Page 86 of Red Masquerade

“They are the other permanent residents of the house,” Vince said. When he said it, Sinclair’s eyes flicked upward before returning to his paper. “I trust them, so you can trust them, too, should you need anything.”

Though the indifference rolling off of Veronica said otherwise.

How did this come about? Where had he met these three, andwhyhad they earned his trust? And why did they live here? Did they not have their own places?

Séra clasped her hands together, a grin still plastered across her features. “I can’t wait to prepare you for the party! Just like old times.”

“Party?” It seemed I could only manage single-syllable words.

“Give it eight hours and this place will be packed full of people. I haven’t attended inmonths. I’m positivelydyingto dance again.”

“You can dance on your own, dear.” Sinclair tapped his cigarette against the crystal ashtray.

She shot him a look. “It’s not the same.”

Vince’s fingers curled against my back. We had just talked about this, but I hadn’t expected—

“Séra just returned this morning,” he said to me, as though he could read my thoughts. “She insists.”

“Well, why not?” she asked. “It’s been how long since we’ve thrown one?”

“A week,” Veronica said, finger tapping against the table.

“It’s alright,” I nodded, convincing myself. Parties meant crowds, hundreds—thousands—of people. Anyone could see me, recognize me, run to Lucas—ruin this whole thing. It had been two days andnothing, no sound from him, no police showing up at the door. I was waiting for him to show up with Father’s gun, and maybe, this time, he would pull the trigger.

“It could be fun.” I forced a smile.

“We’ll make it fun.” Séra grinned at me again, a flicker of mischief in her eyes. Maybe she was the same girl that readied me for my nights out before, but I had a feeling I had yet to truly know her. Our alliance perhaps had never ended, after all. She would know what was going on at home, at least for the last day or so.

Vince moved to stand in front of me. “Are you sure?”

There was no real reason for them now. Not really, not when I was here. In his arms.

But—if I wanted to know what was going on, to understand just what happened at those bloodletting parties deep in this house—

I looked up at Vince, meeting those steely eyes. A lock of his hair fell across his forehead, not yet held back by pomade. He hadn’t shaved, either.

“We can do it another time. I understand if you need some time—”

“I want to,” I said.

“We should go pick out our dresses,” Séra said, giddy with excitement. She nearly hopped on the balls of herfeet, coming to hug me, almost as if she couldn’t help herself. “I have so many that would look great on you.”

“Do let the girl breathe,” Sinclair huffed, straightening the newspaper.

“I have to say I was not expecting to party tonight.” I laughed again as Séra linked her arm with mine.

She’d never touched me so casually. Not without permission. But it was as though barriers had fallen overnight.

“Nonsense.” Séra grinned, teeth glinting. “Why stop partying when there’s so much to celebrate?”

Thirty

Séra’s closet was larger than the one I’d had at home.

Home. No, that place wasn’t my home any longer. Hadn’t ever been one, really, not since I was a child, since Father was still around.

An anxiety had settled itself into my chest, wrapping its spindly fingers around my heart. It squeezed when it wanted to, reminding me of what I’d done, at seemingly random moments, pulling my attention away from Séra’s soft hands and kind words.