Page 42 of A Wild Darkness

“How long should we dance for?”

A man dressed in a black tuxedo slightly shorter than me briskly shoves through the crowd from my peripheral. But despite my instincts for danger kicking up, I need to remain controlled for her. “Let’s give it a little while longer⁠—”

But before I can finish my sentence, I turn Stevie to the side in a twirl, blocking her from the unknown figure. Then, as quickly as he approaches, he walks right past us, but not before there’s a slight tug on the outside pocket of my jacket.

This is it.

They’ve made contact.

Squaring my shoulders, I take one more quick glance around the ballroom to find all the couples still dancing, then lower my head, bringing my lips to her ear.

“Someone slipped something in my pocket,” I whisper.

Her chest grows up a sharp rise. “Oh god.”

“Let’s go stand by the bar. There’s a lot more people over there. We’ll be able to read it without drawing any attention to ourselves.”

She nods, but her body is stiff.

Hand in hand, I guide Stevie off the dance floor and make my way through the crowds of people until we get to a spot to the side of the bar, close to the wall.

I pat her back, calming her, then with the other hand, I remove the folded paper from my pocket. With one more look around, I open it to read it.

Written in fine-tipped black ink is a single word: Library.

“What does that mean?” she asks.

“I think they want us to meet them in the library.”

“When? Now?”

“There’s no time stated, so I assume so.”

Stevie adjusts her mask in place, her hands slightly shaky. “Okay. But where is the library?”

Sensing her nervous energy increasing, I place two fingers under her chin, lifting it to meet her brown eyes. I need her to keep it together, and I know she can—maybe she needs a little encouragement first. “It’s going to be fine. You can do this.”

She tries to laugh it off. “Thanks.”

“Now, let’s locate the library.” If my cousin were here, he would have had this place mapped already. I did check out a quick map of the place on their website, so at least I have somewhat of an idea.

Making a quick sweep of the ballroom, I find what appears to be the entrance to a long hallway on the far side of the room. As her heels click on the hardwood floors, we walk past waiters carrying more champagne, at which I gently give Stevie a disapproving eye when I see her glance at it. She obliges me this time. When we approach the entryway, there’s a red velvet rope closing it off. A place they don’t want regular guests to visit.

“This way,” I tell her, slipping between the wall and the golden pole holding up one end of the rope. They wouldn’t have any security guards, since this is a charity event open to the public.

We arrive at a long hallway where amber-colored sconces and massive paintings of random people and gothic graveyards decorate the maroon walls.

“I like the décor,” Stevie says nervously, maybe keeping her mind occupied on something else.

“Why am I not surprised?” I quip, poking at her for liking the outdated décor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before I can answer, I see a black figure dressed in a cloak with a hood pulled up to cover the top half of their face. The figure gives us a subtle wave, indicating for us to follow him before disappearing behind a door.

“Here we go.” I blow out a breath.

As we approach the end of the hallway, I can hear the way her breath quickens. Two tall double doors stand in front of us, one propped slightly open. Before I palm the stained wood, I look back at Stevie, who is on my heels.