Are we really about to follow this dog? My mother inquired, sounding half-amused, half-curious.
Unless you have a better idea, we are, indeed, about to follow the dog, I said with a sigh, starting to follow the fluffin down the street. And it’s called a fluffin. You already know that.
I do, but I’m not about to use such a ridiculous name, Orcades said with a sniff. It resembles a dog and so a dog is what I will call it.
I sighed. I believe it’s more like a fox mixed with an owl. Let us simply resign ourselves to the absurdity of this situation and make the best of it.
I ran to cath up with the fluffin.
The cobbled streets of the city shone as the moon rose higher overhead, the stones slick with moisture from the nearby sea. I followed the little creature, weaving through winding alleys and side streets, the noise from The Wandering Page fading behind us.
After a while, we began to enter a new part of the city.
A seedier part. The street lamps were more scarce here, and what light they cast was dim.
The further we went, the more the city seemed to decay. The buildings were older here, their stone facades crumbling or their wooden slats covered with peeling paint. Figures slumped in shadowy doorways, eyes following me with suspicion or indifference.
The fluffin trotted on without hesitation, a tiny spark of color in an otherwise dark place.
My senses prickled with unease. I could have picked up the fluffin and gone back the way we’d come, returning to Bloodwing.
Or could I? I wasn’t completely sure I could find the way.
Finally, the fluffin stopped, sitting on his haunches across from a building that stood out amongst the others.
The windows were aglow with dancing red candles. A wooden sign hung above the door, its red paint faded but still legible: The Drained Rose. There was a picture of a flower, a rose presumably, painted below the words.
The red candles, the name...
Outside, several blightborn were lounging casually, cups and goblets held loosely in their hands. Most were leaning against highbloods–each one beautiful and seeming utterly indifferent to their tawdry surroundings. One of the blightborn, a young man of my age, was laughing drunkenly, his hand caressing the arm of a highblood woman who was whispering something in his ear.
Another blightborn girl, perhaps twenty or so, stood silently near the door, her gaze vacant as a highblood man trailed his fingers down her neck, looking at her hungrily.
I felt a wave of revulsion. This was a blood brothel.
I stared at the blightborn with morbid curiosity. Was this really a choice? Or was it desperation like with the children I'd seen?
The fluffin had sat down patiently by my feet. Now he jumped up and made a yapping sound.
“Hush,” I whispered. But my eyes followed the direction the fluffin was looking.
Blake Drakharrow was coming along the street towards the brothel from the opposite way. And he wasn’t alone. Professor Rodriguez was walking beside him.
The two men were deep in conversation. They seemed to be arguing. I slunk back into the shadow of the building so they wouldn’t see me.
I couldn’t hear them from this distance, but the tension in Rodriguez’s face was unmistakable. He gestured sharply at Blake, his voice low but intense.
My mind whirled. What could they possibly be arguing about? Rodriguez was obviously tutoring Blake in thrallguard. He’d trusted him enough to have the older student fill in for him as my tutor.
But this wasn't the place for a thrallguard lesson. Why were they really here?
I inched forward slightly and was considering stepping out and confronting them when Rodriguez suddenly peeled away and stormed off down the street.
Blake remained where he was. He watched Rodriguez leave but didn’t seem perturbed.
After a moment, he rolled his shoulders, adjusted the cuffs of his black jacket, and headed for the entrance of The Drained Rose.
I looked down at the fluffin. My mind screamed at me to turn back but something stronger was pulling me forward.
I’d come all this way. I wasn’t about to turn back now.
“Wait for me here,” I whispered to the fluffin. “Can you do that?”
The fluffin looked up at me from his large owl-like eyes and gave a soft yip.
“Is that a yes? I won't be able to find my way back without you, you know,” I whispered.
Do you expect the animal to actually answer you? my mother asked incredulously.
I ignored her. Pulse drumming in my ears, I headed for the door of The Drained Rose.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 31 - MEDRA
The heavy oak door creaked as I entered. Immediately I was struck by the garishness of the brothel. The place was decorated in shades of crimson and gold, with thick velvet drapes and brocade-covered chairs lining the walls. Ornate brass chandeliers hung from the ceilings. There was a sense of opulence without a sense of elegance.
Something brushed past my feet and I looked down to see the fluffin.
I cursed under my breath and darted forward, trying to catch him, but it was too late. The fluffin darted into the foyer.
Pulling my cloak tighter around my head to hide my hair, I followed the pup deeper into the room.
The hour was late, but from the sounds of it, The Drained Rose was still going strong. Voices and laughter filled the air, mingled with the scent of perfume, wine, and sweat. Something subtle lay beneath it all. The faint aroma of blood.
A little ways inside the foyer stood a wooden counter. There was a sign on it: “Madame Illustra will return shortly. Wait here.”
Behind the counter, a grand double staircase curved upward on either side, meeting at a landing before continuing to the second floor, which was encircled by a balcony that overlooked the room below.
I took a few steps forward and glimpsed Blake. He was nearing the top of the stairs. As I watched, he disappeared along the corridor.
Before I could even react, the fluffin scampered up the steps ahead of me.
“Dammit,” I muttered, tugging at my cloak again.
I ran up the stairs behind the fluffin, trying not to lose track of it.
At the top, I paused. Blake had disappeared.
Then I spotted the little fluffin. He was trotting confidently down the hallway, his little paws pattering against the worn red carpet.
I followed, trying to keep my head down, and avoiding the gazes of the patrons who were wandering down the hall.
But one of them, a leering highblood man with greasy white hair and a half-buttoned shirt stained with blood, reached for me as I passed him.
“What you got under that cloak, sweetheart?” he sneered, pulling at the garment.
I jerked away and quickened my pace, praying he wouldn't follow.
Laughter followed me, but I didn’t hear footsteps. I glanced back a few moments later, and the hallway was clear. I let out the breath I’d been holding.
The fluffin had stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall. He stood there, pawing the door, waiting for me.
I thought about knocking, then thought better of it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was empty. A large, four-poster bed sat in the center, draped with scarlet satin sheets. A cloying perfume hung in the air.
Blake was nowhere in sight.
Then I heard it.
His voice. It sounded so clear.
I looked around. The fluffin gave an excited yap and darted over to a tall wardrobe in the corner.
I frowned and followed. Pulling the wardrobe door open, I peered inside.
“You brilliant, sneaky little creature,” I murmured, looking down at the fluffin who bounced up and down happily.
A peephole had been drilled inside the wardrobe, going right through the wall that connected this room to the next.
