The bouncer had Arthie’s elbow in a viselike grip. He led her to the Athereum’s prison, where the vampire standing guard sneered at her. What was with all the sneering? He threw open the gate with far too much excitement and locked it behind her and the bouncer, leaving the two of them alone. The room was sterile with a set of empty cells and another reinforced door at the end.
Arthie jerked free before the bouncer could continue the ploy and throw her in one of them.
In every discussion of her plans with the others, Arthie always faced pushback on one particular part of it: the bit where she got caught. It was dangerous and risky, and Jin tried talking her out of it more than once.
But Matteo had warned them that getting into this secure area was impossible without possessing a key or being imprisoned, so she had no choice, really.
“Was that really necessary, Theo?” she snapped.
Especially when she realized she knew one of the two Athereum bouncers.
The bouncer looked chagrined. It was a look she recognized from his brief stint as a Spindrift employee, during which he’d accidentally thrown out the wrong patrons multiple times. She should have realized he would still be difficult to work with, but it wasn’t as if she had another option.
“You said make it believable!” Theo said, perplexed.
Arthie sighed, feeling bruised all over. “Believable, Theo, not kill me. Now let me through.”
“But you promised you’d pay—”
“How would it have looked if I’d carried a bag full of duvin in here, eh?” Arthie asked. “Exactly. Go see Felix tomorrow, and you’ll have your pay.”
He thought about what she said then nodded once and let her through the second door.
Arthie straightened her coat and then her hair, carefully closing the door behind her. The corridor was long and empty, thrumming with the din of the festivities on the other side. Arthie reached the bend, where the Athereum’s vault was fit snug into the corner, a massive structure of brass with an elaborate lock she wished she could crack simply for the fun of it.
If Arthie were looking to hide an important document, that was the last place she would store it, because it would be the first place anyone looked. Eventually, the corridor branched into the hall of offices. The second entrance to the locked corridors was at the end of it. A seating area spread out to her left, a glass wall to her right, where she caught a glimpse of the society in motion.
And a figure waiting for her on the other side of the door.
Arthie turned the lock and opened it. Moths fluttered in her chest.
“Hello, darling,” Matteo said, tipping a fluted glass at her. Even disguised, he looked every bit … himself. The way he walked, the way he smiled. The way that damned dimple taunted from his cheek. “How are you finding the Athereum?”
“Every night, when the foundries go dark and the patrols get lax, men shed their shirts, wrap gauze around their fists, and throw sweaty punches in a ring,” Arthie replied, dropping her hands on the back of a chair. She pursed her lips in thought for a second. “This feels about the same.”
Matteo laughed, and the sound made her wholly aware of herself. “You never fail to surprise me, and yet you behave exactly as I expect.”
He looked at her as if she was something special, something more than a criminal with a gun, something more than a monster with a timer running out.
He swept his tongue across his lower lip, and she mimicked the movement across her own. He swished the blood in his flute, stirring up the scent of it with a soft sigh. Her head swam. His gaze missed nothing.
“Are you quite all right?” he asked, watching her every motion.
“Of course I am.” She clenched her jaw. It was the stress getting to her. Yes, they’d forged coins, thwarted sisters, and gotten into the Athereum without losing their heads, but the Ram’s ledger was still out there. Spindrift still hung in the balance.
“You know what you have to do,” she said.
“I do,” he said with a nod, and she turned to leave. “So. Penn Arundel, hmm?”
She turned back, suddenly acutely aware of everything around her. The brush of air on the nape of her neck, the footsteps on the polished wood floors, the hum of a violin somewhere in the Athereum.
Please, please, please.
Matteo swayed in front of her. Her limbs felt leaden, her head light. She had known what she was getting into, but she’d still chosen to do it. For her tearoom.
“You and I have much in common,” he said almost gently.
Arthie bit out a laugh. “How would you know?”
“Penn is, well, he was the only one who was there for me when I first turned,” Matteo said. “He’s told me a lot about you.”
Arthie regarded him, trying to decipher how much was a lot and it made her realize: She cared what Matteo thought of her. It was a scary epiphany she did not wish to dwell on.
“That means—wait. He’s whom you wanted to get in here to see,” Arthie said.
Matteo nodded, barely surprised she had figured him out. “When I learned he hadn’t been seen outside the Athereum for weeks, I knew something was wrong. He might be head of the place, but there’s very few vampires here that he can trust. I never thought I’d get the chance to possibly see him again, but I knew that if anything had happened to him, he would have wanted you to know.”
The concern in his voice struck a chord inside her.
“That’s why you were racking up a tab at Spindrift,” she said as his plan slowly fell into place in her mind. “That’s why you wanted me to come to your house.”
He laughed softly. “You are extremely difficult to arrange a meeting with, Arthie.”
“But you didn’t tell me,” Arthie said, refusing to believe him.
He looked contrite. “Can you blame me? You were quite intense that first night and then you showed up with the Horned Guard in tow the second time. Anywho, what matters is that you’re here now.”
“Here,” Arthie repeated.
“Here,” Matteo agreed, “at the crossroads of your past and your future.”