Page 7 of The Devil of London

I’d watched through heavy eyes as Merikh and Khaos slaughtered an entire assembly of creatures without breaking a sweat, then Khaos had removed the restraints and I’d sensed his uneasiness. After he had freed me, I had bashed-in their heads with my bare hands, one after another. Rivers of blood had run throughout the theater as I freed the others. I shook off the memories and swallowed past the pain they created.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

Blowing the air from my lungs, I reminded myself why I was here and that I’d be in and out quickly. I grabbed the lip gloss from my purse, flipped down the visor mirror, and applied a coat before rubbing my lips together. The thick mascara and smokey kohl liner I wore caused the moss coloring of my eyes to pop against my darker complexion. Having Turkish ancestry had blessed me with a warm, medium complexion with bronze undertones. I’d inherited my lighter hair color from my father, who had the same dark caramel blonde with natural rose-gold highlights throughout it. Pushing a few strands behind my ears, I tried to make it look as if I hadn’t half-assed my appearance for the date tonight.

I hadn’t dressed up for my stop at The Sinner’s Den, but I’d agreed to meet up with Cameron in person tonight, which I’d been refusing to do for months. That was why I’d applied cosmetics and taken time with my appearance—at least, that was what I kept telling myself. It had nothing to do with stopping here to see Khaos, right? This was stupid. I shouldn’t have come here on a Friday night in a tiny minidress that barely covered my ass. Amber had convinced me to wear a short, crimson-colored, spaghetti strapped Cami-style dress. It was sure to be noticed I was dressed to draw an eye toward me. I was such an idiot.

Chiding myself for being worried about nothing, I forced myself to leave the vehicle. As I pushed my door closed, I caught the sound of moaning nearby. After turning toward the sound, it took a second for me to realize what I was seeing, but then I felt color staining my cheeks. A man was plowing into a woman on the hood of a luxury sports car not ten feet away from me and in full-view of everyone waiting in line. They’d apparently given up on waiting until they reached one of the upper levels of the club before fucking.

Shrugging, I headed toward the club, crossing between the bumper and fender of two cabs before stepping onto the sidewalk by the entrance.

The overwhelming scent of cologne, hairspray, and bad ideas hovered in the breeze. I came to a stop at the front of the line, scrunching my nose up at the annoying scents. The women, who were shamelessly flirting with Malik and Rue, finally moved to the back of the line and I stepped up to the red stanchion rope that kept the crowd behind the barrier line.

“I don’t care how tight, delicious, or wet your pussy is for me to fuck it. Go to the back of the line, sweetheart,” Rue muttered.

“Somehow, I don’t think Nasir would like it if I allowed you to touch my pussy, Rue.” Both men tensed before swinging their gazes toward me. “Hello, gentlemen. It’s been a while.”

“Aderyn,” Rue whispered, drifting his gaze down my frame as a low whistle left his lips. “You clean up well, Miss Caine.”

“As do you.” I gave him a smile, which dropped as I turned and saw the look of hurt simmering in Malik’s indigo eyes. “Hey, Malik. Miss me?” I didn’t expect a warm reception. It wasn’t as if I’d left on good terms with any of them.

“You’re not on the list, Aderyn. You know he doesn’t like it when you show up without invitation,” he said, with bitter anger hanging off each word.

“I had an issue today at the Bad Witchery,” I informed, fighting the hurt his cold, sharp dismissal caused, then turned back to Rue. “It seems there is a group of men here who have been told they can do whatever they’d like, which happens to be awfully bad things to me and my girls. Nasir explicitly informed me that if I took issue with any of the people he was bringing in, I was to report it to him directly.” Sure, he had meant to call him, but I had. I had tried calling several times, but he’d sent my calls to voicemail.

“You could call him,” Malik offered as he crossed his arms over his massive chest, digging his heels in.

“I’ve tried,” I returned icily. “Do you honestly think I’d be here if I had another avenue to take?” He flinched, but I didn’t let up. “If I thought I could handle it elsewhere, I’d have gone there instead. Nasir doesn’t take my calls unless it’s a scheduled meeting, Malik. They have already assaulted me, and they keep returning to the shop daily. My shop isn’t the only one they’re terrorizing either. Nasir’s job as head of the syndicate is to protect his denizens from any who would harm them. Is it not?”

I waited for him to send me away. Undoubtably, I could have delivered my message to Malik and walked away, but I wasn’t being blocked because I wasn’t on a damned list. I was being blocked because of their hurt feelings, and that wouldn’t do—not when they’d ignored mine and treated me as if I’d never existed.

“Fine, but when he wants to know who let you in, tell him you snuck in,” Malik stated as he bent to undo the golden clasp on the rope. Lifting, he swallowed loudly before stepping back to allow me through. “You left us, Aderyn. All of us. Not just Nasir.”

I had known that, of course, yet him pointing it out had tears stinging my eyes. “Not willingly, Malik. I asked for space and time to mend. I never asked to be severed from all of you. Only him. But with Nasir, if I’m not beneath his boot, I’m not welcomed.” Passing Rue, I smiled tightly, noting his frown grew heavy with a worried look in his midnight-colored eyes.

“You’re not intending to murder anyone, right?” Rue asked, and I just winked, which caused a groan to leave his lips before he tapped the screen of his phone and lifted it to his ear. “Hey, get a dozen body bags ready.” His eyes slid down my frame as I waited for the doors to open and admit me. “Add a few more. Aderyn’s here. Yeah, I know that never ends well, asshole. Alert Merikh and have them prepare for whatever ensues.” Ending the call, he gave me a lopsided grin before nodding at the man who waited in front of the doors. “Open the doors for the lady, asshole. You are not getting paid to eye-fuck her, are you?”

As the doors parted, the scent of alcohol, weed, and sweaty bodies drifted out. Rihanna’s “S&M” pounded from state-of-the-art speakers suspended around the large, open dancefloor with red velvet booths arranged around the edges.

On a wall, several dancers’ silhouettes were visible through red curtains. The entire wall mirrored stacks of boxes, each one with a dancer dangling at a different angle. Another wall had women in short skirts and pasties spinning slowly in cages for the entertainment of those watching. They’d flooded the entire room in red lights, with neon signs flashing “Desire,” “Sinners,” and “Fuckin’ Send It.”

The bar, which was a work of art, had girls on suspension ropes lifting to retrieve top-shelf liquors. The shelving went to the ceiling of the first level and there were lights behind the bottles, which allowed a peek at the rooms behind them, which were definitely more sexual if the nakedness I could discern through the openings was anything to go off. The entire club hummed with sexual energy, and I remained rooted in place at the staircase leading down to the main floor.

Scanning the farthest doors, I narrowed my eyes on theVIP Onlysign. Next to it, one read: “I don’t do drugs. I am the drugs,” and yet another read “Red-Light District”.

The club was ten stories of sin, each having a theme. The highest one was off limits to the public since it was where the dancers lived, or exclusive members of the club could stay. Beneath it was where Damaris Page ran her brothel, which was by special invite only. The eighth floor was Merikh’s, which housed an illegal fighting ring. The rules were simple. Either you won or you died trying, and anyone wanting to bet, better come with cash in hand. Rue and Ryat ran the seventh floor, which was where you could pick up any illicit substance you craved. They specialized in creating shit that even immortals could get high on. They’d mastered alchemy and taken a keen interest in getting fucked up. Often. The sixth club was where immortals dined on humans. It was Malik’s thing. Of course, the mortals had to be willing, which most were. On the fifth floor, you would find Aaryn’s opium den, and that was where you went after you’d gotten the drugs from Rue. They were, if nothing else, responsible drug dealers. D’Arcy, who oversaw the fourth floor, which was referred to as the Salacious Club, dealt in explicit kinks. It was a total fuck-fest. Khair ran firearms and specialized in black-market military equipment from the third floor.

The second floor, or main floor, was the night club. It was just the cover for Nasir’s illicit activities, and it was the only one open to humans. You had to be heavily connected or invited on the arm of an immortal to make it to the other floors. Either that, or be dinner or entertainment for them. But the sublevel, or the first circle of the nine realms of hell, was Nasir’s personal haven of sin. If you took all the other floors and meshed them all together, you’d have the real Sinner’s Den, which was where I was heading.

Starting down the stairs, I moved out of the way of an inebriated couple, heavily groping one another as they made their way outside. Lizzo’s “About Damn Time” began pumping through the speakers as I slid past the gyrating bodies blocking the way to the elevators. When I finally reached them, I pushed the button, only the light didn’t change. I frowned, pushing it once more.

“You need a keycard to go to the lower level,” a dark, smokey voice announced. Sliding my eyes toward Khair, I smirked. “It’s been a while, Aderyn. Thought you’d never return to the fold.”

“I’m not returning,” I replied. Khair originated from the Middle East, but he’d never actually disclosed which region he was from. “There was an issue at the Bad Witchery today. I’m merely here to get it resolved.” His amber-colored eyes crinkled with amusement before he slid them over my outfit and then swiped his card for me.

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself to feel better about doing so,” he murmured as he slid his card over the card reader. “You know he won’t be happy you’re here tonight. He’s been in one of his moods lately.” The elevator doors opened, and we stepped inside together. The moment it closed, it shot down several floors, which told me the club was a lot larger than anyone knew. As it came to a stop, I stepped out into a subterranean hallway, which looked like the Basilica Cistern in Istanbul.

The floors were glass and offered views of an underground river rushing beneath them. They’d placed lights beneath the glass to reveal the leylines of magic pulsing with vibrant scarlet prisms. From where I stood, they looked like lightning bugs with fire in their bellies. Pillars lined the walls, and Reyn Hartley’s “Bow (Slowed)” played from the room at the end of hallway.

---