Page 14

Five

Fire lapped against the night sky as Charon ran from the House of Onyx into the street.

Courtesans from the House of Silver huddled on the other side of the road, staring numbly up at the three-story building engulfed with flame.

The garden in the House of Copper was also starting to burn, and courtesans stood on the balcony of the House of Gold, throwing buckets of water on the roof.

The fire was too far from the House of Onyx to be a danger yet, but all they needed was a change in the wind and the whole Pleasure District would be up in flames.

“Are there people in there?” Yves grabbed Charon by the arm.

His nails dug into Charon’s skin, but Charon didn’t notice the pain.

He scanned the windows and the open front door.

The fire looked like it had come from the garden, which meant that the house might still be safe enough for a search, but no one moved to go inside to check.

“Laurent!” Rose, Laurent’s younger sister, ran past Charon and Yves. Like the rest of them, Laurent was staring in shock at the burning House of Silver, and he nearly staggered back a pace when Rose threw herself into his arms. “We heard the bells. What happened? What do we do?”

“Sand,” Laurent said, in a dazed voice. “Sand and water. Percy! Sabre!” He turned aside, his dominance cracking as it fell over the stunned crowd.

“I’m going to see if anyone is inside,” Charon said.

Yves’ grip on his arm tightened. “No. It’s too dangerous. I’ve seen fires in the country—if the upper floors fall?—”

“Then they’ll crush whoever might still be in there,” Charon said. He pulled Yves’ hand off his arm and started stripping off his shirt. Yves took a few steps after him, but Charon turned, putting all the dominance he had into his voice. “Stay where you are, Yves.”

Yves shakily got to his knees. A number of other submissives knelt as well, overwhelmed by the command in Charon’s voice. Charon intercepted a man running by with a bucket of water and dipped his shirt in it. It would be scant protection against the heat, but he’d take what he could get.

He’d just kicked open the garden gate when a figure approached behind him. Sabre appeared, a sodden cloth wrapped around his lower face like a mask. He handed a second cloth to Charon. Charon took it without a word.

“I’ll search the second floor,” Sabre said. Charon briefly clasped his shoulder, then ran into the burning House of Silver.

The first floor was empty. The House of Silver was laid out differently than the House of Onyx, with an open first floor parlor and the kitchen and work shed in the back, where no clients could see.

Charon scanned the first floor as he made for the stairs.

Fire was starting to lap at the wallpaper, curling as Charon ascended the stairs, and the house groaned as it struggled to hold its own weight.

They didn’t have much time. His wet clothes were already steaming, and the smoke was thick and oppressive.

He found only one courtesan on the third floor—a young woman curled up in the closet, paralyzed with fear. She didn’t even look up when Charon grabbed her, and Charon covered her hair with his damp shirt and heaved her to her feet.

“You need to follow me,” he said. His dominance was louder than the roar of fire in the floors below, and the woman, a submissive, looked down at her feet.

Charon thought of Nikos walking through the desert, forcing himself to keep going with the power of his own dominance.

“You aren’t afraid. You will get to your feet and walk. ”

The woman nodded. She grabbed Charon’s arm as the house trembled dangerously, and the floor beneath them buckled.

“Keep walking,” Charon ordered, half dragging her to the stairs. He raised his voice. “Sabre!” The smoke threatened to choke him as he inhaled, but he managed to get out the words before he reached the stairs.

He couldn’t see Sabre through the smoke.

He dragged the woman down the stairs and through the burning first floor, and when they emerged into the smoldering garden, he was relieved to find Sabre sitting on the street outside.

Charon guided the woman into the street, where a group of sobbing courtesans pulled her into their arms.

“I have to keep walking,” she said in a soft voice, stumbling as they pulled her to safety. “No, I have to keep… I was told to keep walking…”

There was a crack, a chorus of screams, and Charon turned in time to see the sides of the first floor buckle and fold. Fire spat onto the walls of the House of Gold, and another cry went up. Charon stepped back, coughing, as Yves gingerly took him by the arm.

“Charon.” Yves’ voice sounded distant through the roar of fire and Charon’s hacking coughs. “You’re burned. You need to see Laurent.”

“It isn’t…” Charon coughed again, and he felt a touch on his neck. The pain in his throat and lungs eased, and Charon turned to Laurent. Laurent’s magic, which he rarely used in private, let alone out in the open, coursed through Charon like a stream of clear water.

“There are others,” Charon said. “A woman, the courtesans from the House of Silver…”

“Allow me to treat my friends first, Charon.” Laurent’s voice was low, pitched so the others couldn’t hear. “I’ll see to them. Just promise me, the next time Sabre thinks of joining you in your heroics? Send him back to me.”

“He’s safe?” Charon asked. Laurent nodded grimly. “Do you know who set this?”

“Who says it’s been set?” Laurent asked, but Charon knew he had to have noticed that the fire had come from the outside in. Laurent turned toward the woman Charon had rescued, and Yves, who’d refused to let go of Charon’s arm, feebly tugged him toward the other side of the street.

“We’re too close,” Yves said. There were tears in his eyes, and his voice shook. “Please, Charon.”

“I’m all right,” Charon said, but he followed Yves to safety regardless. Guards had finally arrived to douse the fire, but Laurent had gathered enough onlookers to quench the surrounding flames that the other buildings were only slightly charred.

Charon helped Yves sit down, but Yves still wouldn’t let go. “You could have died,” he said. “You know that, don’t you? You could have died in there.”

“Yes. And that woman would have died if no one had gone in there to find her.”

Yves breathed in heavily. “Can you stop being so…so Charon for a minute and think about the fact that maybe people don’t want you to get eaten by a fire?”

Charon touched Yves’ cheek. “I know. Thank you for thinking of me.” He’d put so much dominance into his voice to get the courtesan from the House of Silver on her feet that it came too easily now. Yves blinked slowly, likely lulled by the need to submit. “Let go, Yves.”

Yves gently loosened his grip on Charon’s arm. “Yes, sir.”

Something stirred low in Charon’s belly at that, and he tried to force it down. Yves didn’t call anyone sir unless they’d thoroughly spanked him first, and even then, it was a rare thing. Of course it would take Charon charging into a fire for him to say it unprompted.

Percy ran over, wearing only a robe and slippers. His yellow hair was a mess, and he had the wide-eyed look of panic. “Yves. They caught the man who started it.”

Yves used Charon to get to his feet. “What? Who? Is it someone we know?”

“I don’t think so.” Percy gestured toward the guards’ cart.

A pair of guards pushed a young man into it, and Charon stood to get a better look as murmuring spread through the crowd.

The man was young, barely out of his teens, with shaggy black hair and raw, dark bruises around his wrists.

Charon moved closer, drawn to the cart as though pulled by a tether, and the boy raised a hand to shield himself as one of the courtesans from the House of Silver threw a stone.

It went wide, smashing into the cobbles on the other side of the cart, but the guards didn’t so much as look at the courtesan who threw it.

The boy had bruises on his hands as well, and old blood stained his nails dark in the flickering streetlights.

“That boy’s been tortured,” Charon said.

Yves sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth. “You’re sure? How can you tell?”

“I’ve seen it before.” The boy was young enough to resemble Aster, though his skin was pale and he looked underfed. Another courtesan threw a stone at the cart, and the boy cringed as though he’d been whipped.

“They’ll kill him if the guards don’t hurry,” Yves said.

Charon was inclined to agree. The crowd was starting to turn ugly, terror twisting into something dark and bestial now that they had someone to blame.

The guards slowly started to move the cart away from the smoldering wreckage, but some members of the crowd followed, their eyes blazing. “What are you going to do?”

Charon turned to look at Yves. “What makes you think I’ll do anything?”

“Because he’s a kid, and he’s scared,” Yves said. “Because I know you.”

He was right. As the cart trundled too slowly away, Charon could feel the compulsion to follow.

Whatever had led the boy to set fire to the Pleasure District lay in the haunted shadows in his eyes and the bruises on his fingers and wrists.

At least one of his fingers had looked swollen and broken.

Setting a fire with broken fingers had to be painful.

“All right,” Yves said. “We’ll meet them at the guard house.”

“We?” Charon asked.

Yves gave him a dubious look. “Did you think I’ll let you go alone after I watched you run into a burning building? Really?”

“I could order you,” Charon said.

Yves narrowed his eyes. “Oh, so now you threaten to sling me over your shoulder.” He turned around and walked after the cart at a brisk pace.

Charon could understand why so many of Yves’ clients were so inclined to spank him senseless.

He caught up with Yves easily, pitching his voice so only Yves could hear.