Chapter 9
Damon
Upon awakening, I was immediately disoriented, not only from finding myself alone in bed, but from how the hotel room was illuminated in an unsettling glow.
Why is it so goddamn bright?
The sun was just hovering on the horizon, temporarily confusing me.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the sun—certainly not since I’d begun staying here with Max.
True to our nocturnal schedule, we fell asleep when it was still dark and rose again the following night, ready for more transgressing.
Where is he?
We were rarely far from each other’s sides, but I saw no signs of him anywhere.
The water closet was unoccupied, and there was nowhere else to hide in the high-toned but still modestly-sized room.
It was possible he had run downstairs to the restaurant for food, or down the hall to bathe, but there was no note on my boots indicating his whereabouts.
Despite Max’s insistence on not carrying a weapon of any kind, I wasn’t particularly concerned. I’d seen him take down drunks who got out of line with the same calm strength he used to handle me in the bedroom.
“Oh, I am plenty armed.”
I wonder what he meant by that…
His question about my guns—about whether I’d ever killed a man—tickled at the back of my mind, but I brushed it off in favor of recalling the way his teeth had felt on my skin last night as he fucked me senseless.
My hand absently lifted to my neck and I frowned at what I found… or didn’t find. Sliding off the bed, I walked to the washstand and peered into the mirror hanging above, annoyed to see nothing aside from four pinpricks that looked more like freckles than evidence of a life-altering experience.
Well, that is just uncalled for!
My gaze dropped to my chest and my frown deepened. There was nothing at all left of my self-inflicted cut, and when I hurriedly removed the makeshift bandage Max had created for my hand, all I found was a faint, reddish line.
What in the devil…?
For a moment, I wondered if I’d somehow lost days while I slept, since I couldn’t come up with another explanation for my advanced healing.
If that was true, I needed to go check on the House, so I quickly shaved my face and washed up in the porcelain basin before redressing—minus the camisole and stockings.
Then I dug around for a pencil and paper to leave Max a note of my own.
Once in the hallway, I paused, feeling the familiar pull toward the room at the end of the hall. The urge to approach the door, to try the knob or even pick the lock and let myself in, made it almost difficult to breathe.
What the hell is the matter with me?
I asked myself a similar question when I stepped outside the Paris Hotel. The unnaturally bright light from the setting sun was causing a sharp pain to radiate throughout my skull, so I stuck to the shadows and back alleyways as I crossed town.
Perhaps I drank more than I thought last night…
A cold chill skittered down my spine as I arrived at the House of Eternal Moonlight. The back door was ajar and, upon closer inspection, I realized the doorframe itself was cracked and splintered, as if it had been wrenched open with a crowbar.
Oh, no…
Tamping down my panic, I slipped through the opening and carefully crept along the first floor hallway, keeping my tread soft so as not to alert any trespassers to my arrival.
If anyone laid a finger on my—
An unexpected sliver of lamplight from under the door of Madam Roulette’s office had me slowing my steps. The Madam was as nocturnal as the rest of us, but while she’d occasionally tend to administrative tasks into the early morning, it was highly unusual for her to still be working at this hour.
I peeked through the crack in the door, sighing in relief to find Roulette at her desk, her head resting on the oak surface as if she’d fallen asleep mid-task.
With her neck at an awfully strange angle…
My hand moved of its own accord, slowly pushing the door open far enough so I could step inside. Something wet squelched beneath my boot but my attention was morbidly fixed on the Madam as I approached.
Is she… breathing?
It was only once I stood over her—once I touched her cold skin—that I realized her throat had been slit. With the way her head had landed, the majority of the blood had dripped to the floor behind the desk, out of sight.
So what did I step in…?
Time seemed to slow as I turned to find the second body that had fallen behind the door, with one limp arm reaching for help from beneath a silk kimono I recognized well.
No…
Nononono…
“Pearl!” I shouted, adrenaline flooding my senses as I raced across the room and dropped to my knees beside her.
I gently lifted her head into my lap, sobbing in relief when she stirred and weakly moaned, although she didn’t open her eyes.
“Damey…” she whispered, so softly, I could barely make out the words. “It bit…”
“What was that?” I hovered my ear directly above her lips to better hear her.
“My neck…” she sighed out a long, rattling breath that had me panicking.
Wrestling Max’s handkerchief out of my pocket, I swiped at her bloodied neck, desperately searching for where she’d been injured. Instead of a cut like Roulette’s, I found bite marks—similar to what I’d seen on the victim from the alleyway but far less neat.
With four points of entry…
“What in God’s name happened here?!” A booming voice had my head snapping up in alarm, and I found Mattie filling the doorway with Clara peeking around her broad shoulder.
“Mattie! Clara!” I cried, tears blurring my vision. “Run and get the doctor. Roulette is dead, but Pearl… Pearl is…”
“Get the marshal, Clara,” Mattie interrupted in an emotionless tone. “There’s nothing more to be done for either o’ them.”
“No,” I snapped, clutching Pearl’s limp body closer to me. “She’s not dead. I refuse to believe—”
“The dead stay dead,” Mattie sighed absently, which caused that tickling sensation to creep in again.
Hadn’t she said…?
It was odd that this notoriously fiery Irishwoman was behaving as if finding two of our own murdered was no cause for alarm. Or that she didn’t immediately have a strong opinion of who did it.
I gingerly tilted Pearl’s head, exposing her neck, hoping for more guidance. “Mattie, what do you think would have caused marks like this?”
Or who.
“What if you don’t like what I am once I show you?”
No.
Max had nothing to do with this.
Right?
Despite my aversion to the idea, I knew Mattie of all people would be brutally honest with me—especially if she was able to add in her signature old world superstitions.
To my utter shock, she simply shrugged, dismissing Pearl’s injuries entirely. “Wild animal, per’aps?”
I gaped, wondering if she’d been swapped out for one of those "changelings” she’d warned me about.
Before I could ask if she were feeling alright, Marshal Wallace arrived, along with four of his men.
Clara hung back farther down the hall, as I could hear her whispering furiously with the sobbing doves, filling them in on the tragedy.
Would Madam Roulette have said it was good for business…?
“Well, I’ll be damned.” The marshal whistled as he took in the scene. Then his gaze fell on me before drifting to Mattie. “This is the young man you found with the bodies, ma’am?”
“Yes,” She replied in that same oddly distant tone. “Clara and I heard a ruckus and came downstairs to find him here, covered in blood.”
Wait.
“I only just arrived before they did,” I hurriedly began, scrambling to stand while attempting to wipe my bloodied hands on my pants.
“I slept elsewhere last night but I live here, in the attic on the third floor. I was stopping by to check on things when I noticed the back door had been pried open—”
“Why not alert the law?” Marshal Wallace nodded at one of his men—who promptly left the room—before crouching next to Pearl. Then he took a longer look at her bare legs than necessary before squinting up at me. “Why fuss with the body first?”
What?
“I-I didn’t!” I sputtered, glancing at Mattie in alarm, wondering why she wasn’t stepping in to defend me. “But Pearl was still alive when I got here. Please, marshal… I just lost my…”
My beautifully bossy surrogate sister.
“Hey… Ain’t you the one who was poking around when we was pulling the mayor’s cousin outta the back alley?” One of the other men added and my stomach dropped. “Funny how you keep showin’ up at the scene of the crime.”
They can’t possibly think I did this…
“I have an alibi!” I shouted as the marshal rose to stand. “A businessman staying at the Paris Hotel—Max Luna. Mattie here met him.”
She furrowed her brow. “I… don’t recall meeting anyone by that name.”
What in the blazes is going on here?
My gaze darted wildly around the room until it fell on the chest of doubloons. “He gave the Madam that chest over there.”
“Is that right?” the marshal drawled before striding to the chest and lifting the lid to peer inside. “And what would our beloved Madam Roulette want with an empty chest?”
Empty?!
All at once, I realized this had been a robbery—with Pearl perhaps stumbling on the Madam’s murder in progress—and that any number of the House’s clients could be to blame.
Since Roulette bragged about her “pirate treasure” to anyone within earshot.
“There were gold doubloons in that chest,” I insisted, desperate to sound calm, even as I internally crumbled. “Max was paying the Madam for…”
For me.
“Doubloons?!” the marshal scoffed before giving me an appraising look. “Just what sort of business is this ‘friend’ of yours in?”
I don’t know.
I only know he’s mine.
“Cards,” I weakly replied, fully aware I wasn’t helping my case.
“Like this?” A voice snickered, and I turned to find one of the men—the one who’d briefly disappeared—holding the blood-streaked Two of Cups pinched between his filthy fingers.
Upside down.
“Disharmony, arguments, resentment, a partner who has taken you for granted…”
“Found it in the bedroom in the attic,” he grinned, waving the soiled card triumphantly. “Along with this.”
I nearly fainted when he brandished a crowbar, realizing this went well beyond a simple robbery and murder.
I’m the scapegoat.
At this point, I was struggling to keep my panic in check. “We need to find Max. He will tell you I was with him when this happened.”
Marshal Wallace hummed noncommittally. “I bet he will. Why don’t you hand over your guns, son. Just until we sort this out.”
I swallowed thickly, not wanting to part with the only protection I had but knowing if I didn’t, I would look even more suspicious in their eyes.
We’ll get this sorted.
I hope…
After unbuckling my belt and handing it off to one of the men, I allowed the marshal to take me by the bicep and roughly yank me out of the room.
It’s all for show.
Mattie barely reacted to the drama, but Clara and the rest of the doves gasped as I was dragged through the parlor and out onto Main Street.
My only saving grace was that the sun was now nearly set, and while the thin sliver of light at the horizon was still bothering my eyes, it no longer felt as if my skin was in danger of burning off.
That’s the least of my worries at the moment…
The daytime crowd had already retired inside for supper and the nighttime revelers weren’t yet prowling, but there were enough people passing by to attract attention.
Upon halting in front of the Paris Hotel, Wallace only sent one of his men inside to collect Max while we waited outside.
I pray I haven’t dragged him into this mess with me…
My concerns only multiplied as the marshal’s man returned empty-handed. “The owner says there’s no one here by that name.”
WHAT?
Various scenarios raced through my mind—that the owner misspoke, that Max used a different name when traveling, that the marshal’s man was lying—but the one that terrified me the most was that Max had left town without me.
He wouldn’t…
I refuse to believe it.
“Well, that settles things.” Marshal Wallace nodded decisively before addressing the others as if I wasn’t even standing there. “Run and tell the mayor we’ve got our man.”
“Excuse me?!” I finally found my voice, attempting to remove my arm from the marshal’s grip. “You can’t possibly think I’m to blame for any of this.”
Marshal Wallace sighed heavily and began walking again, yanking me along with him.
“It don’ matter what I think,” he murmured, only loud enough for me to hear.
“All I care about is getting the mayor to stop breathing down my neck. Whoever killed his kin is long gone and well, you just fell into our laps, didn’t ya, son? ”
A dread unlike anything I’d ever experienced washed over me. “You aim to bring me in front of the judge for crimes I didn’t commit?”
The marshal laughed humorlessly. “No judge, son. Only justice.”
“This isn’t justice,” I snapped as the town’s main archway came into view. I debated trying to run for the nearby hills, but decided a bullet in the back wasn’t how I wanted to go. “It’s deception.”
“It’s politics,” he replied as one of the men tossed a rope over the archway. “The mayor appoints the marshal and I intend to stay right where I belong.”
“You belong in hell,” I hissed, wrenching my arm free and punching the marshal in the nose.
The crunch of cartilage beneath my fist was incredibly satisfying but my victory was short-lived as my legs were kicked out from under me. Someone roughly tied my hands behind my back before I was hauled to my feet, my hat left behind on the dusty ground.
“Don’t we all,” laughed one of the men as he forced the noose over my head and the others grabbed the opposite end of the rope, cinching it tight.
I’d take you all with me if I could.
A few handfuls of townsfolk had already gathered—since nothing attracted a crowd like a hanging—so I gritted my teeth, determined not to show any fear for the hungry audience.
“Any last words?” Marshal Wallace asked, spitting blood onto the ground before gesturing to his men to start pulling the rope.
“Makisig…” I whispered as the noose tightened further and the sun fully set, surrendering myself to fate.
My fate…
I’d never thought about fate before Pearl handed me that foolish tarot card the night Max and I met, but now I realized how predestined my life truly was.
At least I got to experience love before I died.
I choked on air—on the sudden lack of air—as my feet left the ground, but strangely, my neck didn’t immediately snap. Then I somehow felt Max’s presence, and I was no longer content to go quietly to my end.
Death is not my fate.
That was when the screaming began.