Page 49 of Blackwicket
“Follow me, we have to go through the theater.”
“Why have me come in the back if…”
“Coppe’s working the front tonight.” She cut me off, making it clear the thought of him knowing I was here was unsavory.
We moved down a dim hallway, papered in gold stripes. Heavy doors lined the walls, leading to offices or dressing rooms, although none boasted plaques or names. As we neared the main hall, I finally heard the muffled music of Thea’s band playing something low and languid, and above this, a more insistent noise emerging from a doorway on my right: the sounds of people enjoying themselves in ways unrelated to music. Separate from the warmth that crept up my neck was that sensation of loose magic flooding the hall ahead. Unlike Thea’s magic, this didn’t work slowly like wine on a tranquil night, but blitzed my senses like hard liquor poured too recklessly down a gullet. I stalled, swaying slightly, already woozy.
“Shit,” Thea uttered, steadying me. “You’re a lightweight. I didn’t expect that. Make your guard air tight—no magic in, and none out. I don’t want a single person to sense you. Hold your breath if you have to. Tonight isn’t a night for a novice.”
I took offense at her suggestion that I was a novice, considering my history, though I wasn’t completely certain what skill she was discussing.
“Then why’d you invite metonight?” I asked, lowering my voice to her level, bare whispers in the hall. A woman cackled.
“You have a right to see something. I’m going to show you what Fiona did for this town.”
We arrived at a set of velvet curtains, identical to those at the entry, appearing black in the gloom. Thea parted them to peer out.
“You’re ready now, or you’re ready never. Stay close, don’t let anyone touch you and if they try, you say you’re William’s.”
I snorted, prepared to protest when Thea leveled a look on me so grave I balked, and considered the weight of this moment. I was walking into the arms of my sister’s secrets, and as Thea said, I was either ready now or never.
“I’m William’s,” I replied in agreement to her terms.
The theater was awash in blue light, so dim that the guests appeared as mere impressions, silhouettes of shadow lounging on the chaises and couches that had replaced tables, huddled in unmistakably obscene configurations. Scattered throughout were low benches, adorned with flickering candles which occasionally illuminated a rouged cheek, a diamond earring, the flash of an expensive cufflink, and the stockinged toes of a woman whose leg draped over the shoulder of a kneeling man.
I looked away. Thea stood so close our hips brushed. I straightened my spine and pretended I belonged here as we made our slow trek along the side of the theater toward the bar. The air was hazy, filled with a white miasma, mimicking tobacco smoke, without the stench. Instead, it carried the vivid scent of magic, tinged with decay—the same scent that had overwhelmed me in the crowd on the street. I slowed, prompting Thea to clear her throat, a warning.
“Is this the magic people pay William Nightglass for?” I asked, my voice low, scandalized by this realization far more than the other goings-on. People were allowed to enjoy themselves, spending their time with the company they chose in whatever manner they wished. But this magic wasn’t the sort formed by human souls.
“Some of it,” Thea replied, irritated with the stalling of ourmovement, keeping watch for any signs that any mind was being paid to us.
I raised my hand, drawing my shield down a fraction to test the magic.
“It’s weak,” I said. “Barely untainted. If anyone tries to use it, it’ll all revert to curses in a few days.”
Thea grabbed my wrist and pulled my hand down.
“Stop it, you’ll attract attention.”
I pulled from her grasp, but with controlled force so as not to flail. She didn’t hold on.
“They have to return, don’t they? For the fix. You give them the poison and then the medicine over and over again.”
“Don’t pity these people, Eleanora,” she said, shaking her head, regarding the sea of bodies with poorly concealed disgust.
“My sympathy is for the magic, Thea. It’s a living thing and this?” I motioned to the lewd vista. “This istorture.”
An arm snaked beneath my breasts, enveloping me in the harsh embrace of a man whose face was obscured in shadows, but whose voice wasn’t difficult to identify.
“Look what we have here,” Coppe muttered from around the cigar clenched between his teeth. His fingers dug into my hipbone as I attempted to sidestep him. “You didn’t tell me she’d agreed to be the new one, Thea.”
“Nightglass won’t be happy with you putting your paws on her, Coppe.” Thea’s voice was cool, with a bite of animosity that was a warning for any man. But Coppe seemed a stupid sort.
“William ain’t here. So what’re you up to bringing an untested Blackwicket here on High Tide, hm?”
I was forced to lean quickly away as he turned his head, the ember tip of his foul cigar moving past my cheek, so close the heat of it stung. He chuckled at my reaction. I longed to shove my fingers into his eyes, but I was aware of my position.
“You’re acting a little tepid,” he said, pleased with himselffor recognizing my resignation. “I guess Thea told you that you can’t risk using your magic or you’ll get torn to shreds by all the lovely people here wallowing in this filth.”
