My chest swells with pride. ‘That’s my girl.’
‘Yeah, she wants her thrall back,’ confirms Damian.
My chest deflates a little. ‘Oh. Well, I’m not a thrall anymore.’
I lift my upper lip and show Damian my fangs. He blinks and peers at them. ‘Nice pair, mate,’ he says. ‘Did Alexander turn you?’
‘Uh, no. Lucy did.’
Damian snickers, covering his mouth with a dirt-smeared hand. ‘Oh man, Sadie’s gonna be pissed about that.’
‘It was the only way to get out,’ I say defensively. ‘I’m grateful to her. He had me chained up in his dungeon and was taking my blood for some nefarious experiment. Apparently, he’s got a retinue of female thralls doing his bidding. Isn’t that right, Lucy?’
She nods, her hand resting on her dress pocket protectively.
Damian cracks his knuckles. ‘We’ll need to deal with himthen.’
He doesn’t seem afraid to take Alexander down. In fact, he’s so completely different from terrified human Damian that it’s hard to believe it’s the same person. He’s almost got an air of Sadie’s brashness about him.
Speaking of which, I look around expectantly. ‘Is Sadie not with you?’
‘She’s with Floss and Hester. They’re around here somewhere. We got separated. They’ll find us. Let’s feed in the meantime and keep our strength up.’
‘Feed on what exactly?’ asks Lucy.
Damian’s unnatural eyes gleam in the indigo light, which matches the purple streaks in his hair. ‘I caught some dinner.’
Chapter 31
Sadie | London, 1758
Darkness greets my eyes as I wake. For a moment, I think I’ve gone blind, then realise there’s something soft covering them. Tearing at a silken strip, I sit up to find I’m naked, alone, and lying on a bed that isn’t mine. If I’m not at the brothel, then where in God’s good name am I? This room, with its dark-green wallpaper and walnut furniture, is wholly unfamiliar.
Crawling to the edge of the wide bed, I’m about to step down when I glimpse a pair of large bare feet poking out from under it. I lean over further to find that the feet are connected to muscular pale calves, neither of which is moving. Darius seems to be under the bed, and I hope he’s sleeping.
Trepidation rolls through me.Sadie, what did you do?
I rack my brain, but I can’t remember anything after Anya told me I was going to be her supper, which I’m sure she was teasing me about. But where is she now?
Her tower of silver coin is stacked on the sideboard next to the bed. So the sequence of events seems clear: Anya ate her bread and cheese, watched Darius and me fuck, and then we all drank ourselves into oblivion ...?
No, that doesn’t seem right. It’s no good. I can’t remember. But there’s no point sticking around until Darius wakes up.He’ll just have to sleep it off but I don’t envy him his raging hangover.
I, on the other hand, have no hangover and feel absolutely chipper. Better than chipper, I feel positively radiant. I stand and stretch, catching sight of myself in the full-length oval mirror on the back of the door. My skin is glowing, my golden hair lustrous, and my burnt fingers are healed! I also seem ... taller. But as I get off the bed and walk closer to the mirror, the image wavers and goes transparent. I rub my eyes. But ghostly Sadie is still there. How peculiar. It must be a trick of the light.
Tiptoeing across the floor so as not to wake Darius, I find my stays and yellow dress behind a changing screen, along with a bowl of water and soap. Might as well have a wash while I’m here. When I dip the washcloth into the water after running soap over my body, it turns a murky reddish brown. I suppose it’s from some wine I spilled on myself. I’m not normally a big drinker, but if Darius was plying me with glass after glass, then it may have turnedinto a drinking frenzy. I smile to myself. Sadie Smith is not a girl to turn down free wine! Fortunately, I seem to have handled the excess admirably.
Shrugging into my stays, I give them a cursory tug to contain my bosom and slip my dress over my head. My hair I leave mostly loose, apart from a few pins I stick randomly in it. I can’t seem to bring myself to care about looking respectable for the walk of shame back to the brothel. Everyone in the vicinity knows I’m a prostitute, so why try and make out I’m a lady?
I stuff my feet into my shoes, which I also find neatly placed side by side. And there’s my velvet drawstring purse. After I swipe in the coin from the sideboard, it’s difficult to close it. Last night’s takings were the most I’ve ever earned. Good on me! With this haul, I’m going to buy myself a new dress, some rouge,anda pair of silk stockings.
Thinking I might buy some jewellery as well, I pause by the bed, staring at Darius’s feet. It’s a bit strange that he’s lyingunderthe bed. I know I should check to see if he’s all right, but I feel fearful about that for some reason.
Letting myself out of his house, I squint in the glare of the morning light and can barely see as I stumble down the front path. Strange, I must have a hangover after all, even though I felt perfectly fine inside. Sticking to the narrow alleyways, where it’s darker and easier on my eyes, I weavethrough the London streets like a rat in a maze, operating purely on instinct. If a street ‘feels’ right, I’ll go that way. Somehow, I end up at the back entrance to the brothel without incident. A feat that astonishes me somewhat as I don’t particularly have a good sense of direction. Mother Swift never sends me out for her gin rations as I always get lost.
No matter. I’m here now. But thirsty. So thirsty.
I haul myself up the secret stairway, my legs barely able to function and my mouth on fire.I. Must. Drink. Now.Several girls are milling around, chatting, when I burst out of the doorway and flop against the hallway banister. They crowd around me, exclaiming in surprise, and help me to my room, burning my ears with a million questions.
