knowing, drew the next words from her. "How can you sense her?"

"This close to Samhain, it's easy to smell her. It's a little like smoke in the air."