Page 107 of The Darkness Within Us

“I told you, I don’t want you throwing more insults my way. I can’t—”

“I won’t. We’re taking a new approach. You have”—I look at the clock on the wall—“four hours to compile all that you wish to. Then we’re going out together.”

“Out?”

“Yes, to a brothel.”

CHAPTER 22

“This is a terrible idea,” Eryx says as the four of us stand outside the entrance to Zanita’s.

“Yeah, he’s going to kill someone,” Argus says unhelpfully.

“He’s not going to kill anyone,” I say. “That’s why you two are here. To make sure that doesn’t happen. If you can’t do that, then I see no reason for you to be here.”

A look of panic crosses Dyson’s face. “We can do that. We are the best at that! We absolutely need to be here.”

“Then let’s not delay any longer.”

“Wait,” Eryx says, staying me with an outstretched hand. “How is this going to work? What exactly do you intend to do?”

“Just relax and follow my lead. I have already devised the perfect cover story.”

“Yeah,” Dyson says. “Chrysantha has thought this all through. You should really be more trusting.”

“And you should stop thinking with your prick,” Eryx fires back.

“If Chrysantha can help you get this under control, you can start thinking with yours!”

“Dyson!” Argus bellows before Eryx has the chance.

“What? It’s not like he wouldn’t be more fun to be around once he can finally get some of that pent-up energy out of his system.”

Eryx looks ready to swing his fist, so I step forward and take his arm.

“If anything starts to go poorly, we’ll leave immediately,” I offer.

“What if I’m exposed?”

“That’s the point!” Dyson shouts.

“Not that kind of exposure.”

“There isn’t a soul in here who we can’t buy off,” I offer. “And most will explain away anything unusual in terms they can understand. The servants at the manor have already done so on your behalf. Now come along, Your Grace. We have an heir to make.”

“Wh-what!” he stammers as I open the front door and step through.

It is just as I remember, from the sensual candlelight to the sweet fragrance of roses. Many of my past lovers sit back on cushioned seats or take strolls about the room. It would seem Zanita has even acquired some new workers.

“Welcome,” Zanita says. “I’m Zanita. What can we do for you?”

I appreciate that she pretends she doesn’t know who I am, though it’s hardly necessary in this case.

“Hello, Zanita. It’s been a while. I’ve gotten myself married since the last time I saw you.”

“Is this the lucky man?” she asks, turning toward Eryx. She doesn’t bat an eyelash at my announcement.

“He is, and I’m afraid we need some help.”

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