When the heaviness of Valarie's gaze left my body I shifted my line of sight to the Emporium. A shiver ran down my spine and an icy sensation crept through my limbs like frost. I possessed truesight and I saw exactly what was before me, what this Gentleman's Club looked like.

The Emporium was for those otherworldly beasts my kind served, the Horned Gods, and ruled by Zielenski, the youngest son of Dimitre, head of their Upper House who oversaw the brothel arm of our empire.

Those Horned Gods who patronized the Emporium either arrived by car, dropped in from beneath the cover of dark clouds, or crawled up from the earth and entered from the dungeon. This place was a bordello. It was the Horned Gods' playground, where they could fuck to their hearts' content or gnaw on flesh and bones to fill their bellies. And many of them were famished, especially the ones who awoke from hibernation to attend the Witches Ball.

I swallowed, my eyes rounding and peering through the thin veil of magic that enshrouded the castle like mist blanketing a bleak moor. In awe, I skimmed the flying buttresses to the stained glass windows set within elaborate tracery and pointed arches; the flamboyant facade and its dahlia patterns with curls and counter curls that were woven like delicate lace, right up to the bell tower and the series of enormous spires that sliced through the sky like lethal blades.

It was deceptive in the way it almost seemed as if it were a crumbling castle that had been restored to its former glory. But the Emporium was much, much older and I suspected it to have once belonged to Sirro himself.

The eerie shadows whorled along the bones of the building like smoke pluming upward to stain the sky in a swirling midnight vortex. A deep glamour, the kind the Horned Gods wove around themselves, had been sown around the Emporium. It hummed, the vibration against my skin like the drone of bees. The ancient stone had a pitted effect that reminded me of snake skin, and the building itself seemed to breathe as if it were alive. Indeed, I felt as if it had turned its mind's eye upon me and was staring downward, wondering if we were fashioned from the same fabric of darkness.

The vibration against my skin intensified. The loud, thrumming pulse emptied my mind of every single thought. All I was left with was a deep craving to stare back at the Emporium.

Like sang to like.

Both of us were forged from ancient power and it wanted a closer look at me.

My hips swayed forward and I almost stumbled toward it as if a silken thread connecting us had been tugged, the darkness urging me to step inside its yawning mouth.

The jarring sound of high heels cracking against brick awoke me from my trance. I snapped my spine ramrod straight, shocked at how quickly I'd fallen prey to the wild magic. Mentally, I braced myself against the probing curiosity of the Emporium. Shoving back at it. Sloughing it from my skin. It could go fuck itself. Along with the Crowthers.

Valarie strode toward the wrought-iron gate. Her tall figure threw a watery shadow over the pathway and poked through the gaps in the stately fence that surrounded the Emporium.

Caidan shot a smirk down at me before he tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his pants. His smirk widened into that same shark-like grin he'd pulled moments before, and it reminded me for a moment of Graysen and the mask he wore around his family. "Come along, Wychthorn," he commanded, with a smug wink. Pushing into motion, he hastened to catch up with his aunt, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I followed behind like a docile pet within a flock of shifting bodyguards.

My ears pricked when I heard Valarie murmur to Caidan, "Unfortunate timing. It's a shame he'll miss out on this."

"It'll still work whether Gray is here or not," he reassured her, speaking just as quietly.

Before I could think, or even dare to open my mouth and ask what the hells was going on, we'd reach the doorman who stood beside the gate. He opened it up to allow us entry to the flight of steps that led to a lacquered black door guarded by a second doorman. Both men were there to act as a double entry system to persuade those who weren't welcome to turn around and leave the way they'd come.

Valarie pinched her skirt to lift it higher as she ascended the steps after Caidan, and I trailed behind amidst the bodyguards. My neck itched and I dug a finger beneath the rope to soothe the patch of inflamed skin. The rough fibers rasped against my knuckles as I scratched away. The noose seemed to be even more irritating. Perhaps simply because we were here at the Emporium.

The grand door was opened by the second doorman before we'd reached it. The two Crowthers stepped inside and I followed, my eyes widening. Our footsteps echoed inside the foyer, the sound reaching up into the cathedral ceiling. Here, at the very least, the building resembled a Gentleman's Club, which actually did front the Emporium. However, it wasn't for mortals. This place was for the Houses, for those men and women from the upper ranks who came to catch a glimpse of the Horned Gods. Much like our own homes, the foyer was steeped in old-world furnishings.

The door shut quietly behind us and the natural light pouring in from outside died. The insides of the building were just as elaborate in decorative architecture as its facade, but it had been furbished in a way that gave its intimidating air a softer touch. The tones adorning the foyer were a palette of hunting greens and navy with touches of gold, and down a grand staircase swept a running rug in cherry red. From what I had heard from my father about the Emporium, the ground level was dedicated to the Gentlemen's Club. It had the usual rooms set aside for the elite: accommodation for overnight stays; a bar and dining room; a library, billiards room, and spaces set aside for reading, socializing, and gambling.

A soft murmur of voices and laughter drifted on the backs of warm air. The heat of the day was retained within the foyer. Odd, I mused. Surely inside it should have been cooler due to the stone and airy space? But it wasn't. Already a sheen of perspiration glistened on Valarie's skin, a deeper golden hue than her nephews. Sweaty beads prickled beneath the heavy weight of my hair. Intrigued with my surroundings, I glanced to the side and through an open doorway. My gaze was drawn into the room by the chink of ivory balls striking one another and the squeak of someone chalking their cue stick. The room was large, with an open fireplace and billiard table. Cigar smoke wafted up into the air and seeped out into the foyer tickling my nostrils. A group of men, gathered around the green velvet table watching the match, cast curious glances our way. There were faces I remembered and faces I did not. And then they were abruptly gone from sight as I carried on after the Crowthers.

Valarie tilted her face to her nephew striding beside her as they moved deeper into the foyer, their shoes meeting antique rugs and their footfall softened by the loops of wool. She arched an eyebrow. "Has he transferred ownership of Zrenyth's rope to you?"

Caidan's locks of hair ruffled as he shook his head, puffing out an apologetic breath. "Ah, no. Things got a little messy when I arrived to join him. He'd just got the call to meet Mela and he left without doing so. We can't manipulate the noose while he's away."

I startled. My hand dropped away from scratching my neck to hang uselessly by my side. I hadn't even thought that Graysen could transfer the ownership from him to someone else. And now I was utterly grateful that he hadn't. The next thought had my gaze shooting over my shoulder to the front door of the Emporium. If I was free to roam, I might be able to run. My muscles bunched as my body soared straight into flight mode, on the cusp of springing into action and bolting.

I could take off right now.

An awful sinking feeling dragged along my bones.

What was the use?

I wouldn't get any further than two steps before the Crowthers, with their heightened speed, caught me, not to mention all the bodyguards standing between me and freedom. Even if I did manage to escape, all Graysen needed to do was simply will the rope to cinch tighter and it would cut the air supply from my windpipe. Wherever I was in the world, I'd fall to my knees, my fingers scrabbling at the rope strangling my throat.

Valarie stopped walking. The pleated fabric of her black lamé dress clinging to her thin frame sparkled in the dimmer light inside the Emporium as she turned toward me. A flurry of icy fear raised all the fine hair over my body at her venomous smile. "Yes, you're right," she said slowly, speaking to Caidan but staring straight at the rope around my throat. "But we can still make it work to our advantage."

Unease slithered along my limbs like a snake coiling around its prey. I knew we were here in the hopes the Crowthers would obtain an invite to the Witches Ball. But there were many steps to make before they'd get to hold an invitation in their hands.

First, they needed a Goods Appraisal, whereupon the Butcher would poke and prod my body, weighing up all my qualities, and advise the Witches if it would be worth their while to auction me off at the Ball. The only way they could obtain a Goods Appraisal was if I piqued the interest of one of the Horned Gods here at the Emporium.

But there was something else at play. I felt it in my guts.

The Crowthers also needed to break my father so he'd hand something valuable over to them. They needed it so desperately that they'd collared me with a rope that would remind him of the gallows.

It wasn't until the Crowthers slowed their pace and came to a standstill that I realized we weren't alone. I stepped flush between Valarie and Caidan.

A young woman stood at the foot of the staircase. Her gossamer dress floated around her tall, lithe figure like a gauzy cloud, and with her blue hair and even brighter blue eyes, unnatural in their perfection, she was ethereal.

We all knew who she was.

Well, who she'd once been.

Lila Simonis.

"Welcome," she greeted us, bowing before me as was expected when meeting a Wychthorn. Her voice had a strange quality, like a whisper of wind running through reeds, the barest tinkling of rain on a tin roof. Melodic in its sweetness. She straightened and addressed Valarie. "Your lady's maid arrived earlier and I have everything ready for you up in our rooms."

"Thank you," Valarie replied, politely inclining her head.

Caidan hooked a finger into the stiff collar of his shirt and tugged, cursing under his breath at the heat trapped inside the building. He leaned in closer to his aunt and informed her in almost a whisper, "I'll speak with Zielenzki."

Lila interjected as if he'd been addressing her. "He's waiting for you in his office." She twisted her upper torso to gesture toward the end of the foyer where a servant, dressed similar to herself in layers of sheer fabric, stood next to a door. Caidan flashed Lila a boyish grin before breaking into a walk, striding past the staircase and toward the servant, his bodyguards departing with him.

"If you'd like to come this way," Lila invited Valarie. She didn't wait for an answer, but turned around and strode ahead, simply expecting us to follow. We trailed in her wake as she moved up the staircase. We reached the first floor and my breath caught in my throat at the magnificence of the arcade we entered. Sweeping arches and enormous pillars supported the ribbed vault overhead. Along the passageway were statues. Some were carvings of ancient mortals from different periods and others displayed weapons and armor from the Houses with their insignia stamped on the stiff metal, until we'd blended magic with weaponry, and we began weaving on looms with threads woven with adamere to create flexible armor.

As I walked behind Lila, I became fascinated by the waves of her hair swaying gently with her graceful gait. The thick mane wasn't dyed. A hairdresser would never be able to achieve this look that was so natural, with various subtleties of blue, darker and lighter, shimmering as if shafts of sunlight had penetrated the depth of the ocean. And her eyes too, as she cast a quick inquisitive glance over her shoulder at me, were just as strange. Not a single fleck of imperfection marred the irises. They were a pure Prussian blue. When I checked my truesight, there was no glamour woven over her.

She'd been a small child with brown eyes and brown hair when she entered a dark forest that served as a prison. For fifteen long years, she'd been trapped behind a fortress of trees with something so terrible and awful, that the Horned Gods had cursed a family to forever act as guards to ensure those locked inside would never break free.

And Lila had done the impossible.

She'd not only survived but she'd also been released from her indenture.

Over a decade later she'd returned to our world different looking. Blue hair and blue eyes and porcelain skin so pale it should have shown the webbing of veins, but it didn't. Her wavy hair was long, reaching the dip in her spine, and thick, too thick, and it hid her entire back.

Halfway down the arcade, Lila suddenly turned outward and stopped at a door. She pushed it open and stood aside so that we could enter the room. Judging by the various ornate full-length mirrors, duchesses, and open wardrobes cluttered with feminine attire and shoes, this was a dressing room. My attention went straight to the other girl in the room patiently awaiting our arrival.

A zing of surprise ricocheted against my ribs.

Penn stood in the middle of the room in her old-fashioned uniform, as neat and orderly as the tall black trunk beside her polished heels. And perhaps not the servant Valarie expected to see here. Valarie's mouth thinned. She stopped and turned to talk quietly to one of her guards, so quietly I couldn't hear what she was saying.

Ignoring her, I focused on Lila Simonis. She and I were about the same age. The last time we'd spoken was months ago at a birthday celebration. Much had happened since then, and as I'd done at the celebration, I was curious to ask more questions of her.

However, as my gaze skated over her dress, I realized Lila was dressed for the oppressive heat trapped inside the room better than we were. Up here on the first floor with the heat rising upwards, it was even hotter. The muggy heat was so tiring to wade through all I wanted to do was sink into one of those lovely-looking armchairs and curl up like a cat and go to sleep. I approached the taller girl who was staring at me boldly and without shame. "Why is it so hot?" I asked, unable to prevent myself from sounding like I was petulant and complaining.

"The heat causes the Horned Gods to be more lethargic and relaxed. Less prone to take offense or to fight amongst themselves. It makes life here...a little bit easier."

I grinned. "Cunning."

A smile graced her mouth. "Yes, I suppose it is."

Valarie's low raspy voice had me swiveling back around to face her. "May I trouble you for your assistance in one more matter?" she asked Lila, then angled her chin toward the doorway, silently adding, outside.

"Certainly," Lila answered in her strange melodic voice. She strode toward Valarie, the gossamer dress billowing behind her like faerie wings as she exited the room ahead of the older woman.

Valarie lingered a moment longer at the threshold of the room, her fingers twisting the pearl pendant between their tips. She cocked her head and scanned my figure slowly, assessing and considering. Though she spoke to Penn, she kept that sharp-edged gaze pinned on me. "When I return, Penn, I expect her to be ready." Apprehension expanded in my chest at the eagerness shining in the depth of her violet eyes.

Penn asked in that soft, quiet voice of hers, "Is there a particular dress you'd like her to wear?"

Valarie's pink lips pulled into a slow, deadly smile. "Turn her into moonlight."