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By now, I can tell the difference between guards and servants, but I know not to trust either of them. Numerous rooms I enter are filled with gleeful women who want to meet me and celebrate with me on this day.
I recognizesomeof them from the mountain god’s blessing ceremony, but I’m hazy about their names…and everything else that happened.
"Mia!" a woman cries when I stumble into the second floor study. She's tall and curvy and dark skinned. Long fangs extend past her lower lips like a sabertooth tiger. Her eyes flare with power as she watches me hungrily. "You must come and see us!"
Another woman, tall and reedy, and with green hair that looks disconcertingly like broccoli, glares at me over the top of her horned rim glasses, her eyes betraying none of the smile drawn over her teeth.
"Livonia, here, is going to be your cousin! Come on, Liv. It's the first human in your family, isn't it? Say hello and get her a drink."
They tug me into their little circle, and make catty remarks around me like I'm a child who doesn't understand their high class ways. Little do they know I've spent my life around people like them. The yacht club types, the country club members. People who know how to quietly brag about their money and accomplishments, while making it sound like they couldn't care less.
It's weirdly comforting to know the Raidh is the same, sort of. And a little disappointing, maybe. But I’ll take fangs and broccoli hair over yacht club guys any day.
Once they warm up and have a few drinks, Livonia is kind of a cool cousin. Turns out she’s five hundred years old and banged Napoleon.
“It washuge,”she whispers tipsily to me. “You’d think it would belittle, but it wasbig.”
As soon as I can, I excuse myself. Near the observatory, I find another pair of women laughing and talking. They could be twins.
At least, that’s what I thought at first.
They're both pretty. Their facial features are totally different. Their hair and eyes are the exact same color. It really makes them look similar. But they’re definitely not twins.
Do they just dress and act alike all the time?
"It's a curse," they say together, their voices blending in an eerie monotone. "In case you were wondering."
"I hope it...um, gets better?"
I feelsoawkward, but I smile and they nod. They don't smile back, but their powerful blue eyes track every curve of my body and every flow of my thin dress. They have a hungry gaze.
I feel a strange pull to join them. They beckon me with their eyes, but say nothing more. I pull myself away before it gets too awkward.
I don't know how long we all just stared at each other. That was weird. It must be their power. Or the curse.
Did I almost just catch a curse?
I remind myself to ask Fabien about them.
And that thought makes me sad.
Here I am, looking for the evidence to destroy him and his family. These strange, wonderful and -- yes -- sometimes annoying people. In other words, a family. I hate that I'm manipulating Fabien. I hate that I'm lying to all of these people. I hate that this is how I'm doing things.
I'm used to the hard lines of my old job. I find evidence, and then we catch the bad guys and prosecute them. I don't have to lie about who I am, and I don't have to pretend to marry someone. I didn't have to get close to anyone to do my job. Now, it feels like a trick. Like I'm cheating.
Like I'm playing dirty.
And I know Rasmussen would saythat's what it takes. To catch the really bad people, the worst criminals, the most dangerous terrorists. You have to play harder. You have to deceive. And maybe, sometimes, you cross the line.
But you tell yourself it's to keep people safe. So the darkness of this world doesn't spill over into theirs.
So I tell myself that, even if it feels like a lie. I head up to the third floor, hoping to find an area that's not packed with people. As soon as I get to the third floor landing, a group of men and women go silent and look at me.
They're all well-dressed, dripping in gold and silver and gemstones. They look much older than the others. And they eye me like they know perfectly well that I'm up to something.
It’s like a weird meeting of the Illuminati.
"Uh, this isn't the way I meant to go," I stammer, heading back down the stairs.
