Page 23 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

23

The Red Door

ELOISE

T he voices that filter into the hall from the meeting room don’t sound afraid or depressed; they sound excited. As I pull open the door and enter the brightly lit room, I’m surprised to find servers mingling among the participants with trays of canapés and champagne. Men and women are gathered around small tables, caught up in animated conversations with people holding clipboards. I assume those are the madams. I pause in the entryway, wondering which table is Marabella’s.

“It’s strange how you can see it,” a woman beside me says. Dressed in a white sundress with tiny red flowers, the petite blonde seems better suited for Sunday brunch than an interview for a blood brothel.

“See what?”

An eerie intensity slips into her expression. “The thirst for death. You don’t choose this unless some part of you longs for the end.”

I gulp. I’m here for Damien, but she’s right that I’m willing to die rather than let him go. What has happened to her to bring her to this point? I force a shallow smile. “Well, my Grams always said the end of one thing is usually the beginning of something else. Maybe for some of us this isn’t about longing for death but for change.”

She shrugs. “What is change but a sort of death?”

I lick my lips. “Nothing to be afraid of then. I’ve been through my fair share of change.”

Now she gives me a certain nod. “I’m Olivia.”

“Eloise.”

She turns back toward the heart of the room. “I hope to see you on the other side of the red door, Eloise.”

She drifts off toward the crowd. I watch her go, noticing how people rotate from one table to another. Speed dating for blood brothels. I take a deep breath and choose.

At the first table I try, an older woman with the lanky build and perfect posture of a former ballerina speaks in a heavy German accent. She addresses a man in line ahead of me. “Tell me why you want to work in Night Haven.”

The man scratches his scruff of a beard. Tattoos cover both his exposed arms, extend under his black T-shirt and up the left side of his neck. He’s thin with dark shadows under his eyes and a few tracks on the inside of his arm that look like they might be infected.

“No place for me topside anymore. Served my time, but no one will hire me,” he says.

“What were you in for?”

“Robbery and involuntary manslaughter,” he mumbles.

I think back to what Olivia said, that everyone here is seeking death. Maybe she’s right. This guy looks like he’s seen better days.

“And what is your tolerance for pain?” the madam asks him.

The question causes me to stiffen. Why is that a necessary question?

He offers her a shaky smile. “As high as it needs to be.”

Without warning, the madam snatches the man’s hand off the table and holds his arm over the candle at its center. He doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away. Just stares at her with dead eyes as the smell of burning hair and flesh blossoms around us. That has to hurt. Fuck, she’s burning him alive.

My stomach clenches.

My eyes dart between him and the madam, growing wider as the torture goes on and on.

A noise of disgust in my throat causes her to cast a reproachful glance in my direction.

She releases him just as his skin starts to blister.

“Harissa’s will have you.” She flips through her clipboard and writes his name on her roster. “Take your things and go wait by the red door.”

He slings a duffel over his shoulder and heads toward the back of the room where others wait with their bags. The madam raises her eyes to me, but I just shake my head and move toward the next table. Jesus, what have I gotten myself into? Am I going to be burned or otherwise tortured before I find a way to get to Damien?

I steady my breath. No, Cassius would have warned me if that were the case. I lift my chin and focus again on Damien. He’s probably being tortured right now because he refuses to give up my name. I have to be brave. Cassius said to try for Marabella’s. Which table is Marabella’s?

I stroll through the room, listening as I pass each table. I pause when a heavyset woman with the voice of a drill sergeant announces, “Be aware, Marabella’s only has two openings this time around, and we already have over twenty interested candidates.”

A few people leave the line to take their chances with another house. I get into line.

The madam of Marabella’s is an older brunette, mid-forties, with an ample bosom and a hearty laugh. Dressed in a plaid shirt and black leggings with her curls sloppily clipped behind her head, she looks more like a neighborhood mom than the manager of a blood brothel. I watch her quickly dismiss the five women in front of me one by one. At least she isn’t burning anyone. But I swallow down nerves anyway. I need Marabella’s. I have to get to Night Haven. I can’t wait another month.

“Next!” She flips the paper on her clipboard.

My palms are sweating. She has to choose me. Somehow I need to make it through that red door, and I trust Cassius that Marabella’s will make my mission easier. I step up to the table.

“Name?” She scans my hair, my face, then shifts so she can see my body behind the table. She didn’t do that with the others. Will she weigh me and check my teeth too?

“Eloise Harcourt,” I say.

“Marabella,” she says by way of introduction. “Have you been a donor before?”

“Only for my boyfriend.”

She looks up at me, narrowing her eyes. “We can’t have jealous vampires storming our doors all hours of the night.”

Fuck. Why did I say my boyfriend? She’s going to dismiss me. “You won’t. He’s… no more.” I swallow.

“Met the sun, eh?”

“Yes.”

She meets my eyes. “But before, when you were together, you had sex with him?”

“Uh, yes.” A chill goes through me despite the relative warmth of the room.

“Good.” The woman gives a throaty laugh. “We don’t require it of our donors, but you’ll have the option. It’s a benefit that you understand what you’re getting yourself into. Vampires aren’t known for being soft and sweet with their meals.”

My time with Damien flashes through my head. I will never agree to sex with anyone else, but she doesn’t need to know that. “No. Definitely not.”

“All right. You can go. I’ll let you know when I make my decision.” She turns her attention to the woman waiting behind me.

I clear my throat. “One more thing,” I blurt. I have to make her choose me. “My blood is special.”

Marabella turns her attention back to me slowly, her lip curled in annoyance. “Is that what he told you, sweetheart? Everyone’s blood is special when one of ’em wants at your neck.” She gestures for me to step aside.

I lower my voice. “Um, no. I mean I met a vampire when I was in Chicago named Cassius. He’s the one who told me.”

Now I have her attention. Cassius didn’t give me permission to use his name, but I assume his recommendation of Marabella’s was based on personal experience, and no woman would easily forget a man like him. “You’ve known Cassius, have you?” She gives me another once-over.

I nod. “He’s a friend. Actually, he’s the reason I’m here. He said Marabella’s was the best and I should seek you out personally.”

She taps her clipboard. “And he told you to tell me your blood was special?”

“Yes. Unusual. Rare, he said.”

With a lick of her bottom lip, she motions to a bored-looking man standing in the corner. As soon as he moves, I know he’s a vampire. He’s too quick to be human.

“We’re in need of a taster, Perceval. If you please.” She motions to me.

I hold my arm out toward the vampire, wrist up. His oversized amber eyes spark with a sudden curiosity, and he lowers his nose to my vein. I feel air brush my wrist as he inhales. I’m careful not to flinch when he strikes. The bite isn’t deep. Just a nip at first . But as the first drops hit his tongue, I feel his fangs drive deeper and his mouth seal over the wound. I can’t restrain my gasp no matter how much I want to appear an experienced donor in front of Marabella. Perceval is taking a lot of blood, fast . He draws my arm closer to him, cradling it from wrist to elbow. I have no choice but to stumble forward until I’m flush against his side.

A silver blade sings through the air and presses into Perceval’s throat with a sizzle. A bead of blood forms on its edge.

“Let her go,” Marabella demands.

The vampire stops drinking and seals the wound with one last languid lick. The silver has left a burn under his Adam’s apple, but he does not release his hold on my arm.

Marabella grips the handle of the blade tighter. “I said a taste, Perceval. If you ever want to grace my halls again, you’ll leave it at that.”

He reaches out and brushes a strand of my hair out of my eyes. “I’ll buy her,” he declares. “I want her for myself. I’ll pay you anything you ask.”

Marabella grabs my hand and pulls me behind her, that heady laugh filling the air. “Buzz off. You don’t have the coin for what she’s worth. If you want another go at her, you’ll need to wait until she starts work.”

My heart leaps in my chest, pounding hopefully at the promise in her words. Perceval backs away, but not before I notice the bulge in his jeans. He’s hard and still looking at me like he might consider murdering Marabella to get to me.

The madam scowls, her eyes flicking from his crotch to his still-extended fangs. The silver blade is still in her hand, and she doesn’t lower it. Another vampire moves in from a neighboring table and stares Perceval down. He slinks back to his corner.

Marabella turns to me, her face transforming to pure happiness as she tucks the knife away. “Eloise, I’m pleased to offer you a position at Marabella’s, effective immediately.”

“I accept.” I have to stop myself from squealing.

The next girl in line releases a disappointed grunt, but Marabella ignores her. “Grab your bag and wait over there. She points to the queue forming at the back of the room near the red door. I roll my little bag to the back of the line, feeling Perceval’s gaze on me. Every time I glance his way, he’s still staring.

“Damn, your blood must be the bomb.” Olivia steps into line behind me.

I shrug, not wanting to draw attention to myself. “I guess.”

“No, really. The vampires they choose as tasters are known for their control. They have to be, or a lot of girls could end up dead. He’s so enamored he can’t take his eyes off you. If Marabella wasn’t such a badass and the other taster hadn’t moved in to back her up, I think he might have thrown you on the floor and had his way with you.”

A shiver travels through me again. Is this what waits for me on the other side of the door? Will any vampire who tastes my blood try to rape me if I don’t have a blade pressed to his throat? And if something awful happens to me in my quest to get closer to the queen, will Damien forgive me?

“Don’t look so worried,” Olivia says through a crooked grin. “The madams don’t allow them to have sex with you unless you’re willing. Some of the donors are in their sixties and seventies. They say they have the purest blood. The houses protect the blood. Sex is never demanded.”

I release a breath I don’t remember holding, and a tension in my shoulders eases.

“Anyway, most vampires find taking blood far more intimate than sex.”

“Seems like you know a lot about vampires,” I mumble, growing more anxious as the people in the room that weren’t chosen for a brothel are dismissed. This is really happening.

She laughs. “Yeah. This is my second time.”

I do a double take. “You’ve been a donor before?”

“Three years ago. I thought I wanted something else, but there are definitely benefits to this life. You’ll see. The rush you get when they bite is addictive. Your living expenses are completely covered, and if you manage to find a patron, the perks are amazing. Where did you end up?”

“Marabella’s,” I say.

She grins. “That’s both of us then. Best house in the city.”

Perceval claps his hands at the front of the group. “All those with house contracts, follow me. Stay with the group. If you fall behind, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

He turns, and I see the blood lock on the door. Pressing his thumb to the pad, he opens it, and the people in front of me begin to file through.

“Once we pass through that door, our lives are going to change forever,” Olivia murmurs.

Don’t I know it. I roll my bag over the threshold and follow the others into a dark passageway.