Obsidian Eyes (35 page)

ater that evening, after dinner, Eloise buzzed with excitement as she helped Allie to dress, although Allie remained sceptical of her friend’s choices.

“Are you sure this is appropriate?” she kept asking, expecting she was winding her up and her actual outfit for the evening was hidden somewhere.

“Oh, yes.” Eloise nodded, adjusting the fall of the skirt. “You should have seen the back room of the shop; I’ve never seen the likes of it before.” Her voice was full of wonder of her trip to the guild seamstress. “I thought of you the instant I saw this. And don’t worry, the boys will be showing some flesh too, you just wait and see.”

Allie was curious as to what Eloise had talked Jared and Duncan into, or out of, by the sounds of it. She looked down at her own attire and shook her head, deciding it was no worse than what she used to wear in Egypt. Except she was now in Scotland.

Eloise chose an outfit in buttery soft, blood red suede. The top was a tight fitting, sleeveless vest that finished right beneath Allie’s breasts. The skirt barely clung to her hips, so there was a large expanse of her flat stomach exposed from bottom of the vest to top of the skirt. The skirt was in separate but overlapping pieces so as she walked it fell open, exposing her leg all the way to mid-thigh. Eloise topped it off with a pair of golden sandals that encircled her calves as they laced half way up her leg.

Allie thought she was back in the harem and Eloise squealed in delight when she remembered amongst her luggage a small jewel, designed to sit in her belly button. Rummaging in the bottom of her carpetbag, she found her kohl palette and they outlined her eyes heavily in the Egyptian fashion, drawing a Horus eye over her top lid. Eloise brushed her dark glossy hair around her face before standing back to survey her work.

“What do you think?” Allie asked. Weasel whirled his eyes and returned to staring out the window.

“I think I understand why sultans only want eunuchs guarding their harems.” Eloise gave her a wink; then, taking Allie by the hand, they headed downstairs.

Duncan waited at the bottom, pacing back and forth waiting for the others to finish dressing. He let out a whistle as Allie descended the stairs with Eloise close behind.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” Allie said as she took in his garb. His dark buckskin pants looked tighter than usual and the black knee-high boots had several large silver buckles up the sides. Eloise, true to her word, had talked him out of his shirt and he wore only a sleeveless black leather waistcoat, hanging open and showing his massive arms and sculptured abdominal muscles. Several strands of leather wrapped under his bicep on one arm and a leather gauntlet on the other. On his right arm, someone had painted an intricate Celtic design. It started at his elbow, wrapped around his bicep and over his shoulder before disappearing under the vest.

He looked like an utterly irresistible, bad boy air-pirate.

And he knew it, judging by the grin on his face.

“Are we ready?” Jared asked from behind Allie.

Turning, she found him dressed in a similar manner to Duncan. While leaner and slightly shorter, he gave off an air of being more dangerous than his larger cousin. His gaze lingered over her in a visual caress.

“I think you’ll need a coat,” was his only comment.

Allie was disappointed he didn’t have anything else to say about her attire. But his gaze never left her while Matisse helped her into a charcoal wool overcoat to keep out the chill of the night air. Jared’s wolf-like stare devoured her form until she pulled the coat tight.

As they exited the carriage at Charlotte Square, they found an ancient stone stairway descending below street level. There was one dim glow lamp at the top of the stairs to light the way, echoed at the bottom of the stairs by a sister lamp over the imposing door.

“I guess it’s discreet.” Jared took Allie’s hand as they headed down the imposing stone steps.

The stairs bowed in the middle from centuries of traffic. The stairwell took them well below the street to terminate in a huge door, bound with steel. Set in the middle was a square peephole above a huge brass knocker in the shape of a mermaid, the knocker part that moved being her tail; it gave the appearance that she could bang it in annoyance.

Duncan lifted the mermaid’s tail and rapped on the door.

The wooden covering of the peephole slid back and a face pressed up against it. “Yes?”

Allie and Duncan exchanged looks as Jared stepped up to the door and had a low conversation through the narrow opening. The face retreated and the panel slid back in place with a snap. The next moment the massive bolt drew back and the door swung inward to admit the friends.

They stepped over the threshold and found themselves in a small stone entranceway, with another wooden door bound in steel opposite the first, mirroring it in design. A small window cut in the wall on the right hand side of the room revealed a young woman sitting on the other side.

The doorman looked them up and down. “First time here?” he enquired as he shut and bolted the main door once more.

“Yes,” they replied in unison, casting glances at each other.

“Leave your coats, then go on down and join the fun.” He chuckled to himself, before returning to his seat by the door.

As they shed their overcoats, Allie’s gaze wandered over the doorman’s wrists and found his mark; two footprints within a plain circle. The main image denoted his guild allegiance; any outer circle gave his ranking within the guild. The more complex the outer ring the higher the rank.
Runner, street level enforcer.

Coats were passed through the window to the waiting girl, who gave a chit to Duncan while giving him a meaningful smile. Duncan smiled back as he tucked the chit into his waistcoat pocket without even looking at it.

Jared sighed. “Come on, focus,” he said as he gave Duncan a push in the direction of the door.

The next set of doors opened and they found themselves on a balcony, overlooking the club below. One last set of stone stairs ran down the side of the wall to the melee beneath them.

“What is this place?” Allie said as they slowly made their way down the last stairs.

“Fantastic,” replied Duncan, his eyes wide as saucers, taking in everything.

The atmosphere in the club assailed all the senses. The music was visceral, not just a sound, but a feeling as it vibrated through their limbs. Beneath them, a sea of bodies swayed like seaweed responding to invisible ocean currents. There was the sight and smell of things they had never experienced before, luring them down the stairs. The room contained a colossal bar dominating the centre of the space, with a large dance floor in front extending to a raised and curtained stage. Around the sides were numerous dark alcoves, some with light shining from behind drawn curtains, others glowing softly with different coloured globes.

Duncan hit the floor and disappeared into the crowd. Allie and Jared turned, taking everything in. Duncan returned moments later with three shot glasses containing a dark amber liquid. He handed one to Allie, one to Jared and kept the third one for himself.

“Slainte.” He raised his glass.

Allie smiled. His enthusiasm was infectious and she started to enjoy herself despite the circumstances. They tapped their glasses before all three downed their drinks in one hit.

“What was that?” She coughed, waiting for the feeling to return to her throat and handing the glass back to Duncan before it did her any more damage.

Duncan snorted at her. “Whisky, what did you expect in Scotland?”

She gave Duncan a quick elbow to the gut and turned to Jared. “What’s the plan of attack?”

“We do a quick survey and meet back here in ten minutes. Duncan, try not to get distracted by the women.”

Duncan gave Jared a hurt look, but Allie could see his eyes were already drifting after a woman wearing a gossamer thin dress who looked like a Greek goddess. His body soon followed his eyes and he disappeared into the crowd after her.

″I’m sure our chaperon is around somewhere, too.” Jared gave Allie one more appraising look before heading off on a tangent to the route Duncan had taken.

Allie wondered how Christian gained entry to the club and if he maintained his old contacts. As she passed amongst the crowd, she concentrated on hands and wrists and catalogued the guilds present. Footprints marked the Runners. The ruin sign Ken denoting knowledge was the symbol of the Whisperers. Assassins marked with scales, as they saw themselves as the hand of justice.

Tokens slid across tables and disappeared into pockets as silent business was transacted. At this level, no coin ever changed hands. No one ran the risk of being caught by the authorities with large amounts of cash. Guild services were traded with what appeared to be the random contents of a child’s pockets; a playing card, the button from a tunic, a brightly coloured marble or a hair pin. Each token had an established value.

We could be trading Zeb for a handful of old mismatched buttons.

A figure caught her attention clad in black leather pants and an open black silk shirt.
Christian
. The years added bulk and mass to his frame that Jared and Duncan still lacked. His black clothes echoed but twisted his Conri uniform, turning him into a darker guild version of himself. She flicked her gaze to his right wrist; with the gauntlet gone, she caught the trace of his guild mark, but he bore more concentric rings than when she saw him last. She frowned, how was that possible?

She took a deep breath as his gaze slid over her, moved back and then he raised an eyebrow. Contact made and acknowledged with the barest gestures, they both continued on their paths.

In her slow appraisal of the room and the many darkened alcoves, a scene at odds with the rest of the activity arrested her attention. A woman seated at the bar, still and contemplative amongst the frenetic bustle. She wore an ankle length black dress with a black velvet tabard over the top. Intricate silver embroidery ran along the edges. Long black hair fell around her face but when she moved the front lock was a vivid purple. What intrigued Allie most were the facial piercings. The woman had multiple rings in her eyebrow, a bar through the bridge of her nose and several more rings through her lip.

The woman held a sketchpad which absorbed all her attention, her pencil paused over the cream paper. Allie tried to look over her shoulder to see what she drew, when the woman looked up.

“Sorry,” Allie muttered.

“You’re new. The new are usually either curious or terrified,” the woman said.

“You’re Devi, aren’t you?” Allie realised why the woman was above events around her.

“You’re smart, most people don’t notice,” Devi admitted.

Allie’s gaze shot down to the hand holding the pencil and over the skin of her wrist. “You’re not marked.”

“If I was aligned to one guild, how could I be neutral?”

Allie frowned. Although her words made sense on one level, the mark was the price for admission to the underworld. Only the lowest, dwelling at the edges and deemed unworthy, remained pristine. Yet Devi held court.

Devi gave a soft chuckle. “A puzzle isn’t it? How I can be part of this world, but not marked by it.”

Something clicked in Allie’s brain, the tiniest chink of light fell on to her problem. She tried to grab the sliver of hope, when the other woman’s voice broke her concentration and it fluttered back to the recesses of her mind.

“Where will you go tonight?” She gestured to the surroundings.

Allie could see movement within many of the rooms. “I’m curious about the alcoves. What goes on in there?”

“The Dark Garden has many rooms,” Devi said. “Some are invitation only, others are open. For novices we always advise: don’t enter if you’re not sure, or you may find yourself deeper than you are comfortable going.”

The alcove rooms had stone walls to waist height. Some with curtains draped on the inside, so the interior was closed to view. The one in front of Allie was open and she wandered closer to see what happened inside. The interior of the stone room lined with plush red velvet and the floor covered in equally luxurious cushions of varying sizes and designs. In the middle of the room on a pile of deep purple cushions lay a semi-naked girl. Prone, her eyes closed, Allie didn’t know if she was asleep or in some sort of rapture. A mixture of men and women in black clothing knelt around her body, licking at small wounds in her arms and legs. Allie gave a start when she realised they were lapping at the girl’s blood.