Chapter Twenty-Two The Underbelly

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The Underbelly

MY LEGS SHAKE as I dash forward, my heels striking the uneven pavement. The crowd on the streets is thick and loud; among it, Anaella's small figure is but a single blade of grass in a field. I scan the sea of ladies and gentlemen in their fine robes, the well-groomed horses, the imposing carriages that block my path. My breath becomes short, my eyes darting around in a desperate attempt to find my sister. A child giggles to my right and I turn just in time to catch a glimpse of a mint dress across the road.

"Ann!" I shout, sprinting forward.

"Watch out!" a coachman yells from atop his speeding carriage. The trotting horses rushing past miss me by a hairsbreadth.

I falter backward and nearly crash into a mother carrying her toddler. "I'm so sorry!" I blurt as the child begins to cry.

Heads are turning my way, whispers of recognition and perplexity. But I have no time to stop. I push away from the gathering crowd, throwing sideways glances as I cross the busy road, barely avoiding the approaching horses. But there's no sign of Anaella, just an open alley to my left.

"Ann?" I call out as I venture into it, leaving the bustling crowd behind.

I plunge deeper into the dark alley, letting my feet carry me forward in the hopes that around the next corner I'll find my sister waiting. Soon the lively sounds of the large avenue fade away to background noise, replaced by an eerie stillness. I don't know this side of town well, nor does Anaella. Would she be able to find her way home from here?

Anger sizzles within me. Why did Dahlia do this? When she promised I would see Anaella it was meant to be on my terms. I was supposed to tell her the truth myself. To have time to ease her into it. To find the right words when the time came. But that chance was stolen from me. I have only just found her . . . I never imagined our reunion could be so bleak. I never imagined her fury, her hurt . . . her fear. She looked at me as if I were a stranger.

Tears sting my eyes. It's the lies that did it all. If only I had told Anaella everything right away, she'd have supported me. I'm sure of it. We were always so close, sisters and best friends. But now my actions have created a rift between us, and I don't know how to fix it. I have lost both her and the chance to try in this maze of unfamiliar narrow streets.

The stench of sewage reaches me, and I cover my mouth and nose with a trembling hand. There's a man slumped on a broken staircase right ahead, an empty bottle in his hand. He shuffles as I approach; his bloodshot eyes stare me down, taking in my expensive dress and lingering on the purse clutched in my hand.

"Are you lost, ma belle?" He leers, letting out a hiccup. "Come! I'll help you find your way."

Staggering backward, I scan the empty street. The crumbling alleys stretch onward: shattered windows, cracked pavement, rotting waste, and squirming rats.

"Ann, where are you?" I mutter under my breath.

"Hey!" he shouts. But I'm already walking. Right ahead, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses echo from an open door, and I head for it, eager for the safety of a crowd.

Darkness envelops me as soon as I'm inside, making me blink my eyes to adjust. I'm in a tiny foyer, lit by a single dripping candle. The laughter is coming from somewhere farther inside, while, from the floor above, the undeniable sounds of grunting and soft moaning reach my ears.

My stomach tenses. Perhaps the dreadful street is the better choice after all.

A door to my right bursts open and a giggling woman crashes through, pulling a man along by his collar. Her hair is wild, her feet bare, her body is covered by what can only be described as undergarments—frilly lace over naked skin. My cheeks run hot at the sight of the woman's breasts sticking out from her dark purple robe. But right over her ample bosom is a large tourmaline gem attached to a silver necklace. It glows as she passes by me, her gaze meeting mine with a striking smile. For a second, I'm drawn to follow her right alongside the man, waves of desire washing over me. She laughs as they stumble up the staircase, and the magical hold breaks.

I shake my head, stumbling back. I never thought a place like this would have Talents . . . did the madam who opened it years ago procure gems to hone seduction skills for her workers? What other Talents could be in here?

The aroma of tobacco and spirits wafts through the open door the man and woman left behind. I risk a glance, but all I can see is a dimly lit, narrow corridor. The clicking of a spinning roulette wheel draws me closer.

My heels make no sound as I walk along the carpeted floor of the corridor, my head turning from side to side at each open door I pass. In a stuffy room, gentlemen sitting at long tables deal with piles of money too large to suggest legal business, while a man with a shining yellow gem glinting atop one of his teeth pours them drinks. Another room is devoted to cards, a cloud of smoke floating above the men as they hunch over the round tables. In another room, a roulette wheel is constantly spinning as the crowd shouts, and more ladies in undergarments strut.

The people in here are either Talentless—the lowest members of society, driven by poverty—or those who use their Talents for pursuits I have never dared imagine. This is the underbelly of the city, the darkest side of a glinting world filled with magical gifts.

Another door is flung open and a man steps out, admiring his exposed arm. His skin is raw and red, marked by black ink in the shape of a skull. For a moment his eyes linger on me, and I cower backwards, then another man bumps into him, knocking him to the floor with a grunt.

"I told you this was your last chance, Remy," the second man barks, long white scars marking his face, weaving together like a delicate, brutal lacework and disfiguring his features. "You pay rent or you're out!"

More men gather around, yelling, flocking from the various devilish rooms like a pack of hungry wolves smelling blood.

A scream escapes me. Luckily, no one can hear me over the commotion. The men shove me with their elbows, brute force and violence blinding them. My entire body shakes with fear; black spots dance across my vision as I pant for air. I should never have walked inside. Stumbling, I search for a way out of the mass of heaving bodies. A closed door stands to my right and, without thinking, I turn the handle and fall inside.

The room is dark, with large wooden planks blocking the windows. Broken glass litters the floor between splatters of alcohol and darker patches I don't want to identify. I lean against the closed door, trying to calm my quick breathing. Once the commotion quiets, I'll sneak out of here and never look back.

A cough makes my heart stop. I lift my gaze, and my eyes fall on two dark figures sitting in the shadowy corner.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?" a man calls with a low baritone voice.

My instincts scream at me to run, but fear makes my limbs numb.

The man stands, his tall frame threatening to reach the low ceiling. "What is a flower like you doing here among the weeds?" His narrow eyes leer as they run over my full length.

"What's your price?" the other man asks with a slick tone. "I'd be willing to pay extra to rip that dress off. "

I try to open my mouth and speak, to say no, to shout, but nothing comes out.

The tall man is now mere inches from me, his dirty fingers running up and down my arm as I shudder. "Fabien, can't you see, this little woman is a proper lady ?" He suddenly grabs my hand. "What a shiny gem you have there."

"Let me go," I finally say, but the man just laughs.

Alarm bells ring in my head. This is my punishment for leaving my sister. I only hope that she didn't wander into these parts of the city like I did, that she never set foot in this place, that she was smart enough to find her way home.

Will they be able to identify my body when they find me? Will police officers once again knock on our door, and notify my sister that she has lost the last remaining part of her family? Or will she have to read about the demise of Dame de Adley in the papers, forced to visit a tombstone that doesn't bear our family name?

The tall man starts pulling me toward the door, my body too weak to resist. He jerks me forward, and a scream finally escapes my lips. His hand flies to cover my mouth, but I kick and bite, using every bit of strength I have to rebel against him.

I cannot let this be the end. Not when I have already sacrificed so much. The weight of Anaella's absence crashes over me. I had just got her back, and I lost her. Now I'm about to lose my dignity and Talent at best . . . or my life at worst.

But I will not go down without a fight.

"Grab her! And get the gem!" the tall man shouts.

I let out another cry when the door bursts open and a gunshot pierces the air. The two men drop their hold on me at once. Another man appears, his fist crashing into the tall man's face with the crackling sound of breaking bones.

I crouch to the floor, shielding my face and shutting my eyes tight as another shot is fired and glass shatters, raining down on us from above. A cry of pain. The grunts of struggle. The sound of a slammed door. Then silence.

A moment later, a delicate hand rests on my shoulder.

"They are gone now." Dahlia's voice is in my ear. "You are safe, my love."

The sweetness of her jasmine perfume is like a breath of fresh air, cutting through the stench, enveloping me in a warm embrace. A sob escapes me as I bury my face in the crook of her neck. Her arms wrap around my frame, like the protective wings of an angel.

"Hush now, I'm here," she whispers. "No one can hurt you. I will never allow them to."

Her hand pats my back in soothing circles as she helps me to my feet. I sink into her touch, following her lead through a back door into the grim street. Her guard trails closely behind, and for once I'm grateful for his presence.

"What about Anaella?" I murmur.

"Your sister is safe," she says. "I have one of my men following her."

The pressure crashing down on me disappears with her words. Anaella was never in danger. Not while Dahlia watches over us. She promised to protect her, to protect me. I should never have doubted her.

I lean closer to her, and soon we emerge back onto the bustling street, the shiny storefronts and lively clatter a stark contrast to the underbelly of Lutèce I just witnessed. Without Dahlia, my sister and I might have suffered this fate—thrown out onto the cold street, left to the mercy of the city's darkness, forced to sell our bodies for shelter.

Dahlia helps me back into her carriage, sitting close to me and brushing my hair with long, gentle strokes. Her tenderness subdues me, the drop of tension in my body making me weak.

"Your sister will come around, trust me," she says.

I painfully detach from her, forcing myself to look her in the eye. "Why did you do that? "

She lets out a cackle. How can she possibly be pleased after what just happened?

"Why are you . . . ?" I press my hands to my temples, struggling to properly form the words. "Why?" I say again, unable to keep the helplessness out of my voice. "Why did you bring her to see me like this?"

"Isn't this what you wanted? To have your sister in your life?" Her words are innocent, yet her dark eyes are calculating. She's just made a winning move in a game I never even knew I was playing. Not with her.

"That's not the reason," I say.

She flashes me a dazzling smile. "Then you already know the answer."

And I do. This wasn't simply another gift for a job well done. And allowing me to wander off to the wrong side of the city wasn't a coincidence either. This was a warning. A reminder that my life is hers—that her reach is endless and that I'm at her mercy. That she can grant my dreams and light my life with passionate fire, but those same flames can burn me to ashes and take with them all I care for.

It's a lesson that's written in every angle of her perfect face, in her lush red lips, her raven hair, her skintight gown, and in the depths of her eyes.

I want to curse her, hate her, to leave this carriage and turn my back on her devious plans, just as Anaella told me to.

I want to kiss her, love her, to stay by her side forever and fulfill every one of her dark desires.

"You are safe with me." Dahlia leans closer, her thigh pressing against mine. "Anaella will calm down. And by the time of the masquerade ball, all of this will be forgotten, and you'll have your sister back in your life."

Her words are so certain, so sure, I find myself nodding along.

"Neither of you will know hardship ever again." She lifts my chin with a single long finger, the gesture commanding and yet intimate. "Not as long as you are under my protection. You just need to focus on finishing your task, and your new life will be promised. Our life . And since I'm in a giving mood, I will help. "

"What . . . what do you mean?"

Dahlia plants a soft kiss on the top of my head. "You need to steal the vicomte's gem for me, and the moment I've been waiting for is approaching—the perfect opportunity."