Chapter Six
The dress Caden has delivered to my apartment is outrageous. I stand on my tiptoes, looking at myself in the way-too-small bathroom mirror. The dress is knee-length and made of black silk. Thanks to an equally black, opaque pair of tights I found in my closet, it looks reasonably modest, at least from the front. My arms are uncovered except for two thin shoulder straps, but at least it doesn’t have a plunging neckline.
But the back …
I turn around, craning my neck to get a better look at my reflection. The open back of the dress ends just a few inches above my bottom. A golden snake winds itself across my spine, held in place only by slender gold chains attached to the edges of the fabric.
The idea of walking through the East End like this makes me sick to my stomach. The sin mages will undress me with their eyes.
Or rather, they won’t need to. There’s hardly anything left for them to take off. I might as well walk around naked.
I don’t have a phone number to reach Caden, or I’d tell him right now that I’m done. And I can hardly ask Princess Ophelia for his information. She’d be shocked if she knew about my deal with the sin mage. She might even have me punished for it.
“Kaya, is everything okay? You’ve been in there for over an hour,” Ava calls, knocking on the door.
“I’m fine,” I reply, wiping my eyes.
It seems silly even to me that I’m crying over my clothes, but I can’t help it. This skimpy black dress embodies everything I fear. But it’s also the only hope I have of finding out more about my mother’s death.
“Are you sure?”
I can tell Ava’s not convinced. I haven’t told her about my arrangement with Caden. Though I’m sure she wouldn’t judge me for it, the words just won’t cross my lips.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
I force myself to smile, even if Ava can’t see me. In the mirror, a distorted grimace looks back at me.
“All right,” my roommate says after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m off then.”
She’s going to another underground party tonight. Be carefull! I want to say to her. But it’s me who’s standing in front of the mirror in this sinful outfit. I’m the one who wants to go to the East End with a notorious sin mage.
What was I thinking? Caden can do whatever he wants to me if we meet outside the safety of the palace. No one will know where I am. And if something happens to me…
Stop! I silence my doubts. For the first time in my life, I have the opportunity to learn more about my mother’s death. So far, no one has been able to tell me anything about who she was or what happened to her. With Caden’s help, I might finally get some answers. But he can’t make me wear this dress.
After Ava leaves the apartment, I venture out of the bathroom and go to her room. I search for one of the outfits she wears to underground parties. She hides them in a box in the back of her closet.
I decide on a black dress that reaches past my knees. The fabric on the arms and shoulders is transparent. I don’t feel entirely comfortable in the outfit, but at least I’m not showing as much bare skin as I did in the snake dress. I find one of Ava’s lipsticks and paint my lips a soft pink color. It’s one small compromise I can make. By the time I’m finished, the doorbell rings.
Caden promised to pick me up. Only now do I realize the idiocy of that idea. Mrs.Hughes is probably waiting at the top of the stairs to see who’s coming to see us girls. The old lady is awfully nosy. If she sees Caden in his flamboyant getup, she’ll probably have a heart attack.
I quickly pull on my boots and throw on my coat. I grab a sharp knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen, wrap it in some paper towels and put it in the handbag I also borrowed from Ava. Now I at least have a weapon if one of the sin mages in the East End tries to attack me. Feeling a little more prepared, I close the apartment door behind me and cross the hallway.
Through the milky glass panes of the front door, I see a hazy silhouette. I take a deep breath. If I go out and shut the door quickly enough behind me, I might prevent Mrs.Hughes from catching a glimpse of my visitor. Not so much if she’s upstairs at the window, watching the front entrance from there.
My hand shakes as I nervously turn the knob and dart outside. I almost collide with a young woman standing on the doorstep. She’s about my age and clad in a gray dress, her blonde hair hidden under a bonnet. Her face seems unremarkable except for her eyes, which immediately catch my attention. One is green, the other blue.
“Oh, sorry!” I squeak in surprise.
Is she a friend of Ava’s?
“Miss Ashton.” The young woman winks at me conspiratorially. “The limo’s waiting.”
She’s the chauffeur. I’m relieved because this way Mrs.Hughes won’t know about my inappropriate companion for the evening. But the feeling doesn’t last long. What will Caden say when he sees my outfit? Will he even agree to take me, dressed like this? Part of me - the part that’s less brave and more terrified—hopes he won’t.
We walk toward a dark blue limousine with tinted windows. Just before I reach it, the back door is opened from the inside. I hesitate to get in. This is my last chance to change my mind. If I turn back now, I can pretend the conversation between Caden and I never happened. Like I didn’t agree to take a trip to hell with him.
“You’re not going to chicken out, are you, Kaya?” I hear Caden’s muffled voice through the half-open car door.
The tone of his voice is mocking, even more so than usual. But it’s his words that make me pull myself together and get into the car. He smirks as I slide into the seat across from him.
Tonight he’s dressed even more extravagantly than the last time we met. He wears a dress coat made of black and gold brocade, with a dark-blue vest underneath. His black boots shine. The outfit suits him, though I’m glad Mrs.Hughes hasn’t seen him like this.
“I have something for you, Cinderella,” Caden says instead of a greeting. He dangles a pair of gold pumps in front of my face. “To match your dress.”
This would probably be the right time to tell him that I’m not wearing the dress. But before I can do that, his gaze has already slid to the opening of my coat. The hem of my black skirt peeks out. Caden grabs it and rubs it between his thumb and forefinger.
“Polyester,” he notes, grimacing, as if the fabric has personally wronged him.
“I didn’t feel comfortable in the dress you sent me,” I admit meekly.
Caden leans back and eyes me with raised eyebrows. He looks annoyed.
“I didn’t realize it was about whether or not you were comfortable. Take off your coat.”
I don’t want to comply with his order, but I do it anyway. Someone like Caden Nox is probably not used to being defied. And by refusing to put on his dress, I’ve likely opposed him quite enough.
Caden takes his time inspecting my wardrobe. Even though the sheer fabric ends above the top of my décolletage, I feel uncomfortable under his gaze and cross my arms in front of me. My body grows hotter the longer he scrutinizes me. Finally, Caden clicks his tongue disapprovingly.
“Take off your boots.”
I don’t think I’ll be able to get around that request. At least Caden doesn’t demand that I go back up to my apartment and change. Dry-mouthed and with a lot of unspoken curses on my lips, I part with my boots.
“The tights as well.”
“No.” I can’t help it, the word just slips out.
Caden reaches past me for the door handle. His arm grazes my hip. The touch leaves my skin tingling, but the sensation immediately dissipates as he pushes the door open. Cool evening air rushes in.
“You can get out anytime you want. No one is forcing you to come with me, Kaya. But if you do, it’ll be on my terms. Do we understand each other?”
He sounds calm but firm. I stare at the gray sidewalk and consider getting out, but then I nod, not saying anything. Caden pulls the door shut again.
“You have one minute,” he growls impatiently, before looking out the window, apparently to give me some semblance of privacy.
I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever shown a man this much bare skin. Only my doctor during a routine checkup, I guess, but he was old and not particularly attractive. Caden is a whole different story. I don’t know where to look as I take off my tights. Slowly the fabric glides down my legs and the cool air gives me goosebumps even though I feel feverish.
Surely the sin mage will stare at my pale skin and shaven legs. I’m ashamed; only sinners shave their legs, but I don’t like the feeling of stubble.
In spite of myself, I imagine Caden touching my leg, his slender fingers sliding delicately over my skin up to my knee and lingering against my thigh. A burning, sweet tremor spreads through me, and it scares me to the core. I tug awkwardly at the skirt of my dress, hoping to cover more of my skin, but it’s no use. I will have to resign myself to the fact that everyone will be able to see my bare thighs.
When I finally dare to look up, Caden’s already turning to the darkened window that separates us from the driver and knocks on it. The car slowly starts to move.
Caden seems indifferent. I’ve just thrown all my morals overboard, and he doesn’t seem to care at all. Feeling angry and helpless, I curl my bare toes into the velour mat beneath my feet. My gaze falls on the gold pumps.
“Should I put these on then?” I ask timidly.
Caden looks at me as if to say, You’re seriously asking me that? He still seems annoyed because I’m not wearing his snake dress. Does he intend to spend the whole evening in grim silence?
Just to have something to do, I slip into the pumps. The sight of my dainty feet in the golden shoes makes me swallow hard. They fit perfectly. Still, I doubt I’ll be able to walk in them. I’ll have to rely on him for support, and maybe that’s exactly what he’s aiming for.
We drive through West Virtue as the sun slowly sinks toward the horizon. There aren’t many cars on the road at this hour. The sidewalks are empty, too, except for a few passersby coming home late from work or visiting family members they need to care for.
There are probably people like Ava among them, hoping to escape the attention of the guards so they can sneak into an underground party. I try to spot them—people looking around furtively or holding the collar of their coat just a smidgen too tight.
Caden’s elbow rests on the window frame, his thumb touching his upper lip. A lock of his blond hair falls across his forehead. He is handsome, and the pensive gesture makes him seem younger. I wonder how it would feel to brush the hair from his face.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
He looks at me in surprise. “For what?”
“For letting me keep wearing this dress.”
He shrugs. “It’s your choice. Even if the thing looks awfully cheap.”
Awfully cheap. The words gnaw at me for the rest of the drive, stinging more than I’d like to admit. I’m still mulling them over when we reach the East End and the car stops in front of one of the many small alleys.
I take a deep breath. This is it.
The eastern part of the city consists of a large number of narrow alleys and cobbled streets. No cars are allowed past this point. Only the sin mages and their willing victims dare to go here. In the distance, I spot the flashing lights of a bar. A couple gets out of a car beside us and strolls down the alley. At first glance, the woman seems inconspicuous, but then I see the gold skirt peeking out from under her cloak.
The outskirts of the East End are relatively peaceful. There’s too much risk of getting caught by a guard. But if you venture deeper into this cesspool of vice, you can expect some surprises—at least that’s what I’ve heard.
“Let your hair down,” Caden orders before we exit the car. “That braid makes you look like a good little schoolgirl. And trust me, that’s the last thing you want in this place. Here they’ll eat someone like you for breakfast.”
He still sounds stern and unyielding.
Reluctantly, I loosen the braid. It’s just one of many lines I’m crossing tonight. And it somehow doesn’t matter anymore, not in this place where the rules are turned upside down. Where a long skirt, high collar, and a braid makes you stand out more than a daring dress.
Caden gets out first and extends his hand for me to take. I ignore it, but my legs are shaking and as I stand, I have to quickly grab onto the limo to keep from falling over in the pumps.
“Don’t tell me you can’t walk in those,” Caden groans impatiently.
I scowl at him. “These things were made to torture women.”
Something about his posture changes, revealing to me that he’s no longer angry with me.
“Want me to carry you?”
He grins cheekily, and I want to slap him. With my hands clenched into fists and my lips pressed together, I carefully take a few steps. I’m pretty sure I look anything but elegant. Probably more like a zombie dragging herself through the night in search of her next victim.
Caden takes my hand and places it in the crook of his arm. I can tell he has to stifle a laugh, and I feel humiliated. At the same time, I feel his closeness, his hip brushing mine with every step, his arm against mine.
“Where are we going?” I ask after finally managing to walk halfway upright.
“Let’s get you something to drink first. And a chair. That’s really hard to watch,” Caden teases me.
“I’d like to see you try walking in them,” I hiss.
“You just want to catch a glimpse of my bare legs, admit it.”
“I do not!”
I know Caden’s just kidding, but now I can’t help but think about what’s concealed under his clothes—and that’s not good at all.
We dive deeper into the East End. I see bars, nightclubs, casinos, brothels, and cinemas that show old dirty movies. The streets are noticeably more crowded now. I see the woman in the gold dress again. She’s taken off her coat and is wearing a mask made of black lace that covers her eyes.
Other patrons are masked as well, and some are overly made up. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Golden cheeks, red lips, and black-rimmed eyes. Glittering stones sparkle on their faces, bangles jingle, and pearl necklaces disappear into plunging necklines. I see lace tops, silk skirts, red stiletto heels, feather boas and skin. So much naked skin.
Unsure of where to turn my gaze, I stare at the cobblestones at my feet, but then I remember Caden’s words, Here they’ll eat someone like you for breakfast.
I can’t show any weakness.
When I lift my head again, I’m looking straight into the face of a young man who licks his upper lip provocatively at the sight of me. His ringed hand wanders to his lips, and he blows me a kiss.
A few steps farther, a man has a woman pressed up against the wall of a building. He pushes up her short skirt and slides his hand underneath, spurred on by her low, drawn-out moans. Greedily, his mouth finds hers as he lifts her and presses up against her.
“Shocked?” Caden asks, giving me a sideways glance. I can hear the suppressed laughter in his voice.
Of course I am. I tried to imagine what it would be like. But in my mind, it was just images. Now sin is flooding my senses, creeping into my body, and spreading like a cancer. I smell alcohol and the flowery scent of perfume, and hear boisterous laughter mixed with low moans and angry shouting. People push past me, so close that I feel as if I can taste the sin on my tongue. Sweet and heavy and seductive.
My silence seems to be answer enough for Caden.
“Well, here we go then,” he mutters, pushing me toward a bar with the name Dirty Halo written above the entrance in pink neon lettering.
“Dirty Halo? Seriously?” I comment as we step inside.
A cloud of smoke is blown straight into my face, making me cough.
“I’ve seen countless angels fall in here, little one,” a raspy voice answers me.
Its owner leans against a bar table next to the entrance, a cigar in his hand, the end of which glows red as he pulls on it. He wears a shiny blue tuxedo and his narrow face looks as if it were carved from stone. When he notices Caden, his eyebrows rise.
“Mr. Nox. What an honor! It’s been a while since your last visit. What brings the king of the underworld to us?”
Caden’s arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer.
“Like you just said, Salvatore—I’m here to bring about the downfall of an angel,” he says smoothly.
The men laugh. Salvatore’s gaze slides over me, his dark eyes sparkling greedily. I bet he’s imagining how Caden will go about it—bringing about my downfall.
Furious, I tear myself away from him and head down the stairs that lead into the bar. At least there’s a railing I can cling to. Caden and Salvatore are still laughing, and with every step I take, I grow more anxious. I wanted to seem brave. Determined. Not like an innocent girl you lead into a dimly lit bar to gloat over how self-conscious she feels. I now have to admit to myself that that’s exactly what I am.
But I don’t want to give Caden the satisfaction of admitting it to him. So I strut with my head held high, albeit a little shaky, toward the long wooden bar top.
“One tequila, please,” I say to the bartender, who is rinsing glasses.
He barely lifts his head as he slams the small glass on the wood, fills it with the clear liquid, and places a lemon on the rim. I’m the only one standing at the bar. At the back of the room, a group of young men and women lounge on a brown leather sofa. Next to them, a blonde girl dances to soft jazz music blasting from a speaker. She stretches her hands up to the sky and sways back and forth as if she were someplace else completely.
Some movie is playing on an old television hanging on the wall. Fascinated, I watch the flickering images of a man wearing a white sunhat and orange sunglasses, who has a cigarette in his mouth and stares into the camera with a crazed look. There are no films like this in the West End. Television, film, and the internet have been banned so as not to provide a platform for sin.
One of the men reclining on the sofa points at the screen and shouts, “We can't stop here, this is bat country!”
It must have something to do with the movie, because his friends start yelling and whooping at the TV. Irritated, I turn away.
All right then.
I pick up the glass with the tequila and lemon and inwardly prepare myself for the burning in my throat. I’m about to bring the glass to my lips when someone grabs me by the wrist. I stifle a surprised yelp and make to pull my hand away, but Caden holds on tightly.
“If you’re going to get drunk on tequila, you should do it right, love,” he whispers into my ear.
Mischief sparkles in his gray-blue eyes.
“I know what I’m doing,” I hiss, although now I’m not so sure anymore. After all, this would only be the second time I’m doing this.
First the tequila, then the lemon. That’s how Ava taught me.
Caden signals the bartender with a casual wave to bring him a second tequila. Then he reaches for my free hand and brings it to his lips. His tongue slides over the back of my hand, wet and warm. I’m too startled to resist. I draw in a breath sharply.
“What are you doing?”
Unperturbed by my question, Caden reaches for the saltshaker that’s on the counter and sprinkles a bit of salt over the back of my damp hand. Then he repeats the whole thing with his own hand.
“First the salt, then the tequila, and finally the lemon,” he orders.
I would prefer not to drink anything at all. The tequila was my—admittedly rather pitiful—attempt to gain some control over the situation. Now it tastes like a losing battle. I lick up the salt, down the alcohol, and bite into the lemon. This time, the tartness doesn’t come as much of a surprise. Still, I shudder in disgust.
“Let’s find a table,” Caden suggests after we empty our glasses.
Scowling, I follow him to an alcove where two wide leather armchairs stand in front of a fireplace. The warmth of the glowing fire settles on my already heated cheeks. After we sit down, Caden grabs the drink menu and studies it in detail. I rub my thighs nervously.
“Now what?”
“A good merlot, I’d say. Or would you prefer a Pinot Noir?”
Is he serious? I didn’t come here to drink wine.
I pull the photo of my mom and me out of my purse and place it on the table in front of Caden.
“That’s her. So? Who can we ask about my mother?”
“Put that away!” Caden grinds out between clenched teeth.
He doesn’t even glance at the picture. All he seems to care about is that stupid drink menu. As if he’s studying the constitution of the Empire, not the names of alcoholic beverages.
“But it’s the only reason we’re here,” I protest, taking the photo and waving it in front of his face.
“Sure, that’s the only reason,” he replies without looking up.
Naive. I was naive enough to think Caden would honor our agreement. Why would he? I am on his turf now. I’m at his mercy.
“I’ll get us two glasses of wine,” he says.
I’m furious as I watch him get up and walk to the bar. Every step he takes radiates pure arrogance. He doesn’t look back at me, doesn’t even ask if I want wine. It probably doesn’t occur to him either that I might get up and leave while he’s there leaning against the bar with his back to me, talking and laughing with the bartender.
But that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I stand up, the picture of my mother in my hand, and walk toward the exit. Salvatore is engrossed in a conversation with an older man as I walk up the stairs and past him. He briefly looks at me as he takes a drag on his cigar. For a second I’m sure he’s going to stop me, but then I push open the door and step outside.
A mild wind caresses my bare legs. Somewhere, a glass bottle shatters on the pavement. Booming music emanates from a dark building entrance. I would reach for the kitchen knife in my handbag, but I don’t want to attract unwanted attention.
As I put one foot in front of the other, the incomprehensibility of what I’m doing hits me.
I’m in the middle of East Virtue.
And I’m all alone.