The giant had a decidedly bored look on her face. She cooed false encouragement to the dwarf, even as she examined her nails as if debating whether or not she needed a fresh manicure. The giant saw me staring. Her brown eyes landed on the rune necklace around my throat, and she shrugged as if to say, What can you do? I returned her shrug and walked on.

One thing I didn’t see back here were any giant guards.

Mab Monroe probably didn’t want her more amorous guests to feel like they were being watched. Having a giant loom over you would give just about anyone performance anxiety.

I came to a cross corridor and paused. To my left, another set of doors led out onto the terrace. Another hallway stretched out in front of me, while another one veered right, snaking back underneath the staircase. I turned right and walked deeper into the mansion. The partygoers hadn’t gotten too serious about their sexual gymnastics just yet, so this area was deserted. I passed a couple of rooms, none concealed enough for my liking. It wouldn’t do any good for me to kill Tobias Dawson and have someone find his body a minute later. I was going to need longer than that to slip out of the mansion after I’d done the job.

So I strolled through the rooms, sipped my champagne, and pretended to admire Mab Monroe’s tasteful furnishings while I looked for a spot to stiff Dawson.

One thing actually did catch my interest—a series of rune paintings, not unlike the drawings I had propped up on the mantel in Fletcher Lane’s den.

My eyes flicked over the runes mounted on the wall opposite the back of the staircase. A sunburst. A lit match. A teardrop-shaped flame licking at the paper it was on. The framed pieces all had to do with fire or heat in some way, and all were done in burnt siennas, bloody oranges, fiery yellows. It seemed Mab and I shared the same taste in something besides killing people. Weird. And disturbing.

As I stared at the paintings, an uneasy shiver tickled my spine like a cold finger. Something about the artwork resonated on a primal level with me. Here, something old and knowing whispered in the back of my mind. Here is your enemy.

Not an unusual thought for a Stone elemental to have while in the house of a Fire, or vice versa. Opposing elements just didn’t mesh—and neither did their human counterparts. Air against Ice, Fire against Stone. An old, predictable story. I’d heard that voice, felt this unease, before in other places with other elementals. But never this intense.