Steiner woke gasping, fumbling, and found that he could not move. Tabby's free hand covered his mouth. When he tried to bite her fingers, she pressed the blade and he stilled. "Hello, Lord Steiner." Her voice was low, sweet. "Death has come for you."

His eyes widened in the darkness, taking her in, lingering over her mask. Perhaps when he'd spoken earlier, he hadn't truly understood what his knowledge meant. Death. After a moment, he relaxed beneath her thighs and she removed her hand.

"Lord Parlow's killer makes an appearance at last."

"If you're looking for remorse, don't."

"Not even a little bit sorry? Too bad."

"Yes. Too bad." Her words came out flat.

"But you came to my bed after all?" He flashed her a knowing smile. "I knew you wanted to play." His hands went straight to her thighs. Wandering hands—hands that wanted to claim her, lavish her with pleasure. "Not really going to kill me, are you, Tabby?" His voice was a low purr. He squeezed.

She snarled. "Give me one reason I shouldn't slit your throat."

"...Because I have something you want?"

She barked a laugh. "I hope you don't mean your cock."

"No—but if you're interested..." His fingers trailed up the insides of her thighs in lazy circles. "How long have you searched? Hmm? Always so close, only to come away empty handed?" He stopped shy of the apex of her thighs. "Let's make a deal, you and I."

"I don't bargain with my marks. Unless you wish to negotiate a quick and painless death, in which case, yes, I'm listening." Her lips split into ferrel grin.

He laughed. She pressed her dagger in warning. "Very well. All right. But it would be a shame to let such a priceless gem to go to waste. You are, perhaps, the only person who can manipulate it? Why else would you want one?" She stilled. "Ah. Now I have your attention. Good."

"I'm listening."

He rubbed her thighs again. She ignored his obvious attempts at distraction. "How about you let me up and we discuss this like...civilized adults?"

"So you can scream? Call for help? Run for the door?"

He chuckled and bucked his hips, pressing the length of his arousal against her. Light! Was he actually enjoying this?! Perhaps he got a thrill from dangerous fuck-mates.

"I always knew you liked it on top, Tabby," he cooed. She didn't respond. "Fair enough. I don't mind it either. Good view from down here." He made a point of looking her up and down, lingering over her corset, over her curves.

She clenched her teeth and removed her dagger, climbing off him. "You obviously want something. What?"

He took his time rising. Lazy movements. Toying with her control. He threw on a robe, leaving a slice of his chest exposed, then took a seat on the sofa. The dying embers bathed him in an orange glow. He patted the seat beside him.

"I'll stand, thanks." She glanced at her hand and added, "Don't think this dagger won't find you if you—"

"If I what?" A slow smile crept to his lips.

"If you misstep." She snapped her fingers and flicked her hand, sending green light to envelop the walls, giving off an eerie glow. It wouldn't last as long as violet, but she didn't intend to take long.

"Impressive." He didn't look impressed. All he did was lean back and throw an arm carelessly over the sofa. "For the noise, I take it? So no one will hear me scream when you kill me?" This was still a game to him. She didn't say anything. "I assume you can manipulate all of them? The colors?" She offered a quick nod. "Yes. Very impressive." When she still didn't speak, he held up his hands. "Fine. I get it. Not interested in my questions. Will you at least remove your mask? I don't need the constant reminder of what you are."

She sighed and pulled the mask away, slipping it into her belt. "I don't have all night, Steiner. You want to negotiate, get to the point. You're waisting my time."

"All right. I'd like to make a deal with you." She crossed her arms, keeping a tight hold of her dagger. She didn't miss the flick of his eyes to the prism in the hilt. "You might be the only person in Candela suited for what I need."

"If you're looking for a job, all requests go through the Spectrum. Take it up with them. They'll decide if it's a job worth doing."

He barked a laugh. "Yes...the Spectrum. A constant thorn in my side. And yours too. And Candela's." From somewhere above, Nit's wings fluttered. Steiner didn't notice. "You see, the Spectrum has outlived its usefulness in this country. Its meddlesome ways are destroying us, our political system, everything we've worked to build. What's the point of a limited monarchy if one party exists to control the other? So much fear and death. There was a time...well, I won't lecture you on history. You already know the particulars." He hesitated. "Come now, Tabby, don't look at me like that."

"Like what? Like you're an idiot?"

He bellowed out a laugh loud enough to wake the entire house. "Yes, I'm sure it looks that way. See, I know what I want. The Spectrum must be eliminated, and you're going to do it for me."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Me? Eliminate the most powerful entity in all of Candela?"

Light! She should have cut his throat and called it a night. This pointless chatter—he was buying time.

"You and only you," he confirmed. Something in his penetrating gaze, in his eyes, was so familiar. So haunting. It set the hairs of her neck on end. Yet, she couldn't quite place it.

She took a calming breath. Then another. And the feeling evaporated. "Let me share some wisdom with you, Steiner. If I may?" The ring of sarcasm in her voice was unmistakable.

"Oh, please do." Once more, he patted the sofa.

She took a seat beside him, using her dagger to clean her nails. "When a child is given to the Temple, it's human sacrifice. You've heard the rumors, I'm sure? I promise you—they're all true. Everything and more."

"Oh, yes. Monsters adopt them and whisper sweet curses into their ears? Then shove a dagger into their hands and send them on their merry little way? Trained killers—the lot of them."

"It's not a joke," she hissed. "Children—each unwanted in their own right—are taken below the Temple. They're fed and petted and made comfortable. Just enough to trust. Then they're locked in boxes, tortured, tormented, exposed to the nightmares of this world. When they come out, their innocence is stripped away. They are left entirely broken. You see, the Spectrum breaks us so no one else can." She hesitated, uncertain as to why she was telling him this. Perhaps because dead men made good listeners. Safe listeners. "These children watch everyone around them die. They become something only shadows whisper about. Those who survive aren't really human anymore. They've forgotten what that means. They don't love. They don't see beauty in simple things. They care about one thing, and one thing only."

Steiner waited, eyes intent, searching her face. "What's that?"

Her gaze lingered over the red embers in the fireplace. "Staying alive," she said, turning to him. "Surviving. Moment by moment. The Spectrum has no use for a Spect who's been compromised. We Spects will do just about anything for self preservation. And I mean anything." Her fist clenched around the hilt of her dagger. "Even this—" She lunged, plunging the blade deep into Steiner's chest, right between his ribs, then twisted.

***

Clarabel Townes listened to the click of the door shutting, then eyed the stack of coins on the nightstand. Frowned. Cheapskate. Fucking prick. She exhaled through her nose, nostrils flaring. Mistress wasn't always insistent on the customers she saw, and because of her reputation, she often saw the better ones. But tonight had been slow. Too many events kept the general public away. Lord Parlow's party. The show at Brixby.

She ungracefully fell off the side of the bed and onto her feet. It stank like sex in here and she couldn't wait to wash every bit off her body. Dressing quickly, she swept the stack of coins from the nightstand and left the room, turning the placard on the doorknob to alert the servants it needed cleaning.

That man had been her last for tonight's shift. She climbed the stars of Willow Lodge and barricaded herself behind her bedroom door. The only good thing about this awful place were the rooms Mistress gave her favored ones. She'd worked for nearly three years to be on that list, sharing with the other girls before that. Only six among Mistress's collection were favored. And it wasn't the room, specifically, but the attached bathing unit, toilet and all, that came with it.

Shedding her experience like a cloak, and also dropping her robes to the floor, she strode across the room, through the door, and drew a bath. She scented it with lavender oil, waited a few minutes until there was enough to sit in, then climbed in and let the rest fill around her. A shudder left her trembling.

He'd been awful—whatever his name was. She made a point of forgetting their names immediately unless they were kind. Too many weren't. And those with unique perversions were the worst. Patrons weren't allowed to cause any physical harm or they'd be reported, never allowed back. But they were allowed to do other things, experiment, say what they wanted. This one—he'd been verbal.

A tear tracked down her cheek. She glanced down at her body. A whore's body. Dirty—he'd made her feel dirty everywhere. Angrily, she dashed the tear away. She never allowed herself more than one. With a deep breath, she stretched her lips into a smile until it stayed, and forced her personality to bubbly. That was the kind of woman people liked—the kind of woman she wanted to be. She refused to let her life break her.

Taking a cloth, dousing it in soap, she began scrubbing. She rubbed until she was pink. She even scrubbed over and over the tattoo on the inside of her forearm, trying yet again for the millionth time to remove it. A willow. The most disgusting thing on her. A symbol of Mistress's ownership.

The money she earned and paid to Mistress each week barely made a dent in her indenture. But she didn't let herself think about the amount of time it would take. If she did...

No. She would continue on this path. She'd pay each week, as she had for years. And one day, she'd become more than a favorite. A desired—a status Mistress had hinted at but no one had ever reached. She'd earn more. She'd find a way to pay her debt. Then. Then she'd be free.