Until she got a message, apparently.

   Elissa had just finished her champagne when her phone lit up. She stared at the screen for a moment, then signaled the bartender that she wanted to pay her tab. Five minutes later, she left the ballroom, so I popped in another DVD that showed the outside of the club again. Sure enough, Elissa was standing by the entrance, pacing back and forth, and checking her phone over and over again.

   A cab arrived just after seven thirty, and Elissa slid into the backseat. I froze the footage again so I could get the cab’s number—227—and texted it to Silvio and Finn, asking them to find out who the driver was and where he’d taken Elissa. I also sent them both another text asking if they could hack into Elissa’s phone records. I wanted to know what message had gotten her upset enough to rush out of the country club and head off to parts unknown.

   After that, there was nothing for me to do but wait, so I called Sophia, checking on how things were going with Jade.

   “She’s wearing a path in the floor,” Sophia rumbled. “Woman won’t sit still. She’s making me dizzy.”

   “Just keep an eye on her. Try to get her to eat something and lie down for a few minutes. She needs to rest. She’s no help to anyone if she’s an exhausted bundle of nerves.”

   “Will do.” Sophia paused. “I feel sorry for her. Hard to lose your sister. Hard to be the one who’s lost too.”

   Sympathy and sadness rippled through her raspy voice. Years ago, Sophia had been kidnapped by a couple of sadistic Fire elementals who’d delighted in torturing her, and they had come back and taken her again last summer. The things that she’d endured . . . They made me sick to think about, and I still didn’t know how she’d found the strength to survive them not once but twice. Sophia knew better than anyone how horrifying it was to be ripped away from your family, with no hope of escaping or ever seeing them again. I wondered if that was what Elissa was feeling right now. That sickening misery, that dark despair, that utter hopelessness.

   But more than that, I wondered if she was still feeling anything at all—or if she was already dead.

   “Gin?” Sophia asked, breaking into my turbulent thoughts.

   “Yeah,” I murmured. “It is hard to lose your sister.”

   The two of us hung up, and I got to my feet and walked over to the rune drawings on the mantel. Sophia’s comments made me think about my own lost sister, and I ran my fingers over the ivy vine pendant that was draped over the matching drawing. My sister Annabella’s rune, the symbol for elegance.

   I wondered what Annabella would be like today if she’d gotten the chance to grow up. She would have been thirty-six, five years older than me, maybe married, maybe even with a kid or two. I could almost picture her standing before me, with the same blond hair, blue eyes, and pretty features that Bria and our mother had.

   My gaze moved over to my mother’s snowflake pendant and drawing. Eira would have been in her fifties now, no doubt with some gray hair and a few wrinkles, but still a distinguished beauty.

   But I would never know the answers to my questions.

   Mab Monroe had burned my sister and mother to death, right in front of me, and I hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to save either one of them. Even now, all these years later, I still remembered the intense heat of Mab’s elemental Fire searing the air. The red-hot flames of her magic streaking toward Eira, almost in slow motion. My mother mouthing the words I’m sorry to Annabella and me before disappearing into that ball of Fire. Then Annabella rushing downstairs to meet the exact same fate.

   Watching them die had been horrible enough, but it was all the other sensations that truly haunted me. My mother’s blackened, smoking husk of a body hitting the floor with a dull thud. Annabella’s nightgown crackling like a match that had just been lit. My mother’s skin crumbling to ash. The stench of their charred flesh filling my nose. The hot, acrid odor of fire, smoke, and cooked skin sliding down my throat, making my stomach heave, and poisoning me from the inside out as I realized that my mother and sister were dead, dead, dead—

   My phone rang, snapping me back to the here and now.

   My hand had fisted so tightly around Annabella’s ivy vine that her symbol pressed into the spider rune branded into my palm, another parting gift from Mab. I forced my fingers open and backed away from the rune pendants and matching drawings, trying to clear the morbid memories out of my mind and ignore the pain pulsing in my heart.

   Easier said than done, but I went over to the coffee table and picked up my phone. The caller ID said that it was Finn.

   “Please tell me that you found something on that cab Elissa got into,” I said immediately upon answering.

   “What?” Finn said. “No hello? No small talk? No chitchat?”

   “Not when a girl is missing. So what did you find out?”

   “According to the cabdriver’s log, Elissa paid with a credit card,” Finn said. “Guess where the cabbie dropped her off at last night, around eight o’clock?”

   “I have no idea,” I snapped, not in the mood to play along right now.

   “Northern Aggression,” he said in a smug voice.

   Well, that was actually a bit of good news. Unlike with Marco, I wouldn’t have any problems getting this security footage; Roslyn Phillips, the owner of Northern Aggression, was a good friend.

   “Feel like calling Owen and going over there?” Finn asked.

   “Absolutely.”

   “Good,” he said. “Because I’ve already called Roslyn. So put on your dancing shoes, Gin. We’re going out tonight.”

   • • •

   An hour later, a sharp knock sounded on my front door, which I opened to find Finn standing outside on the porch.

   My eyes widened. “What are you wearing?”

   Instead of his usual dark, subdued banker’s suit, Finn was sporting a light gray coat over a powder-blue bow tie, shirt, vest, and pants, along with shiny, white patent-leather wing tips. His dark brown hair was slicked back into an artful style, he was freshly shaven, and a bit of spicy cologne wafted off him.