The Black Tide (Outcast 3)

“Yes.” I smiled. “How long have you and your lady been together?”

“A number of years now. Our arrangement—” He hesitated, an oddly calculating light touching his eyes. “—suits us.”

Curiosity stirred—about him, and about his unnamed lady friend. I touched his arm lightly and unleashed my seeking skills. “I do hope tonight doesn’t tax her strength and send her back to her sickbed.”

Images began to flick through my mind. They were fragile things, but filled with desires and urges that were, I suspected, not the norm for those of the ruling houses—at least if Charles was anything to go by. Julius Valkarie liked to play with leashes and ropes, and he had a preference for boys who were very, very young. As young as Bear, had he been alive.

A shiver that was part disgust, part anger ran through me, and it took great control to keep my touch light on his arm when all I wanted to do was punch him.

“Are you cold?” he said, his expression a weird mix of cold amusement and concern.

“A little.”

I dug deeper into his mind. Seeking information this way wasn’t ideal—generally, when using touch rather than sex, it was better to have a specific question or item in mind rather than a more open slather, grab-everything approach. The latter often resulted in unwanted information—like his sexual preferences, and the fact that the only person he really cared about was Julius Valkarie. I narrowed my focus and attempted to find more about his partner. Fleeting images of a tall woman rose, but she had little more substance than one of my ghosts. It seemed she was the very last person he was thinking about right now.

“Would you like your coat retrieved?” he asked.

I pulled my hand away and resisted the urge to wipe the feel of him from my skin. I didn’t care about his bisexuality or his fetishes, but I drew the line at anything involving children. “I’m sure another of these fine champagnes will warm me up.”

As he motioned to one of the blue-clad figures, Cat’s energy hit me, sizzling across my skin like fire. Something was very wrong.

More than just wrong, she said. Branna just walked into the ballroom.

Wasn't that just what we needed right now. But how in Rhea's name did Branna even get in? He wasn't an elite—he was both an outcast and a mercenary. At the very least, the fact that he lived in Chaos rather than Central should have set off a multitude of alarms.

Is he disguised? I leaned forward a little, trying not to be overly obvious about it, but the seating area was too far inset to give any vision of the raised foyer area.

No, Cat said. He comes as himself. And he wears the charms.

Which meant we needed to stop him before he got anywhere near me. Is he just wearing the two?

No, four.

So he hadn’t yet managed to give a set to Dream—was that why he was here now? What other reason could there possibly be for him being at an event like this?

“What would madam like to drink,” a polite voice said.

My gaze jumped up to the blue-suited man who stopped in front of me. “A champagne, please.”

“Indeed.” He plucked a fluted glass from the silver tray he was holding and handed it to me. “Would you like anything to eat?”

“No, thank you.”

Another chime sounded, louder this time, and the babble of voices began to die down.

“Things finally begin,” Julius said. “Though I do rather hate these formal bits of the evening.”

“Except, of course,” I murmured, “when the formal bits require your participation.”

His gaze shot to mine, his surprise quickly dissolving to amusement. “Indeed, you are right. And I begin to see why Charles is so enamored with you.”

Branna is on the top of the steps, Cat said.

Can I push him down them? Bear said. Please.

“Charles is an eminently sensible man,” I said to Julius, and then added silently, You can't push him down the stairs. It would be too obviously an attack, and could well tell Dream we're here.

He's walking down to the ballroom floor now, Bear said. A waiter approaches with drinks—I could trip him up when he's near Branna, and steal the charms in the confusion.