Page 36 of Lust

“I was just wondering about the points system for the games,” Juliette begins.

“You are doing wonderfully. I zink you and Orlin have been practicing, no?”

Juliette scrunches up her nose. “Not exactly. It was actually the final trial I was wondering about. Say, theoretically, I didn’t have enough points to get me into the Third Circle. Does that mean there’s no point bothering with the other trials at all?” She holds her fingers up and crosses them.

“Ma cherie, you weel not ‘ave a problem.”

“No, I know, but theoretically.”

There’s a pause. “I zink you are with your friend, Quinn, no? Tell ze beautiful girl not to worry. The final trial ‘as fifty points at stake.”

I let out a breath and my muscles relax. I’m still in.

“She still ‘as a chance of getting into ze top ten, but she really ‘as to talk to zat ‘andsome man of ‘ers. Communication is key, no?”

Juliette gives me a thumbs up and a grin. “Thanks Noémi.”

“Anytime, Cherie.”

Juliette hangs up and puts the Hell Cell back in her pocket. “Told you not to worry, babe, but she’s right. Whatever perverted thing you’ve gotta do to Dade’s body in the second trial, you’d better psyche yourself up for it if you ever want to get out of this place.”

“Close your eyes and think of Jenny!” Rowena adds. “Now that we can all breathe again. What’s this about you going on a date with Remy?”

19

WASTED

FELIX

Ineed a damn drink. Staying holed up in this room any longer and I'll go batshit crazy. Besides, Anthura's like a leech, and I’m not keen on getting tangled up with her again. No matter how much I dread facing Rowena's humiliation, I sure as hell aren't jumping into Anthura's web. She's become a nuisance, sapping my damn energy. Tonight, I'm hitting a bar, getting wasted, so I don't have to think about either of them.

I’m pretty sure Anthura isn’t going to be hanging around the entertainment level, but who knows about Rowena? Shit, I don't know a thing about her except that somewhere along the line, I've started using 'she' and 'woman' for her. It's the only way I can make sense of what went down yesterday. Slipping on a jacket, I make my way out, avoiding any chance encounters. Pushing through the main foyer, I feel the weight of everyone’s stares on me like they’ve got nothing better to do. Fuck them. They haven’t got a damn clue what those trials do to you. They'll never understand the pain I felt before Rowena...

I smack the elevator button, waiting impatiently for the doors to slide open. Downstairs, the entertainment level mirrors Purgatory's, except it's painted in goddamn red and pink. Feels like I'm in some giant blood vessel, about as sexy as a soggy fish. The demons here are crazy for those colors. I steer toward the Brimstone Bistro, but the crowd pushes me away. I’m not in the mood for company tonight. This floor's like a whole damn city, but the dim light's a blessing, letting me slink through unnoticed. I pass sex club after sex club with half dressed men and women writhing in pink lit windows, attempting to entice passers by in. Eventually, I spot a bar, darker than the devil's soul. I find a stool, slap the bar, and order a Dragonfire Whisky.

“That’ll mess you up quickly.”

I squint in the darkness to make out the person sitting next to me as the bartender drops my drink in front of me.

“You should drink water and repent.”

Orlin Moss. Of all the people to find sitting next to me. He’s wearing a knitted green sweater vest, twinning it with an expression of miserable condescension.

“Why are you in a bar if drinking is only for sinners?” I query, not giving a fuck. I had enough of the miserable bastard when we were partnered up together in Purgatory.

I knock back the whisky and hold up my hand to get the bartender’s attention.

“This is where sinners go,” the dull motherfucker explains. “I like to tell them the evil of their ways.”

“Sure thing,” I say, swiveling to the bartender. “Double up and toss one his way, too.”

“Water!” Orlin chimes in, raising his voice in almost a panic. “Get me a water, please. No ice.”

I smirk. “Yeah, let’s not go too wild, eh?”

The bartender drops a drink each in front of us. Orlin picks his drink up but doesn’t sip at it.

“Tell me,” I say, turning to him. “How the hell are you doing so well in your trials? Everyone seems to know my business, but for someone who doesn’t like to sin, you’re doing awfully well.”

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