Chapter Twenty #2
Elisavet stands, looking every inch a royal.
Her dress of tight, deep-purple bands falls in panels which slip this way and that, exposing her skin in tantalizing flashes.
Her hair is slicked back from her face and hangs in a colorless sheet down her back.
Around her neck, a stack of golden necklaces, fat rubies dripping from the strands of gold.
Compared to her, even Orrin in his expensive, immaculate black looks cheap.
Compared to her, everyone seems small, benign, powerless. My breath catches as she spots us.
“Orrin, you’ve come!” Elisavet cries, sweeping across the floor. She’s standing in front of us before I can blink.
She takes Orrin’s face, forcing him to bend low, cupping it in her ringed hands almost lovingly. The glint of a wasp ring on her finger catches my eye, the inch-long stinger needle-sharp. “I’m pleased you could make it, darling.”
“I’m happy to be here,” he lies smoothly. “I’ve been waiting for a party.”
“I thought you might be! It’s been too long since you’ve attended one.” She drops her hands with one last caress across his beautiful face. Excitement hangs on her voice. “I’m especially glad you made it for this party.”
He smiles at her, eyes shining with mirth.
Yet I can read the bitterness that burns behind them, clear as day.
I’m glad she can’t read minds because she’d certainly see his hatred.
It’s not difficult for me to sense, now that I’m in possession of these gifts.
Or perhaps it’s simply that he’s easy for me to read now.
He doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge my presence.
I stand silent and demure, a well-behaved pet.
“And you, my pretty little dancer!” Elisavet coos as she moves him to see me better. “I’m thrilled you decided to join us.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” I smile politely, dip my head as I curtsey.
“Orrin!” She smacks his hand playfully. “Why haven’t you given her some wine? She may be your captive, but she’s my guest.”
Then she reaches toward a passing tray, grabs a goblet, and puts it in my free hand—the other still holding my slippers.
The weight of the goblet is almost soothing, something hard and tangible I can squeeze.
I press my thumb into one encrusted jewel and pretend to take a sip, the scent of the wine flooding my nose with its richness. “Thank you.”
Elisavet doesn’t reply. She moves closer, taking my arm tightly in her own, pulling me away from Orrin, as though we’re confidants.
The side of one of her half-exposed breasts brushes against my arm, and there’s a horrible part of me that would love to trace my fingers along the soft globe of it.
Her breath is a dark poem against my ear, “I’m very much looking forward to your performance. ”
“Oh?” I ask in a feeble voice, hoping I sound humble rather than terrified.
Behind me I can sense Orrin’s concern, his stare at my back.
I pray she doesn’t move me much further from him.
What if she tries to drag me away to a private area?
Would he follow, to keep me from being alone with her, as promised?
It would draw her suspicion. It could ruin everything.
Just when she’s about to reply, a drunken, passing demon trips over her own feet and falls into me, knocking my wine glass, spilling the liquid onto my dress.
I step back instinctively as the demon slumps to the ground with a slurred titter, while the crowd roars with laughter—at her, or me, I’m not sure.
Orrin doesn’t alter his mild expression.
“Oh, what a shame,” Elisavet observes. “Your dress is ruined.”
“It’s fine.” I shake my head, trying to sop up the wet dripping across my front.
She turns to the demon lying on the stone floor. “Clumsy fool.” Then, picking up her skirts, her very tall, heeled boots visible, she stomps the female in the face. The crack of bone, the blood spurting…I face away, nauseated. Is she dead? Are those brains…?
Elisavet snickers, turning back to me, pulling me from the carnage.
“Yes, well. Orrin seems captivated by you. Drink your wine, now, and then start, if you please. I can’t bear to wait much longer to see you perform.
” She smiles generously, but there’s no mistaking the order in her words.
Her plump little mouth parts to reveal a flash of teeth.
Desperately, I find Orrin, who has drifted casually along our path and stands just feet away, speaking with a bone-thin demon man with a one-winged hawk perched on his narrow shoulder.
But Orrin stiffens when I look over, and I know he’s barely listening to the man.
He’s watching me instead, making sure I’m handling this, hating that I witnessed such casual violence.
I straighten my spine at his questioning look. I’m fine. Or at least, I can pretend.
A voice jerks my attention back to Elisavet, and I panic momentarily, hoping I wasn’t distracted more than the half-second I thought I was. She is busy, though, looking at the demon woman who has come to join us.
“Introduce me, Your Majesty?” the woman asks Elisavet with a submissive bow of her head, claret waves falling in a sheet down to her knees. Her glittering eyes pin me with a dangerous curiosity. “I haven’t seen such a healthy-looking human here in ages.”
Elisavet laughs cruelly. “This is Orrin’s little pet, at least for now. You know how he has a thing for dancers.”
Her statement has curiosity zipping through me. He refused to answer why ballet slippers were chosen as the symbol for his trade. Why exactly would they be? There must be something more to this. Like the woman in the locket…
“Do you have a name, pet?” The demon grins at me, revealing pointed teeth, filed-sharp.
I nod, meeting her eyes. Chin high. I’m not terrified at all. “Corliss.”
“Well, are you going to dance for us, then?” she demands, fully ignoring the mess behind her, one of her peers murdered only feet away.
“As soon as I warm up, yes. Is there a place where I can do so?” I direct the question to Elisavet, adding politely, “If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Not at all.” She snaps her fingers. At once, two human servants are at her side, eyes flat. She commands them, “Take my guest to a private chamber to ready herself. When she is finished, bring her back at once.”
I have just a moment to find Orrin’s face, the subtle look of reassurance he gives me, and then the servants are leading me away.
I paste a placid expression on my face as we move, feigning indifference.
There’s a human who vomits in the corner—the smell of strong alcohol and a hint of poison are undeniable.
A demon giggles as she holds the human’s hair back.
I don’t react to them, to anything. I can’t shake the feeling that, if the lights were brighter, I would see streaks of blood, dried on the walls. The coppery stench is heavy in the air.
On the way down a narrow hall, the scent of blood increases—metallic, hot, rich—and I stifle down the urge to retch.
As we pass one quieter room, the origin becomes apparent.
I walk by with hurried steps, but it’s not fast enough to miss the shallow pool of blood on the stone floor, two beautiful nude bodies rolling around in it.
I snap my eyes away and follow the human servants with my stomach somersaulting.
I can do this. I move deeper into the cave, taking everything in. I don’t see any sign of Aven. But this place is large. She could be anywhere. If she’s even here.
We come to a private area, although the servants remain on guard. I have to bend over, catch my breath, and wipe away the tears in my eyes, welling from the brutality I witnessed minutes ago. It was so violent…so unnecessary.
I straighten, realizing how long I’ve been just standing here, not doing what Elisavet expects.
I try to steady my mind, my belly. I’m relieved I was too nervous to eat today.
I take off the black boots and tie up my red slippers, the questions swirling in my mind as I warm up, utterly inadequately.
What if Orrin was wrong? What if Aven doesn’t even want to trade her soul?
What if Elisavet has already killed her?
Desperately, I turn to the two servants.
Their dirty dresses might have been white once but are nearly black in spots.
I scan their expressionless faces, take them in.
They reek of despair and sweat, saltwater tears.
Misery adheres to them like a second skin.
But they weren’t always like this. The one on the left, the smaller of the two, has a small birthmark on one brown shoulder, such a human reminder.
It hits me, these shells were people with families, with loves and dreams. That they are trapped now, in the sad, lonely place between demon and free.
I search her blank eyes, looking for a spark of humanity.
Surely, still being human, she has some left?
“How long have you been here?” I ask.
Silence. They both stare vacantly, like they can’t even hear me, just as Orrin’s maids do when I speak of certain things. Or perhaps they can’t speak.
I try again. “I’m looking for someone, a human woman. Do you know Aven? She’s got dark hair and fair skin, blue eyes. Do you know where she is?”
Silence.
“Do you need help?” I whisper.
They don’t respond. I try to let them drop from my thoughts, but it’s difficult. I can’t save everybody. They chose to be here, it’s just they lose themselves over time, like Orrin said. I just didn’t fully understand what he meant until I saw it firsthand.
Aven, where are you? If I close my eyes, if I try hard enough, I can feel her, can smell her in the catch of the air: strawberries and pine and saltwater and the memory of flowers. It’s not just wistful thinking. She’s here, I know it now. My magic tells me so, and I trust it.