Page 21 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)

When I arrived on the main street of Nightglass, it was early evening, and already the town was alive.

Tourists were filtering in and out of the restaurants and boutique shops filled with the high-end trappings and trimmings of the wealthy: luxury cosmetics, rare liquors, and expensive cigars.

The glow of the shop window lights strained to present a cheery sight amidst the gloomy blue of winter dusk, but it looked jaundiced and feeble to my eyes.

The sidewalk in front of The Vapors lounge, where I’d first encountered the woman in Fiona’s picture, was no less claustrophobic to me tonight.

But my mission was compelling, and the thrill of disobeying the inspector quickened my step.

A flashing marquis crowned the entry with the headlining names:

THEA JAMES AND THE BUTTON MEN

No doorman waited outside to welcome guests, and I wondered if they were closed.

But when I tested the handle, the black lacquered entry swung open, inviting me into an intimate foyer, adorned in blue velvet and soft golden lights.

A podium stood stationed by a cascade of lush indigo curtains, and muffled music echoed from beyond, peculiar and magnetic.

I ventured to the curtain, but as my hand reached to push it aside, a man emerged from them, and I retreated a respectful distance to let him pass.

Instead, he followed my steps, eyes locked on mine until we were standing far too near for strangers in a dimly lit room. It was the man from the crosswalk.

“Look who’s here,” he said, his grin a lopsided affair that was not as charming as it was hostile.

“Excuse me,” I replied, snappish, abashed by the gross overstep of personal space. I wondered if he was drunk.

“Can’t, love. You won’t be coming in here.”

He was security. It explained the way he loomed, though I was hardly size enough to cause any trouble, and of all the tactics that might have worked on me, intimidation wasn’t included among them.

I set my jaw, and despite the rage clawing its way one bleeding inch at a time up my spine, I maintained an unbothered tone.

“I’m new to Nightglass. This lounge came highly recommended. Is it private?”

He chose this moment to try to feel me up again, the tendrils of his magic like tentacles, uncomfortable and disgusting. I gave them a yank, and he withdrew with a grunt like he’d caught a smart blow in his stomach.

“Thought so.” He chuckled, the harsh, angry sound of a man ready to resort to violence. “You’ve got some kick to you. Blackwicket bitches usually do.”

“I recommend you take a step back before I offer further demonstration.” The words were a snarl, and he sucked a breath in through his teeth, pleased, as though I’d just attempted to seduce him.

“Big threats coming from such a small, breakable body.”

He made as if to grab me, but the curtain was pulled roughly to the side and William Nightglass appeared, saving me from considering my worst options.

“Coppe,” he said, tone hard as stone. “You’ll keep your hands to yourself or you’ll lose them. ”

I scrambled to squash the rise of my magic, hiding it away.

“Was just trying to keep out the riffraff.”

“Miss Blackwicket is hardly that.” William offered a nod to me, keeping the curtain open with the tip of his cane, onyx as the entry doors. “You’re welcome here, Eleanora, and I look forward to showing you what Nightglass has to offer. Please, wait inside for me.”

My instincts tingled, a sure sign the decision to enter would lead to trouble, but my pride wouldn’t let me retreat, and the photos rested heavy in my pocket.

“Thank you, William,” I said, gratified when Coppe’s upper lip raised in a grimy sneer.

William let the heavy fabric fall behind me, muffling many of the words the two men exchanged, though I caught…hanging by your dick on the town green in Williams’ steady baritone.

I didn’t doubt such a spectacle would please the crowds, and none that William’s threat was empty, though the vulgarity of it shocked me.

In his youth, William had been intense but sensitive to the needs of a town he’d inherit, slow to anger.

I was unhappy with this evidence that he might be following the path of his father, and I moved away so I wouldn’t overhear anymore.

Another set of curtains ahead separated the corridor from the theater, but these were fully open, offering a glimpse into the dimly lit room beyond, and a sample of the slinking rhythm of the band. I approached them and took in the spectacle.

On stage, Thea James, dressed in a white gown accentuating every magnificent curve, shimmered in the spotlight that shined on her with the reverence of an acolyte at the feet of an angel.

More than the smoky voice she poured into the microphone like warm honey was the magic infused in it, a shameless presentation of clear, bright energy that rolled over the crowd sitting rapt in their chairs, soaking it in.

An audience member writhed, her partner pulling her close to savor the effects of the heady enchantments.

If these people had focused on more than the gratification of imbibing someone else’s magic, they’d have noticed the stunning prism of the music and the twinkling radiance of this woman’s deepest self blooming around them.

Thea James possessed magic in spades, and she used it. It radiated, warm and alluring as her voice, softening parts of me I believed would never yield.

“Incredible, isn’t she?” William murmured behind me, his voice near my ear.

My back brushed against his chest as I turned toward him.

He smelled of brandy and tobacco, and this sensory stimulation threw me off balance.

I leaned too far, prompting his hand to press at my waist for support.

The connection shattered the spell, and I sought sobriety, inhaling deeply, though the odd tingling lingered on my skin.

“She’s been with us for several years now. Haven’t seen a slow night since.”

“William, is this legal?”

The restrictions on magic were so extreme, and even the enchantments allowed during the Yule season paled in comparison. The amount of power here begged for Drudge.

“I find it amusing that the legality of all this concerns you.” A charming grin lifted the corner of his lips. “But yes, it’s completely legal. We have all the required licensing, including a special exemption raising the allowable cap by a significant margin.”

“Your father’s always known the right people to bribe,” I said. There was no point in hiding my animosity toward the man. Besides, the magic had loosened my tongue.

William laughed, the sound pleasant.

“I did the bribing.”

I scanned his face to determine whether this was a jest, he winked at me.

“Don’t be too scandalized, Eleanora,” he said. “There’s no need to pretend you don’t know what my family’s involved in, and since our meeting yesterday, I’m up to speed on all the trouble you’ve been getting yourself into as well.”

I prepared a rebuttal, but applause overwhelmed us as Thea’s song completed, and the audience came to their senses.

Above the roar, I could hear someone crying.

The two who’d been in the thrall of ecstasy were gone, a glass tipped onto the tabletop, perhaps in their rush to leave, wine seeping across the white linen like the remnants of violence, not love.

William, the ghost of his previous smile lingering, tapped a light touch on my elbow, then raised his chin in the direction he wanted me to go.

Toward the private table where Thea James had taken residence after her graceful, victorious ascent from the stage.

“Come, I’ll introduce you. Your sister and Thea were great friends, I imagine she’d like to make your acquaintance.”

This was the entire purpose of my coming here, but a worthwhile conversation was impossible with William present. Still, I agreed, preferring not to incur suspicion. At the very least, I’d be able to get a feel for who I was up against.

The spotlight dimmed, leaving the theater aglow in a sparkling blue light, creating the impression of being submerged in water.

With none of the earlier magic, The Button Men continued to play smooth music, guiding the place toward intermission.

The audience returned to their conversations, drinking, and smoking, with many rising to head to the bar—a cherry wood counter stretching across an entire wall, boasting a mirror set in the carved swell of breaking waves.

The glass reflected watery light onto the patrons, casting everyone in a ghostly pallor.

People were watching our progress. Not interested in me, but in William.

They regarded him with open admiration. To my knowledge, William possessed little magic.

The power attracting their attention was another kind entirely.

Thea James didn’t regard our approach, too busy speaking to a sleek, auburn-headed woman who’d descended on the table, a roster in hand. She gave the paper a harsh tap, dismissing the assistant, whose lovely face had twisted in frustration.

“Thea,” William said, remaining close to me, as if he thought I might run. I couldn’t hold that against him, it seemed to be what I was known for. “This is Eleanora, Fiona Blackwickets sister.”

“The dead one?” Thea asked with a cool disinterest, taking a sip of ice water, without even bothering to glance at me. I bristled.

“Behave yourself.”

It wasn’t clear whether William’s warning was a sincere reprimand or a good-natured gibe. She seemed unmoved in either case.

“I’m always on my best behavior, it’s why we’re booming.” The mix of snappishness and friendly affection kept me from pinning their dynamic. “Come on, doll, sit. Have a drink.”

William pulled out the seat next to her and when I sat as she offered, he took up the chair across from me.

“I’m afraid I don’t drink,” I said.

“Imagine that,” she replied blithely, waving down a waiter, who stopped in his tracks, making a quick turn at the beckon of the star of the house. When he arrived, she ordered something for me anyway. “You’ll enjoy it. It’s tart.”

She propped her chin on the back of her hand, elbow on the table, leaning toward me with a conspiratorial gleam in her beguiling eyes.

“Now, tell me all about yourself. I’m eager to talk to someone risen from the grave.”