Suzanne Lazear - Charmed Vengeance

“I’m sure.” James strode up to the doorkeeper, a large man in a burgundy uniform with gold epaulettes and a hat. It didn’t help that his brother’s jacket squirmed.

Steven told James he had to hide the kitten in his coat, not wanting to march down the street with it. He still wasn’t sure what the cat was for … or if he wanted to know.

The doorman narrowed his eyes at them. “Do you have a reservation? I’m certain you’re not members.

Yes.” James’ eyes twinkled. “Under the name Gentry. ” Steven bit back a groan. The Gentry were one of the many silly things mortals called his people. Some of their stories were downright ridiculous.

The doorman stepped toward them as if preparing to toss them out. “You’re not dressed properly.”

“That’s a long story. We’re here to see Mathias,” James wheedled. “It’s important.”

The doorman didn’t move. “We have a door charge for non-members.”

A door charge? That would eat a chunk out of their illgotten money. They’d already used some for something to eat and transportation.

“Maybe we should go elsewhere—find someone else to help us,” Steven suggested. Someone who didn’t require a cat as a present.

“It’s fine.” James pulled some coins out of his bag and held them out.

The doorman squinted. “I have my eye on you.”

They paid and the doorman let them inside. The reception room reminded him of the inside of a cigar box—plush red walls, a few settees and tables, a podium. Several women, well, girls, since they were about fifteen to eighteen, surrounded the podium, giggling.

Beyond them, men dining filled a restaurant. Tantalizing smells made his belly want more than the snack they’d bought from a street vendor on the way. A velvet curtain hung behind the podium.

“Two for supper?” A blond girl approached, menu in her hand. Too much face paint accented mortal features that didn’t need to be made up. Her red dress revealed more arms and décolletage than proper in polite society. The ruffled, bustled skirt, if one could even call it that, stopped just past her derrière, showing stockings and red garters. Like the popular Otherworld style, she wore her underbust corset over her dress instead of underneath like mortal girls.

“We have a reservation under Gentry ,” James answered. “Also, we need to see Mathias.”

“Mathias? What do the likes of you want with him?” Another girl in a red dress emerged from the other side of the curtain, black hair swishing as she appraised them. This girl—who was not mortal—nodded at Steven as if he passed her unspoken test, but frowned when she reached James’ trousers and galoshes.

James ran a hand through his mop of curls. “We need his help. Could you seat us and let him know?” He winked and patted his squirming coat. “We even brought him a gift.”

Steven stared at his feet. James dealt with girls so easily. The only girl he’d ever been truly comfortable with was Noli.

Her black eyebrows arched. “Mathias has no patience for time wasters.”

“We won’t waste his time. Please?” James turned the puppy-eyes on her.

Steven hoped he didn’t tell her who they were or what they were doing. If Mathias didn’t assist them the way they needed …

Perhaps he should have gone on the quest solo.

The front door opened and an exuberant group of well dressed young men burst in. The blond girl scuttled over to the new group, greeting them and taking their coats.

The dark-haired girl’s gray eyes narrowed at James. “Next time be properly dressed. I’ll allow you to keep your coats. This way.” Brusquely, she hustled them through the red velvet curtain, down a hallway, then past a second curtain and another doorman. Lively music greeted them as they approached.

Steven stood rooted to the ground as they entered. The place was much larger than he’d expected from the modest storefront, especially when considering the dining room. The room they were in resembled a cross between a dancing hall and an opera house. Around them, sloped like a theatre, sat tables of men, drinking and watching the show. Wall boxes with red curtains held tables of more elegantly dressed men. Giant chandeliers illuminated the place.

“Stop gawking. It’s a burlesque hall not a bawdy house.” James smirked. “Although some of the girls do make personal visits .”

Steven’s jaw dropped. “You’ve brought us where ?”

James laughed and turned to the hostess. “You’ll have to excuse my brother, he’s a prude.”

This from the man with the cat in his coat?

She giggled, waggling her bottom, showing off red drawers under her many ruffled, far-too-brief skirts. “This way, boys .”

The girl brought them to a table in the corner. He shrugged off his overcoat, though James left his on. On stage, girls pranced to music, wearing what resembled corsets, drawers, and garters. Some had bustles feathers, with more feathers in their hair, making them look like deranged, colorful birds. They kicked their legs high, arms wrapped around each other. Some danced on platforms both on stage and around the hall, wearing longer ruffled skirts they held up and swished around revealing even more leg and garters. He looked away, uninterested.

James ordered drinks from an exotic-looking girl in a blue dress. She had a blue flower in her hair and blew James a kiss as she left. The girl looked Noli’s age.

“You are such a fussy old bodger,” James teased.

“So what if I am?” Sure, in the Otherworld women wore less and acted freer than their mortal counterparts, but it wasn’t quite like … all this. At least not in his experience.

“This is a perfectly legitimate gentleman’s club,” James replied. “They pay taxes and follow all the rules. The girls—mortal and not—are here of their own free will and are compensated.”

“Well, that’s a plus.” Even in this day and age, girls sometimes were stolen or lured from their homes then forced to work in bawdy houses or places such as this.

A fluffy black head peeked out of the top of James’ coat. He gently tucked the kitten back underneath. “You get back in there.”

With a sigh, Steven shook his head in resignation.

The girl in blue returned, setting two drinks on the table, winking again at James and waggling her bottom at him before she flounced off to the next table.

Absently, Steven took a sip of amber liquid. He nearly spit it out as it burned his mouth and throat. “What is this?”

“Whiskey.” James’ eyes twinkled. The kitten worked his way up to the top of his coat again.

Steven’s forehead furrowed. “How exactly are we going to pay for whiskey?”

He shrugged, tucking the kitten back into the coat, and taking a drink. “You know what your problem is? You worry too much.”

James’ problem was that he didn’t often care at all.

The music, provided by a live band of scantily clad women, changed. The colorful bird girls wandered among the rows of tables, taking men by the hand and escorting them onto the floor to dance with them. Hopefully Mathias would come soon.

A girl with blonde hair, wearing a yellow outfit that made her look like an elegant, busty canary, headed toward him. Suddenly, his cup became very interesting.

“Dance with me.” She grabbed Steven’s hand and pulled him up.

Startled by her forwardness, he stood. The only girls he’d ever been around who’d demand to be danced with were Noli, his little sister, and sprites.

This girl was no sprite. She was mortal, but plenty of Fae lurked in this place.

“Come on.” She smiled at him, her hips swaying to the music, making the feathers on her bottom shake.