Page 98 of Tainted Souls
Finally.
I followed, keeping to the edges of the street, shadow to shadow.
But when they turned the last corner toward the outer road, they were gone, as if the night itself had swallowed them whole.
An absolute waste of my time.
I splash icy water over my face, snapping me back from the edges of my spiraling thoughts, but the relief is fleeting. The cold bites, breaking through the tight knot of anxiety gripping me.
My hands find the basin, the stone cool beneath my fingers.
Breathe.
I wipe my face with a rough cloth, but the unease lingers.
Tonight will demand more than I’m ready to give.
A loud knock at the door signals the redhead’s return. She sweeps in carrying a small vanity case and a pair of heeled shoes that match the dress. “It’s time,” she announces, setting down her burdens. “Let’s get you ready.”
I walk out of the bathroom reluctantly, allowing her to help me into the dress. The fabric is soft against my skin.
She works quickly, her fingers deft as she fastens clasps and adjusts the fall of the material. “I’m Irene, by the way.” She smiles as she circles me, checking the fit. “I forgot to introduce myself earlier.”
“Seraph,” I say, but she already knew that.
I watch her reflection in the mirror as she opens the vanity case, an array of cosmetics within.
With graceful movements, she applies powder to my face, color to my lips and cheeks, shadow to my eyelids. The transformation is subtle but effective, enhancing without disguising.
“How long have the Ravens been in Mythcrest?” I venture, trying to keep my tone conversational, as if I’m merely making small talk.
“Long enough to become part of its fabric.” She works on my hair next, twisting strands into an elegant half-up. “The pin, please.”
I hand her the black, filigreed hairpin she’s gesturing toward. “And Revenant? Has he always been your leader?”
She meets my eyes in the mirror. “We don’t use that term around here.”
There’s no answer to my question.
“Well, I don’t know his real name.”
Her hands slow momentarily before resuming their work. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to get acquainted more properly tonight.”
I try a different angle. “Why does he hate me so much?”
Me hating him makes perfect sense. The other way around? Not so much.
“Hate is a strong word.” Irene smiles, fingers never pausing. “He’s cautious with outsiders. Always has been.”
Finally, she secures the mask over my eyes, tying the satin ribbons behind my head. The world narrows, my peripheral vision limited by the curved edges of the leather.
“There,” she says, stepping back to assess her work. “Perfect.”
When I look in the mirror, a few wispy strands framing my face, a stately version of me stares back.
I turn to face her directly then, abandoning any pretense of casual interest. “What is his relation to my mother?” For a moment, I think I’ve pierced through her composed exterior.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with you.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s a new firmness to it that signals the end of that line of questioning. “Our leader will, when he deems it appropriate.” She offers her arm. “Shall we?”
