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What better way to torture the scum of the Earth than trapping them with only their own mind to keep them company?
“The employee turnover is going to start the rumor mill.” I sat on a stool a few feet away from Ezequiel, and Sitri slid a glass of something pink and fruity toward me.
“You worry too much,” the Watcher said, not at all putting my worry at ease. “This industry is full of fair-weathers who’ll neither call nor show up for their shift for the opportunity to follow the latest pop singer on tour. That’s the beauty of Los Angeles.”
The Deacon was more than just a nightclub and investment. It was where, on any day of the week, desperate souls could be harvested. People clambered for just one moment of happiness and freedom on the dance floor. For the chance to meet a stranger for a one-time tryst to recount at parties.
The nightclub was also a place for the princes of Hell to converse on an even field.
Yes, Sitri was the owner and main operator, but it was one of the last demon establishments that hadn’t been dismantled by our holy brothers for giving us an unfair advantage. The Soul Armistice was strict in that way. The agreement made between the remaining Holy and the Fallen stated that humans had to willingly give into their sinful urges, but our demonic influence was protected at The Deacon. Humans were entering of their own volition to commit whatever sins they had set out to commit for the night.
Countless rumors swarmed about The Deacon being a place where Hollywood starlets and other high-profile clients could let loose without being bombarded by paparazzi. Sitri had security at every door and private entrances for his most esteemed guests. The more common patrons signed NDAs at the door, and their phones were checked along with their coats. Every measure imaginable was taken for a simple night without consequences, except for the ones that daylight would bring.
On this particular night, Sitri and his staff were getting ready to open the VIP section he’d been renovating on the second floor. He had the opportunity—after a near apocalypse—to remodel, place additional wards against angels, and upgrade the soundproofing in some of the hidden pleasure rooms.
“Who is on the guest list for this weekend?” I asked into my glass, not at all caring who answered.
I scowled at the sour, perfumed liqueur.
Sitri laughed and replaced the glass in my hand with one filled with top-shelf smoked whiskey.
“A few supermodels, influencers, a human prince and his secret lover—you’ll never guess who it is—and Seere has alluded to making appearances,” Sitri answered.
“What a night it will be,” I said. “Gluttony and Wrath in the same room mixed with alcohol and the highest of snobs. I hope you hired extra security for the night.”
I smirked, knowing he didn’t. He loved the chaos that our most lethal brothers caused.
He returned the mischievous smile and chuckled. “It will be a disaster to remember.”
“That it will,” Ezequiel chimed in, “but there is still more to be done.”
He got to his feet and, with a dramatic tip of his head, finished off his drink.
I rolled my eyes as he stalked off to busy himself with whatever it was he thought was his business to attend to.
Orobas swaggered out from an opening in the far wall. He seemed to be alone, but his ruffled hair told a story that he hadn’t been for very long.
“Ah, Stolas. Just the brother I wanted to see.” Orobas bellied up to the bar next to me. “I have a rather boring party to attend on Friday evening, and I thought to spice it up, I’ll introduce you to Evelyn Gerhardt. Her father is throwing a fundraiser, and I’ve secured us an invitation.”
I perked a brow at him. “Owning his family’s souls would garner you a prime spot on the guest list, I’d imagine.”
“Want to come, Sitri?” Orobas turned to Sitri, who wrinkled his forehead at the invitation.
“I’ll pass,” Sitri returned. “Soggy crab cakes and flat champagne surrounded by dull humans sounds like a waste of a Friday evening.”
“Plenty of wicked mortals to bargain with, though,” Orobas said. “There is always a bright side, my most tantalizing brother. You just have to be willing to work for it.”
Orobas had never had to work hard for anything. Harris Gerhardt still owning his own soul was proof enough of that. He had willingly sold members of his family for his own gain, but according to Orobas’ vague explanation, Harris had retained his own.
I was grateful that Sitri was uninterested in attending the senator’s party. It would have been far too easy for him to seduce Harris. Where the sin of gluttony might have failed, it was unlikely that lust would.
Plus, being introduced to Evelyn would save me the time of contriving a meeting.
6
EVIE
It had been days of long nights at the office and sneaking away on my lunch breaks to shop for an outfit to wear to The Deacon. Nothing I owned would be up to Rhomi’s standards, but there wasn’t a store in the mall for highly secretive dance clubs. I’d finally given up and resigned myself to faking my own death and deleting all my social media accounts if I didn’t find anything by Saturday afternoon.
