Return to the Shadows Page 16

  “You do realize it’s a clutch purse. A very tiny clutch purse.”

  “So? I’ll just take a full size evening bag instead of the hand-held.”

  “You clear that with Mark?”

  “No, but I can’t see why he’d care, so long as I’ve got my share of the bombs with me. The thought of wearing explosives just doesn’t do it for me.” I barely managed to suppress a shudder that surely would have set Marta into another semi-brutal attack.

  “You and me both. Okay, that’s as good as it’s gonna get,” she pronounced, stepping back and whipping the velvet cape from around my neck.

  “You’re done?” My voice was thin with hope. Oh please let it be true...

  “Stand up and see for yourself.”

  I was out of the less than comfortable hard-backed chair without further ado. Hey, I was on the verge of a serious butt cramp—nobody had to tell me twice. I took a deep breath and spun around to face the enormous mirror that had been built into the gorgeous antique-looking dressing table—and gasped, wide-eyed, when I caught the full effect of my own reflection. I hardly recognized myself.

  I was encased in a sky blue gown that seemed to shimmer with the slightest movement I made. That part wasn’t much of a surprise, as I had donned the exquisite garment two hours before when Aries had come bearing it and a small fortune in jewelry, and Marta had announced that it was time to get ready. But to see it in the full mirror left me speechless. It fit like a second skin through the bodice, was halter-style at the neck, and bloomed into a wide, full skirt that reached all the way to my ankles. Tiny diamonds encrusted both the bodice and the hem, adding to its glam. It was a dress fit for a queen, or a princess, of which I was neither, but right then it was hard not to get caught up in the moment. Right then, I felt like royalty. Never mind that by the end of the night I would be armed with enough ammunition to blow up half a kingdom. I forcibly shoved that unfortunate reality away, focusing instead on the magic Marta had worked on my hair and make-up.

  Wide brown eyes stared back at me, thick-lashed and languid and shadowed just so. Smooth skin and full lips with just a hint of sheen completed the regal, fairytale princess look. Honeyed hair had been glossed to perfection and gathered high atop my head, with small tendrils left loose to curl around my nape and to frame my face.

  “Marta, my God...” I whispered, bringing a hand to the side of my face, to my hair, yet not daring to actually touch the masterpiece that she’d created. I hardly even felt the headache anymore.

  “Some of my best work, if I do say so myself,” she preened shamelessly.

  “It’s...it’s...” I stammered, struggling to find the words without sounding overly vain.

  “Beautiful.”

  I turned suddenly at the sound of his voice, my eyes snapping to his. Mark lounged in the doorway, and evidently was not at a loss for words.

  “Thank you.” I tried not to notice his intense once-over, turning back to the mirror to gaze at the total package Marta had created for this evening.

  “Thank me, I’m the one that did it,” Marta groused. “And it wasn’t easy, I can tell you that much.”

  This she directed at Mark’s grinning form.

  “Claire is breathtaking all on her own.”

  “Sure, but have you ever tried to get that girl to hold still?” She shook her head.

  “No, I can’t say that I have,” he drawled. “I like her when she’s on the move. Then again, making her hold still could prove to be interesting.”

  “Mark!” Marta was clearly scandalized. I groaned.

  “I’ll just go downstairs now,” I said in a rush, hurrying past Mark, only to have him to reach a hand out to halt me before I could pass into the hallway. For the briefest of moments, nothing else registered except for long, tanned fingers wrapped around my arm. Not only that, but he smelled really good—great actually. As much as my inner voice repeatedly nudged me to move, or pull away, or just say something, I continued to stand there, frozen in place like an idiot. Well... I shrugged. At least I was an idiot in a thousand-dollar dress. Hey, things could have been worse. With any luck, or rather, lack of luck, things were going to get much worse tonight in short order. That sobering thought had me glancing up to find Mark’s eyes still on my face, and sparkling with amusement.

  “If anyone gets to leave this room, it’s going to be me,” Marta announced, bustling past the two of us and shoving me into Mark in the process.

  His smile deepened when I sucked in all the breath left in my body, which coincidentally wasn’t much since I had only stopped holding my breath about two seconds prior to being thrust into him.

  “You look great, Claire.”

  The emphasis he put on my name didn’t escape me. “It must be hard to get used to.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Calling me Claire instead of Annabelle.”

  “Hmm.” He seemed to consider this. “It is, in a way. It’s still a little new. It’s been over a year, but I feel like it was only yesterday that you were Annabelle.”

  “Well, I haven’t been back for that long.” I tried to smile, wishing all the while I could kick myself for saying anything in the first place. The subject of our parting was still considered unstable ground. At least, that was the impression I got. I knew it made me damn uncomfortable at least. Mark had probably made a show of saying my true name with the express purpose of goading me into a reaction, and a discussion about how I’d lied about my name, and who I was, and...well, a lot of things. Yes, he probably did it on purpose so he could blame it on me if we argue, I thought uncharitably. Men were just like that.

  “No, you haven’t been back that long. You have, however, been gone a long time.” His eyes took on a guarded look. “But we’ve already talked that to death, haven’t we?”

  “Yes, pretty much.”

  “And, like I said before, I understand why you left. Really, at that point, what were you supposed to do? I get that you were out of options, so to speak. Truth be told,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “I applaud you for acting as quickly as you did.”

  “Yes, well, Mike helped...”

  “I wish you had chosen to do things a little differently before your situation became that desperate, of course.”

  “Uh...” Here we go.

  “If I had been there, things might have gone in a different direction that day.”

  “Yeah.” I set my teeth. “Straight to hell in a whole new direction.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “No, maybe I don’t. But neither do you. And what happened to ‘we’ve already talked this to death?’”

  I demanded, hands on my hips. I felt like telling him that he was being very unattractive with all this arguing. I was barely conscious of his scent or his nearness right then...almost.

  “Fine.” His hands came up in defeat. “You’re right. So. How long are you planning on staying this time?”

  “I don’t know,” I sputtered, feeling defensive—and with good reason. Mark wouldn’t shut up and let it go already. “I have no idea how long Ashley and I will be here. Which I already told you. What’s all this about?”

  “What? I’m not allowed to talk to you?” He frowned.

  “This has nothing to do with talking to me and you know it. Er. Wait.” I clutched my head, which was beginning to throb.

  “You’re going to mess your hair up doing that.”

  “Oh, honestly!” I fumed, too mad to care what the hell happened to my party hair.

  “Okay. All right. It’s tonight,” he confessed.

  “What about it?”

  “I don’t want you to do this.”

  “Mark, we’ve been over this. I have to do this. And I can do this. Jeez, I can’t believe you would think I can’t handle myself.” I shook my head, thoroughly irritated now.

  “It’s not that, Claire. I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself. More than capable,” he admitted. “I think I’d rather have you at my back t
han some of my men.”

  “Really?” My hands fell limp to my sides. He’d rather have me beside him than trained soldiers? Personally, I thought that was taking confidence a wee bit far....

  “Yeah, well, you’re tough.”

  “Yeah.” I smiled. “I am. I really am.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you all night long. If something happens to you—”

  “Then it happens.”

  “Sorry, but I can’t be so cavalier about that possibility.”

  “It’s reality.” I shrugged. “Believe me, no one hates the thought of me ending up six feet under more than me. But I don’t see that we have many other options tonight, do you?”

  “Sure, we can find someone else.”

  “Not on your life. I’m going with you, and that’s final. Besides, it’s too late to get anyone else and get them ready. And that’s assuming there’s anyone else in Terlain who is crazy enough to risk being beaten to death with Marta’s beauty products. Which I highly doubt.”

  “Yeah,” he snorted. “You know she only does stuff like that when she’s worried, right?”

  “Uh-huh, I figured as much. So. Are we done here? I was kind of hoping I would be able to get a cup of coffee before we leave.”

  “We have to be out of here in two hours, so I don’t see why you can’t. Just don’t let Aries or Marta see you drinking anything that could leave a stain on that dress.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” I smiled and headed downstairs.

  “Claire, wait.”

  “Hmmm?” I murmured distractedly, my thoughts otherwise occupied by the blessed caffeine I was about to consume.

  “We need to arm you.”

  “What?” My eyes went wide as I took in the small pile of straps and disk-like objects that I could only assume were the explosives. Oh no...

  “I need to get these on you first, okay?”

  “I have to wear them? Oh no, see—”

  “I’ve got to strap them to your legs. Sorry.”

  “Can’t I just carry them in my bag?”

  “No. Your purse is likely to be the first thing that gets searched by the guards on our way in. Standard procedure—never carry bombs in a purse.” He made an attempt at humor.

  “Damn,” I swore, marching back into the room and hiking up my dress.

  “You won’t even know they’re there,” he promised.

  “Right.”

  ***

  “Stop fidgeting, you look nervous.” Mark’s whisper cut through the night, dragging me out of the black mood I had fallen into immediately upon leaving the house.

  “See now, there’s a very good reason why I look nervous—I am.” And I wasn’t afraid to admit it.

  Really, was there any reason for me not to be shaking in my dress shoes? Saying goodbye to Ashley for what could very well turn out to be the last time was doing a number on my already frayed nerves. Not that she suspected we might never see each other again after this night; at least, I didn’t think she had any clue that all was not well this evening. Far as any of us could tell, my little angel really thought we were all just going to a ball, that her mother was having her first date in a very long time. She had stood on the front porch, sandwiched between Bob and Marta, grinning her innocent little girl smile and waving like mad, even running to the edge of the porch when we had reached the end of the yard and were nearly out of view to the trio chosen to stay behind and wait for our return.

  Lord, God, just let us return—preferably in one piece, I prayed, putting one foot in front of the other. Not that the task required much focus; the night that felt black as sin was in fact a star-strewn landscape that seemed to stretch endlessly before us. Even in the thickest part of the forest, the moonlight seemed to filter through the canopy of trees overhead to light our path. With Mark walking solidly by my side, it would have made for an incredibly romantic scene. Except for the bombs strapped to my thighs like garter belts gone horribly wrong, and the fact that we were not alone by any stretch of the imagination. Even though we couldn’t see them, I was all too aware of the hundreds of pairs of eyes in the trees and on the ground. The fairies would guard us every step of the way from the woods near Bob’s house clear to Oxborough. There were soldiers on the ground too, I knew, although I was unable to make out any of them either. Seventy-five percent of our guard was armed, and heavily so. Aries, armed with a wicked-looking blade, would trail us as far as Oxborough’s border; after that, she would fall back and help coordinate the soldiers who had been assigned to phase two of our mission.

  “Do you think this will really work?” I whispered.

  “If we can get into that party, then yes. If not...” He shrugged without slowing our pace.

  “If not?” I prompted.

  “We need to get into that party, let’s just leave it at that.”

  “Damn.”

  “Hey.” His hand tightened on mine. “We can do this.”

  “Right,” I nodded, smiling in the dark. “We’re almost there, aren’t we?” I hoped so at least. Anything over a mile in heels was insane, and I knew darn well the distance between Grandview and Oxborough was a lot more than a mile. But maybe we were nearing the end of our journey, since it felt like we had been on our feet forever and a day.

  “About another mile and a half.”

  “Ugh,” I moaned, slumping a little.

  “If you had let me carry you in the first place, you wouldn’t be in so much pain right now, Claire,” he pointed out.

  “No, I can walk.” I hoped.

  “You can take your shoes off on the way back,” he offered, obviously trying to be helpful. “After we finish our business, it won’t matter if your feet get dirty.”

  “Remind me again why we couldn’t take the car.” At least partway.

  “Because,” he responded with considerable patience. “Cars make noise, and we don’t want to be seen.”

  “I know.” I couldn’t quell the sigh that rose from deep within. “I’ll stop whining now.”

  “You will not,” he snorted.

  “Shut up, Mark.”

  He acknowledged the thinly veiled threat behind my words with a toss of his head and a chuckle, and we kept walking. And walking. And walking some more until finally, thankfully, we reached the edge of the forest. I could see the cobblestone streets of the town and a large building at the end of the street. It looked curiously like an enormous warehouse that was lit up like an airstrip and surrounded by several smaller, considerably less well-lit outbuildings.

  “Is that it?”

  “That’s it. Behold the annual masquerade ball. Lydia owns all of those buildings.”

  “They don’t look like much,” I commented, eyes darting around, scanning every inch of our new surroundings.

  “The smaller structures probably aren’t. Those are mostly glorified guard shacks. But the main building is supposed to look as grand as any mansion, inside at least. You need a minute to rest?”

  “No.”

  “Sit down anyway. You’re limping.”

  “You’d be limping too if you had just hiked a million miles in high heels,” I grumbled, but sat carefully on a nearby tree stump anyway. Mark was right; it wouldn’t do at all for me to walk into the ball with a noticeable limp, not when details meant everything tonight. We couldn’t afford to arouse even the slightest suspicion. Not only would we have no hope of getting past the front door, chances were good that we’d be killed on the spot and quietly disposed of. That wouldn’t stop the rest of our massive team from carrying out their part of the plan, but it would up their danger tenfold. And it wouldn’t make us any less dead. I shuddered, jumped to my feet, and took a few test steps, sans limp. All of a sudden, I was too keyed up to remain motionless. I wanted to get this over with, no matter the outcome, if for no other reason than the anticipation and the sense of doom hanging over my head were becoming unbearable.

  “We can take more time, if you need it. Not much, of course, but we
’ve got a few minutes.”

  I could feel Mark’s eyes on me in the relative gloom that seemed to hang over the town, tangible even here at the edge. I shivered, though the night was not especially cool. That Mark would allow me ample rest time was obvious, but still, the desire to run was strong, and becoming more so by the minute.

  No, it was best to get in, get out, and get the hell out of dodge.

  “Let’s do this.”

  Mark’s assessment of my bold statement lasted maybe another second before he finally nodded and silently took my clammy hand in his gloved one. A glance over my shoulder reassured me that we weren’t alone. I would have liked to think we would have been so brave as to undertake a mission like this even with just the two of us; after all, right was right and evil would always be there, waiting to be conquered by brave souls. Although I really didn’t consider myself brave, even knowing that there was an ever growing number of people who would have disagreed wholeheartedly with my self-assessment.

  We walked along the all but deserted cobblestone streets of the town, and the click of my heels echoed back at me every step of the way.

  “Where are all the people?” I whispered. I could have spoken the question at a normal volume, but on this particular night, Oxborough had a hushed, doom and gloom feel that seemed to permeate everything it touched, my own voice included. A rather dim backdrop for a lavish ball, unless you really stopped to consider the amount of sin that was slated to go on this night, the sheer magnitude of evil that was housed, for one night only, under one roof.

  “Anyone who’s not already at the ball is smart enough to stay home tonight.”

  “Except us.” I tried to smile.

  “Hurry along now, Alia, we wouldn’t want to miss the first waltz.” Mark’s voice rose a few notches as two burly guards emerged from around the side of the small wood and tin outbuilding that stood closest to the main house. The two men stepped out of the shadows and I forced my breathing to slow, despite the fact that they paid us little attention aside from a cursory glance at our formal attire. Either they weren’t running very tight security around the place or they had quickly determined that we posed no threat. I supposed it would be too much to hope for the first option.