Chapter 10
10
T his dress is exquisite. Silver couture that probably costs more than double my annual paycheck flows over my skin like a waterfall, with a halter strap and matching heels.
All perfectly fitted, as if custom-made for me and me alone.
I’m beginning to sense a pattern to this seemingly effortless array of clothes, foods, and beverages that all seem tailored to my wants and needs.
Keisha spent the past hour helping me transform from a crumpled piece of tissue, to a woman I hardly recognize in the mirror. She tells me very little about what to expect this evening, and I suspect that’s entirely on purpose.
I’m feeling so unsure of anything anymore that I float along, blindly following her lead.
We’ve driven a couple of minutes from the house where I’ve been kept isolated until now, and as we follow a winding gravel road through open grass fields with forest extending into the distance, I see what she means about this place belonging to the Noire Estate .
This land, the surroundings we’ve passed through, are akin to that of a palace. Whatever grandiosity might await at our destination, it’s large enough to warrant its own postcode.
Pulling up outside the familiar sight of impressive gothic architecture, I see hundreds of windows overlooking the immaculately landscaped parking area out front. It was seemingly quick to drive the distance between the two locations, and I’m guessing without a vehicle, the same route would take ten or fifteen minutes on foot.
I can’t help but wonder if there are other buildings hidden amongst the expanses of forest and open grassland.
The place is bustling with arriving guests, suited valets seeing to parking their sports cars and luxury vehicles. A parade of tuxes, gowns, and skull-masked attendees line the steps leading to the imposing front doors.
My pulse thuds as Keisha drives past all the finery on display, continuing to a different part of the mansion.
She sees my confused look and flits a knowing smile my way.
“Staff entrance is down here.”
“Is the whole building a sex club?” I can feel how round my eyes must be, even in the dim evening light.
“Most of this wing. The other end is private apartments belonging to the Noire lineage. Although, truth be told, there’s never anyone there for the most part. Andreas Noire might oversee everything inside the mansion, but he doesn’t have anything to do with the club these days.”
Staring out the windshield, I take in row after row of darkened windows, the stone facing, just how ominous and imposing this building is where it rises up out of the landscape. I remember thinking this place was commanding and somewhat terrifying the last time I came here. Now, I’m back, and it hasn’t changed at all.
Except this time, it is me who has been forever changed by recent events .
“This auction, is it a regular thing? What happens?” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek. It seems crazy that I’m suddenly allowed out with Keisha. Not only that, but in a scenario where I could easily try to make an escape while hidden amongst the crowds of people gathered here tonight. I’m also curious to know why my attendance is required.
“Wait.” My head whips in the direction of the woman steering us into a parking space near a heavy-set black door. “I’m not being sold off to some creep, am I? If you people are gonna try anything like what those assholes did to me—”
Keisha snorts and brushes off my impending panic attack. “Hell no. There’s no way you’d be sold, or included in anything like the events of the auction. As far as you’re concerned, just think of yourself as a VIP who is only going to be given the red carpet treatment.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a but missing from everything you’re saying.”
“Truthfully? This is all unprecedented, even for someone like me, and I’ve seen just about everything there is to see inside these walls. Whoever has decided they want you brought into this world, they’re more or less a law unto themselves.”
“So, I’m screwed. There’s no going back to my normal life, I’m guessing.”
No returning to my world as I knew it, regardless of how pale and lifeless that existence might have been.
“I think it’s safe to assume your life won’t look the same, yes.” She pauses after putting the car in park, then shifts in her seat to face me. “But tell me this, Posey, would you want to go back to your previous life? The unpaid bills and the shitty job?”
“Just call me Poe,” I mutter.
“Didn’t think so, Poe…” She makes a point of echoing my name. “You wouldn’t be the first to walk through these halls and never return to how your days might have looked before arriving here, and you certainly won’t be the last either. Noire House calls to certain people in a way that is hard to explain or understand. Why do you think there are so many people dressed to the nines at the grand entrance tonight? Why do you think this club fills up no matter what day of the week, or time of day? There’s nothing wrong with wanting something different for your life… just, occasionally, it arrives in a manner we are entirely unprepared for.”
This feels reminiscent of my arrival with Rita back when it was just me and my best friend clutching tickets to attend an evening here. When we arrived at Noire House with expectations of a night of pleasure and escapism, yet, I ended up stolen as a result. My life ended up being stolen.
Thinking back to that night, everything started in an eerily familiar way. Somehow, being pep-talked into getting out of a car and entering this mansion, where untold secrets, and potentially bodies, are hidden.
Part of me wants to ask Keisha about my friends, whether they’re worried about me, or if they even know that I’m here.
Then, another part of me shuts any consideration of those thoughts down. I couldn’t live with myself if I discovered that something similar to what I went through had befallen my best friend because of me.
“Once we get inside, I’ll find you a seat, and you can sit back and enjoy the show.”
“You aren’t staying with me?”
“I wish… gotta give the members what they came for. I’ll be the one on stage captaining this voyage of curiosity.” She winks my way and flourishes a mock salute.
As I shut my door and rearrange the straps of my dress, making sure the fabric is all smoothed into place, I hear Keisha’s phone receive a notification.
“Shit. Look at me, yapping too much, as always. We gotta get moving.”
Things proceed at a rapid pace. My little legs, wobbly in unfamiliar heels after not having worn any in what feels like a very long time, struggle valiantly to keep up with the woman who leads the way on long, gazelle-like limbs.
We pass through the black door that might as well be a portal into the underworld for all I know, and make our way along a series of corridors that seem somehow ancient and modern at the same time. Antique paintings adorn the walls, yet the place is humming with flashes of technology I manage to catch glimpses of as we pass by. Strange juxtapositions of computer screens and a room containing large angular boxes with flashing LED lights on them, mixed with ornate carpet and wallpaper.
“Down here is security, servers, internet… all the things that make running everything in the rooms upstairs smooth as silk. For all intents and purposes, the mansion houses the most modern and well-appointed sex club you could hope for. It just so happens to be oozing with old-world power and the kind of influence that money simply cannot buy.” Keisha waves at a few figures, but it’s all a blur. The lighting is dim and sparse, provided only by ornate gold wall sconces.
If I had any preconceptions of a secret society and what it might look like, this wasn’t it. Somewhere in my mind, I expected stone chambers and medieval spiral staircases descending below ground into dank catacombs.
Although, I don’t doubt for a second that those features are present, hidden somewhere in this grand mansion, too.
I’m sure some of the regulars here would pay good money to be chained in a cold basement and whipped.
When we reach a dead end, there are stairs to our right, lined with burgundy carpet and gold edging. On our left, an elevator with brass doors.
“On any other day, I would give you a proper walk-through, but we’d better take the efficient route.” Keisha seems entirely unflappable. However, I see the way she checks her phone every few seconds, and as we enter the elevator to the sounds of piped classical music, her thumbs tap away at a message.
One. Two. Three. We ascend, and eventually, the doors swish open on the third level. The wave of noise is immediate.
Chatter and laughter and a crush of mingling guests greet us. I’m left reeling a little as we step into the foyer adjacent to a ballroom that looks straight out of a fairytale.
Chandeliers glimmer, and expanses of gold and black marble wink at me everywhere I look.
However, it’s the people who snare my gaze. Each of them wears one of those skull masks I see on repeat whenever I close my eyes.
The three particular masks I can’t shake the memory of.
Some have partial coverings, barely half of their face concealed. Others have a full skeletal visage completely obscuring their identity. I can only assume it must be up to the individual as to their preference as to whichever they choose to wear.
“This is where I’ll leave you.” Keisha nudges my shoulder, and I’m sure the look I give her is akin to what the actual fuck?
“Take a seat at the bar right there; William is an absolute sweetheart and will probably fall in love with you the moment you bat those long eyelashes his way.” Following the direction she’s pointing in, I see a slender man in a corset pouring cocktails. As if he can sense us talking about him, even from all the way across the foyer, he raises his eyes in our direction and winks at Keisha.
“Ask him for whatever you want to drink, it’s all on the house.” She gestures a forefinger in a wide arc while lifting her chin toward the ornate, gilded ceiling overhead. Noire House. The Household.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Enjoy the show.” My newly-acquired minder smiles broadly, then vanishes in a twirl of sparkly black chiffon. For a split-second, I’m left swaying amid a sea of elegantly dressed secret society members while faced with the prospect of turning tail to flee.
How far would I get?
“Rather unique to see a bared face on a night like tonight.” A deep voice startles me from over my shoulder. I’d been so caught in my own thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the tide of people milling around had begun to turn, now surging through into the ballroom.
When I turn toward the sound, I’m left stumbling a little, and it’s not due to my unsure footing in these goddamn heels.
A man looks down at me with cheekbones liable to cut glass, sandy-colored hair cropped extremely short up the sides and a little longer on the top, and intensely hazel eyes.
Did one of my strangers have hazel eyes? I know one had hypnotic blue irises that drilled into me. God, I can’t think, and it seems the more I try to remember, the faster those hazy memories slip through my fingers like grains of sand.
He’s impossibly handsome, wearing a three-piece suit all in shades of charcoal and black that seems right at home amongst the old-money decor surrounding us.
“No mask.” He dips his chin in the direction of my naked face, surveying me from a polite distance with both hands clasped behind his back.
“Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to be rude, or go against the dress code, or something...” For some reason, I feel like I’ve just broken some cardinal rule I wasn’t aware of in the first place. “I just arrived and—” My body turns in the direction Keisha just disappeared in, except she’s long gone, along with the majority of people who had packed this area only moments before.
“Not at all. Can I show you to your seat?” He steps forward, giving me a thoughtful look, and if I was terrified of what this night might bring, there is almost a guarantee that I’m going to be lost amongst all of these people .
My body heats the longer he stands there being a gentleman, and I find myself floundering because he’s impeccable. The sort of man you only see in haute couture photoshoots. So gorgeous you don’t quite know whether to focus on the angularity of his jaw, or slight hollow of his cheekbones, or simply forget to breathe in the presence of someone who has been blessed with a face carved from smooth marble.
Is it me who has now forgotten how to speak? After being around my silent captor, is it my turn to be the one who has misplaced all my vocabulary?
“I–I don’t have a ticket or anything.” Suddenly, memories of threats and rumors of people going missing sound in my mind like a distant horn shrouded in sea mist. Alerting me to the jagged rocks I’m drifting perilously close to.
“You’re here with Keisha. That in itself is invitation enough.” His lips twist slightly, which only serves to show off just how well-proportioned his face is.
Next to this man, I feel like I’ve been residing in a swamp for the past few weeks and am only pretending at being worthy of putting on a fancy dress and attending an occasion such as this.
“She told me to sit at the bar while the auction takes place.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, since I don’t have a bag, clutch, or anything to cling onto. So, I fuss a little with my hair, tucking it behind one ear and dip my head.
“Then I’ll join you…” He pauses, and something thoughtful crosses his expression. “If you don’t mind me intruding?”
That makes me almost snort. I barely catch the ungainly noise as it threatens to burst out of my chest. “If anyone feels like an intrusion here, it’s me.”
Jesus. I shouldn’t have made an effort to make eye contact, because those hazel eyes damn near glow with amber, and there’s a tug at the corners of his lips resembling amusement. It’s an expression I’d do very well to forget, because in my experience, a man who can hit me with that kind of glance is very, very dangerous to my health.
He’s exactly the type of man I’d allow myself to be swept off my feet by, and this whole gentleman-exterior, thinly veiling a mischievous grin is doing things for me.
Maybe it’s the fact I’m back in the place where my fantasies came to life, but I find myself caught off-guard by his presence.
“Ladies first.” He tilts his head in the direction of the bar. The audience have settled in now, filling the numerous tables, and all sit facing a raised stage at one end of the ballroom.
My cheeks tinge with pink at the thought this ridiculously good-looking man is going to continue to spend time in my presence. I make my way to the safety of a bar stool to perch on in a valiant attempt not to swoon completely off balance.
As I slide onto the dark leather cushion and settle back, I see that he’s come to stand beside me, but hasn’t taken a seat. With hands still clasped leisurely behind his back, he catches the eye of the elfin-like bartender Keisha had pointed out to me earlier.
“Will… I’ll get you to fix me the usual, and for the lady here, a glass of champagne.”
“Actually, if it’s not a bother, do you have bottled water?” I chime in hastily. The taste for anything alcoholic—least of all champagne—has lost its allure, no matter how charming this man might be.
“Still or sparkling?” Our bartender, William, seems unbothered by my request.
“Sparkling. Thank you.”
As I turn in my seat, running my hands over my dress to smooth it down, that’s when everything starts to slip sideways.
The man beside me sets something on the polished, inky black bar surface.
A mask.
A skull mask, splattered with copper.
Copper Mask .
My eyes widen, and throat tightens, as wheels turn frantically inside my mind.
Just as he leans on one elbow and looks me over, I see the way his face changes. The gentlemanly portrayal from moments ago slips like a sheet falling, to reveal the truth beneath that false appearance.
His hands are tattooed. The skull, I recognize immediately. Those elemental icons decorating his knuckles, too.
Where a moment ago, this man looked like something elegant; now, he looks like a collector of souls. The lights dim all around us, and the stage lights flare, which coats him in heavy, dangerously deep shadows.
“You…” I whisper.
I can’t see the hazel of his gaze now; those eyes are lost to a sunken, dark place filled with lies.
“Hello, little flower,” he murmurs, and that familiar name sends a bolt of goosebumps down the length of my arms.
This world is his world. I had maybe hoped to come across him again at one point in time, but now, after everything, I don’t know how to ever trust the likes of him again.
The second of my three masked strangers stands before me, and I feel like my stomach has plummeted through the floor.
“He called me that, too. Little flower. ” I stammer. Recalling the vile man who drugged me in my own kitchen and tricked me into believing he was the very man standing before me. “Did you know? Were you in on it?” I keep my voice hushed, because this hardly seems the time or place, but I don’t trust myself to be able to securely find my feet and walk out of here.
Whether he’d even allow me to is another question entirely.
All around us, the ballroom comes to life with raucous applause and a woman’s voice over a microphone. Keisha.
There’s no way of focusing upon any of it, though. I’m fixated on the man with tattooed hands and a mask sitting barely a foot from me that I recognize so intimately. A man who knows just about every inch of my body from that night, when I was a fool to think I’d leave this place and simply return to normality.
“You were the one, that night. Your mask.”
He tilts his head to one side, and that movement draws me back to how he looked at me the exact same way, only with his identity concealed. Only, even back then, it wasn’t truly hidden. His hands, those inked forearms I know lie beneath his tailored suit jacket. All those details were on show and plain to see. I can’t remember his hair, it had been so dark, but looking at it now, it’s shorter than that night. Here, up close, it looks less blond as a result of the close cut.
“Well done, love.” His smile is mocking this time. Before, the tilt of those lips seemed appealing, but now the expression he wears is laced with taunts and threats.
I remember exactly how he used those words that night. How effortlessly he coated my naked body in shame, yet turned me on at the same time.
“What do you want?” My eyes scan around to see if there’s any way I can get out of here without causing a scene. “Did you like knowing those sick fucks took me? Were all three of you in on their game right from the start?”
He runs a thumb across his mouth, studying me from beneath those eyes so deeply crevassed they might as well be empty sockets to match his lifeless mask.
“I’d be careful of the accusations you throw around.”
“Do you think I give a fuck? Do you think I care after what they did to me, all while pretending to be you ?”
“This is your world now, little flower.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“Ahh, but I know you like it.” He keeps those arms folded, with one hand rested at his jaw, and bends closer to my ear.
His scent of cedarwood and citrus hits me, and I goddamn hate that it reawakens a part of my body that remembers every devious detail of our night together.
“You see, I know how you enjoyed everything, but hate yourself for admitting that. I know all your little secrets, love. I know your moans, I know the way your tongue gets desperate for the head of a cock, and I know exactly how wet you get.”
I recoil. The picture he just painted is too vivid, too starkly reminiscent of that night, when all of those things were true. However, I can’t let myself fall victim to the likes of this man. He was the only one who spoke to me that night, the one who I was tricked and entrapped because of. I don’t want to stop and figure out whether he was, or wasn’t involved; all I want to do is go home.
Fuck everything about this place, the secrets, whatever bullshit Keisha spouted about belonging to this world now.
“Fuck you.”
Hearing me hiss drags a dark chuckle forward to fill the space between us.
“Oh, little flower. How apt it is that you find your voice tonight. This is your world, don’t you see?” He turns side-on and gestures with his angular chin in the direction of what now is obviously an auction for the woman currently on stage alongside Keisha. A woman wearing nothing but a ruffled baby pink thong and bra. She also has a collar around her neck and wears cat ears tucked into her blonde pixie cut.
Bidding cards fly in the air as the numbers being announced climb astronomically high.
“No. None of this is my world.”
He clicks his tongue and gives me a flash of teeth, lit for a brief moment by a roaming spotlight shining across the crowd. I could swear those canines resemble sharpened fangs.
“That’s where you have to understand something, when it comes to this life, the Anguis, your choices no longer matter. You think anything about that night was a coincidence? ”
My throat constricts as he echoes Keisha’s words from earlier.
“You were chosen, Posey Reed. Someone very powerful picked you long before you ever set foot inside the doors to Noire House. Your fate had already been sealed and that night was nothing more than the beginning of your initiation—the first in a series of tests you will be required to undergo. An act of showing your willingness to let yourself be used in the way your new masters want you to serve them.”
His laugh runs a chilling, cold tendril down my spine.
“And oh, how eagerly you proved to be the perfect little whore for them.”