minutes must be up. “Well, it’s been fun,” she said, “but I have to be going.”
“Not quite yet.” With a flick of his wrist, Danny drew her in front of him, as if he were partnering her in a dance move.
“Is this where I get sold into white slavery?” she joked nervously.
Before he could answer, another spotlight came on. It threw an eerie blue glow directly in front of them. Tess watched it cover her feet like a poisonous mist and creep up her legs. Her denim jeans seemed to absorb the color, but it was turning her oatmeal turtleneck a ghastly shade of red. Bloodred.
Danny had a death grip on her arms. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“Heads up,” he whispered. “It’s our host, the Marquis.”
Silhouetted in blue, the Marquis was a towering figure. But as he stepped forward, Tess realized that he wasn’t the personification of evil she expected. He was tall and lean enough to be wraithlike, but with his classically sculpted face and slicked-back hair he could have been any haughty maître d’ in a tux at a fancy restaurant. Maybe she should have been relieved.
“Welcome,” he said in a hypnotic voice that barely rose above a whisper. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Ignoring Danny, the Marquis approached Tess with studied elegance, took her hand and kissed it. His lips were warm, human. That was a relief. She wasn’t dealing with the living dead, at least not yet. Something rough scratched the inside of her palm, and she felt a mild stinging sensation, but she didn’t pull away. That would have been rude, wouldn’t it? Who knew about the rules of etiquette in an S&M club?
As he released her hand, the walls opened up behind him, revealing a dark fairy-tale world of red velvet draperies and sparkling crystal chandeliers. He beckoned for Tess and Danny to follow him, and Tess did so automatically, feeling almost as if a spell had been cast over her. She was barely aware of the small voice in her head suggesting that she should have known better than to do it again—pass through doors that magically opened.
They stepped into a hall that could have been a lavish period movie set. It resembled the lobby of a Victorian opera house, but done on a very grand scale. Ebony and gold carpeting covered the floor and staircases. Crushed-velvet drapes the color of garnets set off antique chaises and settees, and richly woven wall hangings added to the opulence.
If it was a movie, it was The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton’s turn-of-the-century novel about social mores. But far from innocent, Tess realized as she got a closer look at the wall hangings. Garden of Eden-like scenes were laced with furtive couplings and erotic dalliances of all kinds. Men, women, and fairy-tale beasts copulated with abandon and in all manner of combinations.
Tess glanced overhead and saw that the vaulted ceilings were painted with landscapes, mostly forests and glens teaming with magical animals, horned satyrs and swooning virgins. Women being carried off by Minotaurs was a popular theme, but there were plenty of helpless men getting roughed up by lustful nymphs, and even a princess being ravished by a god in the form of a black swan.
Several dramatic chords of music sounded, and the chandeliers dimmed. Tess turned to find out what was going on—and got the shock of her life. The Marquis had transformed in the seconds she’d turned away. His hair was now long and silvery-white. His eyes were yellow with black slits—serpent’s eyes—and the hiss in his throat was a death rattle.
Tess jumped back, bewildered. Was this some kind of joke? The sounds of high-pitched chatter assailed her. Suddenly the empty hall was filled with laughing, costumed people in various states of undress. A lion on a leash was actually a man on all fours, his handler a young woman in snakeskin with a riding crop between her teeth. A magnificently muscled black man in a turban and a diaper-like garment nuzzled with a cobra that was wound around his neck like lethal jewelry.
Where was Danny? Tess spun around, frantically searching the room, only to discover that now the Marquis was gone, too. She found herself in the direct path of a knot of men and women wearing the garish paint and powder of the French court. The men’s tight breeches cupped obscene bulges, and the women’s empire gowns were cut to expose their jiggling, rosy-tipped breasts.
As they neared Tess, one of the women drew a long, hot-pink feather from her ghostly white hair and stopped to caress Tess’s face with it. The woman pursed her violently red lips, inviting a kiss. Tess felt fingers tickling her butt, and she whirled, aware that the group had surrounded her. They were laughing, whispering, touching and petting, crowding closer.
“Excuse me!” Tess pushed through them and nearly collided with Danny. She’d never been so glad to see anyone. “Where did you go?” she demanded.
Danny’s hair was long and flowing out of the ponytail. His eyes were dark, fevered.
“I didn’t go anywhere,” he said. “You turned and looked right through me, like you were in a trance or something. You didn’t see me?”
Tess didn’t know what he was talking about. Of course she hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t been there, unless she was having hallucinations, which was beginning to seem like a possibility. She did feel a little disoriented, but who wouldn’t in a place like this?
Her thoughts raced back to the Marquis’ handshake, and the scratch she’d felt on her palm, but she had no time to reason things through. The Marquis’ voice boomed in the massive room. Tess was startled to see him just a few feet away from her and looking exactly as he had, black hair slicked back from his severely handsome features. What struck her as different was his voice. It sounded as if it was coming from speakers instead of his body.
“Good evening, my lovelies,” the Marquis said, bowing as he addressed the strange crowd. “The last live performance of the evening begins in five minutes. Please take your seats in the Exhibition Hall immediately. The red seats are electrified with a random charge of varying wattage, for your viewing pleasure.”
His lovelies began to file through large open arches that led to an auditorium. Tess caught a glimpse of massive chandeliers and gilded box seats and miles of crimson velvet.
“Are you up for a live performance?” Danny asked.
“Of what?”
“Your guess.” He shrugged. “We can always leave…I think.”
“Sometimes having options is worse than not having them.” She sighed, exasperated. “What the hell. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what-if, as I’m sure I would in this case.”
They waited until the motley crew had taken their seats before entering the auditorium. A hush had fallen over the room that made Tess feel as if she were at Lincoln Center, anticipating a performance by the Ballets Russes.
Danny found seats in a row near the back, which Tess eyed suspiciously and then refused. It was too dark to see what color they were, and she didn’t need another shock right now, thanks. Instead, she planted herself in the aisle and watched the curtain rise, wondering what in God’s name she was going to see next.
Chapter Six
The curtain opened to an empty stage and a magenta spotlight, circling to find its target. Finally, the light enveloped a young woman, her head bowed, her body turned away from the audience in an attempt to conceal her emotional distress. She wore a slip dress that clung to the taut curves of her dancer’s body.
Beautiful, Tess thought. There was inexpressible beauty in every restrained line of her being.
Soft music swelled to fill the auditorium. Tess recognized the passionate strains as a theme from Straus’s Don Juan, an opera about a man incapable of love yet driven to search for it in the arms of woman after woman.
The music soared, announcing a male dancer in a matador’s jacket and tuxedo pants. He was as straight and proud as a military officer, yet limber, willowy. His body language said he’d come to make a plea. He seemed to be asking for forgiveness, but the woman waved