There were dark crescents of dirt at the base of his fingernails when he handed her one. Have some.” He lifted the teapot and poured the steaming liquid into small ceramic cups. The floorboards groaned briefly as he sank into the upholstery opposite her. He walked carefully over to the table and set it down on a clear space with exaggerated care. Patrice appeared with a tray at the top of the stairs. It was odd that even in this day and age there were still places in this world where Reason and Enlightenment had not reached. Hopefully this business with Patrice would be brief, so she could be on her way.
The slim hilt of the stiletto she kept tucked into the front laces of her corset was still there. To reassure herself, she touched the row of buttons on the front of her shirt. A desperate need to rush outside for fresh air and light filled her, but she remained in her seat. He smiled at her, his expression lush and predatory.Įlle looked away, denying him the satisfaction of seeing her shudder. The man looked up from his work and their eyes met. It was almost cruel to watch the poor thing suffer like that. The poetry had to be supremely rubbish, for the fairy-muse to look that bored. The poet cursed, crumpled the page and flung it across the room, where it burst into flames and disappeared. She arched her arm and swung her leg to and fro, like a little dancer at the barre. Next to the poet, a green absinthe fairy balanced en pointe upon the edge of the low table. The murky liquid swirled inside the glass, like an artist’s water jar after too many paintbrushes had been dipped into it. He hunched over a journal, scribbling furious lines of verse over the pages, pausing only to slam down gulps of absinthe from a greasy glass at his side without even bothering to mix it properly. The only other patron in the den was a brawny man in a gray jacket. The warm glow of their spark cores softened the sordid purpose of this place. Ornate brass lamps sat against the red chinoiserie wallpaper. The windows of the café were all sealed up so no sunlight could penetrate its sanctuary. Watch my seat for me.” He swayed down the staircase on legs that were not entirely steady.Įlle slung her holdall over the back of a chair where she could keep an eye on it and sank into one of the linen-covered settees that lined the walls. I’ll go and see if I can get us some refreshments. “Always a pleasure to see you.” The sweet scent of opium rose up from his clothes as she kissed him-twice on each side, as was the custom on the Continent. He was a big bear of a man and the little shake he gave her almost lifted her off her feet.
I am so glad you came.” Patrice, her docking agent, rose up from the sofa and gripped her shoulders fondly. The opium den above the Café du Aleix smelled of clove incense and oblivion.
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