Storm of Shadows (Lumineers 1)

CHAPTER 2: THE PRISM PACT

The hall to Lord Parlow's study was eerily quiet—not a single servant or mechanical. It might have been luck, but Tabitha Grey knew better. She saw it for what it was. A Spect had already passed through. Perhaps newly apprenticed, with orders to clear a path.

Papered walls were lined with doors and wooden alcoves. Each held a statue more ostentatious than the last. So boastful. So unnecessary.

Careful to keep her gown from swishing, she moved in silence. She was silence. Even the air pressing against her was still. She strode to the far end. Her eyes flicked past each alcove, taking in every detail, lingering over every shadow. Perfect hiding places—perfect for an ambush.

Her skin prickled and she froze mid-step, turning to the left. The alcove beside her was occupied. He wore a mask not so different from the one newly covering her face. They stared at each other for several beats.

"Respect," she murmured, breaking the silence, lifting two fingers to her brow. His half mask was shrouded by the statue beside him. She studied it, studied his build, the outline of his mouth, his posture. He wore the attire of a gentleman, a guest at the ball. She didn't see any prisms on him, but they were there, hidden somewhere. What were his colors, then? His strengths? One look at her neck showed she wielded violet. A heptachrome.

"Respect," he murmured, returning her two-finger salute. His teeth flashed in the darkness—a predator's smile. "My orders are complete. The way is clear." His voice was little more than a whisper.

She nodded and moved towards Parlow's study where she paused, keeping him in her sights. Waiting. "Well?"

He pushed off the wall, offering her a final nod before disappearing down the hallway. She waited a breath longer, then lifted a hand over her necklace and focused her thoughts, coaxing violet from her prisms. The tendrils of light followed her command like wisps of smoke, directed into the door's keyhole. As the snakes of color filled the lock, she sensed its movement and flicked her wrist. An audible click split the silence. She released the light; it disbursed. The last vestiges of color faded from sight. She was in.

***

Conrad Steiner spotted Lord Parlow and went for him, skirting the dancing couples before any other hopefuls pulled him away. His conversation with Tabitha Grey still echoed in his mind.

Parlow noticed his approach and waived him over, sloshing his drink. Light! Was he drunk already?

"Steiner, my fellow! Good to see you!" Parlow gripped his shoulder.

He returned the familiar gesture, offering the drunk lord a smile. "Enjoying yourself, I see?"

"Quite. And you?"

"Oh, quite."

"Good! Good." Parlow downed his drink and motioned for another. A mechanical stepped up—perhaps never having left his side in the first place—with a tray to collect the empty glass. Another appeared with a new one.

Parlow turned. "I'm surprised you left the floor. Plenty of pretty partners to dance with, eh, Steiner? Glad you took my suggestion and agreed to come after all? Much better than hiding away in that townhouse of yours."

He liked his townhouse. And hiding away. "Indeed. You know I like my fun. Wouldn't have missed it."

It was a lie he was happy to perpetuate.

Parlow laughed, letting it boom from his chest. "The last girl looked promising, hmm?" Parlow's eyes danced across the room, searching. He wouldn't find her though. She'd already slipped out. "Quite the bold ensemble if I must say—all dressed in violet? And so young..."