Page 59 of Will It Hurt?

Jinn

The cabaret was not what I’d expected.

If there wasn’t a stylishly dressed crowd lingering outside the venue, I would’ve assumed the little wytch had provided the wrong address.

Perhaps my vision of a cabaret was clouded by the years I’d spent in Paris—a smokey den of loud men lusting after half-naked women on stage while their companions watched on in stoic silence. This venue, however, was tenfold more imposing… And far more interesting.

I studied the towering spires that rose towards the foggy sky, cast in crimson from a series of lights embedded in the ground. Above the arched entrance, three incongruous words were carved into the weathered stone, the tip of an O chipped away by the elements over time.

School of Divinity

So, this den of iniquity had once been a place of religious teaching? Curious.

What was even more curious was the fact that I hadn’t thought about Belle all evening. From the moment I’d awakened, slumped in the armchair of the guest room, and arrived at the cabaret, Belle had not crossed my mind even once.

Emotional healing , Aisla’s voice rang in my head. But that couldn’t be it. The spell hadn’t worked… Or had it? If not, where had the coin disappeared to ?

I only knew that the constant tightness in my chest had vanished.

In the distance, I heard the click of Aisla’s boots as she walked up The Mound, her gait now a familiar rhythm. The gusty wind slipped her scent under my nose, and my fangs threatened to descend.

Adolescent bollocks.

Why was I behaving like one of the undisciplined heroines in the little wytch’s pornographic books?

I had ingested her blood once— just a fleeting sip, a little dribble of whatever she’d left behind on my fingers.

How had it become an unshakable pull in the depths of my being?

How was I now waiting, frozen in place, as I listened to her breaths quicken while she trekked up the incline to the venue?

Foolish.

I knew my visceral reaction had more to do with the subconscious scene I’d witnessed last night rather than an outward reaction to the proximity of her blood. Despite what she believed, I hadn’t been an active participant in her kinky dreams, but I had been lured, nonetheless, to watch…

“Do you never change your clothes?” she asked as she fell into step beside me. Her gaze ran along the length of my coat.

I shrugged. “I didn’t bring anything else. Besides, clothes can last a long time if you don’t sweat.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Are you aware that hygiene has come a long way since you were born?”

I shot her a wan look.

“There are loads of children’s books that could teach you the importance of it. Smelly Melly, Why Should I Brush My Teeth, The Bacteria Book…”

She ticked off each title with a flick of her fingers.

“You’re right. I should probably schedule my yearly bath. ”

“Maybe make that a monthly one just to be safe.”

She was teasing me. Good-naturedly, I supposed, but the interaction caught me off guard.

Humans were never ones to tease vampyres, especially those who were sworn to silence in our employ. Over the years, I’d seen a thousand nuanced emotions in their eyes—fear, terror, resignation, lust, need, unease, fascination—but never easy amusement like this.

She looked different today. Gone was the practical anorak and matching jeans. In its place, she wore a thick navy wool coat with gold buttons and a matching knitted jumper underneath. A necklace shimmered along her turtleneck, the outline of an evil eye staring back at me.

The crimson lights fell across her cheeks as we waited in line with others in various states of drunkenness.

“So, what do you do for blood?” she asked, tugging her coat closed against the wind.

“I beg your pardon?”

Her smile flashed in the light.

“I haven’t heard someone use that phrase in a long while,” she quipped. “But you’re in a new city and you have to survive somehow. Where are you getting blood from?”

My brows rose higher with each word out of her mouth. “You’re rather straightforward, aren’t you?”

“Is there any other way to be?”

“Yes, you could try being polite,” I replied, stepping aside as two sloshed women in sequin dresses brushed past. “Asking about my drinking habits is akin to me inquiring about your sex life.”

“Sex is one of the most common topics of conversation in the twenty-first century,” she rebutted with a shrug. “People talk about it all the time. Aren’t you on social media?”

“Indeed, I am not. ”

“Sad for you.” She moved forward with the line. “But back to my question—how are you getting fed?”

“Why?” I shot back. “Are you offering?”

“Ew, no.”

But I caught the click in her throat before she could hide it.

“Are you sure?” I teased. “I thought you were into fang play?”

The look on her face was priceless. Her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing quickly in suspicion.

I relished each emotion as it played across her expressive face.

She put up a valiant attempt to maintain her composure, but the slight quiver in her jaw gave away her discomfort.

It was tempered only by a subtle edge of defiance.

Her lips parted as though she wanted to say something—scold me, perhaps—but couldn’t quite find the words.

“Aisla!” From the front of the line, someone called her name, turning her attention. It took her a good few seconds to come back to herself.

“Afiyah.” Aisla paused. “Hi.”

Someone in a security uniform and an undercut strode up to us.

So fucking hot. God damn.

Their callous mental voice made me bristle. God, how I hated loud thinkers, especially salacious ones like these.

I studied the unkempt specimen leaning forward to embrace Aisla, taking in the crinkling polyester jacket with the word SECURITY written across the breast pocket.

A ghastly pair of sports shoes with thick soles completed the nightmarish attire.

I wondered if they’d been attacked on the way to work or if their dark hair always stood at odd angles.

“You work here?” Aisla asked. “Since when? ”

“Aye, I do.” They gestured to their badge. “The company moves me around depending on staffing. I’m here today but I could be security detail for Taylor Swift tomorrow.”

I fought a grimace as they winked at Aisla.

“I think Taylor Swift has her own security detail,” Aisla said, stepping back to place some distance between them before turning to me.

“Jinn, this is Afiyah. We, um, she, um,—”

“Dated,” Afiyah supplied needlessly. “We had fun, didn’t we, babe?”

Babe.

What a crude endearment. It sounded more like a cheap afterthought than a genuine compliment.

Aisla’s face twitched. A brief flicker of discomfort crossed her features before she masked it quickly.

I wondered if she knew that she was more than just a casual babe— a throwaway term that belonged to people who saw each other as disposable. It was shallow and meaningless, just like the person who’d uttered it.

More salacious thoughts ran through Afiyah’s wide open mind, and I tried not to look repulsed as I read them all.

It was obvious that Afiyah saw Aisla as nothing more than a sexual commodity. Her thoughts made a mockery of the little wytch.

“What are you doing later tonight?” Afiyah asked, slinging an arm casually over Aisla’s shoulders. “Fancy a drink?”

Aisla’s uneasiness was clear as she glanced over at me. “Actually, we have plans.”

Afiyah finally ripped her gaze away from Aisla long enough to study me. “Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t realize.”

A string of curses ran through her mind as she held out a hand to me .

“Nice to meet you.”

I glanced at the offered palm with disdain, trying to suppress the irritation that curled through me.

“We’re actually here to see my grandmother,” Aisla said when the silence bordered on awkward. “She said to meet her in her dressing room backstage.”

“Right.” Afiyah let her hand drop back to her side. “What’s her name? I’ll take you.”

I trailed behind like a shadow as they walked in front of me, chatting stiltedly about life. I used the time to parse through Afiyah’s mind, learning more about her as we stepped into the gravel-laid parking lot.

We didn’t have to go far. Another security personnel stood in front of a side door marked Staff and permitted us entrance with Afiyah in tow.

Sweat. Makeup. Perfume.

The scents assaulted me at once. It was a struggle to contain a grimace.

The walls were draped in deep crimson and burgundy while the floor was cluttered with sequined costumes, feathers, and silk garments. Corsets and garter belts were strewn across chairs, and brightly colored boas hung from hooks, ready to be wrapped around the necks of the performers.

Afiyah guided us to a corner where a small private cubicle was tucked away. She rapped her knuckles on the plastic wall.

No answer.

Aisla peered over to find the cubicle empty.

“Oh.” Afiyah’s thick brows bunched together. “I thought she would be…”

Overhead, the lights began to flash.

“Shit.” Afiyah cursed under her breath, glancing up at the ceiling. “You waited too close to call time. ”

“We can come back,” Aisla said. “It’s a 90-minute show, right?”

Afiyah nodded. “Aye, just come straight to the back door at midnight to save yourselves some time. I’ll walk you out before I get in trouble for leaving my post.”

Afiyah led the way through the front of the theatre this time, her steps filled with puffed-up purpose from her security uniform. She nodded at her colleagues as she passed them in the hallway—just one curt nod as though she were playacting as a police officer.

People clutching playbills streamed around us, hurrying to their seats before the start of the show.

Afiyah’s mind was rather simple when I slipped in. The threads unraveled quickly beneath my mental fingers. It was easy enough to snip away the last few seconds from her mind, not erasing the memory of us, but making sure she wouldn’t remember that we’d snuck into the cabaret without a ticket.

I paused abruptly on the carpet and Aisla stopped with me. Afiyah continued walking, having forgotten we were even there.

Aisla’s nails pressed into my bicep.

“What did you do?” she hissed. “Did you scramble her brains?”

“Not her brains, although that would’ve been a remarkably easy task,” I quipped. “I merely removed the ten-second memory of us being in this hallway.”

“Why?”

“So we can sneak into the cabaret, of course.”