Page 103 of Entombed By Blood
“This one is an earpiece, so you’ll be able to hear me and the others,” Finn explains as Frost takes his from the box and carefully presses it under the shell of his inner ear. I cautiously follow his lead, shivering as the cool, plastic touches my skin.
“This...” He pulls out a different box that looks more like it’s designed for jewellery than anything else. “Is your microphone and camera.”
Inside the box is a collar of black lace, hung with chains of ink-dark pearls. Finn smiles as he feels my reaction down the bond, and I—in turn—grin at how pleased he is to have gotten it right.
He removes it and discards the box before I can try to take it myself, smoothing the lace around my throat with careful fingers and fastening it tightly at the back of my neck.
“There. Now I can see and hear everything you do. One last thing…” His mouth turns down slightly as he fishes out a matching clutch purse. “In here is a syringe containing the same formula that Gideon used to knock you out after the ghouls attacked the Court. If Immy isn’t cooperating, or she’s too traumatised to run, use it to get her out of there.”
I take it from him, but don’t look inside. I feel guilty just having this, but I understand his logic. If Immy is anything like I was… I’ll need these drugs.
“Doesn’t Frost need any of this?” I ask, looking for another box.
The ghoul in question just grins. “No jewellery for me. My camera is hidden in one of my buttons.” He touches one of the gleaming black buttons on the collar of his jacket briefly, giving me a second to inspect it. I search but fail to find the hidden lens.
He offers me his arm. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Am I ready? To lie to my sire’s face and free my thrall and my sister? My stomach does a nervous little flip. I shouldn’t be worried. I’ve pulled off far more difficult rescues, with worse plans. Yet never against my sire.
I take a deep breath and nod, anyway.
“Let’s go.”
Frost helps me out of the jet and we both watch as the door seals shut behind us, rendering it invisible in the darkness of the alleyway. We step out into the street and head toward the source of the noise.
“Everyone else will be arriving in limos,” Frost warns me. “We’re going to have to sneak onto the red carpet.”
“Will that be difficult?” I ask, confused.
“No, I have a plan.”
Frost’s plan consists of using our speed to appear behind a long, black vehicle as it pulls up to a strange, cordoned off area of carpet which is being used by other guests. He yanks open the opposite door and manoeuvres us both into the back seat of the ‘limo’ just as the previous occupants exit. By the time we step out onto the carpet, it appears as though we were inside the car the whole time.
Men and women with cameras fervently take photographs of us as we pass, despite our masks. The clicks and flashes come so fast that they hurt my eyes and ears. A few face into the cameras themselves, talking animatedly. Frost weaves us through the noisy spectacle like he’s done this a thousand times, his face unreadable behind his mask.
Frost has chosen a classic half white, half black one, and it’s a good choice to help him blend in. I’ve seen several already and we’ve barely been here five minutes.
We follow the crowd across an impressive foyer and through an even larger pair of doors before we reach the enormous ballroom Cain has chosen to host this gala.
Even with my immortal eyesight, I struggle to make out the other side from the entrance. High above us, the moonlight is splintered into thousands of tiny rainbows by the glass ceiling. It plays across the black and silver leotards of the gymnasts swinging overhead on long silks. Their moves are perfectly choreographed with the eerie music of the string quartet on the stage in the centre.
On the floor above, a long balcony provides some of the guests with a view of the entire room, and I start searching for a staircase or something that might get us up there. That kind of view would give us an advantage.
Before I can search far, I’m distracted by the faint scent of blood. Of course, this is an event for the vampire elite, so it was inevitable this would happen, but it doesn’t make it any less inconvenient.
Scattered around the room are tables piled high with pyramids of crystal glasses full of crimson liquid. It’s hard to smell right now—with the scents of the people around me competing for dominance—but if we get too close, there’s every chance my thirst might make an appearance.
I drank from Finn before we left, but I don’t want to risk the mission, so I make a silent vow to avoid the refreshment tables at all costs.
Frost’s hand comes to rest at the small of my back, scalding me through the lace panel. He probably means the gesture to be comforting, but the contact between us makes the thrall bond vibrate with all the unspoken emotions festering between us.
At least my mask hides most of what I’m thinking from the rest of the world. I chose a full face one for that exact reason. The steel filigree is wrought into a creepy, yet feminine, skull shape which is secured behind my head with black ribbon hidden beneath my hair. I have no idea where Finn managed to get it, but it’s perfect.
“Does anyone have eyes on Morwenna or Vane?”The earpiece Finn hooked me up with distorts his voice, and I instantly dislike it.
Frost shakes his head even though Finn can’t see him. “Nothing yet. We’re going to do a quick sweep of the room.”
“The instant my sire sees us, we’ll lose our ability to move unnoticed,” I remind him.
