Cool liquid sloshed over my fingers. I shot both back, one after the other. They burned like drinking undiluted gasoline. I slammed the glasses to the bar, my eyes watering.
Last grabbed my wrist again, and we snaked through the crowd. The music thumped, and the concrete floor felt as if it were rolling. I swayed, weaving unsteadily, watching the beings around us out of the corner of my eye.
It was hard to keep track of who was where and doing what. The flash from light to dark was disorienting, and many of the beings were half-visible spirits, growlings, or conjurers so far down the line they could only do parlor tricks like painting their skin green or conjuring a tiny flame to dance over their head.
Someone knocked into me, and I grabbed their hand and twisted, right as they reached into my dress pocket. “I don’t think so.”
A shadowed slipshot looked up at me, and I tightened my grip, close to breaking his fingers. There wasn’t anything in my pocket, but he didn’t know that.
The slipshot’s mouth dropped open. “You’re?—”
He glanced around, probably looking for Jagger.
I nodded. “That’s right.”
I didn’t know this slipshot’s name, but I’d seen him around Hell Gate. He was recently born. He twisted from my grip and ducked into the mist.
“I would’ve killed him,” Last said, tucking her arm into mine.
“I know.”
“Let’s dance.”
Last danced as if she were flying, arms spread wide, head tilted back, hips rolling. She let her inhibitions go, and I joined her. The champagne and the shots flowed through me as I let the music carry me away. Soon, sweat was rolling down my back, and the dance took on a trancelike vibration. They were pumping something into the air—I smelled it now, under the hints of cranberry and allspice. It was similar to what the Bards used at their revels, an aerosol to relax inhibitions and heighten both pleasure and pain.
Last smiled at me, her eyes half-closed and pleasure-filled. The feel, the dance, and the beings moving together to the music reminded me of the Den of Depravity. Leaving Justice. And suddenly, I felt sick. My stomach heaved, and a hot flush raced through me.
“I need air,” I shouted.
Last cocked her head. I pointed to the back stairs and then stumbled toward them. I don’t know if Last followed.
I hit the stairwell and gripped the railing. The floor swung, and my stomach lurched. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind and clamped their hand over my mouth. I bucked, trying to twist free. They shoved me against the wall, ramming my stomach into the railing. I gagged, and their hand tightened over my mouth. Their skin tasted like cigarettes and sweat. They were large, maybe as big as a leggerock, and they’d twisted my arm so that if I moved, they’d easily dislocate my shoulder. They shoved a knee between my legs.
“I was watching you dance?—”
It was a male. Deep-voiced. He broke off with a choked gurgle. Then he dropped to the stairs with a loud thump and slid down them. Thump. Thump. Thump. Silence.
Gripping the railing, I slowly turned around.
The being—a larger-than-average growling—was dead. His throat was slit, and his trachea had been pulled free. Last was wiping her hands off on her black dress.
She smiled at me happily. “One down, three to go.”
Then she shoved past me, climbing the stairs.
Her high heels clicked, and she swayed in time to the fading music. I hurried after her, my nausea gone. It’d fled after the shot of adrenaline.
Last paused at the top of the stairs. I’d thought it led to the roof, but instead, we were at a landing overlooking the dance floor. To the right, there was a private seating area with two leather couches, a table full of drinks, and a curtain in case someone wanted privacy.
There were three men sitting on the couches. They were in the middle of a heated discussion, ignoring the drinks, the music, and the dancing below.
“Mmm.” Last sucked on her bottom lip and then pulled it through her teeth. “How do I look?”
I glanced at her. Flushed skin. Bright eyes. Slightly drunk expression. Dress that barely covered her butt.
“Other than the blood on your hands? You look good.”
