Page 9 of Eden's Deliverance

At the tippy top of the structure, a golden badger stands on its hind legs. The second tier is a little wider than the first, filled with a kaleidoscopic arrangement of different kinds of foliage. Red and white flowers protrude from a bushy, waterfall-like stream of greenery that hangs over the rim. Beneath the second tier, an ornate column connects to the final stratum. One section of the column curves outward like a vase, where four golden badger heads wrap around the sides, spouting water from their open mouths and into a pool at the bottom basin.

Along the left wall of the lobby is a bar that matches the rest of the color scheme, with white marble countertops and a golden frame. Tall, backlit shelves filled with expensive alcohol line the wall behind the bar, and it’s no wonder there’s already a group of guests stationed there.

This place bleeds money and lavishness.

A woman with a black dress and matching mask sits perched upon one of the gold-and-white bar stools, chatting happily with two other women. The moment her eyes meet mine from over her shoulder, her face drops.

If I wasn’t such an observant person, I’d probably have missed her subtle gesture towards me. At her command, the two friends turn around and give me a head-to-toe assessment. It’s impossible to mistake their interaction for anything other than the catty bullshit it’s meant to be. In perfect character, they all toss their heads back with a shrieking cackle that spreads across the room.

Fucking women and their highschool drama.

I guess it’s a good thing I spent my entire childhood getting bullied for my weight and whatever other shit children like to tease about. It hardly fazes me anymore.

With an equally condescending smile, I make a show of tapping on my mask before lazily dropping the finger to point in their direction.

Only one of us is getting a prize tonight—I’ve already won.

As Pen and I continue through the room, I take in more of the exquisite scenery to focus on keeping my mind clear. Opposite the bar, a couple of white-and-gold chaise lounges are paired together with glass coffee tables between them.

Spanning the entire width of the far wall is a concierge desk that looks like it was built to match the bar. The woman sitting there beckons us forward. “Hello ladies, welcome to Braxton Suites. Can I help you?”

Penelope places her hands on the countertop, returning the woman’s sweet smile. “Hello! We’re here to visit Eden’s Deliverance, where salvation can be found in the darkest of dreams.”

This line comes directly from the rules and guidelines that every applicant receives when they’re accepted. It’s a little too corny for my taste, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Apparently, if you don’t have the password, you aren’t even given the time of day. You’d think our attire would give away our purpose for being here, but alas.

“Thank you, Miss Sapphire.” She gives Pen a polite nod, then to me. “Miss Pearl. Please proceed to the elevator, here.” The woman gestures with her hand to a set of metal doors on her left. “Head on up to the 12thfloor lobby, and you will be directed from there.”

Inside the elevator, I have a gut-wrenching feeling this is all some sort of wicked game; there are no buttons indicating any other floor than the 12th.

I do notice that there’s another elevator across the lobby, so maybe that one is for normal guests while this is exclusively for entry to Eden. Penelope doesn’t hesitate, though. She presses the button and waits patiently for the elevator to ascend.

The machine climbs higher and higher, like the anxiety rising in my chest. There’s no turning back now—not when I’m about to face a challenge incomparable to the hardships of college and my apprenticeship combined. Those are easy; I know where I’m headed when it comes to traversing the paths of my education and career.

I’m lost when it comes to this.

I can’t remedy this pit in my stomach. If anything, I feel more ill when the doors finally chime open. Stuck on a fancy, golden door with a matching filigree frame, is a large plaque that reads:

THE RAINBOW ROOM

Penelope must see the panic on my face, because she grabs my hand and drags me down the hall to the left. “Relax, Scar. This is just a halfway hall for the coat check. It’s all connected.”

That doesn’t make me feel any better, but we go ahead and leave our coats, bags, and phones at the check counter. The receptionist there invites us to climb into a second creepy elevator, directly adjacent to the one we came up from.

This elevator has no buttons at all—the doors just open when we approach and send us on a three-second-long ride to what I can only assume is the 13thfloor.

How fitting.

Almost instantly, the nervousness drains from my body when I take in the sight before me. An enormous room opens up to us, the red walls and dark lighting creating a completely different ambience than the rest of the hotel has.

A massive ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling directly in the center of the room, high above the heads of a sea of people all wearing masks of one color or another. Past the crowd is another bar, except this one is black and red, just like the rest of the room and its furniture.

It’s beautiful—magical even.

“Pink Party” by Isaac Dunbar plays on the speakers, and a few dozen attendees are out on the dance floor, grinding with and groping one another to the upbeat music.

It’s all so…sensual. If this is any indication of what the rest of the night will lead to, I’m excited, to say the least.

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