The next night was Monday, the night of the Season Opener party at the Airship Club. The theater hired a whole fleet of carriages to transport the eighth year apprentices and most of the Guild members to the city-wide party. It wasn’t just for fun, though. In a few months, all the final-year apprentices would be looking for jobs, so we needed to network with the other theaters. Nadine had assured me she would make certain I was hired by the Alchemy Empire Theater, but no one else had any such promise.
Thea and I arrived, looking our best—which was nothing compared to the stylishness of the Guild women. But I thought for apprentices, we looked pretty steamy. Thea had bought both our outfits on sale using the most recent guilt money her parents sent for neglecting her.
Her ensemble was a vivid blue taffeta fishtail skirt that molded to all her curves before draping in ruffles on the floor, with a black leather corset that gave her some killer cleavage and black elbow-length gloves.
I also had black opera gloves. But I wore a knee-length black and red striped bustle skirt and a matching ruffle shrug over a black satin corset. I liked it because it made me look like I actually had curves. But not even the corset could give me cleavage like Thea’s.
We exited the carriage in front of the Airship Club and were quickly surrounded by fellow apprentices that Thea had invited to hang out with us for the evening. The other girls cooed over our outfits, and we responded with squeals over theirs. The boys looked pretty fine as well in their frock coats, dress trousers, and brightly-colored vests. Thea and I both craned our necks looking for Raymond.
I would never have admitted it, but I was also looking for Dietrich.
“I found Raymond.” Thea clutched my arm, her voice humming with excitement. Parties were where she came alive.
I followed her gaze and saw Raymond leaning against the brick wall to the left of the Airship Club’s main entrance.
My heart stumbled when I saw him looking so elegant, so steamy. His frock coat was closely fitted, and in a dark color I thought might be a black-brown. It had an arching collar but no lapel, just military style hooks criss-crossing the front in antiqued brass. It contrasted darkly with his golden-red hair, swooped smoothly off his face. His trousers matched the jacket in color, and he had opted for a creamy white waistcoat, high collared shirt, and intricately wrapped and tied cravat.
When he saw us, he shoved away from the wall and tipped his top hat with a darkly-gloved hand. The other hand was hidden behind his back. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, sauntering toward us.
“Nice!” Thea said under her breath.
“Definitely,” I murmured back to her. Then to him, “Good evening, Mr. Carrew.”
We both curtseyed to him, and he bowed in return. From behind his back, he produced two long-stem pink roses. He gave one to each of us. “Not as beautiful as either of you, but pretty enough,” he said, nodding at the blooms.
“That’s so sweet, Raymond, thank you!” Thea brought the flower to her nose and breathed deeply.
I caught Raymond’s gaze and let my eyes express my thanks. I was suddenly tongue-tied, and my pulse quickened when he scanned my figure and then winked at me.
He offered an arm to each of us and escorted us inside. The noise and energy engulfed us as we went through the door. I’d never been to the Airship before, and I tried not to gawk as I looked around.
The lighting was low and warm, and I could hear the band warming up in the background behind the crush of chatter. The club’s brick walls were lined with theater posters, leather goggles, advertisements for airships, rudders, and giant metal propellers. Canvas from air balloons was draped from the lofty ceiling, where brass and iron boiler pipes and plumbing tangled in an exposed maze. All the waitstaff wore smartly-tailored airship uniforms, and there was a large model of an airship suspended over the long, polished oak bar.
Delphine wiggled through the crowd of people and hurried toward us. It galled me how elegant she looked in a dress of beige lace with a chocolate-brown under-bust corset, and creamy silk flowers in her auburn hair.
She gave me a once-over and wrinkled her nose, but didn’t say anything. She had her usual entourage behind her—Bennet Mason, Millicent Walsh, and several other eighth-years who thought she was a regular stunner.
We exchanged greetings, and she pointed toward the far end of the bar. “Presul Wolff and I have a cozy table-for-two back there if you want to come say hello.”
I barely kept from rolling my eyes at her blatant attempt to make us think there was some intimacy between her and Dietrich. Who was the one who’d held him in the dark and listened to the story of his lost family? Oh, that’s right—not her. “I’m sure we’ll be by in a little bit.” I did want to know one thing. I leaned in closer. “Does he have everything arranged for this evening?”
He was supposed to be questioning three other presuls about the Peacock murders tonight. I hoped he came up with something helpful.
Delphine nodded. “It’s all set.”
That was more likely why he’d chosen the out-of-the-way table. Delphine may be crashing it for now, but he’d shoo her off once he started his meetings.
Before Delphine slipped away from us, Nadine made her way over to our little group. I noticed how Delphine hovered near her, looking sadly like a puppy begging for table scraps. But after greeting her warmly, Nadine turned to me.
“Miss Mellor, I’ve been missing our chats over breakfast tea. Will you come round to my apartments about half-past nine tomorrow? It’s so convenient that we all have a day off after tonight’s party.”
Joy brimmed in my heart. “I would love to.”
She kissed my cheeks in the airy way the Gaulians do, and then hurried into the crowd. Delphine glared at me, her eyes glittering hatefully. What had I done now? She stormed away, presumably to the “cozy table-for-two.”
On the other side of Raymond, Thea gave me a questioning look, but I could only shrug.
In the next room over, we found a table-for-three near the dance floor. Not so cozy, but in the middle of our crowd of friends. Raymond was not a noise-and-crowds kind of fellow, but he was holding up pretty well and went to order drinks for us. Thea and I were quickly surrounded by our group, talking and laughing.
When Raymond returned with our drinks, the band started the first set of the night. This wasn’t the music of the ballroom—no proper waltzes or quadrilles here. Nightclub music was highly improper and even scandalous, with “heathenish” drums and steam-powered instruments. The singers were sultry and often scantily dressed, and their songs were drenched in sensuality. Polite Society called it the “music of hell.”
But we theater people were not proper or Polite Society. And we loved it.
Walter Edison and Evelyn Harrison joined us at our table. They were both acting apprentices, and Evelyn was a vicimorph.
“Carrew,” Walter said loudly, “how is the zombie play going?”
“Brilliant!” Raymond took a gulp of his ale. “I’m researching how different cultures control and oppress people.”
“Sounds cheery.” Evelyn made a face.
“I know, right?” Raymond shot back, grinning. “Listen to this—I found out that the Mayans have an actual zombie drug that can control a person’s mind. They give it to widows and then command them to bury themselves alive so that they go with their husbands to the afterlife.”
I detected the thin thread of magic that happened anytime Raymond told a story. Vivid images of the doomed widows flashed in my mind. I was sure everyone else was seeing it as clearly as I was.
“That’s horrible!” Evelyn shivered.
Raymond lifted his glass, as if toasting the barbaric practice. “It’s a sort of hypnotic drug. No taste, no smell. Impossible to detect.”
“I’m going to have nightmares about that,” Thea moaned.
“It’s fascinating, but when will we have a script?” Walter was known for being a worry-wart.
“Soon, my friend,” Raymond said, patti
ng Walter’s beefy shoulder, “patience.”
Walter grumbled something and took a swig of beer.
We talked a bit longer about the eighth year production. Then Raymond set his glass down and held out his hands to me and Thea. “How about a dance?”
I left my shrug at the table and happily followed him and Thea to the dance floor. The song was driving and loud and fun to dance to. I wasn’t that great of a dancer, but I loved giving myself over to the rhythm and the pulse of the music. It was the kind of song that had no set steps. Everyone just got out on the floor and did their own thing. It was a chance to break free from the etiquette and politeness of daily life and go a little wild. The boys especially enjoyed it—frock coats disappeared, and cravats got untied. If they wanted to look presentable later to talk to Guild members, they’d have to go to the men’s retiring room and repair their outfits. But until then, it was time to let loose and have fun.
Colored lights in brass fittings over the dance floor flashed in time to the music, and a steamy haze hung in the air. With my arms over my head, I twisted and whirled, letting the music seep into my body. The others in our group joined us, and everything was a blur of strobing lights and driving sound.
Hands grabbed my hips from behind, and I stiffened. Then a voice said in my ear, “It’s just me.”
Raymond. Relief filled me and I relaxed.
Tipsy on ale and the music’s heavy beat, I rolled my hips backward against him. He rotated them in a figure eight, drawing me closer until my ass brushed his trousers. We moved together to the music, in a pulsating grind that would have had all the members of Polite Society howling in outrage. I couldn’t believe I was grinding—at other dances, just the idea had made me feel ill. But with Raymond, the music pounded in my chest and I felt hot and free.
Soon Walter backed in front of me, and with him came three other dancers. In no time, we were in the middle of a grinding chain. My enjoyment vanished, and I started feeling the old panic.
“Need to leave?” Raymond said in my ear.
I nodded. He pulled me out of the chain and we escaped the push of the crowds, off the floor and out a side entrance.
We emerged onto a deserted patio courtyard behind the club. The night air was cool, and my breath came quickly in the sudden silence.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
I put a hand on my chest and tried to slow my breathing. I took as deep a breath as I could with my corset and released it slowly. “I’m all right. Thanks for getting me out of there.”
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have started that with you.”
I shook my head. “No, it was fine with just you. It was when the other people joined us that it got to me.”
“Oh, good.” He grimaced. “I mean, I’m glad that I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“I knew what you meant.”
His coat and cravat were missing, and his shirt had the top several buttons undone. He held out his bare hand—I had no idea where his gloves had gone. I put my still-gloved hand in his, and we strolled along the courtyard.
At the back, we found a white marble bench under an oak tree. He pulled me down beside him on it, holding my hands in his.
“I wanted to apologize to you,” he said.
“For what?”
He looked suddenly shy. “For being such an ass yesterday morning about your secret project. I was unbelievably rude, and I apologize.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I can understand why you were upset. I really do wish I could tell you what’s going on.”
He waved off my remark. “Whatever is happening with you and me just made me a little cogged. But I got to thinking—I’m first your friend. Always will be. So I’m here to support you, no questions asked. Whatever you need from me, you’ve got it.”
Maybe it was the total sincerity of his words, or the deep affection in his eyes. Maybe it was just knowing I had his support and friendship. Or maybe it was how sweet and steamy he looked, sitting there with his heart shining in his eyes.
But before I even thought about it, I leaned in and kissed his mouth. His lips were warm, parted slightly because I’d caught him by surprise.
I drew back, until I could see his face. My breath came in rapid little bursts. I blinked several times, hardly able to comprehend what I’d done.
Behind his round glasses, his eyes darkened like a sea storm rolling in. He studied me, silently, waiting to see if I’d run or if I’d stay.
A little shiver of fear whirled through me, but it wasn’t more than I could handle. I looked at his mouth—the elegant lines of lips that were never cruel. I wanted him. I wasn’t going to run. Not from him.
“I need you,” I whispered.
I kissed him again, open mouth, so lightly it was more like we were breathing together. He inhaled, and the sound sent heat shooting low through me. He tasted my lower lip, little nibbles that grew slower and harder until my whole mouth was captured by his.
My world seem to tilt sideways. My senses were filled with him—his taste, his scent, the sound of his ragged breathing. His hands slid up the satiny sides of my corset, caressing my bare shoulders, fingertips brushing my neck. I wound my fingers into his silky, gingered hair, dragging him closer to me. It might as well have been my first kiss because everything felt new. Clean.
I wanted more. I pressed against him harder now, and he touched his tongue to mine, sending the kiss spiraling to the deepest parts of me. I whimpered, and he started to draw back. When I grabbed him close again, he kissed me so fiercely, I thought I might die in the flames of it.
Then he broke from the kiss, and rested his forehead against mine, breathing hard. “Need to slow down,” he murmured.
“I don’t want to,” I gasped.
I could hear the smile in his voice. “I don’t either. But imagine the scandal if we don’t, and we get caught.”
He had a point, even though my lust-fogged brain didn’t want to accept it. Shaking, I made myself pull away. He touched my cheek and then my lips with his fingers, a sort of wonder in his expression. Then he stood and offered me his hand. He smiled gently at me, his eyes still stormy.
“Ready to go back?”
I shook my head, giving him a mischievous look. His eyes glimmered, but he tucked my hand around his arm and headed toward the club.
I leaned my head on him, and he whispered something.
“What did you say?”
He dropped a kiss onto my hair. “I said, ‘I need you, too.’”
Chapter Twenty-One
Raymond and I slipped through the side entrance and melded into the bustling crowd of the club. Thea found us and waved. We threaded our way around the other people to join her.
“There you are!” She grabbed my arm. “Dietrich and Delphine were looking for you.”
“That would be my cue to make myself scarce.” Raymond bowed to me. “Always a pleasure, Miss Mellor.” His eyes held mine a moment, a spark of heat from earlier still in them.
“Likewise.” I couldn’t resist a tiny smirk. To Thea, “Where are they?”
“At the cozy table-for-two, of course.” She surveyed Raymond critically. “Do want to dance some more, or should we get you put to rights so you can talk to the director at the Prescott Theater?”
Raymond’s response was lost in the general buzz as they walked away. I watched them disappear together, and a wistful ache grew in my heart. The three of us had been a single unit since I’d returned to the Alchemy. If Raymond and I got together, what would that do to our friendship with Thea? I’d told Raymond the truth—I needed him. But I needed Thea, too. I needed the three of us to always be friends. Was that possible if two of us paired up?
Everything seemed to be changing so quickly. In a few months, we’d all go our separate ways. I wasn’t ready for that. My throat tightened and my eyes felt hot. If only there were a way to make time slow down, so I could hold onto it for just a little longer. Just a little more time to enjoy finally
being happy.
I swallowed hard and inhaled, clearing away the sentimental thoughts. It wasn’t like me to get all emotional over things like that. Life was always moving forward, and I liked to look to the future, not pine away for the past.
I made slow progress through the press of bodies near the bar, and finally found the table in the corner that Delphine had told me about. She was there with Dietrich, looking serious and even a little worried. I wondered what the presuls had said to put that pinched expression on her face.
Dietrich glanced up, saw me, and stood from the table. I slammed to a halt, a delicious shiver shooting down my back, making my toes curl.
“Regular steam engine” didn’t begin to describe how unbearably hot he looked tonight. Maybe “god-like steam engine” or “steam engine on fire in middle of volcano” might come close.
Gone was the angry, hurt boy from last night, and in his place was a young man that radiated confidence and ease. In black from head to toe, he wore a frock coat that emphasized his muscular shoulders, with a velvet lapel that might have made a lesser chap look like a dandy. But on him, it brought a note of stylish softness to his appearance. His high-collared shirt was black, his waistcoat a black brocade, his cravat a waterfall of black silk. Black dress gloves that made his hands look dangerous and sensual. He wore no hat, and his dark hair, usually a bit messy, had been somewhat tamed into a swept-back style that screamed elegance.
I could not look away. Images shot through my mind—him unlacing my corset with those gloved hands in front of a mirror as he’d said he wanted to, me unwinding his cravat and sliding up his shirt to sneak my hands beneath—
I slammed a mental door on my fantasies. This was absurd. Hadn’t I just been kissing Raymond, not even fifteen minutes ago? And liking it! I was behaving like a cat in heat. After so many years of being dead, my newly-woken sex drive was making up for lost time. How embarrassing.
And how thrilling.
I felt dizzy looking at him. I grabbed the arm of a passing waiter to steady myself. “What is wrong with me?”
Chains of Silver: a YA Theater Steampunk Novel (Alchemy Empire Book 1) Page 18