Chapter 5
Rosomon
Zogar and I walk hand-in-hand along this hard surface he’s told me is called pavement, or a sidewalk, and my legs grow sore, pain that’s radiating into my back.
I’m not certain whether the source of my pain is the difficult shoes, the hard surface they’re striking, or my residual fear from the look on that huge, hairy man’s face as he approached me with hunger in his eyes.
Perhaps some of my back’s pain is from the way Zogar pushed me up against that glass wall when he kissed me.
Not that I’m complaining about that. If I’d let that kiss continue one more second, I’d have gladly welcomed him inside me, in public.
This time, not in front of Saxon and Tynan, but in front of every passerby in this city.
When Zogar described this city and what I’d see here, I assumed he was exaggerating. But he understated the differences. It’s nothing like I could have imagined.
Before we entered this crowded section of the city, Zogar told me he’d secured a place for us to stay. Something called an apartment—one of the many new words I’ve learned. I hope we arrive there soon. I long to remove these shoes.
“How much farther?”
“Shall I carry you?”
I shake my head. Some of the women here seem to be treated like possessions—in even more blatant ways than I was in Achotia—and I’d like to maintain at least an ounce of autonomy.
I don’t want Zogar to carry me like a child, or a thing.
And I certainly wouldn’t want to be lead around on a chain, like that woman we just passed.
“The apartment building is in the next block.” Zogar’s thumb strokes my hand. “A block is a long section of pavement between cross streets.”
I nod. He already told me that word—one of a long list he taught me. Instead of taking the long road that stretched through the countryside, Zogar and I walked through fields and forests, and I’m grateful he thought to acquire alternate footwear for that part of our journey.
He stops in front of one of thousands of tall buildings.
They all look the same to me. Especially from ground level.
A man, dressed in what looks like a servant’s uniform, with a formally cut jacket and cap, holds open the door for us to enter.
Zogar whispers that this man is called a doorman. How appropriate. I grin.
The building’s reception area is beautiful, with marble floors and walls covered in an ornate, lush pattern that looks almost like fabric. But it can’t be. It’s far too smoothly applied to be fabric. And no loom exists that could have created such a textile.
At the far end of the space, a desk sits to the side of two sets of bronze doors. Based on what Zogar has told me, these are elevator doors—another word for a lifting device, but the pulley system must be hidden behind the walls.
Another uniformed man sits behind the desk—is he called a deskman?—and Zogar leans toward him. “I am Zogar. King Lucian left me a key.”
The man reaches into a small drawer in the desk and then hands Zogar a piece of paper. Zogar frowns as he reads it.
“What’s wrong?” I touch his arm.
“Come.” He crumples the paper and drops it to the floor as he wraps his arm protectively around me, leading me toward the building’s exit.
I’m flooded with disappointment. Not only won’t I get to try that elevating device, I have to continue walking in these shoes.
Once outside, we walk along the pavement at an uncomfortable pace. My feet scream in protest. It seems that stopping for a few moments only made the pain from them worse, but I keep quiet. Zogar will tell me what the note said when he thinks it’s safe to do so.
He stops near the doorway of what looks like a shop. Its large windows display a multitude of strange premade garments.
“Change of plans.” He frowns. “That apartment is no longer safe. Lucian says he’ll arrange an alternate location, but to obtain entrance, we must first find him.”
I look up into his eyes, wishing they didn’t look so worried. “Do you know where this man resides?”
“He’s a vampyre.” Zogar frowns. “Lucian is King of the Vampyres. And while I don’t know his residence, I do know some places where we’re likely to find him—or someone who’ll know where to find him.”
Trying not to shake at the word vampyre, I slide my hand over Zogar’s forearm. “Why are you so worried?”
He shakes his head. “The places where we might find him. They are places I very much don’t want you to see.”
My chest tightens. “Why not?”
He cups my face. “I warned you of the depravity and decadence in this city.”
I nod, then remember that Zogar lived in this city before the separation between the Light and the Darkness. “Has this city always been so depraved?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Well, in some ways, yes. Civility here has devolved, but I suppose depravity always lurked at the core of this city.” He looks down.
“There are myriad reasons why humans sought sanctuary from the Darkness. Interactions between humans and superi were often dangerous, but over the centuries, it seems that the darkest predilections of this city have amplified and spread.”
Zogar’s eyes are full of worry—worry and anger. “Surath, Xendus and I visited many places over the days we were here, and King Lucian’s nightclub was one of the worst.”
I swallow, hard, trying to dislodge a stone that’s grown in my throat.
Zogar’s thumb strokes my cheek. “I will protect you, my queen. I only wish I could protect your eyes, too.”
“I can handle it.” I have no way of knowing what I’m about to face, but if we must go to this club to gain access to a place I can rest, I’m ready to confront whatever Zogar doesn’t want me to see.