Chapter 25 #3
Someone had soundlessly approached behind me while my thoughts had been elsewhere.
I turned to find a woman carrying a basket—coming down here to retrieve something, I wagered.
She was young, with a softer face than my own, but her skin was sunken and sallow.
Dark circles hung deep beneath her eyes.
Pairs of red dots and bruises littered her neck.
Someone had been bleeding her, far too often.
She wore a plain black dress that hung heavy over her thinning frame, a red ribbon around her throat.
“You’re one of Ronnette’s girls?” I realized.
Her breathing picked up. “And you are?”
“A friend,” I said. “Do you know Maxence Antonin?”
Her hands went white around the basket. “You need to leave.”
I stepped closer, my hands wide, proving I was no threat to her. “Are his dice here? Have you seen Damien with them?”
“Dice?” she asked, confused. “I don’t know anything, I swear.”
“Then why are you here?”
She swallowed, glancing at the door behind her. “Damien and his men stole some of us from our mistress. He’s been holding us here, feeding from us without restriction and using us to get information that could harm Ronnette.”
That made sense. Ronny had slipped information to Damien about me a few days ago. Now I knew the reason why.
“What does he take from you?” I asked.
She sighed impatiently. “I’m a Glamour Archetype. I can compel. If you don’t leave right now, I’ll make you. For your own good.”
“Wait—” I reached for her arm, grabbing it before she did anything to throw me off my mission. My Siphon flared, drawing from the power in her bloodline. I stared into her eyes, and a bridge between us was built from willpower alone.
My next words were intentional, though I felt shame for what I was about to do. “Tell me if you have seen Max’s relics.”
Her eyes widened at my demand. And she nodded.
“Bring them to me.”
She flinched back. “They are in the boss’s rooms. He has already compelled me into vowing not to touch them. I cannot go against that promise.”
“Then bring me to the dice,” I demanded. I had made no such vow. If she couldn’t touch them, I’d have to sneak inside.
Still touching her arm and siphoning her compulsion, I ordered her to tell more. “Tell me… What are these boxes for?”
She shrugged, in a trance. “Lots of different stuff. Smuggled weapons from the Cursed shipments. A bit of opium for rough nights…”
“Anything that’s for Damien specifically?” I asked.
She looked around the room, nodding. “Damien likes a certain wine that comes from the north.”
“Very good,” I said, calculating my next choice. “Does he usually drink in his rooms?”
Her brows pinched before smoothing out a moment later. “He usually drinks in the office, next to the bedrooms.”
“Show me the crate.”
She stiffly walked over to a certain box propped on a dolly and tapped it. It was large enough that I could slip inside. “Help me. Open it.”
There was a cask inside, and I quickly started pulling out the bottles to place behind another crate. The courtesan stared at me wide-eyed as I did so. “Come on, before someone comes down here.”
We removed the wooden insert and tossed it near a pile of empty boxes. I climbed inside the box and looked up at her. “Bring this box to the office. Tell no one I’m in here. If someone stops you, tell them you need to deliver the wine urgently and head out. Don’t let anyone look inside.”
She blinked once and nodded, slamming the top of the box down as I sank deeper into the wine crate. After a ride in a metal coffin, I found this confinement more tolerable at least.
Even crammed inside the tight space, a breath of hope filled my chest. She seemed to be working exactly as I’d commanded, and I was grateful to have had the help of her bloodline.
I found myself turning to the bloodlines more often now.
Always seeking a new power to draw from when a situation unfolded.
It was addicting, having unlimited power at my fingertips.
I wondered how Max didn’t corrupt himself after all these years.
He was a dangerous man, but he could have become something so much worse.
I winced with each step we hit as the woman roughly dragged the dolly up the short staircase leading to the main level.
But once we were inside, I could hardly breathe.
Every second was stretched as I moved toward Damien’s lair.
We wound through the house until we reached another staircase, which I assumed was used by the staff. I braced myself to be jostled again.
By the time we made it to the second level, my head throbbed, and I wanted to hurl, but the dolly moved onto a soft rug, smoothing out the rest of my ride.
We came to a stop then. Through a sliver of space between wood boards, I could make out her at a door, knocking.
Why was she knocking?
To my horror, a voice told her to come in. But this was Damien’s private office, wasn’t it? And I’d seen him leave—or at least I’d seen his car leave. I’d never considered that the room might still be occupied.
Helplessly following my orders, the woman pushed me straight into the room.
And, apparently, straight to Damien, himself.