Oliver’s voice sounded low in her ear. “Your family is here. Far corner, left side.”
Emme’s eyes followed his directions, and she spied Lysette, Sir Ronald, and Madeline. Seated next to Madeline was Nigel Crowe, and with him were Mr. Jenkins and another young man she didn’t recognize. She swallowed. “How did they receive invitations?”
The event was an exclusive one for foreign dignitaries, members of Parliament or other influence, and presenters of note. Miles was an earl, and Lucy a well-respected botanist who was scheduled to present her work with Anti-Vampiric Assimilation Aid. Daniel Pickett owned the world’s largest fleet of airships, and Dr. Isla Cooper-Pickett was well known in the shifter community as a therapist. Sam was a respected surgeon whose star was on the rise, and Hazel was presenting an address on the spiritual components of healing and potential applications in shifter medicine. To Emme’s knowledge, in addition to her own circle, everyone in the room had a reason for being included on the guest list.
“Sir Ronald is a baron,” Hazel said, mirroring Emme’s thinking. “Perhaps that, along with your mother’s status with Castles and your role here, provided incentive for their invitations?”
Emme lifted her shoulder. She couldn’t allow her family’s presence to tarnish her enjoyment of the evening; the fact that she’d just received a threatening note did seem suspicious, however. “Who is the younger man next to Jenkins?”
The others strained to see around the people in their various lines of sight. “Stuart Rawley,” Miles said grimly. “Youngest member of the PSRC. I’m surprised they dare show their faces here this week, given the damage they’ve caused through the years.”
Emme nudged Isla. “I thought you said your friend Nigel had turned over a new leaf. He’s back on the Committee.”
Isla squinted at the table across the room, and her mouth dropped open. “Why is he there?” she murmured.
Daniel’s brow creased in concern. “He must have an explanation.”
“Yes,” Emme said hotly. “His explanation is that he is rotten.”
Isla turned back to Emme. “Sweetheart, I am certain he has his reasons. He is not rotten.”
“Where is your mother?” Hazel asked.
“In London with Isla’s mother for a few more days. They were needed at the store.” Emme was glad. The thought of seeing her mother sitting with people who bore her such ill will would have been especially cutting tonight.
They returned to their meal as the next course was served. Emme noted with some surprise that Gus had been standing watch in the shadows.
Oliver motioned to him and quietly instructed him to make inquiries with the front office about the message Emme had received, which was now nestled in Oliver’s coat pocket.
She was unable to eat much but made a good show of regaining her spirits. Conversation continued, but a stressed undercurrent ran through it. One course followed another, Oliver discreetly telescribed Chief-Inspector Conley, and Gus returned to quietly report that the message had been left at the reception desk with written instructions to be delivered to Miss O’Shea during the meal.
As dessert drew to a close, Emme again looked across the room at the table where her family sat. Madeline turned then, and locked eyes with Emme. Her face was tense, her aqua-blue gaze haunted, even at a distance.
“Something is wrong with Madeline,” Emme whispered.
“What is it?” Isla asked.
“I don’t know. She’s been . . . Her behavior has been . . . I don’t know.” As Emme watched, Nigel Crowe leaned closer to Madeline and said something. Madeline, clearly startled, turned to him with a response. Emme’s lips thinned. “What does he want with her?”
Isla clasped Emme’s cold fingers again. “I will find out.”
An announcement was made for all to gather in the ballroom in fifteen minutes, and the guests rose and began to exit the room. People groaned and laughed about dancing on a full stomach, and Emme smiled at several guests she’d met earlier, laughing and exchanging noncommittal niceties even as her mind tumbled and worried.
She and her friends walked back through the main hall, the density of packed people easing as some made for powder rooms and others to the patio for some air or a quick cigar. Emme was dizzy with pain and fatigue, and she noted the crowd’s movements as though they were all slow and underwater.
Carlo was making his way to where they stood near a bank of windows just outside the ballroom entrance. Gus quietly approached Oliver with a question, and her friends stood close by. A flash of light in her periphery was followed by shattering glass as an object with a lit fuse crashed through one of the windows and rolled to a stop near their feet.
Oliver’s heart tripped as an incendiary device smashed through the hotel’s massive windows and rolled to a stop on the thick rug. He wrapped both arms around Emme’s head and shoulders and pulled her down to the floor as Miles picked up the device and jumped through the shattered glass.
The chaos was deafening, screaming from outside spreading inward like a wave. Isla pulled a knife from a sheath on her leg and leaped through the broken window, quick on Miles’s heels. Oliver squinted and was just able to make out Miles, who drew his arm back and hurled the thing upward where an explosion rocked through the sky.
Daniel, cursing, yelled at Sam to remain behind as he jumped through the broken glass behind his wife.
Emme trembled but was shoving at Oliver’s chest and arms. “What happened?”
He rose, pulling her upright and supporting her weight. He squeezed her so tightly she grunted and coughed. Moving quickly and staying close to the wall, he headed around a corner. The main hotel staircase was down a long hallway, but to his relief, three passenger elevators were situated to the right, and one was empty and open. He hauled Emme into the elevator, and she was barely able to drag
