Page 5 of The Puppetmaster

Raad

“I hope this is to your satisfaction,” she says briskly as she leads me through the heavy curtain inside the main hall.

Miss Barry is a true madame, if ever there was one. She’s dressed in a tight-fitting black costume, her waist cinched up in a corset that emphasizes her curves, her lips painted in a dramatic red, and the deep black lines on her upper eyelids are drawn with scrupulous accuracy. Her fake lashes flutter nervously when she turns to me, maintaining a look of pure professionalism despite her apparent tension.

It’s like this every time. I don’t own this establishment, but it’s not like I’m just a regular customer either—and everyone here knows that. I don’t consider Miss Barry to be the kind of woman who is thrown off easily, but when I book her establishment for a hunt, she’s on high alert and more than eager to please me.

And she better be.

She clears her throat next to me as my gaze lazily wanders through the main hall. I have only been here a handful of times, and it’s been almost half a year since my last visit, but the place hasn’t changed much.

The club is hosted in a gray brick building located on the city outskirts. While it mimics the appearance of a century-old European castle, it is actually the result of a failed attempt by city officials to attract tourists with a themed hotel connected to a small, tacky amusement park. The fact that it has been turned into one of the most notorious kink clubs in the area never fails to amuse me.

Miss Barry and her investors proved good business instinct when it came to this place, as it is perfect for this kind of establishment. The slightly corroded brick walls complement the modernized Victorian décor here on the inside; its walls are lined with damask wallpaper under an antique tin ceiling and underscored red lighting. Extravagant velvet-tufted button furniture rests on a platform at the far end of the main room, matching the theme set by the name of the place—The Velvet Rooms.

Usually that elevated area would be open for everyone to use as they please, but tonight there’s a red velvet rope separating it from the rest of the venue. Just as it should be during the nights when I’m on the hunt.

I nod with approval, glancing over to the open bar on my left where a brown-haired girl dressed in a smart vest topped with a black bow tie is getting ready for the night.

“Melina is one of our best. She has been working fo—”

“It’s fine,” I cut Miss Barry off curtly before she can continue to ramble on with an unnecessary apology. If she really thought I might have a problem with a female bartender, she should have consulted me beforehand.

I can feel Miss Barry’s anxious eyes on me, waiting for my stamp of approval. She can’t suppress a little sigh of relief when I deign her with a benevolent smile.

“Doors open at eight sharp,” she tells me unnecessarily as we walk back to the entrance. “And we’ll provide each girl with the appropriate wristband.”

I nod again, not even looking at her, even though I notice her desire for approval via eye contact.

“I’d like to have a look at the guest list,” I tell her.

“Yes, of course,” she hurries to respond, gesturing for me to follow her. “It’s in my office.”

She turns on her heels and I follow, annoyed at the slow pace with which this woman walks. There’s no reason to hurry at this moment, but my impatience grows with every passing minute, and moving along the back corridor with such agonizing languor only intensifies my tense mood.

I’m strained but not excited for this hunt, unfortunately. The rumors that have been spreading about me and my puppets have led to an array of unfit contenders. Young lost souls who were broken before I ever laid a hand on them. These women needed a therapist more than they needed me, but for them it was hard to know the difference.

Because of what they’ve heard about me. Nothing but stupid little rumors that merely scratch the surface of the truth behind them.

There’s a reason why I demand my puppets sign a nondisclosure agreement when we agree to our little dance.

And there’s a reason why they’re never seen at The Velvet Rooms again after they have been with me.

And despite all of these precautions, the gossip still weaved its way through the eager crowds.

Not for long, I remind myself. There’s only one more hunt that stands between me and my goal. Only one more hunt before I’m ready to stop this madness.

Or so I hope.

“We’ve had a last-minute signup this morning,” Miss Barry says as we enter her office at the far end of the corridor.

“The admission deadline is always thirty-six hours prior to the event,” I remind her, anger boiling inside my chest. I’ve been doing this for years, and The Velvet Rooms has been my primary hunting grounds for a while now. Everyone knows my rules, Miss Barry especially. Why would she allow this?

She throws me an apologetic look. “I’m aware of that, but I’m sure you won’t mind this addition.”

I do mind, because I detest rule violations, but I refrain from saying anything about it. Breach of rules or not, the madame has earned my trust over time, so I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I watch as she leans over her desk, reaching for a piece of paper which she then hands to me.

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