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“He and I got into a fight earlier when I was trying to tell him, and he stormed out. Something’s…” Her eyes began to water.
Squeezing those fingers back, I leaned in. “He’s got a lot on his plate right now. The Maestro isn’t making his life easy, and I’m afraid I’m not either. Try not to take it too personally.”
She forced a smile, a tear falling anyway. “We better go, Hollis.”
I decided not to run through the tunnel in case the plan was to try to delay everything by indirectly imprisoning me. It only took me a few minutes to jog across the street, wind my way through the crowd, and force the guards at the back door to let me in.
Approaching the office, I lifted a fist to knock, but before I could connect, it swung open to reveal Orin, red-faced and furious, dressed in the most perfectly tailored black suit I’d ever seen him wear. I stumbled back, searching his eyes for whatever might’ve happened, but he brushed past me without so much as a second glance. And I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge the sting. To hate me when it was only him and I was one thing, but to do it so publicly was another.
“Maiden, please come in.” The purr of Drexel’s theatrical voice raked down my spine, causing my flesh to rise, begging me to shake away the disgusting sound. “Close the door behind you.”
I did no such thing, choosing to stand in the doorway with my arms crossed. “What do you want, Drexel?”
He clicked his tongue behind his teeth, shaking his head. “It will always be a battle of wits with you, I see.”
“No. It would take two competent parties to form a battle, and from where I’m standing, your side of the room is lacking the requirements. What do you want?”
His smile was nauseating. “Only to wish you good luck this evening. Your first night was a surprise for both of us, I believe.”
“No. No. I’m quite sure watching your stage burn was a shock to you, but your little act of darkness was no surprise to me at all.”
“Not one teensy bit?”
“If that’s all, I really have to get back. I was busy being busy.”
He thrummed thick fingers over his desk. “Sounds awful.”
Rolling my eyes, I pushed off the door and walked away, calling over my shoulder. “I can assure you there are worse things.”
“Break a leg, Maiden. Or two, if you feel so inclined.”
I couldn’t help my smile. There was no doubt in my mind he’d genuinely meant that. I’d won that little battle.
“Stay close?” I asked Paesha as she panted from the side of the stage.
She’d just performed the most erotic dance I’d ever seen, removing layers of clothing only to reveal smaller layers beneath. She’d hung from the ceiling by a strap on her wrist and spun until the stage seemed to swallow her whole. She was a dream, and there was just no way I could follow such a talent.
“Promise,” she managed. “Quill’s all set. I’ve asked her not to watch, though.”
“Good plan. Death is beautiful but terrifying, and she’s easily manipulated.”
“Tell me about it,” Thea said, joining Paesha’s side.
“Don’t forget your goal here. It’ll be a tango. Flip that dress around, twirls, touching, keep your feet moving until the music is still. You have to pull a blade. The audience is most likely to respond to you if you’re giving deadly lust. Don’t hold back, Dey.”
Watching every prop dragged from the pitch-black floor forced my pulse to quicken. Nothing smelled of smoke from the fire; no signs of damage plagued the dark burlesque. Quill’s golden cage had even been polished. She swung from her perch with a giant rainbow sucker, watching the audience with an innocent smile.
The lights finally fell, indicating Misery’s End was ready for her final act, though I was confident the onlookers were not. Steeped in lush magic, holding them to their seats, keeping their hearts surging, the end would surely leave them aching for more.
My heart pounded in rhythm with the bass drum that echoed through the theater, beckoning me from the side of the stage. I gazed out into the darkness opposite of me, the shadows concealing the identity of my partner, though the hourglass had been turned. I didn’t want to bargain with Death any more than I had with the Maestro, but I’d have to accept it and trade one brand of evil for another.
A surge of shock raced through me like lightning as the spotlight sliced through the darkness, revealing an unexpected figure. It wasn’t Death shrouded in the fearful depths of shadows he relished, but Orin, his anger radiating from him like an aura, his eyes darker than I had ever witnessed. Despite his presence, the audience’s focus barely shifted. Their attention remained steadfast on center stage, their gazes captivated by Death’s Maiden. By me.
The low bellow of a masculine voice ripped across the theater in a growl as another light ignited, rimming the singer standing in the center of the orchestra pit in a vibrant red hue.
Orin stalked forward. I matched the cadence of his steps as the music built, closing the distance between us, swaying, each step firm and deliberate, with Chaos and Serenity beaming in the spotlights. Black eyes stared into my soul as he reached for my waist, forcing me against him. He would lead this dance of seduction.
“Arm up,” he ordered so only I could hear him.
