Page 50 of Blackwicket
“Come on, Coppe, you’re making my job hard.” Thea’s coldness melted as easily as snowflakes on a tongue, and she was smooth as velvet, disentangling me from the loathsome man’s grip, tucking herself in my place. Her tone grew placating, as syrupy as the one I’d used with the men in the alley.
While Coppe released me, his hand coming to rest on Thea, far lower than I could have lived with, his gaze remained steady, and I received the distinct impression he was imagining me as a corpse. It required some murmuring from Thea to get his full attention, but at last he gathered her against him, and she glared over his shoulder and pointed with her chin toward the bar, imploring me to go that direction.
Vulnerable in this unfamiliar, hazardous territory without Thea’s guidance, I still preferred my odds a solid distance from William’s henchman. No patrons lingered around the bar counter, so full of the intoxicating magic that liquor wasn’t a consideration. I’d never witnessed freshly healed curses being used to fill the empty with a promise of power. I thought of the Drudge I’d encountered at the mortuary, a few blocks from here. With this type of magic in such abundance, any Drudge, big or small, would find reason to come sniffing, so how were they keeping them at bay? A Curse Eater like Fiona was capable of the job, standing guard and absorbing any approaching danger. This might have been her function, but it was just as easy to assume she’d been obliged to supply the faltering magic from the curses unraveled at the house.
My head was spinning, from my thoughts and the effort to seal myself tight enough that the magic, already infused with lust and greed, wouldn’t find a way in. Thea was correct; I was a lightweight, having hidden from the harsher realities of my kindfor too long. When I reached the long stretch of mahogany, I glimpsed my outline in the mirror behind it, which reflected the gloomy lighting.
I knew my name, my history. But Eleanora Blackwicket had never been asked to do anything harder than say goodbye and run.
I wanted a drink.
As though summoned by my thoughts, a familiar man appeared. Phillip, the waiter from the night before, who’d agreed to serve me a cursed beverage. He didn’t ask for my drink order now, but motioned me to the end of the bar.
“You’re the new girl? Good, you’ve got to get back there. The load’s too heavy tonight, someone’ll croak if you don’t jump in.”
“Excuse me?” Taken by surprise, and not willing to follow this man deeper into the belly of the Vapors, I glanced at Thea, to find her mouth pressed to Coppe’s. Had it been a kiss, my interest wouldn’t have lingered, but there was something about the arch of her back, the curl of his body over hers, and I saw it. A thin line of light extending from between her lips, to be inhaled by Coppe. Unwound curse magic.
“Woman,” the bartender snapped, and my gaze returned to his alarmed face, the creases of his brow anxious. “I’m begging you here. They’re really struggling, and I’m worried someone’s going to void.”
“Void?”
Realizing the full danger of what was happening in The Vapors. I left my coat on the bar and rushed to follow the stranger toward whatever horrific revelation awaited.
Chapter Twenty
The bartender led me through a door tucked in a recess behind the bar, an area convenient for the staff to come and go. Even with my guard up, I could sense how dense yet uncertain the enchantments were here. This was the source of the magic that fed the people in the lounge, a pulsing tide of energy.
High Tide.
The hall was short, and we’d walked just a few steps before coming to a door that opened onto a scene I wasn’t prepared for.
The space was a dressing room, with mirrors and lights lining the right wall, along with a stack of dressing screens that had been folded out of the way. A rack of dresses and staff uniforms was pushed to the side to make room for chairs, but only a few of the many individuals crammed in here—men and women alike—were seated. Most were collapsed on the floor, curled like children shielding themselves from nightmares. I heard neither a whisper nor a moan, not a grunt or loud breath; simply stillness and the silent release of unwoven curses from the lips of the human vessels they were being fed through.
“Oh my god,” I breathed.
“Just do your job,” Phillip grunted, uncomfortable, withdrawing into the hall as soon as he’d deposited me where he expected I belonged.
I scanned the faces I could see, noting the mixed expressionsof focus and fatigue. It would be a miracle if even two of these people possessed the ability to handle this task. As weak as the magic wafting to the ceiling was, combined with the poor condition of everyone here, I imagined none of them did.
This is why Thea had invited me here. To help manage this heinous task.
These poor people were part of the slapdash machine fueling the depraved event, and I was eager to throw a wrench in it.
Giving little thought to the repercussions, I leaned near the man closest to me, elbows on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. When I tapped him, he didn’t respond, so I delivered a sharp jab to his wrist, the hand slipping from his face. He rocked upright to avoid falling, and the white spirals of magic faded.
“How much is left?” I asked.
He stared at me, dazed. I snapped my fingers in his face.
“How much?”
Realizing I was talking about the curse he was picking apart, he searched himself, “Maybe a quarter?”
“Fine, get rid of it, then get out.”
“But there’re more, I can’t dump the rest on everyone else. Mr. Nightglass…”
“Can go to hell,” I barked.
