Carefully glancing around and maintaining a nonchalant posture, he explained they only go for places they believe people have turned a blind eye to. Closing in, we ended the conversation there.
He guided Moon around the half-circle path, and despite the time of day, light poured from inside as they opened and closed the door. There was a dark and sinister light with a red hue to it, as if they dipped their candles in blood or something.
“Holy shit,” I breathed out but didn’t mean to. It was supposed to stay in my head.
“Nervous?” Laken asked, keeping a keen eye on the guards.
“Me?” My voice rose and I sank into the seat. “No, never.”
His high-held chin and straight shoulders gave off very confident vibes I assumed I should match. I brushed my hair back from my face, and a piece got caught on my glossed lips. I ghosted a quick hand over my cheek to move it before I choked but missed it the first try and had to drag it off my tongue.
Laken leaned into me. “Can you stop that?” he whispered with a rather condescending tone.
I cut my eyes to him, but he stared forward. With my hair rightfully sorted and in place, I faked the poise he had.
Younger boys and girls, stable hands dressed in regular pants and boots, were taking carriages. As we pulled up, one approached us, and Laken handed the reins to a freckle-facedlittle redheaded boy standing shorter than me. What kind of mess could pull children into working at such a place?
As Laken walked to my side, I couldn’t stop gawking at the mansion. I mean, like twenty of my old apartment could fit in there. How did someone afford it? Selling paintings of their feet to the right people? No, of course not. There was one way to getthatrich—crime. Getting your hands a little dirty, a little bloody.
Unfortunately, their crimes crossed with my path.
Laken offered his hand, and I hesitated to take it. Touching him did something to me, it turned my mind to mush. The second we connected, my skin tingled. I stepped out of the cart, taking his side. It happened so fast, I didn’t know who let go of whose hand, but they were no longer intertwined. The only thing I felt was the cold absence of him—and the clammy sweat. I barely managed to walk in my heels. I missed my dead-flower socks.
“Ready?” He straightened his jacket.
Keeping my attention on the building, I nodded—or shook, maybe—my head. “Yeah.” My voice dragged as if it doubted me. “I’m ready.”
A guard at each side held the door open. Giant black frames were stationed behind them, with wrought iron twisting over into handles. In my periphery, I saw Laken observe other areas of our event. What and why, I had no idea, but since this fell more under his expertise, I didn’t ask. I focused on not snapping an ankle and watching the pretty lights. And the guards. And their daggers. And noting how many there were…
“I’m ready. Why wouldn’t I be ready? I’m cool, playing it cool,” I replied.Right? This is cool. My dress is cool. I’m definitely not here to steal magical pigs.
A guard shifted approximately two inches closer to us as we reached the door and I reached for Laken’s arm—his biceps. His really hard biceps. Gods, what did he do? Lift elephants during his time away? Under my grip, his body heaved from a smothered chuckle, but I didn’t care at that point.
I’d walked up to a black, probably haunted, mansion guarded to its teeth, with bad intentions of taking their inventory. Their pigs.Pigs!How the fuck does one simply steal a pig?
I didn’t have the answer.
But we stepped through the threshold onto bloodred tiles anyway.
Mother of pearls, I thought; massive didn’t describe its size. Towering ceilings ascended over us, drawing guests’ attention to the chandeliers hanging down the length of the hall. A tiny, shattered fragment of one of those could probably fix all of my problems. I clung tight to Laken, listening to chatter and the click of my heels on the floor, and we followed the painted-black brick walls.
I, for once, prayed to see my hellblazers again.To any Gods listening, above or below, old and new: if you allow me to survive the night, I promise to quit threatening to eat my chickens.That should do it.
Turning into an open room, we were surrounded by strangers with jewels large enough to choke on dangling from their poor earlobes. Suits were finely pressed, shoes shinedto perfection, dresses of material from the heavens, and sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds straight from the cave floated around us as if it were a casual Tuesday brunch.
Waitresses and waiters danced around with trays of wine and finger foods I couldn’t have named if I’d tried.Fancy shit.Though, from my experience, the more expensive the wine, the worse it tasted. Stay cheap, stay happy. Maggie and I lived by that.
Taking glasses from one of the trays, Laken wrapped an arm around my lower back, and we weaved through the crowd as best we could. The good thing? Nobody seemed to care about anyone else. They stayed with their groups or partners. It made it all the clearer—we were not here to make friends, and the less others knew about you, the better.
Raising my glass, it took one sip to confirm I’d been right. If they told me I drank sweat from the sock of a fisherman during the summer on a hot day, I’d believe them. Seemed we’d be getting through these events sober, which was probably for the best.
Unlike the main hall, this room had four halls—two on each side—and one massive set of double doors. Those, with six sets of iron locks, must have led to the auction room. Leaving one of the other four as our way to the pigs.
“We should’ve made code names.” I leaned into Laken, his body blocking mine from most of the room to lower the risk of anyone hearing us.
“Code names?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be Darling, and you can be Garbage Gobbler.”
