phosphorous. With the shadows sharp in his face, he looked completely otherworldly.
“Finn Sullivan,” he said in his low, British voice, his fingers twining firmly with hers as they glided in a circle, “you should not have come. Keep skating.”
“Why?” she whispered. The air began to buzz as if a thousand invisible flies had just descended. Something pricked at her brain, and she felt the first drop of blood slip from one nostril.
“Because the Wolf is no longer at the door—he’s come through it.” He gently turned her so that she could see the blessed had stepped back from the bonfire and Phouka stood before it, facing away from the pond, her posture that of a warrior about to defend her castle. Some of the Fata skaters were halting near Finn, forming a protective semicircle. The other guests, the normals who hadn’t noticed anything, continued to frolic.
The world spun around Finn.
Christie and Sylvie slid to her side. Christie whispered, “What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t you see?” Sylvie’s voice was faint, her gaze fixed on the activity near the bonfire. “He’s here.”
Here is your enemy, Finn thought. Here is the one who took Lily away.
Tall shadows moved from the hedge maze, bleeding across the snow, unseen as yet by the gathering of HallowHeart’s oblivious, frivolous students. The shadows became strangers in fur coats and clothes with a punk, belle epoque flair. Old jewelry flashed on their fingers and throats. Their faces were young, beautiful, their brutal aristocracy meant to inspire terror.
One figure separated from the pack and approached Phouka. His hair was mahogany brown, his face that of a Brontë antihero with a thin scar across one cheekbone. He wore an expensive suit beneath a fur-lined greatcoat and he carried a walking stick like a weapon.
Phouka walked toward him and greeted him.
“No,” Finn breathed, her stomach knotting up at the betrayal.
“Finn.” It was Aubrey behind her. “You’ve got to trust her.”
Finn thought, Where is Jack? And was glad a moment later that he wasn’t here, because the Wolf was strolling past Phouka, approaching the pond, followed by his pack, and the Wolf knew Jack.
Watching Seth Lot walk toward her, Finn felt a dazzling terror that was almost ecstasy.
Seth Lot halted on the snowy shore with only a few inches of ice separating him from Finn and her protectors. He appeared exactly as he had in Finn’s memory: a young man with an exotic, black-rimmed gaze the blue of tundra skies. Those eyes reflected the firelight as he tilted his head and studied Finn, who met his gaze only because she had no choice. Confused by his attractiveness and his gentle manner—she hadn’t expected a soulful evil—she remained very still.
“Serafina Sullivan.” His eyes didn’t silver and he didn’t smile, but his voice was amiable, a young man’s voice. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
He extended one hand, its fingers scabbed with rings that looked as if they could have belonged to pharaohs or Russian kings. “Please, don’t be afraid.”
This was the wolf-eyed man who had seduced Lily, who had kissed Lily’s wrist and left a mark. Finn glided forward on her skates, defiant, even as Christie tried to catch her and Sylvie whispered her name. She approached the Wolf to show him she wasn’t going to let fear rule her, and said, “Seth Lot,” holding out the hand adorned with her sister’s bracelet.
His cool, strong fingers grasped hers. Although his nails were short and manicured, she could imagine claws as he said, “You’ve heard things about me that may have been exaggerations.” He looked past her, at Moth, and softly said, “Hello, traitor.”
Finn realized Lot had stepped onto the ice. His hands firm around hers, he turned her in a circle as his gangsters prowled forward. Gently, he said, “I’ve heard things about you, Serafina Sullivan, how you caused the death of Reiko.”
“I didn’t”—her voice shook a little—“kill Reiko.”
“I think you did.” He smiled.
My, what big teeth you have. He didn’t, but a threat was implicit in that smile. Finn’s eyelashes fluttered as a poisonous drowsiness crept over her. The Wolf leaned down and, scented with winter and expensive cologne, whispered in her ear, “You know that your sister lives.” He stepped back, releasing her so suddenly, she staggered. He said, “Come for her. I’ll give you seven days in my world. If you don’t find my house by the seventh day, I come find you. Your sister dies. Your Jack dies.”
Finn felt as if something else were speaking through her,