I hesitated. Maybe thiswasa terrible idea.
Grim looked agitated as he pounded on the door again. A low growl rumbled from his throat, vibrating with menace. It nearly made me laugh.
“Feodora!” he shouted, throwing me a sharp glance before seizing the tiger-shaped door knocker and slamming it again. “Feo, open up!”
We’d spent hours in the car, stopping only twice—for food and a bathroom I regretted seeing. Grim barely spoke, grunted at most, and drove far too fast for comfort.
My stomach growled, loud and theatrical, reminding me I’d made the right choice not to leave my large fry in the car. I popped one into my mouth as Grim fumed beside me. The circular drive was packed with cars I’d only seen in magazines: sleek neon sports cars and blacked-out SUVs.
The ocean roared just beyond the estate, a salty breeze laced with citrus winding through the winter air. We’d made it to the Hamptons in record time—five hours, thanks to Grim’s terrifyingly efficient driving. He hardly spoke, answering most of my questions with one-word grunts.
“If this is such a bad idea,” I said, licking salt from my thumb, “why don’t we just leave?”
He tracked the movement with laser focus, then glared. “No.”
Suddenly, the door swung wide open to reveal an older woman in a vibrant patterned kaftan, arms swirling in giant circles. A huge grin stretched across her face.
“Death, baby!”
Her voice, paired with the strobes of light behind her, screamed eccentric. I adored her immediately, if only because she’d managed to upset Grim.
He scowled past her glee, eyeing the wild party inside where there were writhing bodies in glitter and feathers, dancing without rhythm or rules.
I laughed. It was chaos. It was perfect.
“Don’t encourage her,” Death growled at me.
I raised my hands, all innocence. “I have no dogs in this fight.”
Just then, a woman approached draped in sequins, red lipstick smeared across her mouth. She ran her fingers across Death’s chest, sultry and sure. My jaw tensed involuntarily, until Death scowled and brushed her off, his upper lip curled back in disgust.
I smirked.
“You brought me a gift!” Feodora clapped her hands, a cacophony of jingling bangles. Then she pulled me into a hug that could’ve cracked my ribs. “I’ve heard so much about you, dear.”
My arms hovered awkwardly, not wanting to wipe fry grease on her gorgeous kaftan.
She pulled back to look at me, her strange, iridescent eyes locking with mine. Behind her pupils, somethingmoved—colors swirling like oil on water. “Ahhh… I see,” she said, voice dropping to something softer. Ethereal. Then her smile faded, and her expression shifted. “Come,” she said, already turning away. “Somewhere quiet.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes from her as I followed in silence through the mansion, brushing past bodies and partygoers, rich fabrics and jeweled laughter blurring at the edges. Grim moved at my back, his body pressed close against mine.
Feodora led us into a library drifting toward a leopard print settee at the center of the room. With a flick of her wrist, the double doors slammed shut behind us.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. After over a century steeped in magic—even cursed as I was—it still stirred something in me. Awe, maybe. Or wonder.
Watching it manifest in the world never got old.
The library was stunning. Towering bookshelves paraded their colors, a rainbow around the room. Light caught on the spines of ancient texts, making them gleam. Random furniture was tucked into corners and on top of layered patterned rugs. Stacks of books littered coffee tables and a large desk at the back of the room, where the shelves parted to frame a massive window.
Outside, it was black. The glass reflected my outline in the dark, but beyond that, soft movements blurred through the pane, snow flurrying, tall grasses swaying. The ocean sleptbeyond it all, and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to curl up with a book.
Feodora watched me closely. Her ebony skin gleamed in the warm light, hands clasped beneath her chin. Her beauty was otherworldly; kind eyes, sharp cheekbones, thoughtful poise.
Grim leaned against one of the shelves, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. He looked absurd among the riot of color, dressed in black from head to toe, as if he’d just been to a funeral…
Which, to be fair, he had.
“What,” he barked, glowering between me and the woman on the couch.
