Page 6 of Every Shade of Shadow

The fizzing liquid chases away my nerves, replacing them with giddy laughter. It’s easy with Sabrina. She gets me. She always has, even if we are technically from different sides of the tracks.

I’m not a big drinker, the champagne going straight to my head.

When was the last time I felt this carefree? This happy?

Too soon, the limo slows outside a worn brick building in a seedy part of Brooklyn. My laughter falters as I glance out the tinted window into a dim alleyway.

Sabrina squeezes my knee, leaning close to whisper in my ear. "Don’t worry, you're going to love it."

Getting stabbed and left for dead? Not so sure.

The back door pops open, our driver standing to attention beside it.

“Ladies first,” Sab grins, extending her hand.

I exit as gracefully as I can in these heels, the breeze sweeping underneath the Dior.

Sab steps out beside me looking equally fabulous in an inkpot-dark one-shoulder midi.

Apprehension and curiosity war as she leads me to an unmarked steel door at the end of the alleyway.

Sabrina pauses with one hand on the door. “You ready?”

I give a light nod, unsure.

But it’s too late now.

Sabrina pushes through the door. I follow.

A woman in a Venetian mask stands in front of us, inspecting us with a bored gaze before stepping aside.

Sabrina gives me a wink.

Holy shit. We’re in.

Not even a password? A secret handshake?

We enter a small, dark room where another masked woman waits. She presses two masquerade masks into our hands without a word and opens an inner door, gesturing us through. No tickets, no QR codes, no nothing, which is curious in itself, but who am I to argue with the way Society works? They’ve been doing this weird shit for centuries.

I glance at Sabrina, who grins and secures her mask in place. The mask is themed after an owl. “Hoot, hoot,” Sabrina laughs. “Go on, put on yours.”

I look down at the mask, a lamb, which okay, is a bit on the nose, but whatever. With a deep breath, I follow suit, the feathered edges tickling my cheeks. “Baa,” I state in monotone.

“Perfect,” Sabrina smiles.

The hidden chamber opens into a scene straight out of a gothic romance.

The champagne has left me pleasantly dizzy, but I’m still blown away by the lavishness on display here.

Dark wooden beams stretch across a vaulted ceiling, lit by ornate chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the profligate decor.

Plush velvet couches and chairs are arranged in intimate groupings, occupied by animal-masked guests engaged in hushed conversation—and more given the glimpses of skin I see flashing in the shadows. A grand piano plays itself in the corner, the keys depressed by some invisible force to produce a dramatic, stirring melody.

My heart gallops along as I take it all in, overwhelmed by the palpable sensuality and mystery. There's something illicit about this place, a confrontational sexuality that thrills and unsettles me in equal measure. It’s amazing how I want to stay and get the hell out of there at the same time.

Sab presses another flute of champagne into my hand, leaning close to murmur in my ear, "Just relax and enjoy yourself. You’ll be fine."

I nod, though my pulse races as I follow her to an empty loveseat near the bar. We sit, and I take a grateful sip of champagne. I figure I’ll need quite a lot of liquid courage if I’m going to get through the night.

---