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Victor smiles and brushes his thumb across my lip, a gesture that leaves me shivering. “I do.”

I collapse into him, burying my nose into the crook of his neck to breathe in the comforting, familiar scent of him. He tightens his arms around my waist, and I love that feeling of being locked in against his warm, strong body.

“Told you that you aren’t totally human.” He holds me a little tighter, and I can hear the slow, steady thud of his heart against my ear. “And I can’t wait to see what you’re capable of.”

30

VICTOR

Ican tell the gods were here, even if I don’t feel them myself. I felt it as soon as I stepped out onto the deck, how the air was strange and bright, like electricity was surging around us. And Penelope stood in the center of it, looking as beautiful as I’ve ever seen her. Something about the way the morning light came in through the trees made it look like she was glowing from the inside out.

The light to my darkness.

I squeeze her up to my chest now, her emotions rioting inside her. If I had any doubt about bringing Penelope to join in on Wolrath’s death, it’s gone now. I’m certain this murder isn’t just about my revenge, not anymore.

It’s about Penelope, about initiating her into the truth of herself. When I underwent the First Death all those years ago, I woke up as a Hunter. Penelope only gets one death—I’m certain of that, I can feel it pulsing in her blood—but she’s not meant to be human, either.

And that, I think, is the real reason I feel this urge to kill Wolrath. Not my vengeance, but Penelope’s initiation. It was always about her.

“Come on,” I mutter into her hair. “You want to see your costume?”

Penelope takes a deep breath, and as she pulls away, I get a sense of her trepidation, her excitement.

“It better not be ugly,” she says, smiling at me. That glow hasn’t faded from her skin.

“Now, why would I get you something ugly?” Before she can answer, I grab her hand and pull her into the house with me, and when she laughs, it feels good, feeling her fear dissolve into something close to happiness.

I tossed the bright orange bag from the costume store on the big, sprawling sofa in the living room, and she goes straight for it like it’s a beacon.

“Let’s see what you came up with,” she says, digging around in the bag. My heart thuds. I honestly spent far too long in that costume shop on Main Street. It was old-fashioned, like the kind I remember from seventy years ago: not cheap bags of polyester, but real clothes hanging on racks, everything mismatched like in a thrift store. A wall full of elaborate rubber masks, too. I’m sure that it’s where Nicholas Wolrath sends his party guests to pick out their costumes for his party, especially given the price tag. I didn’t mind paying, though.

A crinkle of plastic as Penelope turns toward me. The slinky black cat costume unfurls from one of her hands; the glittery black mask dangles from the other. She looks at me.

“A cat?” she says. Her emotions feel flat.

“You don’t like it?” I try to hide my disappointment. The costume was displayed on a mannequin—the sleek bodysuit with its long fur tail and matching black gloves, the fingers edged with spangly mirrored claws. As soon as I saw it, all I wanted was to see Penelope’s strong, lush body filling out the fabric.

But then Penelope breaks into a grin. “Honestly, I kind of love it.” She tosses the costume on the couch and slides the mask on over her head. It covers everything but her mouth, and its big green eyes seem to swallow me whole.

“There’s a wig, too,” I say.

“Oh, right.” She extracts the wig from the bag with a flourish: a sleek, platinum bob. She slides it on over the mask without bothering to tuck in her dark hair, but the wig is a little bit longer, and so the effect is clear enough. She looks completely different, even to me. “What do you think?”

“It’s perfect.” I glide up to her and lift the mask just enough to press a kiss to her mouth.

There’s a part of me that expects her to pull away, but she actually sinks so deeply into the kiss that for a moment, I think we’re going to wind up fucking on the polished wooden floors.

I stop myself, though, breaking the kiss so I can press my head against the smooth plastic of the mask. I can’t let myself be distracted. Everything about this is too important. For me. For her, too. That’s why I went to the costume shop without her—she doesn’t have the Hunter safeguards, so I have to protect her. She can’t be seen wandering around Clifwell more than she already has. She needs to be a ghost, a phantom that slips in and out of Wolrath’s party, leaving destruction in her wake.

The thought makes my cock stiffen.

“Are you okay?” Penelope pulls off the mask and the wig, revealing her big, pretty eyes and slightly flushed cheeks. “You seem—” She tosses both aside, waves her hand around like it’ll help her find the right words. “I don’t know. Like my mom when she would go too long without hunting.”

“It’s not that.” I pull Penelope over to the sofa, and we sink down together on its thick, leather cushions. She falls into me, resting her head on my shoulder, an oddly domestic gesture that takes me by surprise. I sneak my arm around her back, wanting to hold her in place.

“Then what is it?” She looks up at me. “I talked to David, by the way. The lawyer. He says they’re definitely holding Adrian until after the party.”

“Just like I thought.” I run my fingers along the top of her arm, relishing the heat of her skin. My thoughts are still churning around. “Penelope, I want you to come do this with me. I do. It—means a lot, that you⁠—”