Page 3 of Magic of Sins

I quickly push my way to the cloakroom. Normally, you need a ticket to get your coat back and Ava has mine, but the girl behind the counter helps me without making a fuss. I must look really upset because she keeps asking if everything is okay. I nod. All I want is to get my coat and get out of here. But that’s not so easy. They’re all gray so it takes some time to go through them. When we leave this party, there will be no more flashes of skin, no more makeup, no more sparkly jewelry. When we walk home through the dark streets of Virtue, we are all the same.

“Is it this one?”

I recognize my initials on the sleeve of the coat—K. A.for Kaya Ashton. I nod, throw on the coat, and wrap myself in its protection. The girl gives me one last worried look. Surely, she must see this every day. Visitors who come to this dodgy place and quickly leave. Wanting to look into the abyss, but afraid of being pulled into it. There’s a reason the nightclub is calledHellmouth,I remind myself.

Outside, I’m greeted by cool night air. It drives away the last effects of the alcohol that tingles through my veins.

Out here, you can’t hear the booming music. The walls and doors are soundproof. They have to be, so that the Hellmouthdoesn’t attract unwanted attention.

The club is in an outlying district an outlying district that separates the West End from the East End. Down the street begins the domain of the sin mages. It’s the closest I’ve ever been. It has everything a sinful heart could desire: brothels, gambling dens, clubs, boutiques selling expensive fabrics and jewelry, and restaurants where the food practically melts in your mouth. I’ve read about these places and seen pictures, but I’ve never been. None of us dare to go there—not even Ava.

So I turn west, clutching my hand to the collar of my coat to pull it a little tighter. All the while I’m conscious of my bare neck underneath. On the way hereI felt bold, but now I’m just afraid of getting caught.

I hope Ava gets home okay. She’ll be able to guess that I’ve left, and it’s not her first underground party. But I feel guilty for leaving her there.

“Hello, miss!”

I freeze as I hear the voice. I want to duck my head and run faster, but a glance out of the corner of my eye tells me that the man who addressed me is a guard. Black uniform, nightstick, scowl.

By all the seven virtues, I’m doomed if he sees what I’m wearing underneath my coat.

My hand clings desperately to my collar as the guard crosses the street and walks toward me. He’s barely older than me, maybe in his early to mid-twenties. Still, there is something about him that seems unyielding. It’s the kind of impression youusually only get from men twice his age.

“What are you doing out here all alone– and so close to the East End at that?”

“I…” My voice fails and I clear my throat to regain it. “My grandmother lives not far from here. I brought over some food. We got to talking, and apparently I lost track of time. I’m sorry, sir.”

That’s a believable excuse. Many poor people live close to the East End because they can’t afford anything better. Still, the guard doesn’t seem convinced. He circles me with slow, measured steps.Clack, clack, clack;the sound of his boots on the asphalt. I stare at the ground in front of me, at my shoes that were walking across the sticky Hellmouthfloor just a few minutes ago. For a second I fear that he can smell the alcohol even now.

Maybe he can.

“Are you cold, miss?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why are you clutching your coat?”

Damn!

Slowly, I lower my hand. It trembles so violently that I quickly clasp it with my other hand to hide it.

He knows. He knows my skin is naked underneath.

How many lashes will I get for this? Will they publicize my offense? Will they ostracize me socially like they did that former classmate of mine? Why the hell did I go along with Ava’s suggestion to go to the party? Why, why, why?

I’m about to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness when the guard gives me a curt bow and turns away from me.

“Have a good evening, miss. And be on your guard, these roads are dangerous.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I suppress a relieved sob as he vanishes down the street. Tearsburn in my eyes. One of them has already run down my cheek. When did that happen? Did he see? Did he take pity on me? But… a man like him? Never. He’s a guard. It’s his duty to report people like me.

Dazed, I continue on my way, away from the run-down buildings and deeper into the West End, with its unadorned but well-kept row houses with small front yards.

Everything used to look different here. I’ve seen pictures in old books that have since been destroyed. The houses had colorful doors and ornate facades. Shops had their names in gold letters above the entrances. Now, no one would dare flaunt their wealth like that. Modesty is a virtue.

I walk a little faster as my apartment comes into view. Tinkerbell is sitting on the steps in front of the entrance, licking her paws. With her black fur, the cat is hard to spot in the shadows. She brushes my legs as I dig out my keys.

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