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I keep it casual, though inside I’m anything but. How did we get on this topic? A dungeon? I told him he was taking me to a dungeon! What the hell is wrong with me?
“I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever done it.”
He snickers. “No, of course not.”
“And I’m not into pain, either. So I think I’ll pass on the dungeon idea, actually.”
Teizel mumbles his assent. The hand wrapped around my waist moves to the small of my back, and more tiny goosebumps erupt as he touches my naked skin. “We’re not going to a dungeon. We’re here.”
The white building he stops us in front of is non-descriptive. Across the street from the post office, it houses a seedy-looking tattoo shop and a payday loan shark. Teizel walks us past both of those to a third, anonymous black door with a teacup painted on the stained-glass pane. My back stiffens once I connect the dots.
The Speakeasy is the only ‘cool’ club in Hazel Creek. I’ve never been — I left town before I was of drinking age, and in a small community like ours I couldn’t show up with a fake ID, at least not when I was the town’s resident weirdo. I had classmates who’d go, though, either in packs or with their older boyfriends and girlfriends. Of course, I wasn’t invited to any of those outings, either. From the conversations I’ve overheard in passing, the Speakeasy seems to be the place to be for young people in Hazel Creek.
Which means I’m bound to run into some faces I’d rather not see.
“Everything ok?” Teizel asks. “If you’ve changed your mind, I can walk you back. No pressure.”
I pucker my lips as I ruminate. On one hand, I want to go out with Teizel; I haven’t experienced the kind of butterflies he gives me in… well, ever. On the other, I really don’t want to give this town anything more to talk about.
Teizel’s fingers skim over my arm. “Care to share what’s going through your head?”
For a moment, I debate telling him. But I don’t want Teizel to see the most pathetic side of me; he’s gotten a glimpse once, and I don’t care for a repeat. So I force a smile on my lips and say, “nothing important. Let’s go inside.”
His expression pinches, maybe in confusion, but he pulls the door open and holds it for me, the hand on my arm snaking down to my back to guide the way.
We climb down a narrow, winding metal staircase. Teizel wasn’t kidding when he said the place was dark — I can barely see a foot from my nose, which makes me thankful for his hand on my back leading me. The faint glow of a vacancy neon sign, the kind you see at motels, illuminates the landing and the solitary swinging door in front of it. Whatever music is playing on the other side is muffled, but the thrum of the bass I can feel down to my bones.
“Ready?” Teizel asks.
Mouth dry, I nod.
Stepping into the room is like walking into an alternate reality. The thrumming bass is now loud enough to make my eardrum shake, but the music is darker than I’d imagined, more rock, with a sultry beat and plenty of guitar riffs. The space is carved in wood panels and covered in velvet drapery. A continuous s-shaped pink velvet couch fills the right side of the wall, while a long art-deco bar takes up most of the left side, with a collection of decadent bottles and decanters displayed against a mirrored wall. In between the two is the dance floor, where bodies writhe sinuously, fluidly. I wrinkle my nose at the heady scent of the room, a mix of multiple perfumes and alcohol, with a slight tinge of sickly sweet decay.
It’s that last note, the smell of rotting flowers, that ticks me off, and I’m standing on high alert. The mass of warm bodies around us wards off the chill, but I can feel it licking against my bare skin.
This place isn’t fully human.
I look around, searching for the spirits among us, but they mask well with the rest of the patrons. Except one woman in particular catches my attention. Short and lithe, with a sharp black bob and eyes a pool of obsidian.
I know she’s a spirit because I’ve seen her before, that morning at the coffee shop. And she’s staring right at me.
chapter 8
the abyss flirts back
teizel
Esmeralda’s scent has taken on a bitter note, like she’s on edge. “What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” I keep my tone light, say it as a joke, but loud enough for Meilin to hear me. Meddling little spirit.
Esmeralda stiffens, the scent of bitter almonds wafting stronger. “Esmeralda?”
She shakes her head like she’s fighting a haze. “I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in, is all.”
She’s trying to keep her tone light, but there’s a nervous edge to it, like she’s not telling the full truth. A part of me wants to reach inside her mind and pluck the thoughts, but I know I won’t get far with the wall of smoke she puts up. Still, I’m not used to having to work for a person’s desires the old fashioned, human way.
I tilt her chin toward me with two fingers. “Is there something you’re not saying? If you’re not comfortable, we can leave…”
“No,” she’s quick to reply. Twisting to face me, she presses both hands on my chest and forces a smile. “It’s all good, seriously. Should we dance?”
