“Shh, bébé. The door to the cabaret is just overhead.”
It was darker here, and the scent of cold stone was overlaid with a fine patina of spilled liquor and echoes of cheap perfume and something else. Something rotten. A shimmering rectangle of gold light limned a trapdoor in the ceiling, and as I looked up, pounding feet sent dust to scatter over my cheeks.
“What’s it called?” My own voice startled me in the darkness, almost overbright with worry I could no longer hide.
“Paradis,” Vale said. “It means—”
I gripped the bludbunny foot in my pocket. “Paradise. I know. But probably not a paradise for me.”
“Madame Sylvie’s not so bad. She doesn’t hit her girls, at least. She won’t allow opium or absinthe or bludwine among the performers. And the daimon girls are . . .”
I could hear his smile, the ass. “Accommodating?” The word dripped icicles..
He cleared his throat. “They’re lovely girls. Just watch out for Limone. That name’s no coincidence. Sour as hell, that girl.”
Looking up at the trapdoor, I pinched my cheeks and rubbed my lips with the back of my glove, hoping to bring some pink to the surface so I wouldn’t look like the grime-speckled, scared-to-death monster I was.
Vale put a hot hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
I drew myself up tall, as if pushing back my shoulders could send the filth dripping off my back like a discarded cape. “If my only choices are giving up on my best friend and going back to the caravan or becoming a star in the cabaret while I hunt for her, I choose cabaret. All the way.”
“You’re crazy, bébé. And I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it.” I smiled, then frowned. My mouth didn’t know what to do with the odd mixture of excitement, terror, and expectation. “You don’t think they’ll mind me?”
He snorted and rubbed dust off my cheek with a wide thumb, sending unexpected shivers down my skin. “A pretty girl in a cabaret? No, I don’t believe they will mind at all.”
That wasn’t what I meant, and he knew it. “Where I come from, they consider me dangerous.”
Vale held up his pendant, and the green glow bloomed between us. Honestly, he looked as nervous as I felt. “They’ll take you in because you’re beautiful. They’ll keep you because you’re talented. And because you have fangs, they won’t try to take what you don’t wish to give.” His eyes met mine and went soft under long lashes.
I swallowed, digesting his words. “And what about you, Vale?”
Looking up at the trapdoor as I just had, he gave a lopsided grin that made his teeth a ghastly, electric green that reminded me of ghosts and raves and phosphorescent waves in the ocean, of too many things roiling under the surface. “I told you, bébé. I don’t want what isn’t given.”
The green still meant he couldn’t see me blush. I hoped. “Not . . . that. Up there. Are you coming with me?”
Reaching up, he flicked a lock and threw back the door, blinding me with lights as hot and welcome as the morning sun after an endless nightmare. “You heard my father. I have no money. I can’t go home, either. So I’ll follow you to Paris and Paradise.” He winked. “You’re going to need my help finding your friend, bébé. It’s a big city.”
Bits of feather and glitter fell down from the shaft of light, and someone called, “Oh la la! Careful, chérie!”
My heart leaped, hearing my friend’s name. Vale’s hand on my shoulder reminded me almost instantly that chérie was one of the most common words that might be uttered in a cabaret. Darling. Dearest. People might be calling me that soon, if things went according to plan. A shadow appeared, and I put up a hand to shield my eyes. The face that peered down through the explosion of light was shamrock green, dusted with diamonds and graced with eyelashes as long as plumes.
“Quoi?”
“Bonjour, darling!” Vale called, with lusty cheer that made my hackles rise.
“Vale? But why are you coming in the back door? You know that is not allowed here.”
His face burned bright red, and the daimon laughed gaily and held out a hand clad in an emerald-green elbow-length glove. He recovered quickly, at least. “I’ve brought a surprise for Madame Sylvie. Let us up, will you, Mel?”
The face disappeared, and Vale nudged me toward the ladder with a gentle push that involved the warmth of his hand searing my back. Twitching my long bustle behind me, I took a deep breath and climbed upward into the light. Before, I would have been vexed that he was watching my butt. Now I was careful to move gracefully, making the skirts sway with my hips. Why I wanted to impress the vagabond, I wasn’t exactly sure. Maybe it was the way the daimon’s eyes had twinkled at him with secrets fondly remembered and excitement over future possibilities. Or maybe it was the memory of every single touch we’d shared and the fact that he had been about to kiss me before a mutant mole-rat tried to kill him. Maybe it was because he was the only friend I had here, and I’d already told him half my secrets, and if my ass would keep him close, I would take whatever advantage it gave me.