by Jane Kindred
“The rest of you, clear out,” barked the officer in charge. “You’re through doing business here.”
“This is my building,” Silk objected. “If I want to let them sleep here, I have every right.”
“Suit yourself,” said the angel. “But this property is under surveillance, and if any further business continues here, you’ll all be rounded up and shipped to the mines in Eastern Zevul. And that notice had better stay in place.” He shoved a copy of the writ at Silk and strutted away.
Folding the notice and stuffing it into his pocket, Silk headed inside with the others, who were visibly discouraged. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.” His thoughts, however, were preoccupied with Phaleg’s betrayal, and he avoided going back up to the apartment until one of the boys came to see if he was all right.
He said nothing in front of the boys, waiting until he and Phaleg were alone in his room. Phaleg reached for him, but Silk took a step back.
“Is everyone all right?”
“Is everyone all right. That’s a very interesting question, Phaleg.”
The angel flinched at the use of his proper name. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is that you’ve apparently been spying on me. That you suspected me of being behind a conspiracy against your precious principality.”
The color drained from Phaleg’s face. “Shit.”
“Shit. That’s your response.”
Phaleg put his hands in his pockets in a defensive gesture. “Stop repeating everything I say back to me.”
“Then stop saying stupid things!” Silk turned away from him and folded his arms on top of the bureau, staring at his reflection: a demon fool who’d allowed an angel to humiliate him instead of humiliating the angel. “You got the Stone Horse shut down for good.”
“What? Silk, I swear to you, I knew nothing about the raid this morning. I never authorized anyone to shut you down.”
“Then what did you authorize? You haven’t denied having me spied upon. Or suspecting me of sedition against the Supernal Crown.”
“Silk…”
“Did you or didn’t you have me spied on?” Silk met his eyes in the mirror.
Phaleg ran his fingers through his fair curls and sighed. “Yes, I did. There have been threats made against the supernal family that couldn’t be ignored. I asked Belphagor to keep an eye on what was happening here.”
“Belphagor!” Silk whirled about.
“I didn’t know what else to do. I knew he’d be discreet.”
“You could have spoken to me!”
Phaleg folded his arms. “You weren’t exactly speaking to me at the time.”
“Is that what this is about? I humiliated you, so you decided to take revenge?”
“No. This wasn’t about you. Please believe me. I wanted Belphagor to tell me you weren’t involved.”
Silk resisted the urge to fly at him and scratch out his eyes. “And if I had, if I’d been doing a little side business setting up meetings for liberationists, I’d be on my way to Palace Square to be hanged right now.”
“No one’s going to be hanged. It’s the supporters of Grand Duke Lebes who’ve made the threats. I just needed to show the principality he couldn’t trust—”
“Couldn’t trust whom?”
Phaleg swallowed. “Demons.”
“Get out.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Get OUT!” Silk sprang forward, propelled by fury, and Phaleg took a step back with a look of alarm. “Are you an imbecile? Take your precious angelic ass out of this demonic apartment. And stay out of the fucking Demon District. Go find yourself a lily-white, gilded, squeaky-clean angelic officer to fuck you in the ass.”
Phaleg’s expression had gone stony and supernal. He picked up his coat from the bed and let himself out without another word.
Silk slammed the bedroom door and turned around to push back against it, seizing his hair at the roots. He wanted to tear it out, wanted to beat himself for being such a pathetic fool. He slammed his head back against the door and then slumped to the ground with tears springing to his eyes at the unexpected pain. But the unexpected pain wasn’t the throbbing in the back of his skull, it was the twisting in his gut and the sharp ache in his ribs—because it sure as hell wasn’t his heart.
Vasily stretched under the soft sheets in Gaspard’s guest bed, relishing the feel of the expensive fabric slipping over his bare skin—and over his morning erection. But what he’d heard at the Brimstone the night before came back to him, swiftly diminishing it. He threw off the sheet and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and gripping the mattress. Maybe he’d misunderstood somehow, misinterpreted Kezef’s words. Kezef was a conniving bastard, after all. His gut, however, said he’d understood perfectly. He wondered if Belphagor had “lost” him last night.
Vasily gripped the sheet beneath him more tightly and felt it rip. Shit. He’d have to reimburse Gaspard. But whatever the outcome of Belphagor’s disgusting “game”, he damn well wasn’t going to present himself to Kezef to be violated. They could both go fuck themselves.
Not wanting to go home, he headed for Silk’s place. Gaspard was reluctant to see him go, as though he’d imagined this had been the start of something more. He kissed Vasily on the cheek with far greater intimacy than he’d demonstrated before, making Vasily a little uncomfortable. Had he inadvertently led Gaspard to believe their association was something more than professional? He’d have to make things clearer to him next time they met.
But when he arrived at the apartment and heard the news about the raid, he forgot all about Gaspard. “Why would Phaleg raid the place again?”
Silk looked over at him sharply from where he sat on the edge of the bed while Vasily stood just inside the door. “What do you mean again? You knew it was him behind it before?”
Vasily cringed. “I—I’m just assuming—”
“Ruby.” Silk’s ice-hard voice silenced Vasily’s stuttering. The demon searched his eyes, and his own looked betrayed. “You were the spy, weren’t you?”
Vasily rubbed at his arms, wishing he could disappear into the floor. “Belphagor asked me to keep an ear out.”
“Did you supply those names to Phaleg?”
Vasily shook his head. “No. I mean… Phaleg was away. I told Bel…phagor…” His voice fizzled out in a deflated rumble.
“Oh, Ruby. How could you?” Silk didn’t look angry. He looked like he might cry.
“It wasn’t to hurt you, Silk.” The sheen of unshed tears brightened the gray eyes. Dammit. Vasily went to him, sinking to his knees beside the bed. “I’m so sorry. I should have told Bel no.”
“Oh, hell, Ruby. How could you possibly have told Belphagor no?” He swiped at his eyes. “I don’t blame you. Or Belphagor, even. Phaleg probably put him in a tight spot.”
Vasily rubbed Silk’s arm in a gesture of comfort. “Where is Phaleg? Wasn’t he with you?”
Silk’s arm rippled with tension beneath his hand. “He was. He spent the whole night here, acting as if nothing were going on. Taking from me, like the selfish angel he is. He even had the gall to act surprised when the raid went down.”
“Are you sure he was behind it?”
“Who else would have been? He was spying on me—using my own friends to do it. And besides, the officer in charge of the raid confirmed it.” Silk pressed both palms against his brow over his eyes. “But that’s not the worst of it.” Vasily waited while Silk remained silent for a moment, scrubbing his hands down over his face in a gesture of defeat before he went on. “The Stone Horse is closed. We’re done.”
Vasily’s stomach tightened. “What? What do you mean? How can it be closed?”
“Phaleg’s men—they brought a writ of prohibition. Claimed the brothel’s activities were illegal. The writ’s posted out front. If a single patron steps through that door, we’ll all be sent to the mines.”
Vasily let out a low growl. So that
was why it had seemed so quiet. Even this early in the day, there were always a few customers.
“All those demons were depending on me.” Silk’s shoulders slumped. “Things have gotten bad on the street, and this was their only safe haven. They’re down there right now waiting for me to come back and tell them it was all a misunderstanding and they still have jobs. And a home.”
“Belphagor won’t let this happen,” Vasily growled.
Silk looked up at him with disbelief. “Won’t let it happen? It’s happened, Ruby. It’s done. And you and Belphagor helped it happen.” He shook his head as if Vasily were simple. “Without facets coming in, I can’t pay Belphagor his rent. And as much as he’ll probably protest that I don’t need to pay, that he’ll keep me and the boys here—what am I now? A washed-up, used-up sissy whore at twenty-two.”
“I thought you were twenty-one.” Vasily cringed at the black look Silk gave him. “You’re not washed up or used up. Don’t say that.”
“You’re impossibly naïve. Why is everyone I know impossibly naïve?” Silk shook his head with a look of disgust. “It’s not my problem if you can’t deal with reality. I might as well pack up and head for outer Zevul on my own. Maybe I can play the boy for those fucking pedophiles we got shipped out there.”
Vasily had to curl his fists at his sides to keep from slapping him. But before he could tell him exactly what he thought about that nonsense, a knock on the door briefly preceded Belphagor opening it. He looked from Vasily to Silk and back again as if to ask Vasily whether they’d spent the night together. Vasily was still on his knees. He started to edge himself up onto the mattress, then decided Belphagor could bite himself and relaxed once more.
“I heard about the raid, and I came straight over. The Brimstone was raided too.”
“The Brimstone?” Vasily gaped at him, forgetting he was pissed. “When did that happen?”
“Early this morning, around the same time as the raid on the Horse, I gather.” Belphagor regarded Silk, who still hadn’t said a word to him. “Are you all right?”
“You mean why haven’t I been dragged through the streets as an accomplice? Well, surprise, Prince of Tricks, I had no idea what had been going on at the Stone Horse right under my nose.” He glared at Vasily. “Any of it.” He rose, tightening the sash on his dressing gown. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to pack.”
“Pack?” Belphagor threw a baffled glance at Vasily. “Where are you going?”
Silk began opening drawers in the bureau and tossing things onto the bed. “With the Stone Horse closed, I’ll have to find somewhere else to peddle myself.”
“Closed?” Belphagor followed him to the bureau and put a hand on his arm to stop him, and Silk jerked from his grasp with a dangerous look even Belphagor heeded. “Sorry. Just slow down a minute and tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s going on is that you and your self-righteous angel got your own brothel shut down. Congratulations.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Phaleg had it closed?”
Silk smirked. “How telling. You recognized him from the description without missing a beat. He ordered the raid, and the raid came with a writ of prohibition.” He picked up a wrinkled sheet of parchment from the top of the bureau and handed it to Belphagor.
Belphagor perused it with a frown. “When did Phaleg get back?”
“Last night. But you knew that already. You gave him the names Vasily provided.”
Belphagor’s head shot up. “No, I didn’t. I haven’t even spoken with him.”
“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Vasily came by here last night, and I told him I was busy with Phaleg. He wouldn’t have kept that from you.”
Vasily cleared his throat, but Belphagor said it first. “Vasily wasn’t with me last night. I thought he spent the night with you.” He met Vasily’s eyes with his “wingcasting face” firmly in place.
Vasily crossed his arms. “I slept at Gaspard’s.” He wasn’t about to offer him anything more. Let Belphagor think what he liked. Let him imagine Vasily bent over a fancy chaise longue with his pants around his ankles taking it up the ass from Gaspard all night long for all he cared.
“I see.” Belphagor glanced at Silk, who’d taken a satchel from his wardrobe and begun filling it with the clothes from the bureau. “Stop packing, dammit. Please. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, and we are not giving up the Stone Horse. There’s no law against prostitution.”
Silk shrugged. “Writ says there is. ‘Public solicitation’. I don’t see how the inside of a brothel is public, but I guess if anyone’s allowed in…” He shrugged again and sat down in the midst of his pile of clothing, looking exhausted.
Belphagor had that calculating look on his face. “But if membership were exclusive, not just anyone would be allowed in.”
“Membership?” Silk shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
“What if we close the Stone Horse brothel, abiding by this writ, and next week we open the Stone Horse, gentlemen’s entertainment club?”
“We were a gentlemen’s entertainment club.”
“Yes, but there would be no prostitution at this club. No one would be paid for sex.”
Silk’s normally well-groomed hair hung in his face, and he blew at it with irritation. “Exactly what point would there be in giving it away for free?”
Belphagor smiled. “The gentlemen admitted to the club would pay a monthly membership fee, giving them access to the facilities to engage in whatever consensual activities they please. And if that happens to include letting the club’s entertainers suck their cocks or going downstairs to enjoy some time at the whipping post, it’s all perfectly legal. The entertainers would never solicit a member, never take facets from one. Their time would be booked by members, and their salaries paid by you for unrelated services. In fact, members would be under no obligation at all to book the company of an entertainer. Once their fee for use of the facilities is paid, they can do what they like, even with a companion they’ve brought with them. I’m sure there are plenty of demons—and angels—who would be willing to pay a decent fee to have someplace to go where they could be free to be themselves, besides the rent-by-the-hour tenement houses in the Devil’s Doorstep.”
Silk leaned back with his hands braced behind him on the bed and crossed his ankles, swinging them in a boyish manner. “Belphagor of Raqia, you are positively diabolical. I have half a mind to get down on my knees and polish your knob for free, right now. Except I’m still mad at you for sending Ruby to spy on me.” He gave the airspirit a pretty pout, but it was clear Belphagor had won him over. Vasily had to admit, it was damned ingenious. He’d be offering to get down and polish Belphagor’s knob himself if Belphagor weren’t a complete bastard who’d spent the last evening using him like facets in a game of wingcasting.
It was painfully obvious on the walk back to the Brimstone after lunch with the boys that Vasily was furious with him, and Belphagor had no idea why. He tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t seem like jealousy of Gaspard, but Vasily finally broke the silence himself.
“So are you still master of the game?” There was a decidedly snide tone to the gravelly growl.
He was careful with his answer. “The game was interrupted by the raid. We’ll have to have a rematch.”
“Well, that’s good, then. No need for me to pack my things just yet.”
“Pack your things?” Belphagor slowed his steps. “Where are you going?”
“Anywhere, Belphagor.” Vasily stopped to deliver his name with a growl that made it clear Belphagor was in hot water—if the use of his full name and the flame in the firespirit’s eyes hadn’t already told him. “Anywhere but here, where I’m nothing but currency in your game.”
Oh, crap. He considered playing stupid, but he’d obviously already done that. “Vasya, listen—”
“Listen?” The ground nearly rumbled under their feet. “Now you want to talk to me? You cavalierly bet me, like a t
hing, without even bothering to tell me you’re playing a tournament against Kezef, of all demons! And now I’m supposed to listen to you?”
“I did not bet you cavalierly.”
“Ha!” The heat that came off him as he expelled the word nearly singed Belphagor’s eyebrows.
“I didn’t have a choice. Kezef put the lives of the girls from the Fletchery on the line.”
The flame crackling in Vasily’s pupils faltered. “The Fletchery?”
“The girls who were sold off last summer when it was shut down. He knows who bought them, and he claims they’re in danger, that it wasn’t just some brothel who picked them up—as unpleasant a prospect as that would be in and of itself.”
Vasily paced in a circle. “But you bet me, Belphagor. To Kezef.”
“He promised all you’d have to do is show up at his place, and it would be your choice whether you wanted to stay for the night and abide by his rules. He thinks he’d be irresistible to you.” He held up his hand as Vasily started to form an angry retort. “But one thing I’ve tried to teach you at the gaming tables is that I never play a game I’m not certain I’ll win. And I will never lose you. Do you understand me? You are mine, and I would never let anyone else have you without your consent. And certainly not Kezef. You should know that by now. Or do you not trust me after all?”
Vasily blinked at him, the fury abated somewhat, but his expression troubled. “I want to trust you, but I thought part of trust was that you would always tell me the truth instead of keeping things from me because you think you know best.”
Belphagor blanched. Vasily was right. And he’d known it was a violation of Vasily’s trust but had just assumed he wouldn’t get caught. “Shit. As usual, I shut you out, after I’d promised not to.” He ran his fingers through the spiked tips of his hair. “Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me?”
They started to walk again, and Vasily kept his head down, hands in tight fists in his pockets. As they neared the Brimstone, he finally glanced up. “That was pretty awful what you did.”