Page 546 of Coal Hearts

As if I’d summoned him by thinking about him, Henri appeared.

Dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt, he looked like a man who’d already been hung from the gallows, and now only his ghost haunted me.

“He’s here,” he muttered.

My ears rang, so used to his silence by day and screams by night.

It took a while for those two words to compute. “He’s here?”

“He’s summoned all of us. We’re to gather in the ballroom.”

“Victor.” I shuddered and crossed my arms.

“Victor.” He nodded.

Marching into the bathroom, he closed the door.

Victor was back.

Yippee.

* * * * *

Sunshine streamed through the ballroom’s stained-glass windows, determined to give no places for shadows and evil to hide, forcing them out into the open.

Unlike all the other times Henri had fed me in here—all the nights I’d kneeled at his feet and done my best to stay quiet while jewels acted out pornos and Masters stuffed their faces, there were no scents of dinner or slaves dressed up for a show.

The stage was empty.

The aura of the room tense with expectation.

My ears pricked as two Masters a table away shot us a look. Their whispers couldn’t be deciphered, but the way they gawked at Henri hinted at what they spoke about.

They still thought he was either a cop or a killer.

Weeks had passed, and still, their suspicions fogged the room.

Drinks were served, and Henri sat fisting his beer glass, his eyes skimming the crowd of men, some with a jewel at their feet and others sitting together, quietly chatting. A few awful rounds of laughter. A quick squeak from a slave getting reprimanded.

I flinched as I caught the jewel’s eye. Corinne. Bowing her head, she used her hair to curtain her face.

Sucking in a breath, I scanned the room.

Twenty-two guests.

I’d hoped Victor would see fit to revoke more memberships than he had. Seemed the month-long abstinence from this place ensured an eager crowd.

I counted the guards next.

Twelve ringed the doorways dotted around the ballroom.

Mollie was right.

We were severely outnumbered. Hopefully in four months, when we’d done all we could and Christmas rolled around, there’d be half this number of patrons. A quarter. We’d need all our strength to fight the guards without fearing the Masters and their electricity remotes.

My heart rabbited as I stroked my collar.

I hadn’t had the opportunity to test to see if it was still inactive. Even if it was...it didn’t suddenly open doors that’d once been closed. I couldn’t waltz over the drawbridge and hail a taxi. I couldn’t send telepathic messages to my brother and give him our address.