Page 8 of City of Love

And that was another thing.

“Yeah, about that. Why haven’t you mentioned this to me before? Especially the part about Matthew. Obviously, you’ve got a thing going on with him. How come you never told me about any of this?”

Margot blushed, which was a rare thing. “Look, it’s like the movie Fight Club. The first rule about the other side is that you don’t talk about the other side. With anyone. Which also meant not talking about Matthew. I’ve known for weeks I needed to bring you here, wanted to bring you here. I just needed to convince Matthew and wait for the right time.”

“And tonight’s the right time?”

Margot glanced at Matthew and Lexi followed her gaze. He was giving her a look that was beyond impatient. He drew a fast circle in the air with his index finger letting her know it was time to wrap it up.

“Yeah, it’s the right time.”

Lexi’s nerves pulsed. She couldn’t believe she was about to acquiesce. “Okay, so pretend I’m going to indulge you for a moment here. What exactly are these timers on our wrists?”

Instead of answering, Margot tugged her off the bar stool and over to the roped-off space with the other patrons, tucking into the group and giving Lexi’s arm a gentle squeeze right as the music came up.

It was loud, very loud.

Even if Margot had time to answer Lexi’s last question, which she didn’t, she couldn’t have made her voice heard above the noise. The thrumming, ambient tones were hypnotic and unusual in cadence. Nothing like Lexi had ever heard before. She wasn’t even sure she could rightfully call it music.

Suddenly, Lexi noticed a slight buzzing throughout her body, as if she were filled from head-to-toe with gentle, softly moving bees.

The whole world faded to black.

CHAPTER 4

And immediately grew light again.

The bees stopped their buzzing, and Lexi was still standing with her fellow travelers. Margot stood next to her, one hand remaining on Lexi’s arm, the other still holding the drink she’d brought with her from the other bar.

But Taco Shots was… not Taco Shots.

Right before her eyes the lights had gone down on one world and brightened again on another.

Now, instead of the charcoal gray walls and black leather furnishings of the lounge behind the Mexican restaurant, they stood in a sitting room of forest green walls and heavy golden curtains, with sparse wood furnishings pressed against the walls, leaving room cleared in the center, presumably for their… arrival.

With a gasp, Lexi whipped her head left and right, up and down. “Margot, this is… what the…” She remained planted as the other Taco Shots patrons hustled past her toward the door leading out of the small study, bearing the comfortable air of people who had stepped through this looking glass before.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, as they say.” Margot took her hand and together they followed the others, Lexi’s eyes widening as they entered the main salon.

An expansive lounge in the art nouveau style, the club looked like it had been lifted right off the streets of the Left Bank in Paris. It boasted abundant dark wood carved into the twirling tendril designs of the period, leaded glass throughout, and the classic black and white checkerboard tiled floor.

Several enormous candelabras, aglow with elegant tapers, hung from the ceiling. Oil lamp sconces adorned the walls, and once again tea candles lit every table. The golden light flickered and reflected off the mirrors and hammered silver bar top, adding to the headiness Lexi already felt. A hearth big enough to stand up in graced the far end of the room.

“Welcome to Club Deux Mondes, baby doll.” Margot swept her hand like a gameshow hostess revealing the grand prize. “Let’s get you set up with a cocktail for starters while you take it all in.”

She led Lexi toward the long bar on one side of the room. They pulled up two stools and waved over the bartender. A well-lit mirrored bar back displayed a hundred choices of drink, most of them brands she didn’t recognize with labels she’d swear were handwritten in calligraphy. A sign above the bar spelled out the club’s name. Not Du Monde, like the famous New Orleans café, but rather Deux Mondes. Two Worlds. Right.

She asked for a local beer, figuring it the safest bet, yet unsure exactly what “local” might mean in this case. But as she watched the man fill their orders, she cocked her head. The glasses and bottles he reached for seemed to move across the counter, meeting his reach halfway. Telekinesis? Or were her eyes playing tricks? She caught his eye and raised a questioning brow. In response, he smiled, and with the flick of a finger directed an orange wedge to rise from its bowl and serve itself straight into her drink. Her lips rounded in wonder, but she giggled when the bartender winked and then moved on to some other customers.

Okay, so Margot wasn’t kidding when she mentioned they might be able to help with her sight. Lexi had no idea how common such gifts were here, but obviously, at the very least, they didn’t get people thrown out of their jobs or into a psych ward. Chalk one up for this place.

Still releasing a few nervous giggles, she swiveled around to look at the room. It was bustling, and not only with Taco Shots visitors, but dozens of people Lexi assumed were locals, dressed in a style she could only call modern Victorian. Women wore soft camisoles, gathered and fitted to show off their curves, or corset-style tops with laces and boning, though not quite as severe as a traditional bodice. Below that they wore leather pants, soft leggings, or flowing skirts that allowed easy movement. Many sported low-heeled boots that tied all the way up to just below the knee.

The men also tended toward leather pants, with rolled up shirt sleeves and either brocade vests or suspenders. Many wore their hair long, often tied into a knot at the nape of the neck. Bowlers and top hats hung on hooks at the coat stands.

As she examined further, she noticed the local clothing looked somehow... off. All buttons and no zippers. All cotton, wool, or leather and no synthetics. And everything looked one of a kind, handmade.

“Margot, did we go back in time? And to when exactly? I can’t figure out—”

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