Web of Lies (Page 58)

"I think I can manage."

Roslyn ignored my sarcasm. She opened a drawer on one of the vanity tables, drew out an envelope, and handed it to me. A sunburst done in gold foil glittered on the creamy stationery. The rune for fire – Mab Monroe’s personal symbol.

"That’s one of the invitations for tonight," Roslyn said. "You’ll need this too."

She reached back into the drawer and pulled out a black velvet choker. A rune dangled from the middle of the wide band – a silver heart with an arrow through it. The symbol for Northern Aggression. The rune that would mark me as one of Roslyn Phillips’s girls and part of the evening’s entertainment.

I took the choker from her and rubbed my thumb over the rune. The metal felt cool under my fingers. "Thank you, Roslyn, for your help."

She stared at me. "No thanks are needed, remember? I owe you. But when the other girls come in to get ready for tonight, we’re going to report that invitation, necklace, outfit, and wig as being stolen. Xavier will take down the report. Of course, he’ll be busy working the door tonight, so he won’t call to tell me about it or even turn it into the cops for a couple hours. That should give you plenty of time to do whatever you’re planning to do."

I nodded. I couldn’t blame the vampire for covering herself. If things went badly, and they just might, Tobias Dawson and Mab Monroe would probably come knocking on Roslyn’s door, demanding to know why I’d been wearing one of the vampire’s rune necklaces and how I’d snitched one of the hookers’ invitations to the party. This way, Roslyn had an out.

"And do me another favor," the vampire said, her dark eyes serious behind her silver glasses.

"What?"

"Whatever you’re going to do to Dawson tonight, don’t get caught," Roslyn said. "I don’t want to have to deal with the honky-tonk bastard any more than I already have."

I gave her a cold smile. "Don’t worry. If I get caught, Tobias Dawson will be having too much fun with me to even think about bothering you."

Chapter Twenty-Five

At eight o’clock that evening, my taxi pulled into the long, snaking driveway that led up to Mab Monroe’s mansion.

Given her status as the city’s richest and deadliest citizen, Mab Monroe lived in the biggest, most impressive home in Ashland. The gray stone structure soared fifteen stories into the air, making it taller than some of the downtown skyscrapers. The mansion’s three equalsize wings formed a wide, upside-down W-shape. Tall, skinny windows fronted each floor, along with crenellated balconies. A twelve-foot-tall stone fence ringed the mansion itself, which was set back more than a mile from the main road. From the research Fletcher Lane had done over the years, I knew the expansive, manicured grounds featured several gardens, three greenhouses, an aviary, a golf course, copses of woods, and a small lake. Along with giant patrols, guard dogs, assorted magical trip wires, and some other nasty surprises.

A light spotlighted a red banner draped over one of the balconies in the center wing of the mansion. The enormous piece of heavy fabric featured a rune done in shimmering gold – a round circle surrounded by several dozen curled, wavy rays. A sunburst. The symbol for fire. Mab Monroe’s personal rune. The same one on the invitation in my purse.

The driver fell into the flow of traffic going through the open wrought-iron gates that designated the entrance to Mab Monroe’s estate. The yellow taxi seemed out of place among all the stretch limos crawling up the curving driveway like fat, black beetles. It took twenty minutes for the driver to maneuver all the way up and stop in front of the entrance.

My gray eyes flicked over the security. Five giant guards roamed through the line of limos, opening doors, helping people out of their vehicles, directing traffic, and making sure the waiting drivers weren’t getting into too much trouble drinking or smoking on the sly. Two more giant guards stood by the front double doors that led into the mansion, flanking a smaller human holding a large clipboard.

"That’ll be twenty bucks," the driver growled.

"Twenty bucks? You only drove me a couple of miles."

Earlier this evening, I’d taken the precaution of parking a car on the side of the road just beyond Mab Monroe’s estate. An old, battered burner vehicle with fake registration and fake plates. I’d put a white trash bag in the window, left the hood up, and scattered a few tools by the side of the road. All designed to make it look like the car had broken down and someone was coming right back for it. The car was my insurance policy, in case I needed to make a quicker getaway than the one I had in mind. Once I’d put the car where I wanted it, I’d hiked over to the closest anonymous coffee shop and called the cab to bring me here.

"Twenty bucks," the driver said again.

Since I didn’t want him to remember me, I quit arguing, paid him, got out, and walked toward the stairs that led up to the main entrance of the mansion. I could hear it, of course. With fifteen stories of solid, stacked stone looming above me, I’d have to be deaf not to. The stone whispered of power and money, the way I’d always thought it would. But there were other vibrations in it too.

Fire, heat, death, destruction. But perhaps most disturbing was a touch of madness that trilled like a whippoorwill’s cry through the solid rock, as though the stone itself had somehow been tortured until it broke. The murmurs grew louder, harsher the closer I got to the mansion, until all I could hear was the stones’ wailing cries.

I gritted my teeth and blocked out the noise of the stones’ unending pain. My only concern was Tobias Dawson, getting close enough to kill him, and getting away afterward.

Not the insanity that permeated the foundation of Mab Monroe’s mansion – or why it made me want to seriously hurt the Fire elemental.

I walked up the steps and stopped in front of the double doors.

"Invitation?" the man with the clipboard asked.

I pointed to the black velvet choker around my throat – the one with the heart-and-arrow rune on it. "I believe this is all the invitation I need, sugar. But here’s the hard copy too." I gave him a winsome smile and handed over the engraved invitation Roslyn Phillips had slipped me.

The man stared at the heart-and-arrow rune a moment; then his eyes swept over the rest of my body. Behind him, the two giants also leered at me. Looked like Tobias Dawson wasn’t the only one here tonight with a thing for busty blondes.

The man with the clipboard pulled his attention away from my boobs and checked the name on the invitation.

"I assume you know the rules for tonight, Candy?"

I nodded. "Yeah, sugar, I know how to behave myself. I’m a pro."

Before Finn and I had left the nightclub, Roslyn had given me a list of rules Mab Monroe had sent her for the party guys and girls. Basically, Roslyn’s hookers were to make themselves available to anyone at anytime during the course of the evening and do anything – anything –