Page 26 of The Phantom's Vice

I have to stifle a gasp as I take in the color of his irises. I’m not sure what to make of them—they’re the lightest blue I’ve ever seen—nearly white in color, like the color of peaked seafoam. And there’s a ring of violet around the pupil, making them appear that much more ethereal, clashing drastically with the opaque nature of the iris.

“I like your mask.” I grin, tipping my glass at the ornate headpiece.

The man tilts his head, the tray of glasses remaining eerily still as he does so. Those full lips part, revealing a set of perfectly straight white teeth.I’m sure they would look fucking fantastic biting into an apple.Or something else…

I jerk back to reality after that last thought.Am I seriously attracted to this guy'steeth?Maybe I do need to get some sleep.

I want to ask what his name is. I have a strange desire to know where he came from and how he came to work here tonight. But by the time I recover enough to ask, the server has disappeared in the crowd. Shrugging, I take a large gulp of mychampagne and am pleasantly surprised to find they spared no expense on the drinks.

I take a smaller sip this time, my eyes darting around the room of unfamiliar faces. The reddened cheeks, the slanted gaits of the guest well past the two-drink limit of the event.If the Phantom actuallyweregoing to kill one of these people, he would have a pretty damn easy time doing it. Even with all the FBI sprinkled throughout the crowd.

It’s only been a few minutes, but I’m halfway through my glass by now—andfeelingit. I kick myself for not remembering to eat beforehand but still take another sip. Crowds are just not my thing, andoneglass of champagne won’t hurt. Just one glass to dull my nerves. That’s it.

As it turns out, one little glass is all it took to get me absolutelytoasted.How do I know? Because all of a sudden, words liketoastedsound hilarious to me. Seriously, just ask the coat check guy. He thinks I’m a fucking riot, I tell you.

“Whoooo!” I cheer, my face spreading in a wide grin as Mark—is it Mark?—twirls me in another circle, causing pieces of long black hair to fall frommy updo.How long has it been since I’ve let loose like this? Fuck that, when’s the last time I went dancing?“Mark, this is so fun!” I giggle, taking my hand from his and pressing it against my hot cheeks.Hot. I’m so hot. Would it be rude to ask them to turn down the thermostat?

“I’m not Mark. My name’s actually Mi?—”

“Not-Mark? Do you know where the thermostat is?” I inquire, my tongue strangely heavy in my mouth. Like a slug.A mouth slug.

I start cackling like a hyena, and not-Mark gives me a look like he thinks I’ve lost my mind.And maybe I have. Would that really be such a bad thing? Reality is so overrated.

“Um… maybe in the lower level? Do you want me to ask someone to…”

I don’t hear what not-Mark wanted to ask because as soon as he directs me to the basement, I start stumbling toward the red exit sign on the far end of the room.

Hot. So fucking hot.

I stumble down a short hallway, smacking straight into the doors to the stairwell. My arms feel like lead at my sides, but I’m able to muster the will to bring them up and force the door open.Heavy.Why is everything so heavy here? Heavy and hot. Hot and heavy.

Another giggle wracks through my chest, and I clamor down the metal steps in the dark, letting my gut guide me where I need to go. After all, not-Mark told me this was where it was, and he wouldn’t lie.

When I reach the last step, I stumble forward, barely having time to catch myself before I face-plant onto the concrete basement floor. I swing my eyes around wildly in the pitch black, holding my arms out straight and stumbling around, desperately trying to find a light switch.

Not your brightest idea, Brett. Very dim, indeed.

And now I’m talking to myself—great.

I sigh, dropping to the floor in a crisscross. “This sucks,” I mumble, resting my chin on one of my fists. “Why did I come down here?” As the words slur from my lips, my eyelids droop—as they suddenly weigh five thousand pounds.

“Why the hell am I so sleepy? I only had one-one glass of champagne,” I grumble, hiccuping in between. “And why the fuck is it sohot?”

“That would be the Molly, darling.”

I scream, scrambling back on my hands until I hit something hard. The back of my head smacksinto a concrete piling, and stars spark in my eyes as I instinctively reach for my weapon.

“Fuck,”I whisper, swinging my gaze wildly around the dark. “Fuck. Fuck. Fu?—”

“There’s no need to be frightened. I mean you no harm.”

A shudder runs through me as his honeyed voice echoes off the stone walls.No harm? Yeah, right, buddy—because people with good intentions lurk in dark basements. I may be drunk, but I still have a working brain cell or two.

“Who are you? What do you want?” I snarl, blinking wildly in hopes my eyes will adjust to the dusk. “I’m armed, just so you know.”

A callous chuckle echoes in my head. “No, you’re not. I can practically see every inch of you in that dress.” There’s a long pause before that voice speaks again. “All I want is to talk.”

I shake my head, feeling the piling behind me for support as I stand. “Who are you?”

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