Page 99 of The Devil

Couples spill onto the dance floor around us, their movements graceful, studied. But with every turn and measured step, the circle draws tighter. The dancers weave together, shoulder to shoulder, an elegant prison to trap us at its center.

I know there will be no running with Amal and Sev. I think I always knew. It wouldn’t be that easy. Even if we could run, she’s the only woman in red. They’d see us a mile off and we wouldn’t get to that mile. Not with all their manpower.

I hold her tight, looking down at her face. “Amal?”

She lifts her head and I see why she doesn’t speak. The lace has made an elegant gag, rendering her speechless. I feel for the knot at the back of her head but there isn’t one because it’s woven through her hair and held in place with what feels like a thousand hairpins.

“It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you now, baby. I’m going to get this off you and get us out of here,” I promise her, even as over her head I glimpse my brother being forced from the room by two soldiers. Even as two more come to stand beside us and Senna gestures for us to move.

I guess act one is over.

“Do you have the gun?” I whisper to Amal, hoping against hope that somehow, she was able to smuggle it under the dress. Somehow, she managed it. But she looks up at me with such a sad face, and I see the tears drenching that lace. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Don’t worry,” I reassure her. It would have been easier to have some firepower but honestly, we are so fucking outnumbered.

So, we move, heading in the same direction as Sev, me holding so tight to her hand that I force myself to loosen my hold before I break her finger. Her little bare feet seem so out of place here, so vulnerable in this room, among these people with their stiletto spiked shoes and sharp-toothed grins.

When the door is closed behind us, all noise falls away as if there is no one here at all. As if there aren’t two-hundred guests in the Great Hall and a string quartet isn’t playing a requiem for their horror show of a party.

We’re hurried down a dimly lit corridor that seems to go on forever. Lights flicker here, not candles although they’re made to look like that. At one point the hall is so narrow we must walk single file. I keep hold of Amal’s hand, glancing over my shoulder afraid she’ll slip away, disappear if I don’t see her. If I’m not touching her at all times.

Sev is ahead of us. Soldiers front and back.

We turn a corner and the lights flicker again, the sound of our steps bouncing off cold stone loud. At one point, the flickering light takes longer to come back on, and I hear Amal’s cry through her lace gag. I stop, turn to take her in my arms, to hold onto her and for a moment, for one dreadful moment, I don’t feel her there. I can’t see her in that pitch black. Hell, I can’t see my own hand before my eyes.

“Amal!” I call out for her.

She makes a sound, as much as she can make through that lace. The lights flicker back on and she’s there again and I breathe a sigh of relief when she throws herself against me and I hold her, feeling her body tremble as tears wet my neck.

“Shh. It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.” I don’t let go of her again. I weave my fingers with hers and finally, fucking finally, another of their damned secret doors is opened to us and we’re pushed inside what looks to be a study with a fire burning in the far corner and the only lights are those of candles even though there are lamps set throughout the room.

Senna removes his mask, his cloak. The main door opens, not the secret one, and Robertson enters, Jameson whispering something to him. They’ve removed their masks too. Jameson keeps his cloak on, but Robertson slips his off and takes us all in, the soldiers, Senna, my brother and I. Amal.

“Remove her.”

Amal makes a sound of protest and presses herself into my side.

I hold on tight. “Over my dead body. Let’s get this signed. I’m fucking done with this bullshit.”

Robertson opens his mouth probably thinking he’ll order a soldier to take her. I ready myself to battle but I’m surprised when Senna puts his hands up in a gesture to say hold on to Robertson.

“We’re almost done here. We can then escort them all to the boat. Leave it, Master Robertson. It doesn’t matter.”

I glance at Sev who is watching with an expression of intense disbelief. This isn’t normal for the Society. Certainly not for the likes of us who have been excommunicated.

The man behind the desk, I guess the attorney who drew up the paperwork, starts to describe what’s changed as he uncaps a fountain pen and holds it out to Senna.

Senna takes it, signs his name to the contract that looks like it’s been hand-written on old, yellowed paper. The Lawyer is still talking but no one is listening.

Sev is next, he glances through it but he, too, is quick to sign and I don’t even bother reading it before signing my name beside my brother’s.

The attorney melts wax over a candle and drips it onto the bottom of the old parchment, typical fucking Society. He presses the seal of IVI’s Tribunal onto it and once the wax hardens, removes it.

“We’re done,” I say.

“Yes, you are,” Senna says, picking up the sheet, no longer sparing even a glance for us. “Escort them to the boat.”

I look down at Amal who keeps her face buried against my chest. I kiss the top of her head, wanting more than anything to rip the lace from her but knowing we need to get the fuck out of here while we can. Not quite believing they will let us go. I won’t believe it until we’re safely on the mainland. Hell, until we’re back in Devil’s Peak. Trevino territory. Even IVI wouldn’t dare fuck with him in Cassian’s territory.

Soldiers lead us out of the room back down that freezing, narrow corridor with its flickering lights. We turn off down another passage fairly quickly though and begin a long descent. This corridor grows colder and colder, freezing and damp, the only light coming from the flashlights soldier are carrying. I touch a wall, feel the jagged, wet rock, the sound of the sea growing louder.