Plague of Death

by D. L. Armillei

  “You’re coming with me,” he said.

  Van was more than happy to oblige, although worried about Brux, she knew Daisy would be there to care for him. Van wanted to spend more time with Ferox, to get to know him. It would benefit the relationship between their tribes—at least, that’s what she told herself.

  “Are you feeling well enough to walk?” Ferox asked.

  Van wanted to say no, so he would hold her in his arms again, but instead, she nodded, and Ferox led her away from the downtown, and deeper into the island.

  “Where did you go?” Van asked, and then scolded herself for sounding like a jealous girlfriend.

  “I’ll show you,” he said, with a sheepish grin.

  They arrived at a sprawling two-story house, large enough to be considered a mansion. The front of the house had open porches with fancy white rails and stately white pillars on the lower level. Van assumed the house was used as the island’s medical center.

  Before Ferox took the first step up the expansive front stairs, a stunning black-haired woman wearing a sexy silk robe swung open the double doors and meandered onto the porch to greet him.

  Ferox clasped Van’s hand and led her up the stairs. He nodded to the brunette as if they knew each other. Then he and Van strode past the woman and went inside.

  On the way in, Van glimpsed a discrete metal sign by the doorbell that read: Treasure Chest.

  Chapter 31

  Van scrutinized the woman who opened the door to the Treasure Chest, wondering if she posed a threat to her and Ferox’s potential relationship.

  She could clearly tell the woman wasn’t wearing anything under her loosely tied silk robe. Van couldn’t determine the woman’s age, but if she had to guess, she would say early thirties.

  The entryway opened into a foyer that acted as a casual living room. A candelabra and lanterns with candles cast enough light for a relaxed ambiance.

  After the ordeal in the funhouse, Van never thought she would want to see dim lighting again. But here, she was happy about it. The shadows hid her blushed cheeks as she took in the detailed paintings hanging on the walls. They depicted men and woman performing various sex acts, some showed two women and one man, others were of orgies. They also passed sexually explicit statues.

  Ferox and Van followed the shapely brunette through the large foyer room.

  Colorful flowering plants gave the house a pleasant, sweet smell and toned down the scandalous artwork. The majority of plants had clusters of beautiful six-petaled blue and white lotus flowers. Hidden speakers played music that sounded like a soft blend of flutes and tinkling water.

  They passed by women who were lounging on fainting couches, sitting in cushy high-back chairs, or standing while looking provocative, none of them paid any mind to the trio. The women were dressed in various styles of lingerie, some wore bustiers and ruffled skirts with slits up the sides, and all of them wore spiked heels and sparkling jewels. Many displayed entirely bare chests or had at least one full breast showing.

  Van turned a brilliant shade of red to the tips of her ears.

  Ferox gripped Van’s hand as they continued to follow the madame to the back of the foyer, toward two spectacular stairways that hugged each side of the wall, sweeping up to the second story that, together, formed the shape of a heart. The top of the stairs joined to form a balcony.

  The madame directed them to an archway beneath the balcony that had a beaded curtain instead of a door.

  On the wall above the archway, Van gawked at a stunning mosaic of a circle enclosing equilateral triangles intertwined to form a six-pointed star. Although the mosaic didn’t illustrate naked people having sex—a welcome relief—Van still had no desire to see what lay behind that beaded curtain.

  She tugged her hand out of Ferox’s clutch. “Why’d you bring me here?”

  The madam gasped in delight. “Oh!” She clasped her hands together. “She’s as beautiful as an Elemental! You sure you don’t want to sell her to us?”

  “No,” Ferox said, sternly. “Just medical treatment as I prearranged.”

  “What?” Van took a step back. “I’m not letting her touch me.”

  The madame was unaffected by Van’s reluctance.

  “Van, this is Madame Vang,” Ferox said. “Madame Vang, meet Vanessa Cross.”

  “Don’t tell her my name,” Van said, taken aback.

  “Pleasure, my child.” Madame Vang reached out to shake Van’s hand.

  Van recoiled. “You’re not a doctor. You’re a-a-” Van wasn’t sure how to say it and not sound offensive.

  “She’s not a prostitute,” Ferox said. “Not like the kind from the other world.”

  “Certainly not.” Madame Vang retracted her meticulously manicured hand.

  “They’re demimondaines,” Ferox said.

  “They’re what?”

  “We are closed for training,” Madame Vang said. “There will be no patrons visiting us until later tonight. You will be safe here.”

  Van had been so distracted by the establishment overall that she hadn’t noticed there were no men present.

  “Come.” Madame Vang offered Van her hand. “I will tell you about the demimondaines, and you will be happy.”

  Ferox leaned close to Van’s ear and whispered, “Relax, will you? I’m trying to help.”

  His warm breath on her ear and his throaty, masculine voice sent a wave of excited chills through her body.

  Madame Vang pulled the beads aside. In the process, her robe opened exposing a tattoo on her pelvic area, just below her belly button. Van saw a red snake entwined with a gold snake, rising upward to form one, larger serpent.

  Van gasped. “That tattoo,” She knew pointing was rude, but did it anyway. “My stepmother, she has the same one.”

  Madame Vang looked pleased. “I will tell you about your stepmother’s tattoo. Then, perhaps, you will let me treat you as your boyfriend has thoughtfully taken care of the expenses in advance.”

  Van stammered, no audible words left her lips. She had too many questions, and they seemed to get stuck trying to come out all at once.

  Genie’s a demimondaine? Is my stepmother a paramour? Why would Ferox think I’d let a prostitute give me medical care?

  Ferox is not my boyfriend.

  “Perhaps she is much sicker than we thought?” Madame Vang looked concerned as she noted Van’s inability to speak.

  She gently clasped Van’s hand and led her and Ferox through the beaded door and down a long hallway to a room with a single bed covered with white sheets and a matching blanket. The room was predominantly white, giving it the sanitized appearance of a hospital, but accented with colorful trinkets, gorgeous corals, liquid-filled ampules, and jars holding powders that were placed around the room on the bureau, desk, and nightstand.

  A hand-embroidered wall hanging read, “The treasure is within.”

  Madame Vang instructed Van to lay on the bed.

  “But, I’m bleeding.” Van pointed to the bloody spot on her shirt and then lifted it to display a blood-soaked bandage. She didn’t want to stain the pure white sheets.

  Ferox saw the blood and became agitated. “Lie down and let Madame Vang treat you.”

  Van wanted to believe he truly cared about her and wasn’t just pretending to so she would get him the Cup. Her heart ached over this thought. She turned away from Ferox so he wouldn’t see the concern in her eyes and held her stare on a beautiful piece of peach-colored coral.

  Madame Vang noticed Van’s interest in the coral. She picked it up and held it in her palm, giving Van a better look at it.

  “It’s sometimes hard to think of corals as colonies of animals, but they are.” She gazed at the branch-like piece, caressing it with the fingertips of her other hand. “In the sea, this coral is alive, using sunlight to make sugar for energy and nourishment. They build tiny calcium houses for themselves that stack on top of each other to form larger structures that look like stone.”

  She stopped st
roking the coral and raised it to eye level. She seemed forlorn. “It’s heartbreaking that in the Earth World these little animals are being destroyed by terrigens…they neglect their environment, their oceans. If they continue on this path, our world will also become affected.”

  “No wonder the Balish want them…eliminated,” Van said, warming up to the madame.

  Ferox shifted uncomfortably at Van’s statement, but he said nothing. He must’ve known Madame Vang told the story to win Van’s trust. He seemed satisfied that it worked.

  “Please, lie down,” Madame Vang said, in a soothing tone, as she placed the coral back onto the shelf. “Next, I will tell you the story of the demimondaines and of your stepmother, whom I believe I will be familiar with since we are a small circle. If you are satisfied, only then will I treat you.”

  Nothing could keep Van off the bed now. She had to know Genie’s story. She found it impossible to believe that her stepmother had anything to do with this madame.

  “The serpent tattoo is the mark of a demimondaine,” Madame Vang said. “A woman belonging to the demimonde or social class of those who are kept by wealthy lovers or protectors.”

  “No.” Van fiercely shook her head as she lay on the soft, white bed. “My father knew Genie as the palace healer at Balefire.”

  “Genie?” Madame Vang seemed deep in thought, trying to recall the name.

  “Her real name is Iphigenia,” Van said.

  “Yes, I see,” the madame said. “Genie is her nickname.”

  “Iphigenia Prenda?” Ferox raised his brow.

  Van nodded.

  “She was no palace healer,” he said.

  Madame Vang winced.

  “Well, yes, she was the palace healer,” Ferox backpedaled, not meaning to have insulted the madame. “But also much more. She tried to rip my family apart. I wasn’t born then, but I remember hearing the stories, still rehashed when I was a child.”

  “Iphigenia Prenda.” Madame Vang seemed to be searching her memory. “Yes. She was King Nequus’s lover.”

  Ferox already knew this but still looked stricken.

  “She’s your stepmother?” Ferox asked Van. “I always assumed my mother had her killed.”

  “So, that’s why Genie was in the woods the night she met my father.” Van turned to Ferox. “Your mother must have found out about their affair.”

  “Then she was fleeing for her life…” His voice trailed.

  “Demimondaines are often placed among the wealthy as healers,” Madame Vang said with skilled timing, smoothing the conversation, so no one was made to feel uncomfortable. “We are not well-liked in common society but are highly regarded among wellborns and royals. We are exceedingly skilled at what we do.”

  “I still don’t understand. You said you’re kept by wealthy lovers. Doesn’t that mean you’re a, um—how does that fit in with healing?”

  “Ah, yes, I see.” Madame Vang turned on her training-mode. “Seduction is considered a form of healing.”

  “Great sex can be very healing,” Ferox said, earnestly.

  Van felt her cheeks turn pink and she shifted on the bed.

  Madame Vang placed the underside of her wrist on Van’s forehead, checking for a fever.

  “They’re a magical faction, and their numbers are few,” Ferox continued. “Because of their scarcity and high demand, demimondaines are used by the upper classes, including the royals.”

  “The magic we use to enhance our skills is allowed by the Balish, in both sexual acts and for healing.” She gestured for Van to turn on her side and face the wall, then carefully began to remove her blood-stained bandage.

  “How do you use magic for—that?” Van winced from the pain.

  “We change our personality and use magic to alter the coloring of our appearance in a chameleon-like way to make us more desirable to our customers.” Blood streamed from Van’s wound, soaking the white sheets.

  “Do I need stitches,” Van asked.

  “Stitches?” The madame sounded offended. “How barbaric.” She applied pressure to the wound using both hands and a fresh cotton strip.

  Van twisted as she laid on her side, so she could watch what the madame was doing and to keep both of them in her line of sight.

  “We create potions to block pregnancies and to make sexual relations more fulfilling—for both parties.” Madame Vang flashed a seductive glance at Ferox and then turned her attention back to Van. “We master many skills—sexual prowess, acting, blending in, socializing, being a good hostess. We are also experienced in appearing non-threatening.”

  “They’re considered dangerous by some.” Ferox sat in a nearby chair, seeming to relax now that things were progressing nicely. “Because of their ability to bend men to their will without them knowing it.”

  “What brought you to Outlaw Island?” Van asked Madame Vang.

  “Our kind comes here to be freed from the rules of society, to be our own women.” Madame Vang reached for an ampule on the night table. “Many of us are sold into the life at a young age, most as babies, by our parents or guardians. Some hope to escape their fate. But once trained, we are drawn to the lifestyle, it becomes part of who we are. It never leaves us. Here, we can choose to stay in the house and take many lovers. We ply our trade on our terms, outside Balish rule.” She ever so slightly tilted her head in apology to Ferox.

  Ferox gave a curt understanding nod.

  “I was once the madame of the great house in Osney, Antares. The most widely recognized and respected house for demimondaines. The Treasure Chest is not an officially recognized house.”

  Madame Vang poured a bright orange liquid over Van’s wound, catching the drip with a hand towel.

  “Ouch.” Van flinched from the stinging liquid.

  “I am very selective. I train my ladies until the age of nineteen, and then they will ply their trade.”

  “Why nineteen? We become adults at eighteen.” Van winced as the madame patted the excess liquid from her wound.

  “Ah,” Madame Vang raised her eyebrows at Ferox. “Of course. She is Lodian.”

  “In Balish society, we come of age at nineteen,” Ferox explained.

  Madame Vang grabbed a different ampule and poured an amber-colored liquid onto a cotton square.

  “You train them in healing?” Van felt stupid as soon as the words left her mouth.

  “Demimondaines are taught the lifestyle of companionship, this involves knowledge in the healing arts, including working with potions,” Madame Vang said, again showing her skill at smoothing over awkward bumps in the conversation.

  “We use this knowledge to create secret elixirs infused with magic to prolong our youth and vigor.”

  She dabbed the cotton on Van’s injury, the liquid soothed her throbbing wound.

  “I am sixty-four years old.”

  Although flabbergasted by Madam Vang’s age, Van’s thoughts went to Genie. Now Van understood how her stepmother had remained uncannily youthful over the years. Both Madame Vang and Genie looked phenomenal for their age—although she realized Genie might be much older than Van thought. This spurred Van to add another item onto her list of things to do: get the secret ingredients to that potion.

  Madame Vang read Van’s expression. “We are forbidden to share our secrets under penalty of death as ruled by the great house.”

  Madame Vang began to gather several jars filled with powders.

  “This rarely happens, as we are too selfish and competitive to share our secrets with women outside the demimonde.”

  She scooped small amounts of powder from each jar into a mortar.

  “Most are ambitious and use their skills to advance their position in life by going after a long-term relationship with the wealthiest of men. We call these men marks.”

  Ferox snorted. “My father likes to drink. He looks for sexual partners who can also be drinking buddies. How could Iphigenia—or any demimondaine—be able to keep fit and healthy while handling his lifestyle? And is
it worth it, just to be kept by a king?”

  “We train to become immune to the negative effects of alcohol. If we choose, alcohol can have a mild relaxing effect, but it never impairs our judgment. We are equipped to handle all situations.”

  Van remembered Genie’s sudden interest in a special morning beverage with her new boyfriend. Her stepmother had told Van the drink was “not for children.” Now, Van realized the libation contained either alcohol or a magical youth elixir. Probably both.

  “And my stepmother, Genie?” Van asked. “Did she target my father, was he a mark? They had a long-term relationship. Marriage.”

  Madam Vang used a pestle to refine and blend the powders. “Demimondaines are power hungry seductresses, full of selfish enthusiasm.”

  Van noticed Ferox tighten his jaw. He leaned forward in the chair, moving his hand ever so slightly toward his concealed dagger.

  “Look what happened to wash upon my shore today.” Madame Vang’s eyes darted to Ferox. “None other than the Balish Crown Prince.”

  She turned to Van. “And, I presume, the Lodian’s fabled Anchoress.”

  Chapter 32

  Van shot upright in the bed and stared wide-eyed, terrified by what Madame Vang would do with the knowledge of her and Ferox’s true identities.

  The madame had already admitted that ambition played a part in her trade. How would she leverage this information?

  Ferox rose from his chair, his shoulder’s tense. “What more do you want for your silence? I’ve already paid you well.”

  Madame Vang smiled serenely. “I’ve no desire to further myself any more than being here, at the Treasure Chest. You’ve no need to fear me. Your identities are safe. And yes, you have taken care of me with abundance.”

  Her knowing stare at Ferox—like they shared an intimate secret—caused Van to glare at him with accusation.

  “With coin,” Ferox added, a bit flustered by Van’s unspoken claim. “Money. Nothing else. I paid her with money.”

  Madame Vang grinned watching their exchange. She held the mortar and pestle but hesitated to apply the medicine.