One of the guards opened the door instead. “The Master wants you in the foyer, so you can greet his father.”

I wiped my suddenly sweaty palms on my skirt. “The Soul Eater is here?”

“Master Seymour is in transit,” the man corrected me in a warning tone.

“Fine,” I replied with an equally stony glare. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

The door closed, but I knew the guard waited outside. I motioned Ziggy closer. “When they bring you down for the party, stay close to me, because—”

“Because I’m your life insurance policy. I know, I know.” He blew out a long breath. “You’re not going to change your mind at the last minute and let them eat me, right?”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” My heart felt like a solid mass of lead in my chest, and I reached out impulsively to hug him.

His back tensed beneath my arms as his breath hitched. The little boy that still lived in some deeply buried part of him appreciated the comfort. But I wouldn’t offer him empty reassurances. I had no idea what would happen, and I wouldn’t pretend to. “I’ve got to go downstairs.”

I wouldn’t allow myself to look back as I went to the door. The guard waited to escort me, as though I didn’t know the way on my own. He walked fast and didn’t offer me his arm, so I kept up as best as I could without spraining my ankles.

Teetering precariously down the stairs, I caught a glimpse of the guests that were gathered in the foyer. Vampires of various ages chattered among themselves in excitement. Everywhere I looked I saw expensive fur and jewels in exotic styles. Even the Fangs seemed to have dressed for the occasion, though they probably would still be kicked out of higher-end truck stops for breaching the dress code.

Cyrus stood at the front doors. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt his excitement at the prospect of reuniting with his father, and the nagging fear that something seemed out of place, that something wouldn’t go right. I pushed through the crowd with an air of confidence. It wouldn’t do any good to let him sense my own anxiousness and have all of Nathan’s planning go down the drain at the eleventh hour.

I wobbled on my spiky heels and fell against a slender vampire with a bald head. Two small horns protruded from his forehead, and his thin black mustache quirked in annoyance. He looked like the cartoon devil on a package of Red Hots. “Excuse me,” I said, struggling to right myself and not stare.

When I finally reached his side, Cyrus slipped his arm around my waist. He pulled me close and kissed my cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Thanks. But maybe next time you could let me pick the footwear.” I peeked distractedly at the vampires around us. “Who are all these people?”

He waved dismissively. “Friends of Father’s, friends of mine. Allies, acquaintances. The Fangs.”