A Tempest of Tea, page 19
“So I’ve heard,” Jin said. He had every intention of avoiding the right wing and its dedication to debauchery. He cast a look at the light spilling from the Athereum’s double doors. The hope and longing he conjured was only partially a lie. “I need to get inside the Athereum for that.”
She paused, a furrow in her brow. He’d spoken the words too quickly, hadn’t he? It was the pressure, the worry, the weight of this night as heavy as the clouds in the sky. She knew he was a Casimir. She knew the mischief he and Arthie were about.
And if someone like Rose Ashby could get him inside without a hitch, no one would doubt her if she sounded an alarm either.
Come on, Rose. Come on.
With a sprightly laugh, Rose held out her arm, and Jin exhaled in relief. “Well then, allow me the honors.”
He took it, calming the restlessness in his limbs as they joined the slow-moving line. Before long, the pair of them were bathed in gold before the doorkeeper, Elise Thorne, and Jin was once again grateful that he’d run into the other sister at the Thornes’ house on Admiral Grove.
Matteo had been spot-on with his descriptions and depictions. It was exactly as Jin had imagined. He watched as Rose dropped her marker through the slot and introduced him as her human date for the night. Elise chastised her for not having him vetted, ignoring him like he was some brainless arm candy, and Rose apologized in good form. When the bouncer finally frisked him down, he had to bite his tongue against a comment or two.
And then he was in.
Jin stopped just inside the doors to leisurely button up his jacket and scan the space at the same time. The area was lit by lamps shaped like open palms gripping bulbs, the walls a deep, dark crimson patterned in damasks. Eerie, but fitting. Farther inside, there were silk-wrapped settees, tufted cushions, and scattered armchairs. He saw vampires sitting far too close to one another, others lounging with flutes of crimson. There was a quartet playing cards and another tittering over an engagement ring.
Wicked knives, he was inside the Athereum.
Something clinked beneath his right foot. He glanced down to the lacquered wood floors and saw the pair of channels set feet apart and covered in glass, just as Matteo had said. As he stood there, two markers shot in the direction of the archive room. A lone, freestanding accent wall rose up ahead, bedazzled with pearled tiles behind a massive flowerpot.
The marker archives room was just beyond it to the right. The mezzanine extended high up on his left, letting in the cool night air. On it, the dormer guard was pacing back and forth.
There will be at least one blind spot, Arthie had said. They’re not worried about anyone messing with the chutes once they’re already inside.
Easy for her to say.
Jin tracked the guard’s line of sight, trying to find Arthie’s blind spot. He needed to get to the other side of the freestanding wall. If only that toxin lasted longer than ten minutes. She could shoot the guard now, and Jin would have more freedom to wander around.
“Don’t worry about him,” Rose said, following Jin’s gaze to the guard. “He can make the foyer feel like a prison. Let’s get to the party.”
Jin laughed. “I think I ought to sit down for a bit. Feeling a tad overwhelmed. Never thought I’d be here in the Athereum, you know.”
That, at least, wasn’t a lie. She gave him a look. Ah, she’d forgotten he wasn’t a vampire.
“This way,” she said, gesturing toward the small alcove beneath the guard’s mezzanine. Perfect.
It’ll be empty ninety-nine percent of the time because the fun is inside, not in the foyer, and no one likes to be watched, Matteo had said.
At least not by a guard, Jin had thought.
Rose led him to the settee and released his arm. Jin held on.
“Thank you, Rose.” Of the emotions he’d displayed since meeting her tonight, this one he meant, and he hoped she could see as much.
“No,” she said with a bittersweet smile. “I will always have you to thank, Jin.”
Such a strange thing, to be appreciated by a woman for killing her beloved brother.
He sat down. Rose disappeared down the hall.
Jin took off his specs and got to work.
26
FLICK
Flick left the cover of the gardens and touched her pocket, berating herself one more time. If she didn’t want her lighter confiscated, she couldn’t keep drawing attention to it. The others hadn’t thought to ask Flick for her weapons. She was armed with a longing that was killing her, and no one knew.
She willed her feet to work, her arms to remain still, her blood to stay whisper quiet. No one was looking at her, but it certainly felt as if they were. Her awareness was slowly narrowing to obscurity.
This was it.
The line crept forward, giving Flick her first glimpse of the doorkeeper at the entrance, and she was once again relieved to find that it wasn’t Eleanor Thorne. This sister’s gaze was a dewy brown, her nose more pert than her sister’s sharp angles.
Flick caught sight of Jin crossing from one end of the foyer to the other. She flipped the expired marker in her hand, digging the grooves into her palm with each turn. She felt the weight of her lighter in her pocket like a stone. The line moved and then moved again. The vampire behind her glanced down the length of her dress and called it pretty. Flick thought she said thank you, but she couldn’t remember.
Then it was her turn to stand before the soft light of the Athereum entrance and remember how to breathe.
27
JIN
Using the tungsten carbide frame of his specs was simple enough, and Jin cut through the glass that cased the chutes within minutes, right where they disappeared beneath the freestanding wall. If anyone looked, the notches would appear to be design flaws. Neat ones.
He popped the lenses out of the frame and positioned them above the chutes, readying for when he needed to shove them into place and stop the markers from returning. He would swing the arm of his glasses to propel the markers forward again after.
For now, he leaned back against the freestanding wall, out of sight from the dormer guard.
Time to wait.
Wait for Arthie, wait for Laith, wait for Matteo.
He popped a clove rock into his mouth. Lovely.
28
ARTHIE
Arthie hid behind the Athereum’s rosebushes and lined up her shot, watching Flick get closer and closer to the entrance. The wind blew east in intermittent bursts forcing her to adjust her trajectory more than once. The dormer guard paced in and out of the Athereum, vigilant and out of reach.
Laith opened his mouth.
Arthie thought this conversation had already gone twice as long as it should have.
“He might hear the bullet,” he said at her side.
“They’re designed to be silent, but I’ll take that chance,” Arthie murmured, keeping her eye on Flick and her finger on the trigger.
Laith opened his mouth again.
“Nope,” Arthie said, watching the door as Flick inched closer and closer.
She inserted her marker. Arthie fired. The bullet slung through the night, flashing once before it disappeared. For a moment nothing happened, then the guard teetered against the iron balustrade and collapsed.
“Ten minutes,” Arthie whispered, tossing the gun into the bushes. Ten minutes before their guard awoke and sounded the alarm. Ten minutes for Flick to get in and out of the marker archives.
Arthie flipped the forged marker in her hand and joined the line, Laith and Matteo behind her.
29
FLICK
Flick stared blankly at the doorkeeper at the entrance to the Athereum. Elise, Flick told herself. Referring to her by name made her less formidable.
Flick paused. “Do I—”
First step to a con, Arthie had told her, act like you belong. Look sharp.
She squared her shoulders and pressed her marker into the slot. Her expired marker, Flick’s nerves reminded her. It fell with a heavy plink into the channel below, and then something clicked, propelling it into the hall behind Elise.
To her right, another vampire did the same, and that was when Flick heard it, just as Arthie had promised: the zing of a bullet hurtling through the air. Flick’s pulse soared the same way.
Elise was watching her.
“You’ve gathered quite the crowd tonight,” Flick said, the words bubbling out of her. “It will be exciting to meet everyone.”
Arthie would have advised against chitchat, but that was what Jin would do. Flick might not possess his charm, but she knew how to be kind.
Elise softened. “Indeed. The charity auction attracts vampires from around the country.”
The chutes rattled with a sound. Flick knew her marker would trigger a rejection, that it was all part of the plan, but that didn’t make it any easier to stand here. That didn’t mean nothing could go wrong. Jin couldn’t charm an inanimate object into letting her through.
A cold sweat dampened Flick’s palms. She touched a hand to her breast, already feeling the stake with her name on it, splinters making little rips at her skin while blood gushed free. She’d bleed to death, and her mother’s forgiveness wouldn’t be as important anymore.
Stick to the plan, and we’ll be fine.
Easier said than done, Arthie, Flick thought.
The bouncer shuffled beside the door, his coat bulging around his muscled frame. Flick had never seen such a large man. She blearily wondered how much blood he needed to consume to maintain such a figure. That’s not what you need to be thinking about, she chastised herself.
The markers returned with a tinny sound that could have been a siren for the way the noise rang in her ears. Flick gulped, but Elise only handed her marker back, blotted in something green that was already fading. She had to refrain from inspecting it, pressing the marker’s grooves into her palm, spying the faint smudge of red beneath the green approval. She snuck a glance at the marker of the vampire beside her; the green was much brighter. Had Jin … rubbed some off of it to approve Flick’s? The doorkeeper looked like she knew precisely what Flick had done but didn’t know how.
Flick didn’t know either.
“Enjoy your time at the Athereum, miss.”
Flick thanked her and stepped into the lavish opulence of the Athereum. The walls dripped in sinful decadence. The heels of her boots clicked on the tiles like bullets in a glass. The chutes rattled as another pair of markers shot through. She didn’t look back to see who it was. It wouldn’t be anyone in the crew—they had to wait for her.
She inhaled, grounding herself in the rich and earthy scent. It was amber and spice, old books and cloves, and … perhaps blood, but it was very lovely. Up above, the ceilings were illustrated, dark designs almost invisible in the swirling black.
Keep walking, Arthie had told her. Don’t stop for anything. She didn’t. Don’t draw attention to yourself.
Flick kept walking.
30
ARTHIE
Arthie approached the entrance of the Athereum repeating the plan to herself, every angle and every leg, each of the possibilities they’d predicted where something could go wrong.
And Arthie knew, knew Flick hadn’t yet added the forged markers into the log, but she did it anyway: She dropped her marker into the slot.
Elise Thorne sneered at Arthie in recognition, fangs coming out in earnest as tension spiked the air. But the Athereum put its members first, and she wouldn’t say a word, not until Arthie’s marker returned.
Which it did, smeared a different color. Not green, not red, but yellow. A violation, as Matteo had warned.
Across the foyer, Jin stared. Fear and concern were rampant on his features. It’ll be okay, Arthie willed him to understand, holding his gaze. She could handle herself, and he knew it.
“Unsurprising,” Elise spat, gesturing the bouncer forward. Neither of them noticed Flick tucking herself into the nook behind the archive room or Jin hovering near the chutes in preparation to smash through the glass.
The bouncer bent to frisk her, moving his meaty hands across her spread arms, along her waist, and then down each of her legs. It took everything in Arthie to not kick him off of her.
“Come with me,” the bouncer demanded.
Arthie held her ground. They knew who she was; they should know she would never give up without a fight. He stared for a senseless minute before he dismissed her petulance with a grunt and swung.
She ducked clear of his punch. “Think you can rough me into obedience?”
The bouncer grabbed her by the arms, locking her in place. Too many eyes were on her. Too much attention. Laith’s jaw tightened, Matteo gave her a reassuring nod. Arthie bit her tongue, saying nothing as the bouncer dragged her through the doors and inside the Athereum. She’d been through worse, she told herself. This was nothing. This was necessary.
But as far as plans went, there was no backing out now.
31
JIN
Focus, Jin murmured to himself. Arthie could handle herself. He pulled his tie free and wrapped it around his gloved fist, waiting until a pair of vampires disappeared into the halls. Then he crouched and slammed his fist through the glass chutes. It took two more punches before it shattered and Jin carefully pushed the fractured pieces into the chute until there was enough to obstruct the markers leaving the archive room.
If only he could use the tungsten carbide again, but he needed a mess. A proper distraction that didn’t look like it had been perfectly planned. He stepped back and surveyed the broken glass.
That should draw her out.
He backtracked to the settee where Rose had left him and sat down with a view of the archive room.
The door swung open, and Jin heard the vampire’s sigh as she rounded the corner, a sequined, gray-green dress clinging to her figure. Eleanor Thorne. She slipped several small disks that resembled weights into her pocket as she walked, her sea-glass eyes missing nothing. For a moment Jin was afraid she’d see him lingering in the dark, but her attention was on the obstructed chutes.
“What is it?” Elise called from the entrance. Jin tucked himself deeper into the alcove.
“Some imbecile shattered the glass,” said Eleanor. Imbecile? He had shattered that with care, thank you very much. He had taken the time to flirt once, and it was biting him in the arse relentlessly.
Keep talking, Jin goaded, one eye on the vampire and the other on the door to the archive room as it slipped closed again, the hem of Flick’s gown disappearing inside.
32
FLICK
Flick was almost surprised when she made it into the marker archives intact. She was grateful that Arthie had knocked the dormer guard out. She couldn’t fathom trying to slip under both his and Eleanor Thorne’s noses undetected.
The clock was ticking; Laith still needed to apprehend the guard before he woke up, and she had little time to waste. The room was more bare-bones than the vampire’s fancy gown had suggested it would be. There was a wide ebony desk and chair in its center, then a comfy armchair and a sideboard by the door atop which sat a brass scale, polished from daily use.
“Now,” Flick said, tugging the silk gloves off her hands, “where is that log?”
An indignant meow responded, spooking her half to death. It was Laith’s kitten.
“Oh, hello there, little one.” Flick didn’t know how she had snuck in after her, but she wasn’t about to shoo away company.
And she had found the log.
It was on the desk, opened to a page with rows of numbers just as Matteo had described. What he had failed to mention was the reason why the vampire didn’t bother locking the door behind her each time she left her room.
The log itself was locked. It lay beneath a glass case whose latch connected to a series of levers that ran all the way to the brass scale on the sideboard. It was indeed used daily: Every time Eleanor accessed the log, she balanced the scale to unlock the glass box. She didn’t have to do a thing to lock it either—just grab the weights on her way out. The scale was still wobbling from her recent quick exit.
“No time to panic,” Flick told herself. The sideboard was too far from the desk for her to press down on the scale with one hand until the case unlocked while entering the numbers with the other. She searched the room for something she could use to balance it. The weights had to be with Eleanor. They were every bit a key, for there was no chance of someone finding the exact weight quickly enough to tamper with the log. And whenever Eleanor anticipated being gone for longer, she simply had to lock the door behind her.
It was smart. Flick thought Jin would appreciate it.
She plucked up the pen holder beside a fountain pen in a delicate stand and set it on the scale. It barely tipped.
The kitten meowed. Aha! Flick snatched her up and set her in the pan, which promptly fell with a clang. Too heavy.
Think, Flick. The weights had to be a reasonable load to be carried around. Something easy enough to slip into the indecently small pockets of a woman’s gown. Something as small as … a lighter.
Holding the kitten in one arm, Flick fished the lighter out of her pocket and set it in the pan. It was worth more than its weight in brass, more than the liquid gas inside its chamber, more than the wheel that kept it working. It was the love her mother once had for her. And it was enough.
It had to be.
The seals exhaled, unlocking the glass case with a sigh. Flick flipped over a single luxuriously thick page, fountain pen in hand, then froze at a sound. Laith’s kitten looked up at her with a curious tilt of her head.
And then the door swung open.
Flick grabbed her lighter off the scale and dove under the desk. She held her breath. The vampire stilled in that terrifying way, motionless and statuesque.
