“I—" My voice came out as a croak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”
“On your feet. And put your hands where I can see them,” he ordered, gesturing with the gun. “Now.”
I slowly rose from my crouched position, hands lifting, legs threatening to give out beneath me. This was it. The Dionysus Club was going to find out everything I'd been up to, and then I'd end up just like my sister. Another convenient accident, another covered-up murder.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the guard repeated.
My survival instincts kicked in, and I took a deep breath, deciding my best bet was to channel Cherry and act my ass off.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” I said, forcing a smile as I lowered my cloak hood. “I came out for a smoke, and I got totally turned around. I’m justsobad with directions, and—”
He cut me off. “Who are you?”
“I’m one of Jolie’s girls,” I said, recalling the conversation I’d overheard in the tunnel earlier. “They hired us for the entertainment.”
“Ah.” The guard lowered his gun. Most of the suspicion had drained from his face, but his shoulders remained tense. “Weren't you supposed to arrive with the rest of them an hour ago?”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by how quickly he’d bought my lie. Then again, most of the guards here were probably operating under a ‘who would actually be stupid enough to infiltrate the Dionysus estate?’mentality.
The answer, apparently, was me. This plan was catastrophically reckless, and I was painfully aware of that fact. But I had to get answers about what happened to my sister, even if it meant risking everything.
I forced my smile brighter. “Yeah, I got here a while ago, but like I said, I came out to have a cigarette, and then I forgot which way I came from,” I said. “I really am the absoluteworstwith directions. Everyone always teases me about it. But I’m a good dancer, I swear!”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “Shouldn’t you be in some sort of costume?”
“No, we always get our hair and makeup done first,” I said, stepping closer and tilting my face slightly upward. Internally, I was silently thanking god that Cherry had insisted on the heavy party makeup. “See? Costume comes last. Otherwise you risk spillage on the fabric, and then everyone gets majorly pissed at you.”
“Right.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s 9:32, so you better get back in there before you miss it.”
“Will do.” I glanced around, frowning. “Erm… do I go left or right to get back in?”
He sighed and holstered his gun. “I’ll take you,” he muttered.
He motioned for me to move ahead of him, his hand hovering near his holster. I forced a shaky smile and started walking, gravel crunching softly under my boots as we rounded the southeastern side of the mansion.
A single side door stood recessed beneath a stone archway carved with ivy and grapevines. It wasn’t the grand front entrance I’d seen from the lawn, but rather something built for the help, half-hidden and unremarkable. The guard pulled a keycard from his pocket and swiped it through the reader, and the door clicked open.
Warm air spilled out, scented with perfume, candle wax, and something faintly sweet, like spiced wine.
The moment I stepped inside, I felt as if I’d entered another world entirely. The corridor ahead was long and gleaming, lined with marble pillars and archways painted with pale frescoes; nymphs and satyrs twined together in eternal revelry. The floor beneath my boots was white marble polished to a mirror’s sheen, and every few feet stood a bronze brazier burning with low, flickering firelight.
Staff in black uniforms swept past carrying trays and crystal decanters. None of them looked at me twice. My escort’s presence was all the explanation they needed, his security badge like an invisible shield that made me part of the background.
We passed a set of double doors and turned down another corridor that seemed to go on forever. Finally, we stopped before a half-open door glowing with warm golden light.
“Here you go,” the guard said gruffly.
“Thanks so much. Have a good night,” I said, flashing him another smile.
I stepped through the doorway, casting my eyes over the room. Dozens of young women were flitting around, all dressed in glittering costumes that caught the light like a thousand tiny suns. Their outfits were jeweled bras and matching panties withsheer golden skirts that floated around their hips. Each wore a golden half-mask.
Before I could even think about my next move, a skinny man with a clipboard and a headset stormed toward me.
“Why the hell aren’t you in costume already?” he snapped. “For fuck’s sake, hurry up. And get more lipstick on, too!”
I swallowed thickly. “I… uh…”
He jabbed his pen toward an empty chair at the far end of the room. “There! Move it, or you’re not getting paid!” he snapped. “We’ve only got ten minutes until we need to start heading down.”
