This is fantastic.
Soon, it’s over, and Haedes is watching me, still dancing as the final few notes sound and the music falls away. I stop, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear.
“That was fun!” I exclaim, and he nods, his expression seeming besotted at first but then cooling. The after effects of my quick trips around the hall suddenly catch up to me in a rush, and I’m light headed. I shalt on my feet, swaying from the left to the right before gingerly sitting down on the floor.
“Are you alright?” Haedes asks, clicking his fingers and dispersing the musical accompaniment from overhead. The lighting returns to normal simultaneously, and I find the room spinning ever so slightly.
“Just lightheaded,” I sigh out, pulling my ponytail from where it’s stuck to my neck, which is sticky with sweat.
“Have you eaten today?” he demands, and I shake my head.
“Not since… damn it, last night,” I recall, and he shakes his head.
“You need to be careful. To begin with, being in Mortaria will make you feel full on invincible; you won’t feel the need to eat or sleep as regularly as you should, especially as you’re bonding with the goddess half of yourself. But you need to keep up your strength to avoid crashing out like this. You’re not a doppel; you still need the regular things a mortal does to survive,” he warns me, reaching inside his suit jacket and passing me a candy wrapped in clear plastic.
“What’s this?” I ask him, and he smiles.
“Pomegranate sucking candy. My favourite,” he reveals, and I stare at it.
“They were… they were my mother’s favourite too.” I blink a few times, my hand shaking as I reach out to take it.
“I know. Who do you think got me addicted?” he mumbles, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at the edges of his thin and usually melancholy lips. “Eat that, and then go get cleaned up. I’ll take you for a real meal out on the town, if you’re not opposed to the idea?” he suggests, and I wonder if I really want to go. The idea of a private meal with him is intimidating, even though it’s probably how we should have started things off last night.
“Alright.” I reply, unwrapping the candy and popping it into my mouth. After a few minutes, the sugar hits me so I can get to my feet, my blood cooling close to the surface of my skin.
“No more convecting for now, alright? I don’t want you to end up stranded somewhere. Especially not with the Demon Lords looking for you,” Haedes calls out over his shoulder as he moves to walk towards the secondary exit of the hall at the back of the room.
“Okay. Is it formal… where we’re going?” I ask him, and I swear I hear him chuckling before he calls back,
“Not exactly.”
I step out of a carriage, and it’s like I’m with Madonna or someone equally as famous. Everywhere we step, sinners stare at Haedes, as though he’s a rare sight indeed. I’m wearing black leather pants and a black lace halter-top with elbow length black lace gloves and knee-high leather stiletto boots. My lips boast a deep crimson, and my eyes are rimmed by dark, thick eyeliner. My hair is lustrous, having found pure magic inside the bathroom within my Exilia suite in the form of the most fabulous shampoo and conditioner I’ve ever used. My heels click sharply against the garnet spattered sidewalk as we move from the vehicle, which had been faster than any I’ve used so far, and eyes follow me as curious whispers catch in the stagnant air of the warm city streets.
“Where are we going?” I whisper to Haedes, who has an arm held out for me to hold onto. He’s wearing a trilby hat and a tight silver velvet suit with a black waistcoat on underneath. The hat is tilted on his head, and a hand, made heavy by thick silver rings, comes up, dismissing our transportation only moments before it pulls away from the sidewalk.
“We’re going to a favourite little place of mine. The steak is to die for,” he adds, and I feel my lips tiptoe around the beginnings of a smirk.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” I demand, feeling more at ease than I expected.
“A little pun never killed anyone,” he smirks, too suave for his own good. I don’t reply to this, letting him lead me across the pathway and toward a place with an extremely long line out front. If you ask me, I think it’s a nightclub, but then I wonder if that’s entirely appropriate for people who are supposed to be repenting.
The bouncer doesn’t even pause as he catches the colour of Haedes hair in his sights, pulling the black rope aside for us before we’ve even reached him. Haedes tilts his hat at the man, his eyes lighting up a cool blue and illuminating beneath the shadow of the brim.
“Okay, I’m getting seriously freaked out? I’m not about to find Hitler and like… Stalin playing cards or something, right?” I ask him as he brushes aside a thick velvet curtain that hangs across the doorway.
“Not exactly.” I hear him reply, but I don’t have time to ask any more questions as the room and its purpose is revealed to me in an unapologetic and blatant flamingo pink light with spotlights focusing on cages.
“You brought me to a strip club?” I burst out laughing, and Haedes shrugs.
“Best steak in the city…” he reiterates, and I move to examine the dancers in the cages more closely.
“They’re all…” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Men… yes. Lust sinners who objectified women in their lifetimes to the point of harm.” He waves the explanation away as unimportant, and I watch as women in leather corsets and tights wield whips, thrashing the dancers through the bars if they deviate from their sole purpose. The air is laced with the scent of sickly sweet body glitter, scented like peaches and cream, shimmering upon the thick cut muscles which bind the men in flesh.
“Wait, wait, wait…” I say as he walks me through the club. My feet tread across a carpet patterned with snakes and lips, though why, I couldn’t’ tell you. The walls are draped in thick velvet of deep hues, and he doesn’t seem to have heard me as he pulls me toward a table in the centre of the restaurant. It’s cordoned off, presumably just for him.
“Wait what? What’s wrong?” He pulls out a chair for me, and I feel myself getting more and more confused the further down this Mortarian rabbit hole I tumble.
“I thought sinners came here to… I don’t know… repent. Not get their skank on,” I exclaim, taking a seat as Haedes chuckles to himself and sits down across from me.
“Well, I can see why you’d think that. But these men are repenting; they’re being put in the place of the women they hurt with their lustful urges. You see, sin isn’t sin unless it hurts another. Wrath isn’t truly wrath unless it has a focus and that focus is badly affected.” He’s becoming philosophical almost, and I nod, fascinated.
“So, it’s more about the victim than the sin itself?” I ask him, and he nods.
“Oh, yes. Exactly.”
“But wait… what about the other sinners? I mean, shouldn’t they be off repenting too?” I ask him, and he sighs this time, raising a hand into the air, which shimmers with magenta and tangerine tinted glitter that falls from above. Within a few seconds, a woman in a reserved black dress and dark hair pulled into a high ponytail is at his side.
“The usual, Patricia,” he orders, before blinking a few times.
“What are you drinking?” he enquires, and I feel myself stir at the thought of finally getting my hands on some alcohol.
“Whisky neat, please,” I request, and she looks at me oddly.
“So that’s two of the usual. The 75 years matured. Bring the bottle.” Haedes adds, all business, which I don’t mind, seeing as how the subject of said business is fine whisky.
“So, as I was saying…” I begin, and he sighs again.
“Are you really interested in all this? It’s so… boring…” He scrutinises me, fidgeting in his seat.
“Yes. I really am. Like… I have so many questions. How do you have electric lighting down here… why are there sinners out enjoying fine wine?” I start to think of more questions, and he holds up a hand.
/> “Well, the first question is easy to answer. Sloth sinners on treadmills. We have them power the city,” The explanation he gives is bizarre, and though I know I shouldn’t be surprised, I find myself unable to stop my mind conjuring the image of humans running in hamster wheels.
“As for your other question… that’s a little more complex. Basically, sinners repent best given small liberties. Before I got here and took over, the repentance rate was far too slow. People being tortured doesn’t exactly help them let go of anger… if you get what I mean. Some of my colleagues would strongly disagree, but you have to give these mortals enough rope to hang themselves with and teach them the strength to use that rope to save themselves instead.” I feel myself turn surprised as I hear him out. That’s actually a much kinder, sweeter solution than I’ve been expecting.
“So… what about if they don’t move on in time… you have that balance to maintain, right?” I continue to grill him and he nods.
“Yes, Yama and I work with The Fates closely. It’s all incredibly technical, but we have to stagger how many souls reach the stage where they move on. We need to purify souls, but we need to purify them at the same rate they’re being housed in mortal bodies… so the cycle stays balanced. Does that make sense?” I frown, glad as my drink arrives. I take a sip.
“Kind of,” I reply, and he smirks.
“It’s complicated, but it’s the balance of the universe. Did you expect it to be simple?” He gives me an expectant stare, and I shrug.
“Simpler. Maybe with like a spreadsheet or something. Or a soul cheque book that you gotta balance.” I enjoy the feeling of slick whisky burning the back of my throat as I cross my heels beneath the table, which is covered in pink and silver linen. The flatware and cutlery seems to be plated silver too.
We fall into silence a few moments as I watch the dancing asses of several ugly faced men with ripped bodies. I catch the eye of one but look away, feeling unnerved by the fact that they’re so easily attainable. I mean where is the fun in having all catch and no chase?
“So, some of the sinners are kept back…” He smirks as Patricia brings us the menus.
“Yes, a lot of them are female lust sinners… I have a weakness for them…” he confesses, and I choke on my current sip of whisky.
“That’s a little… controversial, isn’t it?” I query him, and he sniggers beneath his breath, shuffling in his seat.
“Perhaps, but I suppose there are one or two things about mortal bodies that aren’t so bad.” I want to cover my ears and scream in this moment. “Too much?” he asks me as I bite my bottom lip.
“Little bit… dad.” I call him this to make a point, but I notice that he flushes slightly at the term, and I feel my own face heat. Mumbling, he looks down at his menu, quickly changing the subject.
“You really should have the steak; it’s extremely tender,” he suggests, and I exhale, feeling the awkwardness of sitting with my father, Haedes, god of The Underworld, in a male strip club, beginning to creep in on all sides. I kind of want to ask if the steak is whipped tender but button my lip, trying to keep things at least partially civil.
“Steak it is,” I announce, glugging my drink and picking up the bottle which Patricia has left between us, pouring generously.
There isn’t enough time in the world to mature a whisky strong enough to make this shit any less weird, but I guess drinking a little more can’t hurt.
Can it?
Chapter Twenty
Hungry Eyes
LUCE
I let my fingers stroke the spherical crystal of the eye, a gift from The Fates, as I watch Haedes and Sephy digging into tender steak. Glitter falls from the floors of many dangling cages as lust sinners gyrate against the bars, suggestive in every single motion which they perform. Most people would find it fun, provocatively dancing all day long, but if it’s for just anyone, not the one you love, then it becomes a kind of job, like you’re an actor and not entitled to your own emotions, preferences or desires. You must continue to smile, to provoke, but not of your own volition.
I smile, watching the father and daughter get along. I only wish I could use this eye to see what will come rather than what has already passed, and that the Demon Lords weren’t so shrouded in darkness that it obscures any and all vision I might have of them.
Sighing out, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn to face the curved wall behind me with a paranoid glance, brushing a strand of pale hair behind my ear.
The vials of Aetherial roots and herbs, which line the top shelf, reflect my suspicious face back at me. I scan the chamber, feeling the scent of preserves, dying flowers and fauna of every variety filling my head and intoxicating me with the promise of magic.
Bottles containing mermaid’s hair, the odd scale, Kelpie mane and the wings of a spring sprite lie to my left, and I let my eyes trail over them, listening carefully. I rotate then to the right, my gaze cast upon the remnants of demons, spinal cords and synovial fluid in jars, eyes which stare out at me, bobbing in thick, cloudy jelly.
Perhaps I’m being silly. Maybe it’s my guilt over the argument with Thane that is causing me to continually look over my shoulder, worried that she might have been right.
Then again, perhaps not…
I’m about to start brewing a draft to expose watching eyes, when a knock sounds at the door, echoing out into the grand cylindrical height of the turret.
I hope it’s Thane, and so make quick strides across the stone, which for now is dry, though it is so often slick with the spattering of my latest alchemic concoction.
Grasping the old-fashioned iron ring, I open the heavy steel door.
“Xion.” I say his name, surprised. He looks anxious, like he’s been worrying himself into a state. His molten eyes are wide and his fingers are scratching at the stubble beneath his chin in that way they do when he’s agitated.
The leather-clad bulk of his form overshadows mine as he leans forward, looking into the depths of the room behind me, searching for something… or more likely someone. A Sephy shaped someone in fact.
“Where is she?” he demands, and I stand aside, letting him walk through the door to join me. Closing it behind him, I pivot to face him, the dark blue of my skirt sweeping across the stone as I do.
“She’s out to dinner with Haedes,” I inform him, and he exhales heavily, not satisfied with the answer.
“I came to get the rest of her stuff to take back to my place. Can you look after Cerb for her?” he requests, and I nod, licking my plump bottom lip and watching him as he shifts, buzzing with fraught energy and beginning to pace around me in circles.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, and he stills, looking up at me with a cool reserve, trying to mask his anxiety but failing miserably.
“I just… I don’t know. I’m concerned. Those Abraxians got into this place without any effort at all, or so it would seem. My apartment isn’t exactly secure…” I frown as his brow furrows deeply.
Taking a step forward, I place my hands on the rough leather sleeves of his jacket, feeling the popping veins of his biceps beneath.
“You really care about this girl, don’t you?” I ask, and he sighs out.
“I… I can’t help it,” he admits, looking ashamed of himself as his mouth presses into a thin line, and he pushes his fingers back through his hair, not meeting my gaze.
“I see,” I whisper, feeling my heart sink in my chest, defeated by his unrequited confession.
Thane was right.
“I don’t need to tell you that this could be dangerous for us all? If you become involved with a demi-goddess, do I?” I stare at him firmly, and he shakes his head.
“I know. It can’t be allowed to happen. It’s too great of a risk.” He looks at me with sadness in his eyes. “Besides, I don’t think she feels the same. We’re just friends in her mind, and I have no intention of ruining that. She’s not the relationship type.” This time he says it as fact, not emotional in his r
eply. I nod, letting a slight smile grace my lips, proud of his restraint. At least he’s sensible. I can’t say if I’d been in his position with Thane that I’d have been able to stay away.
“I trust you, but be careful. There are other members of The Nexus who don’t share my faith,” I remind him, and he frowns.
“Yes, Anubis and Osiris.” I nod at their names and he shakes his head.
“I can’t say I blame them. A being created from a demi-goddess and a half-demon would be able to walk in all worlds. It would be able to destroy in all worlds.” He voices the fear we’ve all being trying to ignore, the truth of the matter, that a love between he and Sephy Sinclair could bring about the end of all days.
“Exactly.” I cross my hands in front of me as we stand, flattening the silk of my skirt, awkward as silence threatens to blanket us. “Anyway, I’ll try to talk to Haedes about finding a permanent relocation for Sephy when he returns. I’m sure they’ll be back soon,” I promise him, and he gives a small, sad smile, almost like a grimace.
“Thanks, Luce.” He reaches forward and puts his arms around me, clearly emotional despite his attempts to mask it. I’ve never seen him anything but angry or stoic, so this is surprising for me to say the least. I grip his shoulder blades with my long fingers, inhaling the spice of his male musk and wishing I could take away his pain.
“You’re welcome,” I reply, watching him as he leaves me alone in the jade glow of the alchemy chamber where I’ve placed amber crystals around the resurrection flames which light the space.
As the door closes with a slam, I sigh out.
Dammit. Thane was right. I curse.
I guess I owe her an apology.
Red. She loves me in red. Says it’s my colour.
I stare at myself in the mirror on my vanity table. I’m wearing a red bra, which opens at the mere pull of the ribbon tying the two cups together beneath my steep cleavage, and a matching thong, which accentuates the curve of my ass. I smear my lips in crimson, fully intending to leave the colour all over her skin.
The Opal Blade (The Ashen Touch Trilogy Book 1) Page 29
