Dean’s eyes lock with mine and his face flushes, desire flashing as he closes the distance between us in a blur of movement. Slowly, he reaches for my cheek, brushing his knuckles over my skin.
“Celeste, you look—”
Declan appears beside him. “Beaut.”
“Bonzer,” Dean says.
Declan winks. “Good enough to eat.”
My face flushes, and I duck my head. “You both look quite handsome as well.”
Declan tugs on the bow, grimacing. “I feel like I’m wearing a dog collar.”
I shake my head.
The lock clicks free and Sir walks in. “It’s time to go.”
We follow him out with Declan in the lead. Behind him, Dean takes my hand as Sir leads us through the maze of halls.
I try to get a sense of where we are or whether there’s an exit anywhere nearby, but as always, every wall, door, nook, and cranny in this damn place looks the same.
Finally, Sir stops and pushes open a set of double doors. Music spills out and I catch sight of a full orchestra spread out on a stage at the far end of the room.
The music is beautiful, soft and inviting, as is the décor.
Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, their soft yellow bulbs offering a relaxing and elegant atmosphere. But the mood of the guests is anything but. A noticeable tension hits me, and I recognize the faces of each and every guest who has turned to stare at our arrival. Some are obviously physical but many more are ethereal.
Without a word, Sir marches off, leaving us to face the crowd alone.
After a moment, the other patients return to their conversations, all of them dressed in fancy suits and gowns. Some hold flutes of champagne or martinis as if we’re all at some elite party—except for the undercurrent evident in the way they move. Suspicious glances, aimed mostly at the staff, mixed with expressions of fear. Scattered among them all, the ghosts float along, their faces pinched in worry.
Across the room, Holly sits in a corner, alone. Her discomfort is barely contained though she looks pretty in a purple dress and chunky shoes.
Before I can go to her, Angus steps up, his hand reaching for my own which he lifts to his mouth and kisses. “Celeste, you look absolutely stunning.”
“Watch it,” Declan growls.
Angus lets me go, his charming smile unfaltering as he turns his attention to the guys. “Dean, Declan, you two look intimidating, even in a suit. But, I must say, you clean up better than I thought.”
“Stop flirting, Angus,” Maria says from beside him.
Her eyes are still milky-white but her gaze lands squarely on me. She looks stunning in a black gown that hangs off one shoulder and hugs her curvy hips.
“Mija, it’s good to see you looking so well.” Her milky eyes are sharp as she adds, “I hear we have you to thank for our new accommodations.”
“I did what I could. I know it’s not much,” I tell her.
“They’ve dispensed with the magic-dampening drugs,” she says, a strange note of anticipation in her voice. “For that, I owe you my gratitude.”
“And for this party,” Angus adds, smiling.
Maria huffs. “Please. This whole thing is ridiculous. If I’m going to stay here and pretend to enjoy myself, I need a drink.”
“Lucky for us, it’s an open bar.” Angus winks and offers her his arm. “Come, darling. Let’s make the most of this reprieve.”
“I think you mean torture,” she mutters.
I watch as he leads her to the bar where a very human looking bartender is taking orders.
“Is that guy human?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Dean frowns. “I don’t recognize him. Must be new.”
“He brought in strangers?” I wonder, surprised.
“I conjured the help and everything else you see here.” Nurse Schmidt’s voice makes me tense. I squeeze Dean’s hand and he squeezes back as the severe woman strides up. After my deal with Cutter, I’d hoped to never see her again.
She sneers at me. “Had to put my talent to use somehow now that I’m no longer your personal illusionist.”
My earlier awe is replaced by disgust. “You made me think I was crazy. What kind of terrible person takes advantage of someone’s mental health struggles?”
Her smile reminds me of Cutter’s with its cruelty. “I controlled you. Ruled you with the worlds I created and destroyed at my whim. Just as I can, and will, destroy you the moment I get the order to do so again.”
Dean growls at her and she sniffs at him, unconcerned, before stalking off.
“Don’t let her get in your head,” Dean says.
He’s right, but it takes several steadying breaths before I can think past the revulsion and rage I feel towards that woman.
“Come.” Declan tugs on my hand. “Dance with me.”
I blink, finally noticing the empty dance floor in front of the stage.
Declan leads me out and twirls me in his arms, and it doesn’t take long before I’m completely consumed by the moment. It’s absurd, this macabre party Cutter has created with his own prisoners as the guests. Everything about it is an illusion, but in this moment, with Declan swaying me against him, I give in to the pretending.
He is solid and warm, and in his eyes is a very real attraction. A pleasure.
He is content to dance even after everything that’s happened. And will happen still. So I relax into the moment and let myself be content too.
When the song ends, Dean is there, waiting to sweep me away for his turn.
For the next few songs, they take turns whirling me around and holding me close, and I enjoy the best date of my life despite what waits for us outside this music and these walls.
By the end of the next song, I’m winded and warm.
“Drinks?” Dean asks.
“Food,” I say firmly and they chuckle as we head for the buffet.
Plate in hand, I lift the lid of the nearest serving dish. Potatoes. Vegetables. Steak. One by one, I take a small helping of each. The boys wander to a second table full of desserts, but I stop to get a peek at the last option, the platter everyone else has somehow skipped—and gasp at what lies underneath.
A heart, covered in blood, sits on a tray of greens, plated to look like some sort of fancy entrée.
The lid slips from my shaking hand and hits the floor with a loud clatter.
Eyes land on me.
Dean is at my side in an instant.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as Declan kneels at my feet to retrieve the lid I dropped.
I shake, nearly spilling the contents of my plate, now piled high.
“I saw. . .”
But when I look back at the serving tray, I trail off.
The heart is gone.
Now, there is a dark meat soaked in au jus along with carrots and onions.
“The label says it’s lamb,” Dean says, clearly confused. “Would you like some?”
I shake my head.
Another illusion, I tell myself, glancing around for Nurse Schmidt.
But she’s nowhere in sight.
We find empty chairs and settle at one of the round tables to eat.
Maria and Angus sit with us, and I don’t fail to notice the wine glass filled with red liquid that Angus sips from. After a few minutes, Holly slides into the last empty seat.
“You’re not eating?” I ask her, glancing at Angus’ drink.