A Dance Macabre (Perverse City #1)

47. Wolfgang

47

WOLFGANG

A t the bottom of a short flight of stairs, I open an industrial-looking door and enter The Tea Room. Now that the threat to our lives has been publicly—and privately—handled, we are finally able to traverse the city freely again.

Our victory has brought with it a fresh air of relief. I’ve been in dire need of stretching my legs and visiting someone who does not currently have my heart in a vice.

I’m looking forward to a night out with Aleksandr. I’ve been unable to see my best friend since his mother’s funeral. I even had to miss his birthday this year, a few days before Tithe Season began, due to the increase in security.

The Tea Room is another one of Aleksandr’s many bars around Pravitia. It’s a speakeasy known for its elaborate cocktails but much smaller than Vore.

The venue is packed as always. There’s nothing more alluring to common folk than the promise of depravity at a bar owned by the servant of excess.

The candles on every table and ornate sconces near the low ceiling create a dark but inviting atmosphere. There’s an understated opulence to the place with its large private booths and ceiling dripping with plants hanging from chains and wooden beams.

Nodding to the hostess, I hand her my coat before heading to the far back of the bar. No need to look for Aleksandr here, the corner booth is always reserved for him and his entourage.

I find him in conversation with some vapid leeches, a pink short-sleeved shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his tattooed chest, leaning back into the booth. By the look of the vacant boredom on his face, he’s anything but amused.

When he spots me approaching, he only needs a quick flick of his fingers for the gaggle of sycophants to disperse. While I wait for the table to clear, his hand disappears under the table, and I can only surmise that he’s signaling to whoever is under it servicing him to stay put.

Which reminds me …

“I forgot to mention,” I say while I slide into the booth. “The law against us six fornicating has been nullified.”

Aleksandr’s face slips from bored to shocked as he straightens abruptly. “What?”

“By the divine word of the Oracle,” I say with a smooth lift of an eyebrow.

This time, both of his hands disappear under the table, shoving whoever is down there away from him. The helpless rube lands on his side on the floor, body fully sprawled out. Quickly gathering himself, he doesn’t even glance back to Aleksandr before scurrying away.

“What do you mean the Oracle said so?” Aleksandr says while he zips himself up, hazel eyes questioning.

I let out a small sigh as if his interrogation is taxing me. I signal for a drink before answering. “Allegedly Mercy and I were always meant to … become an item.”

His shoulders fall. “Just you two, then.”

“Any of us. The law has been dissolved. Something about our generation ushering in a new era for Pravitia.”

“A new era?” Aleksandr mutters. He smooths a hand over his mustache while he takes in the news. “So that means …” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence for me to know what he’s insinuating.

I grin and nod.

He falls back into the booth, crossing his arms while his expression turns hopeful. Looking up at the ceiling, he appears to lose himself in the possibilities of what this means for him.

His gaze snaps back, a stern crease between his eyebrows. “And you forgot to tell me? How long have you been sitting on this information?”

I purse my lips, avoiding eye contact for a few breaths. A bourbon on ice appears in front of me, I take a slow slip before answering.

“Two weeks.”

Aleksandr’s palms flatten on the table while the upper half of his body leans in. “ Two weeks ? ”

I shrug, but there’s a small twinge of guilt tickling my throat. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Was that before or after my mother’s funeral,” he presses.

Heavy silence. “A few days before.”

Aleksandr huffs and returns to leaning his back against the booth, arms crossed.

“Well now you know,” I reply a little dismissively while straightening my cuffs, feeling slightly attacked. I shoot him one of my most dazzling smiles. “Consider this a belated birthday gift.”

I take another sip of my drink, the bourbon warms my throat as it goes down smoothly. Aleksandr continues to glare at me.

“So you and Mercy,” he finally mumbles.

I nod. “So it seems,” I drawl. Falling silent, I consider not telling him the recent turn of events and keeping Mercy’s betrayal to myself. Even after all of this, I feel protective of her.

In spite of this, I relent.

“She tried to have me killed,” I say nonchalantly. I pick at an invisible piece of lint on my sleeve. “We’ve resolved it now.”

Unfortunately, his confusion signals that he won’t be dropping the subject like I hoped. “How did she even manage that? Hiring someone to kill you would go against damnatio memoriae.”

“Dizzy offered.”

Surprising me, Aleksandr bursts out laughing. Grabbing the bottle of vodka chilling on ice, he pours himself a fresh drink while still chuckling to himself.

“What’s so droll?” I hiss through my teeth.

His eyes lift to mine, full of mirth. “Beloved servant of idolatry betrayed twice over. Must sting.”

I suck on my teeth and look away. Aleksandr’s right, it does sting. Discovering that a handful of my followers were colluding against me was a hard blow to the ego.

And then to have Mercy involved.

I’ve had better days.

“That’s behind me,” I say dismissively.

Aleksandr slowly stops laughing, his face falling serious as he studies me over his glass while he takes a slow sip of vodka. “Why would you continue to trust her after this?”

I let the electronic beat of the music wash over us as I chew on my inner lip. I play with the condensation of my glass. Avoid his interrogating stare. Take a sip.

Finally, I slide my avoiding gaze to his.

“I don’t,” I say. Sighing deeply, I tap a finger on the table and look away. Eventually, I focus back on Aleksandr. “But does it matter? When now even our gods would fail to keep me away from her.”