Page 93 of Twisting Beauty

DEARGÁN

The kids at the boy’s party moved in loose clusters around the bonfire, masks flashing in the firelight whenever someone turned their head.

I noticed him because he stood apart from the nearest knot of guests.

He had no drink in his hand, standing close enough to the tree line that he could disappear into it in seconds if he needed to. He wore a half-mask that looked like a skeleton’s jaw, hiding the lower half of his face, but there was a professional stillness in the way he held himself.

His gaze cut through the crowd without wavering.

I followed his line of sight.

Liath stood in the gap between the rose hedges with Lorcan, the firelight catching the side of her face and turning the dark red of her hair molten. Even from this distance, I could see the edges of her cover beginning to fray.

The little bastard in the skeleton mask was watching her.

Recognition stirred. I swear I’d seen him before at Ravenwood. He’d been there earlier, watching Liath then too, keeping enough distance not to draw her attention but not enough to escape mine.

I kept to the edge of the trees as I circled around the party until I came up behind him. He didn’t hear me over the crackle of the bonfire and the music bleeding out into the night.

Liath slipped away from Lorcan and disappeared into the maze.

The stranger’s head craned after her.

I grabbed the front of his jacket and slammed him back against a tree hard enough to shake leaves loose from the branches above us.

I yanked down his mask, revealing a determined jawline and a smirk. Recognition flared. I knew him from somewhere. But where?

“Who are you?” I said, my hand tightening in his collar. “And why are you watching her?”

He didn’t even flinch. “Steady on, Deargán.”

The sound of my name in his mouth made every muscle in my body go taut.

I leaned in closer. “Who are you?”

His mouth twitched. “Call me Bas.”

Bas. Pronounced Bawss. Death in Irish.

I kept my grip on him. “Okay, Death boy. Why are you stalking her?”

He snorted, glancing meaningfully at my fist knotted in his jacket. “Kettle. Pot.” His gaze flicked back to mine. “Take your hands off me, and I’ll tell you.”

I let go of his collar, but I didn’t step back. My body stayed coiled, every instinct primed to put him through the tree if he reached for a weapon or tried to run.

He straightened his jacket with irritating calm. “I was sent by one of Liath’s friends.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

“By who?” I demanded.

“Ava.” He said it with weight. Like she mattered.

I remembered Liath’s raven-haired friend from Dublin. The one I thought might make the most trouble after Liath disappeared. Turned out I was right.

“Okay, so Ava sent you,” I said to Bas. “How did you find her?”

Bas folded his arms. “Liath’s father hired a PI to find out where she disappeared to after you kidnapped her from behind the Vault.”