A Dance Macabre (Perverse City #1)

46. Wolfgang

46

WOLFGANG

M ercy stands next to me while we are transported down the streets of Pravitia on a large gold palanquin, half-enclosed and high enough for us to stand in. Ten bearers carry us, large poles resting on their shoulders as they rock gently from side to side. They take one heavy step after another while the crowd cheers boisterously from the side.

The weather is particularly mild for early January. The cloudless skies are crystal blue, and the sun’s rays are warm and inviting.

Mercy’s expression is a masterpiece of power and authority, the curves of her face enforcing the very image of a Crèvecoeur as a Pravitian ruler. The collar of her dress undulates up the length of her neck, a large diamond necklace resting overtop the fabric. She is a regal vision, and I match her energy perfectly with my long velvet coat of a deep burgundy with gold stitching.

Although the threat of Dizzy had vanished, we had no way to tell if the threat of the insurrection was over. But the unexpected visit from the Oracle in our bedchamber early morning after Dizzy’s death did soothe some of our anxious ruminations. She told us that the gods were pleased and to not disappoint them again. She left shortly after.

It only took a few days to organize the parade.

Advertised and broadcasted through every medium Vainglory Media controls.

Which is every single one of them.

However, celebrating the two rulers of Pravitia isn’t why we’re parading down the streets of Pravitia today. No, this is a deliberate warning.

A reminder that the fate of a treasonous rat is much worse than merely being ruled by us.

A few feet from our palanquin is an even larger float, this one needing hundreds of bearers to carry it, the poles over twenty feet long. Atop the float is a rectangular table, and around it sit six scarecrows, each created in our likeness.

Because this parade is a traitor’s parade.

A Feast of Fools just for Dizzy.

If she craved to overpower us—craved to rule this city in our stead—then let her. If she wanted this so badly then let her have it.

Her body has been dismembered. Six body parts for the six scarecrows representing each of us. The legs, the arms, and hands. All are carefully stitched and attached. And right in the middle of the table, amongst the plethora of large plates of food is the centerpiece.

Dizzy’s head on a spike.

Whatever is left of it anyway.

All six scarecrows face the centerpiece while they feast. A mockery of Dizzy’s death and her moronic dream of ever stealing the power from our grasp.

Gemini—the real, living Gemini—stands near the end of the table, entertaining the passing masses while the parade carries on down the street. Heavy step by heavy step.

He’s dressed especially eccentrically today, most likely reveling in the cruel theater of the entire affair. A black top hat is perched over his bleached hair, paired with a yellow tailcoat and white lace gloves. He prances around, twirling a cane adorned with a silver snake twisting up along the stick.

It was Gemini who warned me about Dizzy. He called me as soon as he found out during his tithing day. He collected secret after secret until eventually it was revealed: Dizzy was the leader of the insurrection. and she had plans to kill me—kill all of us.

Gemini brought in the help of Constantine, and together they tortured the information out of the one who spilled such a valuable secret, throwing a handful of my Vainglory Media employees to the wolves alongside a trickle of followers from each family. Even the random break-in involving Mercy was linked back to the uprising.

I was stunned—outraged. How couldn’t I have been? How could someone who claimed to pledge their loyalty to me want my demise? I had let my control over Dizzy slip over the years. Foolishly convinced that she didn’t need any more persuasion to follow my orders blindly and willingly.

I should have known never to trust a low-born like her.

Did I know when exactly this betrayal would happen?

No.

But Mercy’s suspicious disappearance that same night left me on edge. It’s as if I had been standing on the tip of a dagger this entire time, and Gemini’s call had finally revealed the peril staring me in the face.

Mercy isn’t the only one capable of sensing the unseen.

I suspected Mercy could betray me if she had the chance, the knowledge like a splinter I would rather ignore. But it being confirmed right before my eyes hurt more than I ever expected.

But then.

The desperation in her remorse afterward …

I’ve been using it like a balm, recalling Mercy pleading for forgiveness at my feet anytime I need solace.

Gemini’s booming voice rips me out of my wandering thoughts. “Citizens of Pravitia! Behold your witless queen!” His laugh is chilling as he jumps on top of the table, his speech echoing the little performance he did for us before the maze hunt. Kicking a cluster of grapes, it hits the severed head before landing with a splat into a bowl of gravy. “Feast your eyes!” he bellows, arms out wide while he turns in circles on the spot. “And see what it means to oppose one of us.” He picks up an apple and takes a large bite. He chews and swallows before dazzling the crowd with his smile. “Foolish indeed.”

I turn to Mercy, her hands on the gold railings of the palanquin while her gaze is fixed on Gemini. There’s a subtle twinkle in her eyes, and I smile wide for the both of us, knowing Gemini is the only person in this city able to amuse her in such a way.

I might not have forgiven Mercy … yet. But her penance has been ever so sweet to taste. I might not be able to persuade her like I can with most, but having her surrender to my whims—out of guilt I’m sure—will do for now.

I let the sound of the crowd cheering wash over us as I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to my chest. A soft, but shocked, gasp tumbles out of her lips, her hands now pressing against my chest.

“Wolfgang,” she says quietly, almost like a warning.

My fingers crawl down her hips and over the swell of her ass.

“Something to say, Crèvecoeur?” I ask with a wide, derisive smile.

Her eyes narrow, clearly unimpressed by such a public show of affection. She knows better than to dispute.

If she wants my trust, she’ll need to abide by my rules.

It’s a rare instance to have Mercy like this, and I will savor every single second of it.

Careful not to mess with her updo—I know my limits—I slip my fingers around her neck, my index finger tracing the soft skin under her jaw. With my thumb, I lift her chin and softly press my lips to hers. She’s wearing a dark shade of red lipstick today and the possibility of it staining is inconsequential.

Because this is the very purpose of it, isn’t it? To claim her as mine. To let her lipstick defile my mouth as if I’d drunk a mouthful of blood from her artery. I deepen the kiss, my hand near her hip curling into a fist, pulling her dress along with it.

I can almost make out the crowd roaring even louder than before. Or maybe it’s the roaring sound of my heartbeat in my ears. There’s a sick sense of pleasure to have Mercy like this.

She’s hardly resisting. Her hands snake inside my coat, wrapping around my waist. She can pretend to hate this, she can pretend she would rather keep our affairs private, but the pleased sigh that I nearly miss over the crowd solidifies that she’s just as smitten as I am.

Except I didn’t have to try to have her killed to realize that.

The thought is a bitter crumb, polluting the moment and seeping into the sweetness of her tongue against mine. I break away from our kiss but keep a cocky smile on my lips so as not to have Mercy question my train of thought. Her lipstick is smudged, and my cock can’t help but twitch at the sight.

I drag my thumb under her bottom lip, fixing it, and she does the same to me. From the corner of my eye, I notice my signet ring on her finger catching the sun’s rays.

I snatch her hand and keep it near my mouth. Dragging my tongue over the skin next to the ring, I then press my lips to it as I keep my gaze fixed on Mercy.

“You never took it off,” I murmur into the ring.

It’s not a question.

Her eyes turn glassy as if I’ve triggered too many conflicting emotions for her to manage all at once.

She shakes her head.

While I study her, I let the sounds of the enlivened city fill the silent space between us.

It makes me think that maybe, there was always a part of her that never believed she would ever go through with it. Never believed she could ever send her god to claim me.

I latch onto that hope for the rest of the afternoon as I keep Mercy as close to me as possible, showcasing my claim on her for every person in Pravitia to witness.