"Come forth," Darcy called to me. I spilled feet-first to the floor, unfurling with all the enthusiasm of a woman marching to the guillotine. I slowly rose from a kneeling position and clutched the silk kimono, hiding my vulnerability.

The room in which I found myself was illuminated by a gilt chandelier. Vivid silence permeated the elegant space. My downcast eyes studied rich mahogany floors. I tried to make sense of two lines of white to either side of me, almost like a path starting at the front door and disappearing up the stairs. I tried to teleport out, but it was no use.

"Don't exhaust me with an escape attempt. You'll be unable to cross the salt, Aurelia," the vampire revealed. "There's a bit of sodium chlorate in the mix, highly volatile. Your companion can't assist you getting rid of it, either. The slightest wrong move could lead to a fire that creates its own oxygen and sustains itself. Don't trust me? See for yourself. Sweep it aside, Detective."

Tegan's wide eyes took in his face, and she shook her head. I vaguely remembered reading something in one of Mys' books about table salt keeping spirits in or out of a designated area, but Darcy had taken it to extremes. I knew sodium chlorate could be as dangerous as he claimed under the right conditions.

"Where the hell are we?" My voice echoed with more bravado than I felt. Darcy gestured at a silver platter of libations on an entryway table. I lifted my chin a fraction higher in defiance. "No, thank you. The last time I accepted your hospitality, I wound up dead," I said through clenched teeth.

"We're home. Be amicable," he suggested.

"I told you, I don't drink anymore," said Tegan, hugging herself.

She evaluated the antebellum plantation with dilated pupils that confessed her terror. We were in the foyer of a great house. With the front door still open behind us, winds whipped in from the night. The setting seemed ripe for dire expectations, the coming hurricane least of all.

I turned away from the storm. Majestic baroque balustrades traced a wide staircase to a second level and then a third. There was a woman with white blonde hair studying us. She retreated into the shadows when she saw me watching.

Another stood at the foot of the stairs. She appeared a few years older than me, tall and statuesque. The storm made tendrils of long wine-dark hair dance across her eyes, but she swept the locks behind her fair-complexioned ear to glare at the vampire. Her stern, handsome face was uncompromising.

"You know you should not have brought them here." The timbre of her voice sent shivers through me. Power emanated from her, and I wondered what type of Supernatural she was.

Darcy flashed an indolent smile. "I don't expect the three of you to be privy to this, Mal. You and your sisters should have the night to yourselves."

The dark-haired woman gathered the folds of a sumptuous gold and black brocade skirt and fled the house, calling over her shoulder, "Ava! Cherie!" Two rare birds flew down the stairs and flitted after her into the dreary night. I hardly saw what they looked like. Upon their exit, the heavy doors slammed shut, and the chandelier candles guttered but stayed alight.

Now, I was alone with them—my murderer and the rapist who had drugged me the night I was killed. This didn't bode well.

"Master Cyprian," a male voice said from the stairs.

So, we weren't entirely alone. Good.

I regarded the second landing and discovered a young man dressed in black and white livery. He could have stepped out of the nineteenth-century. In fact, the whole house had the feeling of time standing still. The servant wore a blank expression and held a thick leash. I sucked in a breath at the large black-grey wolf nosing at his feet.

Darcy cupped an arm around Tegan and me and whispered conspiratorially, "Are you sure you don't want that drink now?"

"The room for the sacrifice is prepared," the servant announced.

The artwork on the bedroom walls had to be worth a fortune. The Persian rug under my bare feet was probably worth double that. Everything in the elite country estate screamed grandeur. I sat on the satin-covered high canopy bed watching Tegan gnaw her fingernails and frantically pace.

"It doesn't make sense. None of this makes sense," she whimpered.

"It does if you accept Overlay City is real, but you never accepted that, did you? You honestly thought Zyr was a little fucked up in the head," I sighed, knowing she couldn't hear me. "And you thought Darcy was indulging him in some way."

"Vampires!" She grunted a laugh. "Oh, God, help me. I've gotta get out of here."

"But you knew I was haunting the cabin. I showed you!"

She looped back to the window and stared out at trees battered and thrashed by the storm. I was right next to her, and she had no idea. Groaning, I fell backward to the mattress and thumped the pillows in frustration. Tegan jumped and stared at the bed.

"Aurie?" she stuttered.

I sat up. "No shit, Sherlock."

"Aurie, if that's you, give me some sort of sign."

I marched over to the delicate white Chantilly lace dress hanging on the chifforobe. Darcy had asked me to wear it to dinner, which would be served within the hour. Given I had only the kimono to cover me, I was happy to oblige. Tegan had already changed into a long pink chiffon wrap courtesy of the vampire.

I lifted the hanger and turned to her. "Is this enough of a sign?" I asked as I tore it off the hanger and started dressing. Once the fabric settled over my skin, it disappeared. Because it was transmuted by contact with Supernaturals, it conformed to my type, and since I was invisible to her, the dress became invisible.

Tegan backpedaled, covering her mouth.

I rolled my eyes. We didn't have time for this. If there was some way out, she could find it. The pathways of salt that crisscrossed the house kept me bound to where Darcy wanted me, but not her. She just couldn't disturb it violently. Although he had locked the front door from the inside and secreted away the key, the detective had the freedom to snoop for other exits.

I searched the escritoire and came up with a pen, but no paper. Swiveling, I saw a novel on the table by the bed. Perfect! I grabbed the pen and dashed across the room to grab the book. With each move, Tegan gasped.

"I thought it was some kind of trick," she whispered. "The-the table, the door slamming—there had to be a l-logical explanation."

Exasperated, I turned to a blank page at the back of the book. It wasn't a trick, I wrote. My name is Aurie Edison, and you have to help me. I turned the writing toward her, and she came closer to read it.

"That's not possible," she insisted.

Why not?? I wrote, scratching two lines beneath the word for emphasis.

"If you're Aurie, tell me something only she would know."

I smirked, scribbling down, When I was fourteen, I fell off a skateboard and blacked out for two days. That's how I got the scar on my forehead.

She read that and shook her head. "How am I to know that's the truth? I don't know you! You could've made that up. In fact, Aurie has a scar, but anyone with Instagram knows that. There's no telling how she got it."

Tegan, Zyr has a birthmark on his upper thigh. I know because we're lovers. Mys is our lover, too. I can promise you that your partner is not gonna take kindly to what you did to Mys, and he'll never forgive you if anything happens to me. If you truly care about him, work with me. Otherwise, you'll see me for yourself on the other side! I wrote, desperate to get through to her.

After Tegan read the missive, she started pacing again. I wasn't sure she believed me, but at least she was listening. "Why does Cyprian want us here? Why does he want me here?" she asked the room at large. I sat on the edge of the bed, pondering that.

Before I could formulate a response, there was a knock at the door, and a servant entered. The young maid addressed the mauve silk-papered wall. "Dinner is served, mam'selles."

I waited for her to leave to write another note to Tegan. "Whatever he wants, it can't be good," I whispered as I jotted down: Darcy has killed before, and he'll kill again. Take this dinner opportunity to find an escape.

"What about you?" she had the decency to ask. There was another knock at the door.

My hand trembled as I wrote instructions as fast as I could: Get to the embassy and talk to the Council of Overlay Affairs. Tell them Darcy kidnapped you. Free Zyr. He's our only hope.

The dining room was as impressive as the rest of the house, rendered in dark woods and warm tones. Yellow lamplight turned the cream damask walls golden. An oversized gold mirror above the unused fireplace magnified the space.

I hesitated at the threshold, feeling underdressed without shoes. I had attended my share of sophisticated dinner parties with Mom and Haley, but I was out of my element in this museum. The place couldn't be called a home without irony.

Rather than a chandelier, an odd contraption swung over the eight-person dining table. I suddenly realized it was a fan. It stirred the rain-laden air blowing in from floor-to-ceiling windows open along one wall. Dinnertime would include a serenade by the storm, apparently.

Darcy rose from the head of the table and clapped at the sight of us. "You both are magnificent, ladies. I can sometimes be sentimental. Thank you for indulging me," he said.

"Would you indulge me?" I asked, taking a seat. Darcy came around and pushed in my chair. His fingers grazed my shoulders, and I wanted to shun him. It took everything in me to remain still.

"What would you like, ma louloute?"

"Explain to me what's going on here."

"We have business to attend to later, but right now we're simply enjoying an intimate dinner between friends. Ms. Stoney, is your seat to your liking?" He raised a brow at the detective. She cast around like a lost child on the first day of school, but she managed a nod. "Splendid, my pet. Eat up."

The longboard was spread with a light repast of country ham, mashed potatoes, and boiled corn on the cob. Tegan served herself and ate at a distracted pace. When the vampire gave all his attention to me, her shrewd cornflower eyes scanned the room, and it dawned on me the damsel in distress act was exactly that. An act.

"You know that's not what I meant," I tried again with Darcy.

"What did you mean, Aurie? We seem to get lost in translation. For example," he said, "when I asked if you would be my mistress, I thought it was understood to be a rhetorical question. The answer was an obvious, 'Of course, my dear.'"

The vampire whistled for the servant with the wolf. Once the animal trotted into the elegant dining room on a leash, Darcy grabbed fork and knife and stood at the longboard, carving ham for the beast. The vampire's plate remained empty. Naturally. I wondered if he drank blood from a wineglass or preferred it straight from the source. I wasn't hungry anymore.

"Why are you keeping Tegan hostage if you have me?" I asked.

"Tegan, you are an honored guest," said Darcy, laying a hand over hers. "I apologize for your inability to join our conversation, but Aurie was asking why you remain. The simple answer is I couldn't wait to begin my union with her, and I needed a witness to ensure all things are right and proper. Now, both of you enjoy the meal. We have a long day ahead of us."

Not only was the thought of us being united repulsive, but I had a sneaking suspicion the vampire was lying about Tegan's role here. A servant had already announced a room had been prepared for "the sacrifice." Although Tegan had no clue what that meant, I did. Aside from staff—who I was certain Darcy didn't see as equals—there was only one other person here. She had to be the vessel.

I could neither forget what she had done to me, nor forgive her for what she had done to Mys. However, I sure as hell didn't want Zyr's partner killed so her body could house my Soul.

"I'm dead, Darcy. I no longer need food," I muttered as I put away my fork with disinterest.

He threw down his napkin and grimaced, but he recovered his composure before losing his temper. "Would you like to tour the gardens instead? In our condition, the weather isn't a deterrent. I relish a stormy night stroll."

I brightened. Tegan could make a getaway. "Your home is beautiful. I'd love a tour of the entire estate and grounds!"

"Splendid!" Darcy held up the glass medicine bottle and made a sound of enjoyment when my smile wavered. "It's the only way I can trust you, my sweet puppy. On a leash until you're housebroken."

I casually shrugged, though I wanted to crawl the length of the table and jam a steak knife into his eye socket. Deadass. I dialed down my attitude. Whatever it took for Tegan to find Zyr before this deranged monster made the two of us share one skin. Peeping at Tegan, I remembered Mys saying she wanted to be of service. This was her chance.

Darcy's fingers clasped mine as we headed out of the dining room. His eyes swept my body in the Chantilly dress, and I wanted to disappear. He hesitated at the archway out, giving instructions for his personnel to keep the detective comfortable. While he was talking, the maid rushed in and whispered something in his ear.

There was a book in her hand. I held my breath. So did Detective Stoney. I saw her freeze in my periphery as Darcy flipped open the book and read. He clicked his tongue. "I thought we were better than this, ladies." Holding up the copy of Lewis Carroll's Through the Looking-Glass, he said, "This was a first edition."

"It's not what it looks like," Tegan whispered.

The vampire left my side and curtly approached her. "Is it ever with you?"

"Wait! I'd like my new body unmarked. Please, Darcy!" I shouted from the door.

"This?" Looking at me, he pointed at Tegan in perplexed amusement. "This isn't yours. It's dinner. I knew she wouldn't last the night. Women like her never do."

No! I squeezed my eyes shut as he fed off the last person who could've saved me, but if Tegan wasn't the sacrificial lamb, then who was?