Page 149 of Till Death
With a final hug, Paesha and I disappeared into her room and stood before the mirror I knew Ro was watching. There was just no way she didn’t have eyes on this house and ears on Orin and his deadly power.
When the mirror did not ripple, I ran a hand over the glistening filigree to the side. Still nothing.
“What if she doesn’t let us in?”
I slammed my hand against the glass, watching it crack into a spiderweb. “She’s more than meets the eye, and she’s got secrets. If she doesn’t want to share… then I’ll break every mirror in this godsdamned realm, and we’ll see how she fares from there.”
“Guess we better bring more weapons.”
“On it,” Thea called from the hallway.
Strapped down with Thea’s armory, Paesha and I stood on the front step of the Syndicate house for only a moment, each finding our own resolve to walk away without looking back. But the second that pup barked, we both looked over our shoulder to see all three of them standing in the door, waving, each motion full of sadness and finality.
“Are you sure about Visha?” Paesha asked, using her power to hunt down the brothel owner.
“The last time Ro showed up unexpectedly, it was in the Scarlet District. I’ve caught her there twice, once with Orin and once at Lady Visha’s. I’m sure.”
“There’s a huge risk even stepping foot into that building.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I have nothing to lose. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You shouldn’t go where I’m going anyway.”
“I’ll go as far as I can before I have to get back to the others. This is a fight I can handle, and Orin would never want you to do this alone.”
The destruction was vast. Far more than I’d known. It seemed as if a quarter of Silbath had fallen to rubble in the aftermath of Orin’s wrath. And each step I’d taken over the rubble was laden with guilt. The stones slipped beneath our feet as we wove between the buildings, finding reprieve once we reached the bridge to Perth, the city that remained untouched. And likely where the majority of survivors had run.
“I bet Beggar’s Alley is full of people right now,” Paesha said, adjusting the sword on her back as we crossed over the Hallowed River. “All those people…”
“We can’t think about them. If we do, we’ll never leave.”
She pinned me with a stare. “Are you sure the Life Maiden should leave the world like this?”
“There’s no part of me that wants to be without him, Paesha. I can’t imagine a pining, sad Life Maiden is worth a thing to this world. I know what it’s like to be with him; I can’t possibly accept life without him. He broke the world for my freedom, and I’ll burn down Death’s court for his.” I stepped off the bridge, turning toward the Scarlet District. “The night I met Orin, he said we could choose each other before the world forced us. I chose him then, when I shouldn’t have, and I choose him now because there is no other way for me.”
“They say Visha is more cunning than the Maestro. Her petals are more devoted to her. Makes her more dangerous.”
I pulled Chaos from my thigh, missing the weight of Serenity on the other, accepting that the blade had been lost to the vagrants the second I’d dropped it. “She is dangerous, Paesha, but so are we.”
The massive black man standing at the back door of Visha’s brothel didn’t so much as flinch when we approached. Nor did he bother to look at us at all. He simply pushed the door open, releasing a growl as we stepped inside the dimly lit space.
A soft murmur of conversation and laughter floated through the air. I knew the layout by heart, each room discreetly tucked away from prying eyes. As we made our way deeper into the establishment, our steps fell into a rhythm that felt almost automatic. The lush red velvet curtains framed each doorway like a promise of escape, a brief respite from the world outside. But that’s exactly what Lady Visha’s brothel always had been. She’d constructed a private world within these walls. Her own kingdom nestled into the heart of another.
The sound of a piano drifted towards us, the haunting melody tugging at memories I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Of Orin playing on stage and the audience melting like liquid in his hands. He’d always been a spectacle. A haunted mystery.
Paesha followed behind me, her fingers trailing over the curtains and eyes lingering on the suggestive artwork down the hall until we entered the open room of velvet couches. Cordelia made eye contact with a gasp and hustled away.
A burly man sat opposite the room, gazing over the top of a newspaper. His eyes snapped away from me the moment recognition lit his face, but they landed easily on Paesha, drinking her in.
“I’ve got a nice place for you to sit over here, pet,” he said, patting the cushion beside him.
She scowled. “I’d rather sit on the business end of my own sword.”
“I’d love to watch,” he breathed.
“Honestly, where do men get the audacity?”
I nudged her with my shoulder. “I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere in that wrinkly ball sac skin.”
She grinned. “That explains so much.”
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