Page 39 of A Wild Darkness

“There,” he says.

I slowly turn to spot a subtle clench in his jaw, as if he’s holding something back. Maybe a sarcastic comment about me needing him?

“Ready to go?”

I nod, then rush back over to the bed to grab the most important item of the night. The item that will keep my identity hidden. “Yeah, let me just get my mask.”

“Oh, and I’ve been meaning to tell you. As you’re probably aware, killers usually have monikers.”

“Like stage names?”

“Yes, that’s one way to look at it.” His hand palms the door, stepping into the bedroom. “Oh shit, I almost forgot. I had to come up with one, and I think we should choose one for you, too. I hope you won’t need it, but in case they ask you for your name tonight.”

He tells me this now? “Oh, okay?”

“I know it’s last minute, but I want to make sure we’re prepared for everything. I came up with the Dark Prince as mine.”

“Interesting.”

“Now we just need to come up with yours.”

“Uh, yeah. I think I have a few in mind.”

“Let’s talk about it on the drive over there.”

I click my tongue, thinking about getting him back for springing this on me last minute. “Um, I’ll tell you when I decide.”

“Or we just discuss it together.”

We both start walking down the hallway of the East Wing.

“I’ll choose myself. Then I’ll run it by you. It’s a big deal. I want to make sure it’s something that makes sense and I won’t forget.”

“Stevie,” he warns again, stepping into the elevator.

I playfully pat his shoulder, leaning close so he won’t miss the grin on my face. “It will be good, I promise.”

Sebastian opens the car door for me.

“Thank you.” I slide into the low, black sports car. It smells of leather and a hint of the shower soap I’m assuming he uses. My body betrays me with little stomach flutters.

Sebastian gets into the driver’s seat and backs out. When he pulls out of the underground garage, my heart leaps into my throat and what we’re about to do tonight hits me.

As if he can sense my apprehension, he turns to me. “Take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay.”

“Thank you. I’m fine,” I say softly, smiling in his direction.

Sebastian returns my smile, then turns his focus back to the road.

We take the drive to the ferry dock near downtown in silence. He is calmer and more at ease, which would make sense since I’ve learned he’s been doing this for years. After we park and walk up to the ticket counter, we pay and then only have to wait a few minutes before the ferry arrives. It’s a short ride over to the small island that’s home to Moore Mansion.

“We should put on our masks now. We’re officially in enemy territory,” he whispers into my ear.

I nervously fumble to slide on my intricate, lacy Colombina mask that covers the top half of my face. But as soon as the mask is in place, a sense of safety washes over me. As if this thin fabric can fully hide my true identity. But I let myself bask in the false sense of security.

A light chill in the air brings a shiver across my bare shoulders, because even in the middle of summer, the nights remain cool. With all the nerves, I must have forgotten to grab a light shawl before we left.

“We’re about to dock,” Sebastian says after a quick nine-minute ride. Then he removes his jacket and places it around my shoulders.