“Everybody here has a Reaper,” I say. Lake nods.
“Alchemists and Azoths hire us as bodyguards. And that’s only gotten more and more common. Can’t be too careful with the Mutus gettin’ bold these days. The added bonus is we can use the portals and transport them to where they gotta go. So the Reapers get real busy around a showing time.”
His green eyes spark as he waves at an older woman Reaper. She smiles and waves back. A few Reapers shout ‘Lake!’, and he turns and waves at them, too. Some even walk up to us and thump him on the back, or mess up his hair, and Lake laughs. It’s like a brotherhood, and they all know each other. Or maybe everyone just likes Lake. For an army of people with half-souls, they don’t seem emotionless or stunted in any way. Any way I can see on the outside, that is.
Once we’re up the steps, I put my shoes back on. The mansion now looms before us, a gorgeous olive tree orchard in front of it. Now that we’re close, I can see it’s more rustic than I first thought - wooden window shutters and stained-glass windows with beautiful scenes of people dancing. The creamy stone of the building is slightly lumpy instead of smooth, and the roof is tiled in ancient, dark red brick. People hang around the orchard, clutching drinks and laughing and enjoying the sea-salt twilight air. A bigger crowd is inside the mansion. We walk inside, and I’m shocked by how modern the furniture is in comparison to the old building - leather couches clash with old mahogany tables and grand paintings of a rich family long dead. Or alive? Who knows, with these alchemists. A few tables along the walls are laden with cocktail shrimp, fancy cold cuts of meat, olives, light lemony pastas, spring rolls, pita bread, and various dippings. Maids in full-length maid outfits take drink orders. A string quartet sits in one room, where a marble ballroom floor waits to be filled with dancers.
“There’s not a lot of security,” I whisper to Lake. He leans in and murmurs.
“Don’t need ‘em, not with all these Reapers here. Can’t rightly tell which alchemists are secretly Mutus or not, but if a Munkie tries to slip in, one of us will sense them for sure. And the rest of us will take care of ‘em faster than you can finish your drink.” He winks. “Speaking of drinks, let’s get you something. You look way too nervous.”
“I don’t drink,” I say. He sighs.
“And I’m working, so I can’t drink either. Well, it’s just you and me then, two boring, completely sober young adults surrounded by drunk old crones.”
“Who are you calling a crone?” Zhen’s voice resounds. She sidles up to us out of nowhere, looking ravishing in a red silk qipao, her dark hair let loose and flowing like a river of ink over her shoulders. She smiles at me, looking me up and down.
“Oh, Mia. You look so beautiful.”
“You can…you can see me?” I instantly cover my mouth. “Oh, shit. Sorry. That was rude.”
Zhen shakes her head, milky eyes bright. “It’s alright, really. But yes, I can see you. Your Azoth lights you up like a firecracker.”
“Oh, neat. You…you look good, too.” I smile. “You said we’d meet again soon, and you were right.”
“I usually am,” She giggles. “Come, I must introduce you to some of my friends.”
Lake follows as Zhen leads me, arm-in-arm, around the main room. She introduces me to Xianshi, a very old alchemist from China with the longest white mustache and most intensely twinkling dark eyes I’ve ever seen. His English is perfect, though from time to time he’ll turn to Zhen and say something in Mandarin, and she’ll respond with a little laugh.
Xianshi reaches out and takes my hand, smiling warmly.
“You’re welcome to visit Beijing whenever you feel like it, Ms. Redfield,” He says. “I would be happy to show you around the city. It is quite large, and there is much good food to be had.”
“If there’s food there, I’m there.” I smile. “It’s a very generous offer, thank you.”
Xianshi laughs. His dark eyes catch on my necklace, and his eyebrows raise.
“If you don’t mind me asking, where did you procure that lovely necklace?”
“It was…a gift,” I try. Xianshi smiles.
“I see. That’s a very deadly gift.”
“You can tell?”
He nods. “Any alchemist worth his salt can tell that was made to keep you safe. It’s much harder to tell you why they made it. But I can definitely tell you who made it.”
His eyes wrinkle kindly, and I fidget. He speaks after a short silence.
“Darius is very good at what his does, isn’t he? And he cares very much for your well-being.”
I snort. “If he cares, it’s because of my Azoth.”
Xianshi frowns, but before he can answer, a waitress leans over his shoulder and whispers something to him. He looks to me, and bows.
“It’s been lovely meeting you, Ms. Redfield, but I must ply my attentions elsewhere. Have a wonderful night, tonight. This party is as much for you as it is for us.”
He slips into the crowd with surprising agility. Zhen pulls at my arm again.
“Isn’t he wonderful?”
“He’s not so bad,” I smirk. “I thought all these alchemists were going to be snooty and cold.”
“Not every alchemist is Darius,” Zhen giggles again. “Xianshi is one of the seven Sage Council members. One of them usually attends a showing, to report back to the others.”
“Ms. Redfield?” A strong voice echoes. I look up to see a man with slicked-back dark hair and olive skin approach us. His suit is perfectly tailored, and his accent is definitely Italian. He’s good-looking, so much so many of the women follow him with their eyes. His eyes follow only me, though, and linger on my scar. I see the disgust flare in his eyes only briefly before he tames it. He holds out his hand to me.
“Ms. Redfield, I am Antonio Vericci. I’ve heard so much about you, but nothing compares to your beauty in the flesh.”
“T-Thank you,” I manage. “But my looks aren’t really why I’m here.”
“Of course not,” He smiles. When his eyes find Zhen, his smile goes dark. “Zhen. I didn’t see you there.”
“You wouldn’t,” Zhen smiles, though it’s cold. “I imagine you only have eyes for women that offer you some use.”
Antonio forces his laugh, and Zhen only smiles wider. Her eyes spot someone over his shoulder, and she looks to Antonio, then me.
“Oh! There’s Genevieve. We should greet her. It was nice seeing you again, Antonio.” Zhen whisks me off through the crowd, and I whisper to her.
“What was that all about?”
“Antonio’s known for constantly buying new Azoth, only to sleep with them and discard them, buying a new one and starting all over again. He just likes the conquest. He’s barely a passable alchemist, hanging onto his grandmother’s legacy and talent to get favors. He’ll definitely try to bid on you, tonight. Be careful.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I sigh. “With all these pretty dresses and fancy food I almost forgot I’m here to be bought like cattle.”
Zhen smiles, nudging me in the ribs. “I have a feeling it won’t turn out as bad as you think it will.”
We walk over to Genevieve, and for the third time I’m struck by her beauty. She’s undoubtedly the most gorgeous woman in the room, tying with Zhen, though Zhen doesn’t stand out like Genevieve does. Genevieve’s chestnut hair is done up in an elegant bun with a few strands let loose, her dress a plunging violet masterpiece that shows off her elegant arms and neck. Her only jewelry is a strand of black pearls with matching earrings. She spots us, but doesn’t smile.
“Zhen,” She says. “It’s been too long.”
“Almost four years,” Zhen agrees. “I hope you’ve been well.”
There’s kindness in Zhen’s voice, and history behind their glances at each other. Genevieve ignores her and looks to me, raising one eyebrow.
“Oh? It’s you.”
“Hey,” I nod. “Last time I saw you, I was drugged and getting attacked by a homunculus.”
“The
se are slightly better circumstances to meet in,” Genevieve smirks and gestures around the mansion. “I trust Darius treated you well?”
“He was…” I trail off, and Zhen looks curiously at me. “He was fine.”
“He usually is,” Genevieve laughs. “Though at showings, you can never tell. They treat him like he’s a leper, an animal about to lash out.” She nods her head at the door. “Speak of the six-hundred-year-old devil.”
We turn and watch as Darius walks in, resplendent in an immaculately tailored white suit and blue tie that makes his broad shoulders seem even broader, and his waist lithely narrower. His platinum hair shines in the chandelier light, pulled back into his customary long ponytail. My body instantly heats, my blood coming alive. His eyes scan the crowd, intense and burnt-gold as ever. I feel something in the pit of my stomach flip, and I hate that his presence can do this to me without him even looking at me. Genevieve is right, though - no one acknowledges Darius. They see him, then quickly look away, or stare at him until he notices, and then look away again. People whisper as he passes, but no one dares to speak to him. Darius, seemingly used to all of this, immediately goes to the wall and leans against a pillar, closing his eyes tiredly.
“Six-hundred years of obligation to come to these showings must get so old,” Genevieve laughs.
“You don’t have to be so cruel,” Zhen’s voice is low. “He’s suffered more than you ever will.”
“As he should,” Genevieve smirks. “Did you forget who exactly he is? I know you take pity on the monsters, Zhen, but not all of us feel sorry for the things trying to kill us.”
“They deserve to be treated like people -”
“For the last time,” Genevieve snaps. “You’re not an Azoth, Zhen. You don’t know what it’s like.” Her eyes turn to me. “But you - you definitely know. Try to explain it to her, will you? I’ve been trying for ten years, and she won’t listen to me.”
Genevieve walks off, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. I turn to Zhen, her face crestfallen. She tightens her fist. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
Zhen laughs, bitterly. “No. But I will be. Just give me a few more years.” Her laugh turns to a sigh, and she pulls at my arm again. “Come on. Let’s go say hello.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s leading me to Darius. The flipping in my stomach intensifies, to the point I feel like running away. The sight of his jaw and lips reminds me exactly where they’ve been on my skin, and those places light up like wildfires. Darius keeps his eyes shut, and only opens them when Zhen clears her throat. He freezes when he sees me, flicking his eyes up and down only briefly before turning to Zhen.
“Why are you here?”
“It’s awful rude not to compliment a lady on her appearance when she spends four hours dressing up,” Zhen teases. Darius remains stony-faced, but it doesn’t discourage Zhen in the slightest. “I know you’ve seen me dressed up for showings for years now, but at least say something nice to Mia.”
“He doesn’t -” I instantly blurt. “There’s no need for that? I’m fine, really. I won’t die if everyone in the world doesn’t compliment me tonight. Seriously. In fact, I’d rather have the opposite. As little attention as possible, thanks.”
“That will be impossible,” Darius says without looking at me. “You’re the strongest Azoth in this room. Everyone can feel it, even if they aren’t homunculi.”
I glance over my shoulder, and just now do I notice how many pairs of eyes are on me. I was too dazzled by the mansion beforehand, but now I can keenly feel dozens of stares riveted on me, my dress, my scar. My nervousness transforms into moths beating against my stomach lining.
Darius’s amber eyes catch on my neck, and his gaze is so intense I can almost feel it - like a tongue of fire scraping against my skin. It stops at my necklace, his expression carefully guarded. But I swear I see a hint of pride - and relief - when he sees it.
“My darling girl,” A British-accented voice suddenly comes from behind us, and a woman laces her arm in mine. She’s older - past fifty - her soft face creased with equal parts smile lines and crow’s feet. Her blue eyes are dark, like indigo dye in water. Her dress is a sensible olive green button-down, standing out among the designer dresses. She adjusts her glasses, looks sternly over at Darius, and then pulls me away with surprising strength.
“You mustn’t spend all your time with one person, Mia. Not when so many people are eager to meet you.”
“H-How do you know -”
“Word moves quickly, dear,” She briskly keeps us walking, even though her pudgy form doesn’t seem capable of such speed. “In small circles such as this. We’ve known your name is Mia Redfield for some time now. I’m very sorry it’s taken this long for us to welcome you into the fold. We must ensure everyone who comes into the circle is both skilled and of good morals, and I can see you are both.”
“I’m not - skilled,” I protest. “I was just born with Azoth, that’s all. I’m not like Darius - not good at anything, really.”
“No, of course not,” The woman agrees with a steely voice. “You are nothing like Darius.”
For some reason her words sting. “What would you know about me?” I snap.
“I know much. Our sources are reliable. But it is rude of me to go on about you when you know nothing about me. I am Rose Harrington, third member of the Sage Council, and CEO of Silveria Enterprises.”
Just as I’m about to rip out of her grasp, she brings me in front of a circle of men in suits.
“Gentlemen, allow me to introduce our newest Azoth - Mia Redfield. She’s twenty-years-old, born in the heart of the American Midwest, and with a great degree of Azoth. I’m sure you’ll be looking forward to her demonstration later tonight.” Rose looks to me. “Mia, this is Butoan N’takk, the Minister of Commerce of Sudan. On his left is Kyoshi Miyamoto, son of the Prime Minister of Japan. To his left is Vladimir Leonov, Head of Foreign Trade Affairs in Russia -”
The names and titles start to blur, but all of them are important. All the men look at me the same way - appraisingly, like they’re being shown a horse or a car they potentially want to buy. Not a single one offers their hand for a handshake, nor tries to speak to me. They all direct their questions to Rose, like she’s my handler or something. I crane my neck to find Zhen in the crowd, but I can’t see her - she isn’t by Darius anymore. Darius only stares at me, at the men looking at me. His face is ice - passive and cold. Even so, I want to be standing by him, talking with him, not these strangers. The faint sound of music starting up in the next room is much nicer than Rose’s irritating voice.
People filter to the ballroom at the same time Rose realizes the dance is beginning. She makes small talk and then looks to me, finally releasing her grasp.
“Dear, I’m sure you like dancing, don’t you? Antonio here also loves to dance, and I believe you two have much to talk about - you’re similar ages.”
“I don’t want to -”
The same Antonio from earlier comes up, smiling broadly. He extends his arm to me, and Rose looks on expectantly. When I don’t move, she leans in and whispers.
“Come now, darling. I’m trying to help you out, here. The other alchemists interested in buying you are far older than he is. You’d get along much better.”
What does she know?
“Just one dance,” Antonio grins. “And then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night. I promise.”
I take a deep breath and sigh, putting my hand on his. “Alright. Let’s get it over with.”
Antonio doesn’t lose his smile as he leads me to the marble ballroom. Men and women pair off on the dance floor, facing each other and waiting for the music to signal the beginning of the dance. In my head, I nervously go over the steps Lake taught me, and pray this dance is the same one. I see Lake in the crowd, and he gives me a thumbs up.
The music is gorgeous, and I manage to keep in step with Antonio. His hand on the small of my
back makes me even more nervous, and throughout the dance I try not to look into his eyes.
“You’re quite standoffish, aren’t you?” He smirks. “I like that in a woman. Friendly women aren’t a challenge at all, and they’re…what is the expression? A ‘dime a dozen’?”
“I don’t really care,” I shrug. As we spin, Antonio’s grip tightens and he crushes me against him, the breath pressing from my lungs. I can barely breathe.
“I will make you care,” Antonio sneers. “Someone with as much power inside you as you…you must care. You will care about me, you will be mine.”
“Let go of me,” I gasp.
“You don’t order me around,” He snaps. “I will give the orders, from now on.”
A strong hand latches onto Antonio’s and pulls him off me.
“Oy, don’t crush the merchandise,” Lake says lightly, putting his body between Antonio and I protectively. “You’re not the only one who’s interested in buying, yeah?”
“A Reaper, pushing an alchemist around?” Antonio sneers. “I could have a word with your superiors and get you expelled.”
“Well, see, here’s the problem with that; A. My superiors love me, everybody loves me, which is something you’d know nothing about, and B. I did you a favor just now, buddy. Another second of your shenanigans and our resident homunculus would’ve been very unhappy with your general body parts.”
Lake jerks his head to the wall where Darius is standing, his fists clenched white and his face frigid with a shadowy rage. Antonio goes pale, looking between me and Darius with a sudden terrified expression. He walks off the ballroom floor quickly, Lake winking at me as we walk off the floor towards the drink table.
“I owe you,” I say. “That guy’s a total sleaze-bag. Rose just pawned me off on him.”
“I figured that was the case,” Lake passes me a cup of punch. “Here.”
“Thanks. I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”
I move to one of the many balconies, except this one is half-hidden by ivy and a marble statue of an angel. Her wings shield me from the majority of the ballroom’s eyes. I sip punch and cool my harassed throat - these alchemists are so pushy. I feel small, insignificant. I feel like an object instead of a person.