Kaden snorted. “Mirabella is poison. But no one throws a party like her.”
I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it. We’d reached an old cemetery surrounded by a sagging wrought-iron fence half choked by weeds and brambles. Gnarled trees stood sentinel over the graves, their trunks stooped and twisted as though they, too, had grown tired of the place.
Headstones jutted out at uneven intervals, leering at us through the long shadows cast by moss-covered trees. Some of the stones were worn so smooth that the names carved along the faces were totally illegible. Others were cracked or broken clean in two. A statue of an angel stood near the leaning gates, her face half covered with lichen, as if she were slowly being consumed by the land.
As we rounded the corner, the derelict cemetery gave way to a neat hedgerow and another foreboding iron gate. A huge padlock hung from a chain around the bars, but Kaden merely ran a finger down it, and the lock clicked open obediently.
I hesitated only briefly as he opened the gate before following him down an immaculate tree-lined walkway. The gate swung shut with a loud clatter, and I got the off-putting feeling that I’d entered another world entirely. Here the air was heavy and sickly sweet, as if the grounds themselves were trying to lure any visitors into a stupor.
For several minutes, the only sound was the crunch of our footsteps on gravel. No birds squawked. No insects chirped. Even the trees seemed to be holding tight to theirbranches, as if every living thing feared awakening the predator that slumbered nearby.
Finally, the house came into view, and I sucked in a breath. Made entirely of buff-colored stone, the manor loomed over the grounds like a ruthless empress. Its arched windows were dark, but I felt a sinister presence within — as if the house itself had been lying in wait to claim its next visitor.
My unease mounted as we approached the front door, where a tarnished brass knocker in the shape of Medusa’s head glinted in the moonlight. Her chin was lifted, exposing the long line of her neck, and her eyes were rolled back in ecstasy.
Kaden didn’t knock. Instead, he ran one long finger down the center of the door — a lover’s caress.
Goosebumps sprang up all over my arms as Medusa’s eyes rolled forward, snapping onto him.
I jumped, but Kaden remained perfectly still as her mouth opened to reveal two long, gleaming fangs. The snakes protruding from her scalp began to writhe, lifting their heads from the door to face Kaden, hissing and bobbing as they regarded him.
Kaden rolled his eyes, and the snakes gave another spiteful hiss. Then Medusa’s eyes returned to their previous position, and I heard the click of a lock. The door swung open with a loud creak, and Kaden let himself inside.
I didn’t feel the unpleasant tug of wards as I crossed the threshold, but the second the door snicked shut behind me, the house seemed to swallow us whole. An unnatural darkness pressed in on all sides, and my skin prickled with unease.
“Is your friend . . . a vampire?” I asked uncertainly.
“She is.”
My stomach lurched. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised — we were in the Quarter, after all. But the thought of Kaden befriending, possibly evenbedding,a vampire made me feel sick, and I was glad he couldn’t see my face.
Just then, a ball of faelight beamed into existence, floating above our heads. Kaden waved a hand, and the faelight split into a dozen tiny orbs, fanning out across the parlor to illuminate the heavy iron sconces that lined the walls.
My gaze followed the streaks of light up to the arched cathedral ceiling, where shadows seemed to devour the faelight before it could reach all the way to the rafters.
A huge stone staircase swept along the wall to my left, and a stuffy little parlor beckoned from the right. A narrow stone passageway stretched before us, its walls lined with dusty oil paintings of foggy moorlands.
Kaden moved through the house like someone who had been there many times before, summoning little balls of faelight as he went. Dust shifted under our feet, carrying the scent of unwashed bedsheets, rotten floorboards, crushed bone, and blood. My whole body recoiled at the smell.
“We’ll need to be quick,” said Kaden, stopping in front of an arched wooden door and producing an enormous hickory stake. It was so large that he couldn’t possibly have had it on him for our walk through the Quarter, unless he’d kept it concealed in some kind of magical pocket.
He took my hand gently in his and pressed the stake into my palm. My fingers curved around the smooth woodautomatically, and when I met Kaden’s gaze, he looked uncharacteristically grim.
“They shouldn’t bother us before dark, but —” His lips became a thin line, and I could have sworn those silvery-gray eyes landed on the half-moon scars along my neck.
My skin prickled where his gaze brushed over those old fang marks, and I had to fight the urge to cover them with my hand. “I thought Mirabella was your friend.”
Kaden cracked a salacious grin that made my insides burn. “She has been, at times.”
I made a sound of disgust and tightened my grip on the stake. It shouldn’t have bothered me that he’d fucked Mirabella, but it did.
“Their crypt is down there,” he said, nodding at the door. “If any of them wakes up early . . .” He took a quick breath. “Just go for the pool.”
“The pool?” I repeated, frowning in confusion.
“It’s the doorway to the in-between. Mirabella had this whole damn pile of bricks built on top of it. She’s . . . fond of collecting things. Things she can show off to her guests whenever she hosts parties.” A muscle ticked in Kaden’s jaw, and his gaze seemed to sear right through me as he said, “Whatever happens, do not reveal who or what you are. Mirabella’s collection is not limited to rare magical objects.”
I shuddered at the implication, but Kaden had already turned toward the door. There was a heavy clang as he released the latch, and the door swung open to reveal a set of steep stone steps that reeked of old blood.
