Page 11 of A Dance Macabre

Whatever one’s gambling vice, Pandaemonium can satiate the craving. A sprawling array of gaming tables takes up most of the space, while sheets of red gossamer hanging from the ceiling cloak each table, creating an illusion of privacy.

The casino’s real attraction, however, is the large carousel in the middle of the room. A cyclical parade of dark-winged horses, eyes red like blood, slowly circling round and round and round while a disjointed and slightly unnerving fanfare accompanies it.

It’s an eyesore.

And where Gemini Foley is known to collect his secrets.

A distinctive laugh floats up from one of the poker tables. I follow the sound, shrugging my fur coat off one shoulder as I approach.

Gemini is busy pushing a hefty stack of poker chips into the middle of the green felt table when I walk up. His hair is freshly bleached white blond, the fishnet crop top he’s wearing peeking out from under a black satin tailcoat. I sit in the empty chair to his left without bothering to greet him.

His slim arms are extended, torso leaning over the table when he looks at me from the corner of his eyes with a smirk. “I was hoping you’d visit tonight, love.”

I raise a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug, snapping my fingers at a passing server for a drink. “You asked me to.”

Straightening back into his red velour seat, he takes a theatrical sip from his champagne coupe. His multiple rings clink against the crystal glass while his other hand is busy toying with his cards.

“When do you ever listen to anyone but yourself?” His gaze sparkles with levity as he waits for me to respond, the eyelinersmudging his bottom lashes brightening the color of his eyes. One green, one blue.

I cross one naked leg over the other and press my lips together in tempered annoyance. “I was nearby.”

He hums, studying the table, then leans over to peer at my heels—the ones I specifically wear when answering the call. He grins, straightening back up. “Collecting tithe, I see?” he asks before signaling for another card.

I nod but don’t say anything further.

Being his infuriating self, Gemini flashes me another amused look and gives my nose a small tap with his index finger before sprawling into his seat like a leisured king on a dais. If he were anyone else, my dagger would be lodged deep inside his pretty neck.

“Little bird told me you and Wolfie had quite the scuffle last week,” he drawls.

I roll my eyes, a dirty martini finally appearing in front of me. I take a slow, savoring sip before answering. “Those little rodents of yours sure love to gossip.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I’d rather not rehash it. Just the thought of him makes me ill.”

“With the Conclave next week—” Gemini stops mid-sentence, straightens in his seat and points a black-painted nail to a player across from us, directing his attention to him. “I’d oblige you,” he says slowly, “to think otherwise, love.”

The man blanches. “I didn’t do anything,” he stutters indignantly, his eyes darting this way and that. Anywhere but my friend’s piercing gaze.

Gemini’s eyes flutter closed while he inhales deeply before his attention snaps back to the panicked fool. He lets out a delicious hum and says, “You lie so sweetly.”

“I swear Mr. Foley, I’d never cheat!” the idiot babbles, his squirrelly eyes wide with terror.

Gemini leaps out of his seat and slowly starts to step onto the table, mischief in his expression as the grifter shrieks, cards flying high into the air as he tries to get away when I notice a flash of pink in my peripheral.

The contact of my hand on Gemini’s sleeve has him stopping in his tracks. He cants his head my way, eyes hard but a wide smile on his lips.

“Tinny will take care of it,” I say flatly, nodding my head toward her.

Gemini’s brows raise in delight, his head turning to watch our friend approach the table. Constantine, also known as Tinny, skips as she rounds the table in her platforms, her pink miniskirt matching the pink bows on her knee-high tights, blonde hair bouncing over her bare shoulders.

“How fun!” she says, her voice almost doll-like. “I only came here to play a round of cards, but I see the gods have offered me a little treat!” She claps her hands excitedly, her wide smile beaming. “I’d love to take care of him for you, Gem.” She giggles, winking playfully before turning to a towering man behind her—donned in all black—and holds out her hand. “Albert.”

The man stays rigid and stoic while handing her a morning star—a club-like weapon with a spiked ball attached to a chain. The shaft has been covered entirely in pink rhinestones, and the chain is a soft baby pink. There’s no mistaking who is the rightful owner of this particular weapon.

Gemini climbs off the table and settles back into his seat, daintily raising his coupe to his lips as I take a sip of my own drink.

The insipid commoner, flanked by Pandaemonium security, has nowhere to run and visibly shakes as he awaits his fate. He barely has time to react before Constantine takes a large swing with the morning star, the spiked ball whistling through the air before it lodges into the side of his face with a gratifying crunch.Blood sprays out of his mouth, a tooth or two flying out on contact.

His body swivels abruptly, somehow getting tangled in the red gossamer hanging behind him. We watch silently as he struggles like a fly caught in sticky fly paper before finally crumbling to the ground.

Constantine hands back the weapon to Albert and straightens her pigtails with a satisfied sigh. “Back in a jiff!” Constantine sing-songs before having Albert drag the man into one of the back rooms while she skips behind him.

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