Vikki

There's a smell of woodsmoke in the air as I climb out of the Bentley onto the crunchy gravel in front of the large country house with its doric columned portico in an imposing sandstone. The air is chilly, and I pull the down jacket with fur trimmed hood closer around me.

Ahead of us and behind are equally large, expensive vehicles disgorging the great and good of both the Upper and Lowerworlds. I got used to monsters pretty quickly when I was working in various coffee shops. They like their coffee and cake the same as any human, and to be entirely honest, seeing a large yeti enjoying a hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream will always be a highlight for me from that time in my life.

Max looks every inch a billionaire in his long, dark cashmere and wool coat, perfectly fitted to his enormous troll frame. His jaw is rather clenched, his white tusks protruding a little more than usual, and a muscle ticks in his cheek as he scans our surroundings.

This is the second event we've attended together since we emerged from his bedroom after twenty-four solid hours of doing very naughty things to each other. It was a quiet and intimate gallery opening, and Max very nearly got us caught when he dragged me into a back room and railed me senseless against a wall.

It's possible the cold might put paid to any such fun today. That and the very serious looks on the faces of all the participants.

Max offers me his arm, and we make our way up the stairs, through the columns, and into an enormous domed hall.

"I'd hoped it might be warmer inside," I say with a chatter of teeth to Max.

"These places never get warm," he replies. "The occupants spend all their time in the scullery next to an electric fire, when they're not showing off." He huffs.

"I wouldn't fancy the heating bill." I shiver and sink farther into my coat, wishing I'd chosen trousers rather than the dark green velvet dress I'm wearing.

Max grunts under his breath. As I'm learning, it's his default response when he isn't impressed with something.

He does it a lot, although so far, not to me. Mostly down the phone to Peter, or like yesterday, in person, when Peter came to the apartment.

His assistant was absolutely everything I expected, slim, blond, and with a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles over which he very carefully appraised me.

After the third grunt, I took refuge in the library, running the gauntlet of Olly the basilisk. After a couple of suspicious stares, he left me alone to browse and eventually Max had to come find me.

What we did in the library…well, let's just say I hope Olly is hard of hearing…

Max takes my hand. "You're freezing!"

"Yes, I am. Well done, Captain Obvious." I laugh. "But then we're here to see ice sculptures, so it fits."

Max sighs deeply. "Let's go see the ridiculous things. I can make a donation and we can go home and get warm."

He growls the last few words, and I'm left with no doubt what my randy troll has in mind.

We make our way across the hall, through a set of grand doors, into a further hall, and out into the garden at the rear.

I say "garden," but it's more like vast acreage. To our left, there is a big white marquee with doors and what appears to be a large cooling system attached to the outside. A large easel displays a mounted poster proclaiming Ice Worlds: A Journey in Ten Sculptures. Underneath, in much smaller letters, it details the charities for which the event is being held. I note they are a mix of human and monster ones, mostly related to housing aid.

Something I wholeheartedly support, having nearly been made homeless myself.

Max opens the door for me, and I step inside, my breath fogging immediately. In fact the entire marquee is filled with a frosty blue gloom. A shiver runs up my spine and it's not from the cold.

"Maxim Horenson!" a laser bright female voice calls out. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

Out of a swirl of mist steps a tall, thin woman with scarlet hair flowing in shining waves around her shoulders. She wears a sparkling white, long dress, and her skin is strangely translucent. If she's human, she's seriously unwell. If she's a monster, she's not one I've encountered before.

In one hand, she holds a long cigarette holder, the tip is the only thing with color on her, barring her hair, as it glows orange in the blue light of the marquee. It reminds me, oddly, of Max, who for once doesn't have his normally ever present cigar.

The woman practically winds herself around Max and air kisses next to his cheeks. I feel his arm tighten around my waist.

"Lucretia," he says, as cold as the ice we're supposed to be viewing. "I presume this event has something to do with you."

She tinkles out a laugh with an edge so sharp you could cut yourself on it. "It does. I'm entirely to blame." She flings out a skinny arm and the mist clears, exposing the sculptures.

They are…awful. Each one is carefully carved, but the proportions are all wrong. I gasp and Lucretia's gaze falls on me.

"You have a pet," she says directly to Max.

He does his growl, although I notice it's more under his breath than usual.

"This is my girlfriend, Victoria," he says to her. "Victoria, this is Lucretia of Narcia."

"Pleased to…" Before I can get the words out, she's grabbed me by my chin and is inspecting me as one might inspect an animal.

"Human?" she says to Max, ignoring the fact I was speaking to her. "How disappointing."

"Lucretia," Max growls a warning.

She lets me go with a look of disgust, which is quickly replaced by a false smile. "I guess fate takes all guises, Maxim."

Max pulls me back into him, and even though I'm wearing a big coat, I realise I need his warmth because it is decidedly frosty in here.

"It does, Lucretia, as you well know."

Lucretia sniffs as if there is a bad smell.

"I have paid my debts, troll," she hisses. Behind us the door opens, and she pushes past me, ready to greet whomever is unfortunate enough to have walked into her lair.

"Just who was that?" I fire up at Max as I attempt to edge away from both Lucretia and the horrid sculptures.