Daughter of Night (A Daughter of Nyx novel)

Chapter Four

The drive was made in silence, aside from the man asking her if she was comfortable.

No, she wasn't, but that nothing to do with the car or the temperature. It was simply that last twist getting closer and closer.

"I'm fine, thank you." Her words were softer than she would have liked but they were the best she could do. The whiskey hadn't hit her yet. Instead, it roiled in her stomach and she fought against nerves to keep it there.

The drive didn't take long. She knew it wouldn't. She knew the name of the hotel and had already mapped out a way home should things head south. This was a stupid decision, but she had back-up plans. It wasn't completely reckless.

He slowed then stopped in front of a beautiful old hotel. And while it might be old, she knew from her research, it was expensive to stay a night. She couldn't imagine the cost of renting out any of the rooms. The door opened and she jumped.

"Madam, your mask, please." He held out his hand and she had forgotten. She slid it from her bag and handed it to him. She turned to look out the other window and the lace fell over her eyes, the material so soft as to barely feel it. He lifted her hair and tied the strings at the nape of her neck. Finally, it was done and she turned. His hand was out again and she put hers in it. He helped her from the car and walked her up the stairs to the door.

"I know you are frightened, however, you are in no danger here."

She met eyes of steel gray and finally nodded.

"How will I find him?" she asked.

"He will find you."

With that, he opened the door and motioned for her to enter. Stepping into the warmth of the hotel, she turned.

Why did those words sound so ominous? What did he mean? But it was too late. He was already heading back to the car and she wasn't going to embarrass herself by running after him.

Breath in her throat, she turned and looked around her. If a party was going on, shouldn't she see someone? Anyone? Even with a mask? Trepidation growing, she took a few steps into the reception area. There. Someone behind the counter.

Her heels clicking as she crossed the marble, the person looked up as she approached.

The blond woman glanced at her before doing a double take. "Ma'am, you are going to want the ballroom. Take that hallway and look for the third set of double doors on the left."

Chevonne tried to give her a smile but was certain it came out more like a grimace. "Thank you," she said through a dry throat.

"My pleasure."

She followed her instructions and once again stopped with her hand on the French handle. What was she doing here? Looking for someone that couldn't be bothered to meet her? Information, he said. But again, was that a ruse? Why was he expecting her to go through all of this? Couldn't any of his messages have said what she was supposed to do?

"There you are. You're late." A voice had her snatching her hand back and spinning.

"I'm sorry?"

A man was rushing down the hallway in the direction she just came, this one wearing a heavy looking mask of gold. Glazed blue eyes glared at her.

"I said you're late." He took her elbow and it took everything inside her to not hit him. He reached past her and pushed on the handle of the door. It swung open as she turned back to him.

"If I'm late—"

"There's no if, sweetie." He all but pushed her in the door and she stopped listening.