Whatever he saw in Bash’s eyes seemed to mesmerize Merridon; he didn’t attempt to strike or speak. Perhaps it was the resolve there. He must have known he wouldn’t ever walk free.
Seconds pulsed in the air until Marshall Merridon attempted a single word.
“Please?” Bash laughed aloud, an inhumane sound behind the mask, humorless and deadened. “No.”
Alora wasn’t sure what he would have done then, darted him or stabbed him, but she supposed it didn’t matter, as Lennox burst through the door, panting and wild, her dress scorched.
“There you…are. Ran. Must stop…smoking.” She closed the door behind her, where she leaned against it. “Good news! I burned all the contracts. Learned this is one of my old dresses and not fireproofed. Bad news! There are about twodozen Urchins below stairs, and they’ve rounded up all the performers.”
“Fucking hell,” swore Bash, then shook Merridon when he grinned behind the gag.
“Give him to me.”
At once, the three of them looked to the mermaid. Even Merridon attempted a sidelong glance.
The creature had come above the water until Alora could see its entire face along with the graceful curve of its neck. The mermaid’s features still appeared similar to the face she’d imagined for her childhood doll, though much more menacing considering she could see every needlepoint of many teeth. Scars lined both cheeks, a wicked reminder of Marshall Merridon’s cruelty.
“Give him to me. I have been so hungry for fresh meat. So many years. Many years and only scraps of burnt ends.”
“Are you sure you want him? He’s pure evil. Pond scum, some would say.” Alora pursed her lips at Merridon’s form.
“Evil or good, it does not matter. Give him to me.” Claws retracted only to dig into the generous calves hidden beneath Merridon’s trousers. Not even the gag could tamp his shriek.
Alora moved closer to Bash, until his eyes met hers, shifting green to black. “It’s up to you. He’s your—”
“My father died when I was a boy. He is nothing to me.”
Bash spared Marshall Merridon another glance, but in the end, nothing more was said. Instead, he pushed out lightly with the hand encircling his adoptive father’s throat. Merridon lost his balance. Bound hands waved uselessly above his head before he toppled backward into the water with a spraying splash.
Alora scanned the surface, though she could see little. Even when the water turned red, a crimson so beloved by Opulence’s owner, she didn’t move away. Aside from the initial splash, hardly a disturbance marked Master Marshall Merridon’spassing into the afterlife. Lennox must have been correct in a mermaid’s capabilities in transfixing its prey to a peaceful death.
“That’s that, then,” murmured Lennox from the door.
“Aside from Feebledire and two dozen Urchins and all the stories spreading about Enver by panicked members as we speak, sure. That’s that.” If Bash meant his remarks as sarcastic, they weren’t. They’d only come out flat.
Alora stepped beside him, her hand folding into his. She wasn’t satisfied until he squeezed it back. “This has been a terrible business. From day one.”
“It has,” Bash agreed, and looked down at her. He blinked, pulled back, thenlooked.From her bare feet to her head, kohl undoubtedly smeared down her cheeks.
If he hadn’t seen her before, he finally saw her now, and she could tell even beneath the mask that his jaw had fallen, color creeping up his collar.
“I couldn’t swim in that dress!”
“Alora. You’re—”
“Devastating,” said Lennox. “Yes, she knows. You know, I know, gods above and devils below know. The Urchins, remember? TheUrchins.”
Alora flushed at Lennox’s obvious frustration. Or was it Bash’s staring? Either way, she felt hot all over, no matter she was wearing next to nothing, and that it was sopping wet.
“One moment,” murmured Alora, embarrassed, and swapped her clothing for a simple dress. Simple forher,at least. It still cinched her waist and flared at her hip, and there were an assortment of butterflies and bees stitched at the waist. Blue, her favorite color. “Ah, so light. Let’s go.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The dark hadn’t receded from half of Opulence, and it only made what remained in the light that much brighter.
Kneeling in a huddled mass by the shut front doors was a mixture of performers and employees. Surrounding them were many men, hooded and masked, with batons held out or at their sides, menacing and ready for disruption. Madam Feebledire paced beside them.
Her normally severe plait had come undone. Alora thought she looked younger—kinder, too. But at their approach, her eyebrows met, and Alora knew then that while Madam Feebledire might have a better heart than her brother, she still had a sour disposition. Maybe she always would.
