Page 17 of Mourning Wings
“Whatif itishide and seek?”Imurmur, my voice betraying my unease. “ThegirlIsaw in those monitors was running, and it felt so…creepy.”
“ItwasHalloween.Everything’screepy onHalloween,”Isabelsays, trying to reassure me. “Idoubt they’d do anything like that on a normalSaturdaynight.”
Inod, but my eyes drift to the window, lost in thought.Soon,I’llbe at theWhitmoreestate again, searching for any clues aboutCamila’sdeath.Ifshe lived there, there must be something, some evidence of her disappearance.I’mdeterminedto find it, even ifIhave to sneak away and search on my own.Hopefully, no one catches me in the act.
Inthe six yearsI’vebeen inEbonridge,I’venever found a way inside theWhitmoreestate.It’sfrustrating—the family is impossibly secretive, their parties even more discreet.Ifyou don’t have an invitation from aVanguardmember or the family itself, you’re not getting in, no matter how hard you try.
Isabeleventually landed a part-time job atVanguardas a waitress, just to get us closer.Finally, this pastHalloween, we got our first real chance.WhenIsabeltold me she’d managed to schmooze one of the members into inviting us,Ialmost cried.Afterall this time, we finally had a foot in the door.Tonightis my second—maybe last—chance.
Aswe approach the estate, the atmosphere around us shifts, growing more somber.Thetrees seem to close in, their branches arching like twisted fingers over the narrow road.
“Thanks,”Imutter to theUberdriver when he drops us off.
Atthe entrance, two men stand guard, their expressions unreadable.Iinstinctively step ahead ofIsabel, protectiveness flaring up inside me.Myheart pounds as one of them approaches us.
“Name?” he asks curtly.
“Uh,Valeria.ThisisIsabel.”
Isabelchimes in smoothly. “Yes.TheRSVPshould be under my last name:Soto.Theinvitation was fromMr.Montclair.”
Idon’t missIsabel’sslight flinch at the mention of his name.WhenIasked her if she could get us another invitation,Ididn’t expect her to reach out to the same man who had led her upstairs onHalloween.Sheassured me it was our only option, but guilt gnaws at me, remembering how scaredIfound her that night.
Theguard nods and steps aside. “Rightthis way,Mesdemoiselles,” he says, his voice dripping with an unsettling formality.
Aswe ascend the grand staircase,Itake in the details of the mansion that were obscured by darkness the last time.Thearchitecture is imposing, with archways that seem to stretch on endlessly.Achill runs through me, making my skin prickle.Itreminds me ofGloomwood.
Atthe top,Ireach forIsabel’shand, seeking some comfort in her presence.
Weexchange a final, tense glance before stepping into the unknown.
“Well, who do we have here?”a sleazy voice slithers from my right.Theman speaking is tall and broad-shouldered, with slicked-back hair.Hiseyes are dark and predatory, raking over us with intensity.
Anotherman, leaner and a bit taller, cuts in. “Lookslike fresh meat,” he sneers, his tone dripping with malice.Amaniacal laugh escapes his lips, sending a chill down my spine.
IsabelandIstand in the foyer, flanked by two men wearing the same eerie masksI’dseen at theHalloweenparty.Itmust be some sort of rule to attend these gatherings incognito, likely to protect their identities.Themasks, with their hollow eyes, only add to the suffocating atmosphere.
Suddenly, a third man appears from the shadows.He’sstriking, with an aristocratic air, his blonde hair perfectly styled and his tailored suit fitting him like a glove.Heexudes a cold, calculating charm as he steps forward. “I’venever seen you here before, ladies.”Hisvoice is smooth but laced with condescension.Hetakes our hands, lifting them to his lips and planting a kiss on each of our knuckles. “I’mTheodoreWhitmore, but you can call meTheo.Theseare my brothers,MaxwellandJulian.”
Maxwelllets out a small chuckle. “Notactual brothers,” he adds with a smirk.
Theodoreturns to scowl at him—at least,Ithink it’s a scowl beneath that mask. “Thanksfor the clarification,” he snaps.
Maxwelljust laughs and shrugs whileJulianremains silent, his eyes fixated onIsabeland me.
“Whatare your names?”Theoasks, his gaze lingering onIsabela second too long.Theothers’ eyes are on her too, their interest palpable.Whatthe hell is going on?
Isabelshifts uncomfortably, her cheeks flushing a deep red. “Myname isIsabel.ThisisValeria,” she says, her voice a bit shaky as she gestures to me.
Theonods, a sinister smile spreading across his face. “WelcometoLatibulumNoctis,” he announces, spreading his arms wide, as if to embrace the night itself. “Tonight, leave your inhibitions at the door and enter with an open mind.Ipromise we’ll show you a good time.”Hisgrin is almost delirious.
“Followme,” he commands, turning to lead the way deeper into the house.
Itake a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead.Nomatter what happens tonight,Ihave to stay focused on whyI’mhere.Ifletting go of my inhibitions is what it takes to uncover the truth aboutCamila, then so be it.She’sworth the risk.
Aswe follow the three men into the dark hallway,Ilean over toIsabel, who still seems distracted. “Youwere enjoying the attention, weren’t you?”Imumble with a teasing grin.
Sheshrugs, a mischievous glint in her eye, her lips curling into a small smile. “Maybe.”