"We have to make sure Morana sees we were here," Carver explains.
"And she will be in Lust, without a doubt," Lucian says bitterly.
"She seems more like a Pride gal to me," I mutter.
"I've heard Pride isn't open," Carver explains. "She's saving it for something at the end of the night."
So we hurry on through the depths of Sloth. Unsurprisingly, it quickly transitions from weed to needle drugs, to designer pills crafted specifically for vampire systems. While Gluttony had plenty of comfortable couches, Sloth is crowded with them, cramped with them. We start out picking our way around them, and soon progress to climbing over them, until eventually the walls close in so much we are crawling through tunnels of soft, inviting cushions. Other vampires, already having given into the decadence of the place, reach lazily for us, try to drag us down to lay with them. The air is warm and heady until even my eyes feel heavy. I begin to wonder if it might not be better to wait here and relax until Morana finds us. Just a quick nap...
We pass through the last curtain, all but falling into Wrath, just before my will power gives out.
Wrath seems to be a single large room, black as midnight except for rapid rhythmic pulses of red. Music is playing at painful, overwhelming volume. Tribal drumming, fast and angry, driving out all other senses. I struggle to hear under it and catch the sound of screams. Some terrified, some angry. Someone runs past me in the dark, shrieking and sobbing. They smell human. The person who runs past after them does not.
Lucian fumbles for his phone to turn on the flashlight and swings it up just long enough to illuminate a vampire, hanging from the wall, mostly flayed, and laughing like a lunatic. Lucian turns the light off quickly while I try not to throw up on my new dress. We hurry out of Wrath, hoping not to be seen, but the room is surprisingly mazelike. My head is pounding in time with the drums, my heart in my throat with every scream. But at last we push through a heavy door into Greed and Envy.
"Enjoy the horrorshow?" a vampire asks as we step through. He's leaning on a buffet table, holding a glass of champagne and grinning. "Good stuff, right? Keeps the newbies away from where the real party happens."
"It gets less tasteful every year," Carver comments, looking sour.
"I want to go home," I mutter, feeling nauseous.
"You look like you could use a drink," the stranger comments.
Lucian reaches for a champagne flute on the table beside the stranger, and the man slaps his hand away like a chastising parent.
"That's mine," the man says laughing. "You can't have any unless you bargain for it or steal it. That's how it works here. Around midnight we bring in a bunch of homeless mortals and set em loose with just those rules. It's hilarious. You should stick around and see it!"
"I'd rather not," Carver says. Lucian nods in agreement, then turns and punches the stranger in the face hard enough to send him flying over the buffet table to crash into the wall behind it. He doesn't get up.
Lucian picks up the glass he'd been reaching for and hands it to me before taking one for himself and Carver.
"I think that counts as stealing," he says lightly. I down the champagne in one shot, shake myself to settle my nerves, and press forward.
Lust, by comparison to the others, seems almost tame. Of course, by now I've learned not to poke around in dark corners. Vampires frolic through the well cushioned landscape in fetish gear, when they wear anything at all. In many places spontaneous orgies have broken out. I try not to look too closely. I'm worried about recognizing people. Or seeing things I can’t unsee.
Eventually, finally, we spot Morana. She's still wearing the golden kokoshnik from her Mary costume, but the rest of her outfit is latex and lace. She sits on a black throne, surrounded by a cotillion of young, beautiful vampire women, all wearing less than me. The bare scraps of gold they wear are there to adorn, not hide. The most substantial thing any of them wear is a heavy golden collar. As we watch, one of Morana's court approaches, bows, and asks a question. She laughs, making a dismissive gesture with her hand. The man pulls a leash from his pocket, clips it to the collar of one of the women, and pulls her away without another word. Morana's eyes follow them as they leave, then jump to us. I swallow nervously. Morana smiles.
"There, we've been seen," I mutter. "Can we leave now?"
"Soon," Carver confirms, not looking at me. "I need to talk to a few people first. People who need to know I'm leaving. And we should split up. We've been seen together too much lately."
"I hate that idea." My stomach churns in dread at the thought.
He smiles at me for just a second. "I know," he says. "I won't be long, or far away. Find some more champagne and wait for me."
"I suppose I had better do the same," Lucian says reluctantly as Carver heads off into the crowd. "Just say my name if you need me. I'll be there in an instant, I promise."
"Alright,” I say, looking warily around me. "Be careful." Don’t fall into a willing vagina. They’re only on display like center pieces around here.
He smiles and sets off in the opposite direction, leaving me alone. I look around at the debauchery around me, shifting uncomfortably in my skimpy outfit. I've never felt so out of place in my life.
I eventually take Carver's advice and go looking for champagne. I stay in the well-lit areas, avoiding the unspeakable things I'm fairly certain are happening just out of sight. A little leather and light hearted spanking I can handle. But the rest of this party has made it clear that Morana's court has long since abandoned any sane limits.
I find the champagne. It takes several glasses to steady my nerves. I'm reaching for one more when a hand with immaculately manicured matte red nails takes it first.
I turn to face Morana, my heart beating a little too fast.
"Careful, darling," she says. "It's too early in the evening to lose your senses. Are you enjoying the party?"
"It's... not really my scene," I admit, not meeting her eyes.
She laughs indulgently and puts a warm hand on my shoulder. I try not to shudder in disgust under her touch.
"Oh, little lamb, are you scandalized?" she asks, eyes shining with wicked mirth. "I didn't realize we had an innocent among us!"
She puts an arm around my shoulder, guiding me back towards her throne. I couldn't pull away if I wanted to. Her grip is as inescapable as gravity.
"Give it a few decades," she says, gesturing to the writhing orgies we passed with her champagne flute. "Soon you'll find this all as boring as I do, I promise. This is all the shallow indulgence of the young, still working out the little hang ups of mortal life. With a century or two, our tastes become more refined. We learn to crave more... subtle pleasures."
I hated being this close to her. It was more than the fear, or the uncomfortable warmth of her skin. She smelled of blood like no other vampire I'd met. Not the bright copper of fresh blood either. A miasma of old wounds hung around her like over ripe fruit and made my nausea worse.
"Have you seen my lovely dolls?" she said, gesturing to the women lying around her throne. They hadn't moved since I'd last seen them, folded over one another, lying like a heap of discarded toys. "Such pretty pets. I let my friends play with them from time to time, but I'm jealous. I like to show my toys off, but I don't like sharing."
She met my eyes, her own blue as ice and sharp as knives, and I realized we weren’t talking about the girls.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with my Carver lately,” Morana says, her arm around my shoulder squeezing painfully tight.
“Carver’s not a pet,” I say, summoning all my courage though my voice shakes. “He can make his own decisions.”
She laughs, as though I’ve just told a mildly amusing joke. “Yes, that would be nice, wouldn’t it?” she says, patting my shoulder. “I have good news for you!”
“What is it?” I ask, worried.
“I’ve found a place for you in the family,” Morana says, smiling so beatifically you might think her golden ha
lo belonged there. “A way you can serve your fellow vampires. You’re going to be living here with me from now on.”
My blood runs cold, and colder still when she gestures to the women around her throne.
“I- I’m sorry, I can’t,” I say quickly, stammering in my panic. “I have a job, a life, in New Orleans.”
“You aren’t refusing me, are you darling?” Morana says, her voice a quiet threat. I swallow hard, my distress clear on my face. I catch a glimpse of Carver over Morana’s shoulder and I know he can see my fear. But he’s frozen, not wanting to incur Morana’s wrath by trying to get her away from me. Meanwhile Morana pats my hand, laughing. “Of course you aren’t. Being one of my dolls is a great honor. You’ll have every luxury you could hope for, and all you’ll have to do is lie there and look pretty. It’s any girl’s dream. You could start tonight if you like.”
She keeps talking, but I can’t hear it. After all the horrible things I’ve seen tonight I was hanging on by a thread and this sent me effectively into freefall. I feel detached from my body, drifting unanchored, numb and senseless. I want to go back to Sloth and sleep. I want to go back to Wrath and be hurt, just to confirm that my soul still exists in my skin and not two feet to the left of it, which is how it feels right now. More than anything I want to go home. Not Carver’s place. Not even my apartment. I want to crawl back to my childhood home, to the bedroom I grew up in. I want to curl up in that old too small bed with the cartoon character sheets, listening to the familiar sounds of my family moving around in the house just past my bedroom door. I want to go back to when I was a child, when all this was unknown and I was safe and taken care of.
My silence eventually bores Morana and she leaves me to talk to someone else. I stumble away, barely aware of what’s around me, down some dark corridor. I just want to get someplace quiet, without so much noise and people, where I can try to gather the scattered pieces of myself. Morana’s too strong. We aren’t ready to go against her. Carver and Lucian won’t be able to tell her no. And once she’s got me, empty and mindless as her other dolls… Why did she want me to begin with? Did she know about Abe? Or was it just because she didn’t like me hanging around Carver? Neither was a good sign.
There’s a pair of large doors at the end of the room, a scarlet rope looped through the door handles. As I stumble towards it, the doors open a crack and a man slips out, turning back to tie the ropes, carefully sealing the doors. I bump in to something in my zombie like shuffling, a table maybe, and the sound draws his attention. He turns to look at me and for a moment the world seems to stop. His eyes are the deep green of pine needles in shadow and seem to stare right into me, pinning my errant soul back where it belongs. His hair is long, caught in a loose, dark brown braid that drapes over his broad shoulders. His high cheekbones and angular features give him an air of imperious nobility that makes me feel oddly small, as though I should be apologizing for interrupting him. He takes two steps towards me… and collides with a server carrying a tray of drinks, who looks like they spent too much time in Sloth. His green eyes widen as he catches the server, too late to stop the upset drinks from spilling all over the fine embroidery of his coat.
I’m rushing forward before I know what I’m doing.
“Are you okay?” I ask, feeling more awake than I have been since we arrived. The server nods, dazed, and the man sets the server back on his feet and he wanders off, still carrying the empty tray. I turn my attention to the captivating man in front of me.
“Nothing hurt but my pride,” he reassures me.
“And your nice outfit,” I comment. “Hang on. Why is it you can never find napkins at a party when you need them?”
I fumble for a minute before yanking the fancy silk cloth off the table I bumped into earlier.
“Morana can afford to have it dry cleaned,” I say with a snort and start to blot his shirt before realizing that would be rude and handing him the cloth instead. “Sorry, I can’t help feeling like that was my fault.”
“It was an accident,” the man replies, his fingers brushing mine as he takes the table cloth and attempts to dry himself. “You’re not to blame for my distraction. I was simply surprised to see someone else back here still fully dressed.”
I laugh, looking down at my outfit. “If this counts as fully dressed. It’s really not my style.”
“It shows,” he replies, which stings. He looks abruptly apologetic. “That you’re uncomfortable, I mean. You look amazing. It just doesn’t seem like you want to be here.”
“I don’t,” I confess, a little of that anxious floaty feeling beginning to creep back.
“…You should leave,” the man says after a moment of hesitation. “This place doesn’t suit you. You should go home.”
“I’m not sure I can,” I admit. “I have to find my friends, and Morana-”
“Leave anyway,” he interrupts. “To hell with Morana. How much worse can she make your life just for going home early tonight?”
A handful of people stumble into the hall, laughing, looking like they’re either immediately pre or post orgy. The man looks up at them, and takes a step away from me.
“I should go too,” he says. “Find your friends and get out of here, for your own sake. And thank you.”
He holds up the table cloth briefly, then turns and hurries away. I watch him go for a moment, wondering why I feel like I should go after him. Eventually, I shake my head and move on, feeling more alert now, if nothing else.
“Lucian,” I say hopefully. “Carver?”
Lucian, true to his word, appears a moment later, hurrying towards me through the crowd.
“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asks.
“No,” I answer honestly. “I want to get out of here.”
“I’ve spoken to everyone I needed to,” Lucian says. “Let’s find Carver and go.”
“Stay close to me,” I ask him. “I know Carver thinks we shouldn’t be seen together so much, but I don’t want to be alone.”
“Agreed,” Lucian says, taking my hand and squeezing reassuringly.
We push through the crowd, which has become more dense as the party wears on and more people trickle into Lust from the earlier rooms. I scan every face for a sign of Carver, worry growing with each moment that passes. He should be able to hear me calling his name as sure as Lucian had. Something must be keeping him from coming to us.
I realize what’s holding him back the moment I spot him. Morana has her arm through his, and judging by how pale and angry he looks, she’s not talking about anything good.
I hurry towards them and Morana turns to face me as I approach.
“There you are, my pet!” she says fondly, and pats my cheek, pulling me closer. “I was just telling Carver the good news! What a happy little family we’ll make, once you’re all cleaned up and properly trained. He’ll be able to visit you any time he likes of course. Being able to play with my dolls is one of the perks of being La Tiruer. I imagine a pet as pretty as you will get a chance to play with all of them sooner or later. Although Henry, that scamp, has such a bad habit of breaking my toys! He really must learn some restraint.”
She plays with my hair as she talks, touching me as though she already owns me. I put up with it, standing stiffly, keeping my eyes on Carver. I can feel Lucian’s anger practically radiating from him behind me, but he’s smart enough not to say anything. I’m not sure Carver is. He’s shaking with helpless anger. I’m half afraid he’ll lunge at Morana. He meets my gaze, his stare seeming to promise that he’ll find a way out of this.
“Oh, and you’re just in time for the main event!” Morana says, steering us away. The crowd parts for her like the sea before Moses. “I have something very special to show all my guests. I think you’ll like it very much. Come along every one! It’s time we broke the last seal and entered the final circle of delights. Pride awaits!”
She leads us down the same corridor I’d been in earlier, to the heavy double doors. The rest of the crowd in
Lust trails after us, murmuring in excitement.
“In Dante’s Inferno, the ninth circle of hell, the circle of pride and betrayal, was an icy prison,” Morana announces, speaking to the crowd as we walk. “And its deepest part contained only four souls. That of Lucifer himself, the great Betrayer, also punished and suffering. And in his three mouths, being chewed continuously, Judas Iscariot, for his betrayal of the Son of God, and Brutus and Cassius for their betrayal of Caesar. Dante considered these equal crimes.”
There’s a brief chorus of laughter from the crowd at the idea of a political assassination being equal to the murder of Jesus, but a quick glare from Morana silences it. We’ve reached the door now, Carver and I still held in her grip. She releases us to reach for the rope sealing the door, then hesitates. I hear her murmur under her breath. “Hm. Strange.” But she continues, untying the doors as she goes on with her speech.
“Dante considered the rise of the Roman Empire to be a vital part of God’s plan for the world,” Morana explains. “By destroying that, Brutus and Cassius had disrupted God’s plan, as surely as the death of his son. It was not the degree to which they’d defied the plan, but that they’d dared to go against his will at all, that made them worthy of the harshest punishment. Like God, I too despise having my plans interfered with.”
She throws open the doors and Carver casts me a tense, worried look. Morana is planning something. I glance back at Lucian, following close behind among the crowd. He looks equally anxious. I scramble for anything to do, some way out of this. We can’t fight her, but if we could get some space between us, just for a moment…
Pride is a ballroom, covered in mirrors. They shine, silver and icy, from every single surface. There is no inch of wall without them. Even the floors and ceilings are mirrored. All the furniture, the tables and seats standing near the walls, are elaborately carved ice or glass, perfectly translucent and worryingly sharp. There is no sign of Morana’s reflection in the glass as she leads us into the room, though many of the younger vampires, including me, still have one. I wonder what the difference is. When do we lose our reflections? Did Morana’s vanish along with her soul? Not that I think she ever had a soul. Clearly, she’s been deranged since day one of her long life.
Tempt (The Kresova Vampire Harems: Aurora Book 2) Page 14
