Page 31 of Blackwicket (Dark Hall #1)
I looked away. Thea stood so close our hips brushed.
I straightened my spine and pretended I belonged here as we made our slow trek along the side of the theater toward the bar.
The air was hazy, filled with a white miasma, mimicking tobacco smoke, without the stench.
Instead, it carried the vivid scent of magic, tinged with decay—the same scent that had overwhelmed me in the crowd on the street.
I slowed, prompting Thea to clear her throat, a warning.
“Is this the magic people pay William Nightglass for?” I asked, my voice low, scandalized by this realization far more than the other goings-on.
People were allowed to enjoy themselves, spending their time with the company they chose in whatever manner they wished.
But this magic wasn’t the sort formed by human souls.
“Some of it,” Thea replied, irritated with the stalling of our movement, keeping watch for any signs that any mind was being paid to us.
I raised my hand, drawing my shield down a fraction to test the magic.
“It’s weak,” I said. “Barely untainted. If anyone tries to use it, it’ll all revert to curses in a few days.”
Thea grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand down.
“Stop it, you’ll attract attention.”
I pulled from her grasp, but with controlled force so as not to flail. She didn’t hold on.
“They have to return, don’t they? For the fix. You give them the poison and then the medicine over and over again.”
“Don’t pity these people, Eleanora,” she said, shaking her head, regarding the sea of bodies with poorly concealed disgust.
“My sympathy is for the magic, Thea. It’s a living thing and this?” I motioned to the lewd vista. “This is torture .”
An arm snaked beneath my breasts, enveloping me in the harsh embrace of a man whose face was obscured in shadows, but whose voice wasn’t difficult to identify.
“Look what we have here,” Coppe muttered from around the cigar clenched between his teeth. His fingers dug into my hipbone as I attempted to sidestep him. “You didn’t tell me she’d agreed to be the new one, Thea.”
“Nightglass won’t be happy with you putting your paws on her, Coppe.” Thea’s voice was cool, with a bite of animosity that was a warning for any man. But Coppe seemed a stupid sort.
“William ain’t here. So what’re you up to bringing an untested Blackwicket here on High Tide, hm?”
I was forced to lean quickly away as he turned his head, the ember tip of his foul cigar moving past my cheek, so close the heat of it stung. He chuckled at my reaction. I longed to shove my fingers into his eyes, but I was aware of my position.
“You’re acting a little tepid,” he said, pleased with himself for recognizing my resignation. “I guess Thea told you that you can’t risk using your magic or you’ll get torn to shreds by all the lovely people here wallowing in this filth.”
“Come on, Coppe, you’re making my job hard.” Thea’s coldness melted as easily as snowflakes on a tongue, and she was smooth as velvet, disentangling me from the loathsome man’s grip, tucking herself in my place. Her tone grew placating, as syrupy as the one I’d used with the men in the alley.
While Coppe released me, his hand coming to rest on Thea, far lower than I could have lived with, his gaze remained steady, and I received the distinct impression he was imagining me as a corpse.
It required some murmuring from Thea to get his full attention, but at last he gathered her against him, and she glared over his shoulder and pointed with her chin toward the bar, imploring me to go that direction.
Vulnerable in this unfamiliar, hazardous territory without Thea’s guidance, I still preferred my odds a solid distance from William’s henchman.
No patrons lingered around the bar counter, so full of the intoxicating magic that liquor wasn’t a consideration.
I’d never witnessed freshly healed curses being used to fill the empty with a promise of power.
I thought of the Drudge I’d encountered at the mortuary, a few blocks from here.
With this type of magic in such abundance, any Drudge, big or small, would find reason to come sniffing, so how were they keeping them at bay?
A Curse Eater like Fiona was capable of the job, standing guard and absorbing any approaching danger.
This might have been her function, but it was just as easy to assume she’d been obliged to supply the faltering magic from the curses unraveled at the house.
My head was spinning, from my thoughts and the effort to seal myself tight enough that the magic, already infused with lust and greed, wouldn’t find a way in.
Thea was correct; I was a lightweight, having hidden from the harsher realities of my kind for too long.
When I reached the long stretch of mahogany, I glimpsed my outline in the mirror behind it, which reflected the gloomy lighting.
I knew my name, my history. But Eleanora Blackwicket had never been asked to do anything harder than say goodbye and run.
I wanted a drink.
As though summoned by my thoughts, a familiar man appeared. Phillip, the waiter from the night before, who’d agreed to serve me a cursed beverage. He didn’t ask for my drink order now, but motioned me to the end of the bar.
“You’re the new girl? Good, you’ve got to get back there. The load’s too heavy tonight, someone’ll croak if you don’t jump in.”
“Excuse me?” Taken by surprise, and not willing to follow this man deeper into the belly of the Vapors, I glanced at Thea, to find her mouth pressed to Coppe’s.
Had it been a kiss, my interest wouldn’t have lingered, but there was something about the arch of her back, the curl of his body over hers, and I saw it.
A thin line of light extending from between her lips, to be inhaled by Coppe. Unwound curse magic.
“Woman,” the bartender snapped, and my gaze returned to his alarmed face, the creases of his brow anxious. “I’m begging you here. They’re really struggling, and I’m worried someone’s going to void.”
“Void?”
Realizing the full danger of what was happening in The Vapors. I left my coat on the bar and rushed to follow the stranger toward whatever horrific revelation awaited.