Page 4 of A Fate Everlasting

The host eyed her, unimpressed. “Arden’s?” He mumbled something under his breath, turning to hold the door open. “He’s in the Maritime Suite. Turn left. It’s the first room on your right.”

Lily smirked as she slipped him a crisp hundred and sauntered inside. She always carried herself like that, confident and untouchable. It opened doors for us, ones we shouldn’t have been allowed through.

The polished dark wood gleamed under dim green lamps, and the runner stretched endlessly, like it led somewhere no one had ever returned from. I felt it even here, the low hum of the Thread, that strange pull stitched into my spine.

My attention snagged on an old photograph.“House Seraphim, ‘59.”The title was barely legible. I wanted to read the small description beneath it, but Lily huffed and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me toward the suite. “What sort of members’ club is this exactly?”

“The insanely elite kind. Trust me. You’ll like Arden.”

The Maritime Suite smelled of cigars, leather, and something faintly metallic, like old blood. We felt our way toward a bar cart, and Lily quickly poured us two glasses of a dark-colored spirit. I scanned the room, noticing the leather sofa where two guys lounged.

The first was obscenely attractive, draped in a navy suit, his blonde hair perfectly tousled, and he possessed a bone structure designed chiefly for breaking hearts or starring as the heartthrob in black-and-white movies. It took me only a heartbeat to recognize him.

Hugo Fox. “Holy shit, Lily, is that?—”

“Yes. Be cool,” she hissed.

Beside him, his friend watched me, as if he’d already heard everything I might say. He knew he didn’t need to introduce himself to me. “The infamous Arabella.” Arden’s smile sharpened. “Do you like the manor?”

I hesitated. “It’s nice.” I forced a smile, though I was sure it wasn’t convincing. I felt like a thousand ants were crawling overmy skin, like everyone in the room knew what had happened to me only days before.

“Don’t lie.” He smirked. “Help yourself to whatever you need, okay? Hugo, why don’t you show Arabella around,” Arden suggested casually, his eyes fixed on Lily.

I wanted to decline, but Lily’s pleading eyes stopped me. She needed me out of the way. I hated that I was still trying to earn her approval, like we were twelve again, and I didn’t want to be left out.

“Sure,” I said, only somewhat reluctantly. I cast a look over my shoulder as we parted. Lily’s description of Arden was definitely accurate, hewasweird. He was scanning the room, no longer looking at her. Something about it made my stomach knot.

Hugo refilled my drink, and we wandered into the darkened corridor. “You’ve known Arden for a long time?” I asked as we paused by another faded photograph of a member from decades ago. I took a long sip of my drink, unable to shake the feeling that I was beingwatched.

“Since childhood,” Hugo said with a shrug. “And you and Lily?”

“Same story,” I replied. My heart stuttered in warning. “Though it’s sort of the end of the road for us. I’m being shipped off tomorrow.”

“Shipped off?” His eyes flicked to something distant, like he was processing my words in a way that didn’t quite sit right. His gaze slid to the hallway for a brief moment, and in that instant, I caught a glimpse of something dark behind his eyes. Was it a flash of guilt?Regret? It was gone before I could place it.

He was so easy to talk to, the kind of person you told things to without meaning to. I kept expecting him to spot someone flashier and excuse himself, but he didn’t. Instead, he angled closer, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

A faint draft teased the corridor, carrying a damp smell and then something smoky, like snuffed candles. It brushed across my neck, leaving a chill that stood every hair on end. Somewhere deeper in the manor a door slammed, nothing unusual, but the sound lingered, echoing.

My glass slipped through my fingers. It hit the floor and burst, but instead of a bright shatter the noise was oddly muffled, swallowed by the hush around us. I felt my cheeks heat as I blinked away the embarrassment, bending to collect the shards. That was when the darkness on the far wall seemed to lift, edges unraveling like smoke.

“Hugo…?” My voice barely carried as I watched the shadows peel from the wall and curl, stretching toward me like the tacky ends of a web. Hugo followed my stare, but I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.

“Are you seeing this?” Hugo asked with trepidation.

They swirled ahead of us, the darkness behaving with a strange sentience that wasn’t a trick of the light. “Yeah,” I froze. “I see it.”

At once the shadows gathered, quickening as they lunged toward us, tendrils outstretched. My feet rooted to the floor, my mind fixed on understanding.

Hugo’s hand seized mine. “Move!”

The paralysis snapped. I stumbled forward, the Thread yanking me like a puppet on strings. Again, the shadows surged.

Terror lanced through me as I tore down the hall, the shadows close behind. It wasn’t darkness I felt from it, but hunger. Whatever this thing was, it smelled the break in me, the seam between grief and guilt where something tender still bled.

“Do something, Arabella,” the Thread hissed, louder now. I bolted after Hugo, thoroughly lost.

The manor groaned against the wind, waves thrashing. I tripped, caught in the velvet runner, and hit thefloor hard. The shadow surged. The louder the Thread screamed, the quieter my own voice became, until it felt like I was losing myself, dissolving into the shadows.

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