outside, probably to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and grand lamps up the steps. It still looked every bit a dark manor, but something felt different about it. It was as though it was happy to have people in it. It was odd though, being that it was just a house, but it stuck.
As the doors opened before us, I reached out for River’s arm. I didn’t love being the center of attention, especially with this many people, and there were a lot. A lot more than yesterday. There must have been at least sixty people in attendance; it was a lot more than I’d anticipated, and every single one, man and woman, was staring. I began feeling self-conscious and grabbed onto River a little tighter.
“Relax. You’re the belle of the ball.” I could hear the smile in his voice even though I was too busy trying to find familiar faces in the crowd.
“Sir River Ambrose Caliban and his guest Miss Penelope Maria Guzman.” The announcement came from a woman’s voice, which I traced back to Fabiola, the woman I’d seen at the bar last night. She smiled at me, then at River, then at the crowd. Everyone clapped, which made the entire thing feel even more awkward. River let go of my arm to make a slight bow. I just stood there, unsure of what to do, so I smiled slightly, uncomfortably. River’s hand reached for me, and this time instead of offering me his arm, he slid his fingers through mine and held my hand, squeezing slightly before he started to walk the room with me at his side.
“I’d pick Fabiola over Mayra any day,” I said through the fake smile.
“I’m sure she’d be pleased to hear it.” He introduced me to some of the attendees, some it was obvious he knew, but others, like the man we were shaking hands with currently, seemed to be taken aback by his presence altogether.
“Mr. Sir. Mr. Caliban.” The man shook his hand. “Carson Emerson. I’m an old friend of your father’s.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Emerson.” River smiled and turned to me. “This is my date, Penelope Guzman.”
“Guzman?” Mr. Emerson’s brows rose. “As in . . . that Guzman family? From Pan Island?”
“Yes, that family.” I kept a tight smile and let go of River’s hand.
“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” he said, but he was looking at me like there was a lot he was leaving out.
“Thank you.” I looked around. “I’m going to go find a drink.”
“Call over one of the waiters,” River said, waving someone over before I could. He let go of my hand and turned to a young man who tapped him on the shoulder.
“The man, the myth, the legend,” the guy said with a chuckle. “I haven’t seen you in a while, man.”
“Always a pleasure, Alistair,” River said, greeting him.
Mayra appeared in front of me with a tray in hand. She handed me a champagne flute. She wasn’t glaring at me, but she also wasn’t smiling. She was still wearing all black, but this time instead of a black long-sleeve shirt and skirt, it was a nice, long black dress.
“Thank you,” I said, taking the flute.
“Of course.” She grinned. “I do hope you’re enjoying yourself.”
“It’s not my scene.”
“I would think it was. Being the center of attention and all.”
“Shows how little you know about me.” I brought the flute to my lips and took a sip.
“Maybe I pegged all of you Guzmans to be the same. Your cousin lurks these grounds with his hollowed eyes and his empty heart.” She shook her head. “All he does is complain. You have the entire world in the palm of your hands, yet you seek more; you leave the island you practically own and in search of what?” She shook her head again. “I will never understand it.”
“Nor do I expect you to understand it.” My eyes narrowed. “You say my cousin lurks here, but that’s wrong. Legend has it that the only lost souls that haunt the island are the ones who died here.”
“Obviously.” She shot me a look. “You’re going to preach to me truths about my own birthplace?”
“My cousin didn’t die here.”
“Didn’t he?” She raised an eyebrow. “Have you considered why you’re here at all?”
“Because your boss chose me to be.” I shot her a look.
“Right.” She let out a laugh, and seemed truly humored by this. “Have you not questioned the accident at all? How it was, in fact, that