Madeline shoots me a deadpan look, but doesn’t say anything while I purposely avoid Zazel’s inquiring gaze.
“Busy with?” Zazel presses, their thumbs hooked in the loops of their baggy jeans.
“Things,” I reply dumbly.
I’m hoping they’ll drop the subject, but I know better than to hold my breath. No one in this city, including my friends, seems as disturbed as I am by what goes on here. I seem to be cursed to see the perturbing reality as it is when everyone else doesn’t. At least back home, my father seemed to see things as clearly as me.
The perversity of Pravitia is intangible, a reality that thins out and disappears quickly in the resident’s mind. It’s then eagerly replaced with the gluttony of excess, found within the Vorovsky territory or the countless mind-numbing orgies in the Carnalis neighborhood. Whereas here, in the Foley neighborhood, mischief and chaos seem to rule the streets. It’s harder to fully capture the essence into a singular image or situation.
The one thing I do know is that, even in a city like this one, there arealwaysoutliers. Outsiders who seek to escape the shackles of polite society. When I linger on the thought, I find it ironic, like a crude mirror reflecting back the same dark urges as the six families ruling Pravitia. The very top and the very bottom,unwilling to conform or submit. However, the glaring difference between us and them is that we run the fatal risk of getting caught—forthem, there’s no such thing as consequences.
“Veil, the hermit,” Antoinette mutters as she stands. “You’re so boring.”
A guilty twinge squeezes my stomach knowing I’ve refused most of their invitations since the Feast of Fools, avoiding all bars and clubs owned by the ruling families,especiallyin the Foley neighborhood. The money I scored burns my thigh through my pocket as I chew on Antoinette’s comment, and I’m suddenly sick of it all.
Sick of hiding. Sick of operating under the paralyzing fear that I will encounter Gemini Foley in the flesh—again.
I can’t live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, living in fear, waiting for him to finish what he started.
“Fine,” I relent. “Let’s go to the casino.”
3
GEMINI
No matter the time of day, Pandaemonium is always filled with liars, cheats, and gamblers. The citizens of Pravitia are riddled with vices, desperate to have them seep out inside one of our establishments, like stale sweat from their pores.
But the wordviceholds no real meaning in a city like Pravitia, when our gods consume the essence of the word greedily from the hearts of its people, like ambrosia as sweet as an overripe fruit.
I let out a bored sigh, leaning my elbow and upper body on the head and neck of the carousel horse I’m sitting atop. My legs are crossed, swung to one side of the dark-winged horse as it gently gallops up and down. Round and round and round the carousel it goes.
Balancing a full coupe of champagne in my free hand, I idly observe Constantine hang her body halfway off her horse. She’s holding on by only her hands, her blonde ponytails grazing the floor as her crazed giggles drift up and merge with the fanfare of the carousel. Flinging one of her legs straight up, she reveals thehot-pink thong underneath her short, pleated skirt, unbothered and most likely hoping someone is enjoying the free show.
Some might say Constantine is an acquired taste, but at least she doesn’t carry herself like the other heirs. Most of whom have always taken themselvesmuchtoo seriously, dreadfully focused on acquiring as much power and notoriety as possible inside the walls of our dear city.
I’ve never been interested in that kind of power.
I find it quite a bore actually.
Then again …
Being the gods’ plaything comes with a lot of perks. The ability to manipulate chaos as I please, for one. Collecting everyone’s secrets is another.
It’s the only kind of influence I care for.
Because who are people without their secrets?
There’s a thrill to finding people’s vulnerabilities. A loose thread in their perfectly tailored facade. And after they so freely offer up their secrets, I just need topullas they unravel, naked before me.
Finally having had enough of the carousel, I hold on to my coupe and jump down, the two long chains hanging on the side of my plaid pants rattling with the force of the movement. Strutting over to an empty poker table, I push the red gossamer hanging from the ceiling to the side and sit down.
The fabric flutters back into place, creating a fleeting sense of privacy and dividing the tables from one another. I have no interest in playing tonight, but I reach for the discarded pack of cards anyhow, snaking a single card over and around my fingers as I take a long sip of champagne with the other hand.
Constantine joins me not long after—Albert, her sentinel, trailing close behind, as usual. She jumps into the velvet seat beside me with a smallOomph. A mojito appears in front of her,brought by one of the staff before her derriere has time to fully connect with the cushion.
“Do you think they’ve fucked yet?” she says out of the blue while signaling Albert to approach.
He steps up to her seat, his square face severe and glowering as he towers over her. Opening his suit jacket, he pulls out a small hunting knife from the inside and hands it to Constantine.
