XXI
The music swelled around me, warm and glittering, but I felt him before I saw him. My body wouldn't move. His long tongue had some sort of paralyzing agent causing my entire body to halt. That strange, electric pull, like fingers brushing the edge of my spirit caressed without him moving a finger. When I turned, the hat man's mask-like face was already gliding toward me again, his waxy yellow eyes fixed on me with a hunger that made my skin prickle. I knew he wanted another taste. He needed it like an addict in my old world.
I could feel him draw in my soul. I could almost see the way my light leaked around me, tethered but still bright enough to lure him like a moth to a flame. I didn't mean to shine. I didn't know how to stop. But to him, I was a beacon. A feast he wasn't allowed to have. I tried my best to break out of his spell, to move away from his arms and overly sharp teeth. He reached for me, fingertips trembling with that awful, greedy longing.
And then someone seized him by the collar.
The force of it snapped him backward so hard his boots scraped across the floor. Gasps rippled through the guests. The hat man snarled, he growled a low, feral sound that didn't belong in a ballroom.
A tall man in the military coat held him fast, grey eyes shining like molten silver, burning with warning.
"Enough," he said, voice quiet but sharp enough to cut. "You know the rules. This place is a sanctuary. Furthermore, this is a party. You were not invited and still feed?"
The hat man twisted in his grip, teeth bared in a smile that wasn't a smile at all.
"She shines," he hissed. "You don't understand. She tastes like sunshine, like life."
"I only touched her," he rasped. "Just touched her. And she fed me." He shuddered, pupils narrowing to thin slits.
His eyes locked onto me again; starving, desperate, and obsessed. His gloved hands swatted at the fingers that gripped his collar. The hat man strained against that hand, fingers twitching as if he could pull away from him and toward me by will alone.
The Madam stepped forward then, her presence cooling the air like a sudden winter draft. Her gown shimmered as she approached, her expression a blend of pity and irritation.
"Hat man," she murmured, "you forget yourself."
He froze. He was caught. He knew that the shadow council had the power to make him vanish. The'd file down his teeth and cage his hounds if he stepped too far from his hunting grounds. He realized that he would go no further. He put his hands up, stepping away from the uniformed man. He'd would lose today, a temporary tactical retreat.
"She is not yours," the Madam said. "Her soul is tethered. Protected. You may not take from her."
He trembled, jaw clenched, eyes still locked on me with a devotion that felt like drowning.
Madam's servant stepped up to him, hat and cane in hand. He would be summarily dismissed from this party.
"I'm starving," he whispered.
"And that," the Madam replied, "is not her problem. You should leave. We do not welcome those without decorum here."
The military man stepped back another step as if to let him pass. This time, the hat man didn't fight. He only stared at me like a creature denied the one light bright enough to fill the hollow inside him. He'd missed his meal tonight and would leave wanting and hungry. He donned his hat and cane, dusting off his coat with one hand.
"Until we meet again little firefly."
He stepped away with a jaunty tap and twirl of coat. Grey fog blew in, coalescing into the shadow of a hound at his side, as the front door opened and he stepped out of the party. I could hear a growl as he left. I didn't know if it was the dog, or him.
"Come child, I will introduce you to better friends than that one." The madam patted my arm and guided me through the party crowd. "It has taken me a while to gather anyone I thought could help with your little problem. I could find nothing in the day world to aid you. I had to dabble a little in the shadow."