Bitter Bite (Elemental Assassin #14)(62)

him with my eyes closed.”

Finally, Owen and I reached the front of the line, where a familiar face was

checking invitations.

Xavier looked us both up and down, then let out a low whistle. “Nice duds,

Grayson. You too, Gin.”

“Well, you know me. I saw the pattern and couldn’t resist the irony.” I

nodded at the giant. “You look pretty spiffy yourself.”

Like all the other cops, Xavier was wearing black wing tips, dark blue dress

pants, and a dark blue jacket with a double row of silver buttons marching

down the front. A matching blue hat was perched on top of his shaved head,

while a black leather utility belt was cinched around his waist. His gold

badge gleamed on the belt, right next to his holstered gun. A metal baton

dangled from another slot on the belt, along with a flashlight.

“Chief’s orders,” he rumbled. “Everyone in dress blues for the fancy

shindig.”

Owen grinned. “Taking names and kicking ass like usual?”

“Well, someone’s got to do some work around here, since my partner decided

to take the night off.” Xavier jerked his head. “Bria and Finn are already

inside, along with Mama Dee.”

I groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re calling her by that ridiculous nickname

too.”

“She’s got everyone here calling her that.” Xavier stamped our invitations,

then handed them back to Owen. “Enjoy the show.”

“Fat chance of that,” I muttered.

Xavier chuckled and waved for the next couple in line to step forward.

Owen and I entered the museum, walked down a hallway, and stepped into the

exhibit area, an enormous rotunda topped by a high, domed ceiling. I’d

expected the setup to be the same as the last time I was here—glass cases

filled with baubles, subdued white lights wrapping around the columns, soft

classical music trilling in the background.

But Mama Dee didn’t do anything halfway, and the rotunda had been converted

into an old-fashioned Prohibition speakeasy. A large bar had been set up along

one of the walls, complete with a champagne tower at either end, and all the

waitstaff were dressed in either old-timey white suits or white flapper

dresses. Clusters of white feathers, black beads, and red crystals decorated

everything and wound all the way around the second-floor balcony. Upbeat big-

band music pulsed through the air, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if the

waiters stopped serving drinks and broke out into an elaborate song-and-dance

routine at any second.

Still, the bright, elegant atmosphere didn’t even come close to outshining

all the jewels on display.

Diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and more winked from behind three-

inch-thick glass cases throughout the rotunda. The jewels themselves were

impressive enough, but the settings were even more extravagant: gold, silver,

and platinum that had been hammered into all sorts of shapes, from classic

princess-cut diamond solitaire rings to an owl pin with quarter-sized emeralds

for eyes to a clutch purse covered with rubies that had been fitted together

in the shapes of roses. It was like standing in the middle of the world’s

most impressive and expensive rainbow. There was easily more than a hundred

million dollars’ worth of stones in this room, each one vainly chirping about

its own sparkling beauty. The gemstones’ boasting voices perfectly punctuated

the fast-paced music.

“Deirdre owns all these jewels?” Owen asked.

“Just a few pieces,” I said. “Most of the items belong to folks here in

Ashland. Apparently, Deirdre knows everyone who’s anyone, especially among

the society crowd, and she got them all to loan their jewelry to her.”

“Impressive,” Owen said.

And it truly was. The display of Mab Monroe’s personal effects here back

during the summer had been a sight to see, but this was something else. I’d

never been much for jewelry, but even I couldn’t help gawking at all the

unique and interesting pieces on view. I could almost admire Deirdre for

putting together such a lavish, over-the-top show.

Almost.

“Let’s find Finn and Bria.” I paused. “After we have a drink. Or three.”

“Sounds like someone needs a little liquid courage for her next encounter

with Mama Dee,” Owen teased.

“Absolutely.” I elbowed him in the side. “Now, shut it, wiseguy, and take

me to the bar.”

Owen and I grabbed a couple of drinks—a Scotch on the rocks for him and a gin

and tonic for me—then walked around the rotunda, looking at the jewelry and

searching for our friends. In addition to Ashland’s upper crust, several

underworld bosses were here tonight, and I once again had to stop and make

nice with the more important ones, just as I had done at the bank’s cocktail

party. Once again, my cheeks started to ache from all the fake smiles and