“Everything in here is so beautiful,” she said, feeling the impressive curvature of wood under her palm.
Chloe’s shoulders bobbed indifferently.
“You get used to anything with enough exposure.”
Alexia considered her words, but had no time to respond before they reached the landing of the first floor.
Ahead, two massive doors blocked the way forward. With the confidence of someone who lived there, Chloe pried them wide. The ballroom beyond took Alexia’s breath away. Following the baroque style of the opera house, a gilded ceiling rested above walls sculpted to perfection. The room’s size was unnecessarily exaggerated by the plethora of ornate mirrors that circled the space in a loose resemblance to a fun house. Round tables dressed the carpet, each covered with pressed linen. On the one closest to them rested a silver bucket with the neck of a champagne bottle peeking over the rim. Two glasses were set beside it.
Alexia scanned the room again, searching for a waiter. When she found no one, she asked, “Where did you get this from?”
“I had reception bring it up.”
“Does everyone get these privileges?”
Chloe raised her chin, sending her hair to cascade down her back. “I don’t think so.”
Alexia understood. It was Chloe the crowds came to see. She was the one that the Opéra Magique owed a large portion of its revenue to. Without a further word, they drifted over to the table and slid into plush dining chairs. Alexia twitched at the loud pop of the champagne, causing Chloe to laugh as she filled both glasses.
“Really Chloe, I shouldn’t have any.”
“You’re not actually going to make me drink by myself are you? Just have a taste. I’ll finish yours if you don’t like it.”
Knots formed in Alexia’s stomach as she took the glass with a nervous hand.
“I’m only having a sip.”
The principal dancer clicked her nails against the iridescent flute.
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You were great today.” Chloe narrowed her eyes just enough for their almond shape to disappear in a harsh line. “So great, I may need to watch my back.”
The words were complimentary, but threat was hidden in their tone. Alexia tugged at the collar of her sweater.
“I don’t think anyone could take your place.”
Chloe’s hand fell away from her glass as her dark eyes clouded over in thought. Alexia respected her unspoken request for silence, sipping on her drink to help pacify her anxiety. It wasn’t long before she warmed enough to remove her coat.
“Your cheeks are flushed,” Chloe commented. “You shouldn’t drink much more. Besides, there are other ways to have fun.”
Chloe slid her chair back so swiftly that Alexia jumped. The principal dancer didn’t notice, already on her feet beckoning Alexia to a door hidden in the shadows.
SORTIE DE SECOURS / EMERGENCY EXIT
From the way Chloe struggled to push it open, Alexia could tell it was heavy—a fire door. A narrow stairwell was on the other side. The space was cold in color and temperature, its gray walls accentuated by harsh lighting. Alexia raised her eyes up the central shaft. The stairs spiralled high above them.
“This way,” Chloe called, beginning to climb the first flight.
Alexia lost count of how many floors they passed, but she knew from the burn in her legs it was many. Chloe only stopped once they reached the top. There, another sign read:
NE PAS ENTRER, L’ACCÈS EST RÉSERVÉ UNIQUEMENT AU PERSONNEL DÉSIGNÉ / DO NOT ENTER, AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
“Are you sure we’re allowed through there?”
“Of course,” Chloe replied with confidence. “Call it another privilege…”
Alexia didn’t press further. If Chloe was on such good terms with the building management, maybe they had bestowed her with special access rights.
Shouldering open the door, Chloe signalled for Alexia to look outside. As she peered out over the rooftop, a cold wind knocked the warmth from her at the exact moment the sight shot a bolt of paralyzing fear into her. Unlike the rooftop at Marque’s apartment, this one hadn’t been designed for recreational use. A plank of wood, no wider than a balance beam, served as the only way to maneuver the area’s treacherous contour. To its left, the roof slanted sharply upward at an angle impossible to climb. To its right, the building fell away in a heart-stopping drop. Even repairmen would have worn special safety equipment up here. This was no place for them, a fact that Chloe chose to ignore.
Alexia caught her breath as Chloe stepped out onto the narrow board. The only thing preventing a gust of wind from blowing her to her death was a thin handrail with four feet of space underneath it. If she slipped, it was game over. From the way Chloe sauntered across the wooden plank, it was clear the possibility didn’t faze her. She only looked back when she realized she wasn’t being followed.
Standing in the doorway, every muscle in Alexia’s body was frozen. Chloe had opened the door to her worst nightmare. One look at the lethal drop had turned her blood to ice.
“You’re not scared are you?” Chloe asked.
Embarrassment was a small price to pay if it meant not facing the catwalk.
“Actually, I am.” Alexia swallowed to steady her voice. “I don’t like heights.”
With her eyes locked on Chloe, Alexia didn’t miss the change that crossed her expression. For a brief second, the principal dancer’s doll-like features twisted into a malicious grin. But when Alexia blinked it was gone, replaced by a canvas of concern.
“You poor thing! Can’t even make it far enough to enjoy the best view! There’s no rail at the end. Nothing to block the city lights!”
Or me plummeting to my death.
Chloe was slowly returning to her, and with each step she took closer to safety, Alexia’s breathing eased.
“Everyone thinks the top of the Eiffel Tower offers the best views of Paris,” Chloe continued, “but they’re wrong. The city’s charm is washed away at that height. Up here, it’s perfect. Won’t you at least try? I promise it’s to die for.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she whispered into the wind.
Chloe continued toward her, stopping when they were nose to nose. Alexia’s breath left her body again, but this time for a different reason. It was overwhelming being so close to Chloe; her beauty was almost sublime, causing Alexia to crumple with insecurity in its wake. She drew back instinctively.
“Relax, I’m not going to drag you out there,” Chloe said, almond eyes dancing in a tease before they hardened with seriousness. “But I do have something that may help.”
“No amount of champagne is going to cure my acrophobia.”
Chloe shook her head as she pushed past Alexia. Back in the stairwell, she sat on the top step with the grace of a feather floating down to earth, crossing her toothpick legs at the ankles. She patted the concrete step beside her. Alexia obeyed, noticing the full extent of Chloe’s perfume as she plopped down. The aroma was sharp with citrus notes. A fragrance that couldn’t be ignored worn by a person who couldn’t be ignored.
Fitting.
Before Alexia could comment on it, Chloe reached into her purse and pulled out a ziplock bag. Two white pills were nestled within. The bag was unlabeled, so Alexia gathered they weren’t prescription.
“Don’t give me that look,” Chloe said. “They’re completely legit. My friend has ADHD, so I buy some Adderall from her every now and then. In our profession, it’s the safest way to have a good time. Gives you the energy to go all night with zero hangover the next day.”
Alexia pursed her lips in contemplation. None of her friends tampered with pills that weren’t specifically prescribed for them, but she supposed these wouldn’t be that bad if they’d been FDA approved—or by whatever governing body they had in France. It was a first world country after all.
Taking advantage of her hesitation, Chloe dropped one of the small pills into her palm. Upon closer inspection, Ale
xia saw two criss-crossed lines engraved on its surface, sectioning its face into four symmetrical triangles.
“What does it feel like?” she asked, turning it over.
Chloe’s bronze cheeks bunched up in her grin. “Like taking ten cups of coffee.”
Alexia pulled out her phone to check the time, eyebrows converging in concern. She never had caffeine in the evenings. It messed with her sleep.
As if reading her mind, Chloe reassured her by saying, “Don’t worry, I have sleeping pills too. And on this stuff, your energy will carry over to the next day. You’re going to dance like you’re on steroids tomorrow.”
Making a unilateral decision, Chloe popped the pill between her parted lips and swallowed it dry.
“Your turn.”
There was no turning back now. Alexia wouldn’t leave Chloe hanging and she knew it. Besides, it was a stimulant they were talking about. She would still be in her right mind…just energetic. And she could do with a dose of that right now. Flicking her wrist at a speed that prevented any chance of second guessing, the white pill flew into her open mouth.
Down the rabbit hole we go.
CHAPTER 9
“How long does this stuff take to kick in?” Alexia asked, voice raw from having to scream over the blaring music.
She didn’t know where they were. After Chloe had failed at a second attempt to get her back onto the rooftop, they’d descended to street level and hailed a cab. Chloe had taught her how to say the French address, which had sent the taxi around a number of dark corners until it found a crowded alley full of Parisians with drinks in one hand and cigarettes in the other. Chloe had pushed passed them to lead Alexia into a raging nightclub.
“Won’t be long now,” Chloe replied.
All around them, sweaty bodies were swaying to the psychedelic beats of a DJ. The bass shook the walls of the club along with the brains of everyone inside it.
“Doesn’t anyone here have to work tomorrow?”
Chloe’s laugh was condescending. “We have to work tomorrow.”
“Point taken.”
“Why don’t you have one last drink? It’s early enough that you’ll dance it off before you go to bed.” And driving the nail into the coffin, she added, “You owe me one for the champagne.”
Alexia’s reply was reluctant, hesitant to mix alcohol with Adderall, but fair was fair.
“What do you want?”
“Vodka soda with a twist of lime.”
“And how do you say that in French?”
Chloe laughed again. This time it was genuine. “Pretty much the same. Just order in English.”
Shouldering her way through the dance floor was a mission, but the bar was surprisingly clear. On second thought, it made sense with everyone on pills. Water was a quick serve.
“Que puis-je vous offrir?” the bartender asked.
He was attractive in a mysterious way. Smoldering eyes resting below jet-black hair styled with an asymmetrical cut. Even without his looks, he had her from the moment he parted his lips; the French accent was enough of an aphrodisiac. Tearing her eyes from him, Alexia took a calculated guess that he was asking her what she wanted.
“Two vodka sodas with a twist of lime, s’il vous plaît.”
He grinned as he switched to heavily accented English. “Coming right up.”
Grabbing two tumbler glasses from the shelf, the bartender free poured vodka until both were half full of the spirit.
Shit.
“Those are singles, right?”
He winked at her. “They are. Or at least, I’m charging you for one. The question I would like to know is…are you?”
What a line.
His looks let him get away with it though. If Alexia had met him a few days ago, her response might have differed. She might have pressed her body against the counter, coiled a lock of golden-brown hair around her finger, and whispered some sultry reply in his ear. But right then, her mind was on Leo, and even this tall drink of water couldn’t drive a wedge in her feelings for him.
“I’ve ordered two drinks, haven’t I?”
“I wouldn’t judge if they were both for you,” he winked.
She waved her credit card to signal the end of the discussion, but that didn’t stop him from trying to bait her with one last smirk as she disappeared into the crowd.
Chloe had moved to the middle of the dance floor, and Alexia was surprised that more guys weren’t staring at her with their tongues lolling out of their heads. The way she moved in freestyle dance was just as memorizing as the way she moved in ballet.
“Did you get that guy’s number?” Chloe asked, slowing her body to a sway as Alexia rejoined her.
“Which guy?”
Chloe couldn’t see the bar from here. Alexia turned for validation. Sure enough, a wall of bodies concealed the handsome man behind the counter.
“Don’t play coy with me. The bartender. He’s hot, right?”
“Well, I guess…but how did you—”
“Saw him on the way in. Why do you think I sent you there alone?”
Failing to find an appropriate response, Alexia pushed Chloe’s drink forward instead.
She eyed it with a pout. “Sorry, I forgot to specify, no ice. My hands are frozen.” She batted her lashes at Alexia. “Do you mind holding mine just until it melts?”
Because the bar was an inferno of body heat, she didn’t. The cool drinks were a welcome relief against the stifling temperature.
“How can you be cold? It’s like a sauna in here!”
“I’m always cold,” was her reply.
With a surreptitious eye, Alexia scanned her from head to toe. Chloe was slim, but then again, most of the French were, and no one else had kept their coat on. Just looking at her made Alexia hot. She raised one of the glasses, hoping a sip would cool her down. Alexia spluttered the second the liquid passed her lips, the strength of the vodka burning her mouth.
Her next sip was smaller, more cautious. Finding the right routine, the first drink slowly vanished. The bass intensified accordingly, every thump reverberating through her body, coaxing it into motion. She placed the empty glass on the floor to free one arm that then snaked up through the air, pulsing in time to the music. A strobe light burst with changing colors, painting Chloe’s image from blue to green, then red. It was like watching her dance through shifting lenses of a camera. Without warning, the sounds around Alexia began to recede. Her head drooped and her arm fell from the air, suddenly leadened. Every movement was becoming a struggle, her energy perishing into the smoke-filled air.
Concern would have mounted if she had been capable of summoning it. But in her state, all she wanted to do was sit.
“Chhhloe?”
Her speech was slow and slurred. It was hard to formulate words. Alexia strained to focus on the principal dancer. Chloe was staring at her, lips stretched thin into a knowing grin. Her eyes gleamed as if wildly entertained.
Maybe she was hallucinating.
“I need to…sit.”
“Okay, let’s find somewhere.”
They maneuvered to the back of the crowded club, but only standing tables were available.
“I’ll just…go home,” Alexia managed to say.
The suddenness of Chloe’s protest was disarming.
“No! The night’s only just begun! You just need to sit for a few minutes. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t. Come on, I know another place close by.”
Alexia’s vision clouded as they left the bar, peripherals shutting down to present the street before her in tunnel vision. Chloe’s arm was hooked around hers, partially supportive, partially dragging her forward. Fresh air helped, although not much. It seemed the outside temperature had shifted from glacial to comfortably warm in the span of an hour. The street was hazardous with uneven cobblestones, and Alexia tripped in her struggle to lift her feet off the ground.
“Whoa. I got you.” Chloe tightened her grip to keep Alexia upright. “Hang in there, we�
��re almost there.”
Alexia tilted her head away from the precarious ground with a languid roll, slowly taking in their destination. She was struck with a sense of familiarity, but it was hard to place the bar through the thickening fog of her mind. Was it déjà vu, or had she been here before? She only dwelled on the thought for a moment before her brain began shutting down.
“Home.”
Alexia registered her own voice through an out-of-body experience. The slur that shifted through the word almost made it unrecognizable.
“Home,” she repeated, this time louder.
Chloe didn’t seem to have heard and tugged her arm harder. As they entered the bar, the wail of an electric guitar resounded through Alexia’s ears. But her sight was deteriorating by the second. If it weren’t for Chloe’s guidance, she would have been lost.
“Here. We’re here. Sit down, Alexia.”
Everything was black. Thoughts were all she had left.
Where? Where are we?
She couldn’t remember…
“Sit down,” the voice repeated.
Who is that?
Alexia tried to whisper the word again, tried to say “home,” but her speech had disappeared too. All she could do was comply with the demand. With a sickening jolt, Alexia was pushed into a booth. Her stomach rolled, and she knew if she were to be sick now, she would spew all over herself. Alexia couldn’t see the owner of the voice sit down beside her, but a body pressed up against her side.
“There, there. It will all be okay. Just relax.”
Alexia tried to open her mouth, tried to ask to leave, but her lips wouldn’t part. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t move. Her head became heavier. It was a strain to keep it upright. Desperate to alleviate the burning muscles in her neck, she leaned back, finding something to support it. As if the energy required to keep her conscious was under similar strain, her mind began to power down. The last thing she remembered was the guitar—its melting electric notes travelling with her into a realm of darkness.
CHAPTER 10
Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 12