Page 24 of The Duplicity of Thieves

“You remember my sister, Josie,” Vivian introduces me after giving him a quick hug.

“Right, yes.” David’s brown eyes are shining, clearly high. There’s a little too much interest in his gaze for someone with a boyfriend.

“She has finally decided to join the land of the living,” Vivian laughs.

“Well, welcome back. Glad to have you. We’ll have a drink and go.”

While Vivian and David gossip, Bella and I hang off to the side.

“How does he afford it?” I whisper, looking around at the pretentious condo. It’s sleek and modern.

“His boyfriend,” Bella divulges. “Guess he’s some sort of liaison to the king.”

“Sounds bland.”

“Ready to go, ladies?” David calls us over. Bella and I clink our glasses, down the drinks, and follow them out of the door.

We weave through the cobblestone streets full of people until entrance to the club comes into view. A man hangs in the dirty alley smoking a cigarette. The night is humid from stormy weather, and the smoke drifts lazily through the thick damp air. Puddles splash around my shiny black combat boots.

The entrance is one rusted steel door with a lonely flickering bulb dangling above it, making it appear like any other back-alley entrance. Under it is a tree trunk of a man. He’s gotten implants in his face, and scaled tattoos cover his skin with gold piercings littering his face. A snake in a man’s body. He all but confirms it when his split tongue licks across his lips at the sight of us.

I always find it odd when people copy the Mondurians that they say once lived. They were persecuted. That’s why outsiders slandered their name and call them monsters instead. Being different has always killed you in the Underworld, which is why I like to blend in.

The door opens and some people exit. Bass thuds out into the alley.

“Good to see you, David,” the door man hisses, revealing fangs. “I see you’ve brought a party with you, as always.”

“I am the party.” David winks, gliding past him.

“And who are you?” He flicks his tongue at me.

I grab the slippery flesh and dig my fingernails in.

“Your worst nightmare,” I whisper the threat, and he recoils. Vivian rolls her eyes and follows me in.

The music pulses through the walls of the hallway like a heartbeat. People mill around, making out or talking. We push past them and descend the stairs, down, down, down, until we make it to another metal door. When I open it, I’m blasted by the music and bathed in a red light.

There are people everywhere from all walks of life. Some are snorting some powdery substance off of another’s ass, some are at couches taking shots, and others are dancing together, although some of them are dangerously borderline fucking. The smell of sex dominates the air. I turn around to gather the rabid group together, and they’re all already gone.

I find an empty spot at the bar. I’ve sobered up during our walk, so I order two drinks and empty them the second they’re placed in front of me. The burn down my throat causes my stomach to settle, and the warmth quickly spreads through my veins. Maybe I can make it through the night if I keep drinking.

“You’re hot.” A man shouts over the music in my ear. He smells like an ashtray, and while I enjoy cigarettes, the smell of shitty burnt tobacco does not attract me. I flip myself around and try to get some distance so the smell isn’t so strong, but there are so many people that we’re crushed together.

I recognize him as the guy from the alley who was smoking alone. He has long spiky brown hair on one side, oily and stuck to his forehead, and it’s shaved on the other. His eyebrow has a piercing through it, and a much too large ring hangs from his septum. A couple of shitty tribal tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his tank top. Certainly a loser. I guess they’ll let anyone in here.

“Let me buy you a drink. Vodka cran?” He tries to be charming, but it just comes off as slimy and desperate.

Without waiting for me to respond, he orders me one. I’ll take the free drink, even if it’s lame, but I can’t deal with this idiot all night. The bartender slides them recklessly across the bar in tiny plastic cups, and I suck it down before Ashtray even puts his to his lips.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” he leans into my ear and shouts.

“Not interested,” I warn him. He doesn’t take the hint.

I look around the room for an escape. Vivian isn’t anywhere in sight, nor is Bella or David. I can’t hear a word from the guy with the vodka crans. He keeps talking anyways, not even noticing that I’m not paying the slightest bit of attention. I turn back to the counter and flag the bartender, ordering a whiskey.

“Did you hear me?” Ashtray boy, whose name I didn’t hear, whines.

“Go away, or I’ll smash your face into the counter until it bleeds and mix your blood into my whiskey.” My command is simple, but heavy with intention.

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