As he closed the door behind him, he caught sight of Nyx wiping her nose with a dirty, tattered rag. He may have caught a tear too, but would never ask her about it.
“What’s so important that you need me alone?” His voice held more steel than he’d intended, but he’d come to the conclusion that it was better to be firm with her. “And where did everyone go?”
“Back to their houses. They sleep here when damages are being repaired.” Nyx pulled something from the pocket of her worn pants but didn’t meet his gaze as she passed it over.
He hadn’t noticed until then that the same ratty cloth she’d used to wipe her nose had been torn to a few shreds to wrap her bruised knuckles. Patches of blood stained the fabric, fresh enough to still be oozing from the wounds. Brooks reached out and, rather than taking the letter, grasped her wrist to inspecther hand.
Nyx jerked her arm back and dropped the letter to the floor as she seethed, “Don’t touch me.” She stepped back and crossed her arms as she leaned on the counter. “That came in today for you.”
Surprise stopped his movements and it took a moment to form the question. “Who would be delivering something to me?” When she didn’t answer, suspicion coiled around the sinking feeling in his gut. “Nyx,” he tried again. “No one knows who I am or that I’m here. Who would have known, and who would have sent a missive?”
He couldn’t decipher the look in her eye. It was apprehensive, but something darker laid beneath the surface. Brooks pushed his chaos toward her mind to filter her thoughts, but he was drained and couldn’t break through even the first barrier.
This is infuriating,Chaos seethed.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was low as she inspected her nails, boredom plastered to her face. “It was stabbed into your shrine in the center of town. Someone knows you’re here, and evidently they want to invite you to their Freakshow.”
“What the hell is a Freakshow?” He questioned as his fingers worked the trifold paper. Once he opened, he scanned the foiled lettering.
“It’s the most notorious party in Olympia and nearly impossible to get into.” Nyx answered. She kept her arms crossed and a deep shadow formed in a permanent wrinkle on her brow.
She must not know who we are.
“She knows exactly who we are. You just make it impossible to be likable.”
“Who is Dionysus?” Brooks’ eyes read the paper over and over, but no matter how many times he read the lines clarity failed to follow. “And how do you know it’s impossible?”
It just didn't make sense.
“He’s the self proclaimed God of Pleasure and I’ve made a living stealing from the rich. Daemon talk.”
That gave Brooks a pause, and he raised his brows incredulously at the insinuation. “As in..?”
“As in pleasure of all forms. Sex, intoxication, degradation, mutilation, you name it. If it brings someone pleasure, he becomes the master of it.”
“So this Freakshow–”
“Is a house of illusion and his famous monsters.”
Illusions…
“You don’t think– It can’t be linked to the Asylum.”
How odd that an invitation to a mysterious gathering is pinned on a shrine built in our honor in a town as run down as this.
Brooks swallowed, the beginnings of dread unfurling. “Elaborate on monsters.”
“I wish I could. I know as far as rumors go, he’s a collector of different… tastes. I heard once that he keeps someone there who has the torso of a woman and the body of a snake, and that her hair isn’t hair at all. But–”
“Snakes?”
“You guessed it.” She pointed a finger at him in time with her words. Why did he feel like it was meant to be sarcastic?
“So what does this mean?”
“If you ask any more dumb questions I’m going to assume that either A, you’re not who you say you are, or B, we’re all fucked because our creator is in idiot.”
Kill her, Chaos growled. Brooks tamped down the darker side of his mind and forced reasonable thought to flow.
