Page 104 of A House of Gold
"Use the binding to call for me. I'll come." He leans close, his breath warm against my ear. "Be careful."
Then he's gone, melting into the crowd like a ghost.
I watch him go, feeling his presence through the binding as he moves away. Then I turn and head for the stairs.
The second floor is quieter. The gallery is a long corridor lined with paintings, each one reflecting in the mirrored walls until it's impossible to tell which are originals and which are reflections.
Helena is standing in the center, staring at what appears to be a Monet, water lilies, soft blues and greens and purples, but there's nothing in her eyes. No appreciation. No joy. Just... emptiness.
"Helena," I say softly.
She turns, and for a moment, hope flickers across her face. Then it dies when she realizes she doesn't know me.
"I'm sorry," she says, her voice cultured and tired. "I thought you were someone else. Someone who could help me understand." She gestures helplessly at the painting. "I used to love this. I used to see beauty here. Now it's just... colors. Shapes. I don't understand what I'm supposed to feel."
My chest aches. This is what Idris did to her. Took her ability to feel beauty and left her with only the hunger for more.
"I can help you," I say, stepping forward. "My name is Raven. I'm a sin eater. I can break your contract with Idris. I can give you back what he took."
Her eyes widen. "Break the...but that's not possible. The contracts can't be broken."
"They can. I've done it before. Let me help you."
She stares at me for a long moment. "What's the cost?"
I remember Croesus's brutal honesty and decide to follow his example. "Your soul becomes available for collection by another house. The House of Gold wants it. But you won't owe them anything new. Won't have to serve. You'll be free to live your life until they decide to collect, which could be years from now, or never."
"So I trade one angel's claim for another's?" she says slowly. "But I get to feel again?"
"Yes."
She looks at the Monet one more time. At the colors and shapes that mean nothing to her anymore.
"Do it," she says. "Please. I can't keep living like this."
I step forward and place my hands on her shoulders. Through the binding, I feel Croesus's presence somewhere below, steady, watchful, ready.
I reach out with my senses, searching for the contract. It's there, a golden thread wrapped around Helena's heart, pulsing with Idris's power. Envy given form. The need to possess, to acquire, to have what others have.
I grasp it.
The contract fights me. They always do. It doesn't want to break, doesn't want to release its hold. But I'm stronger. I pull it into myself, absorb it, let the envy flood through me.
And suddenly, I want everything. Every painting in this gallery, every dress in Helena's closet, every experience she's ever had. I want Croesus's power, Idris's beauty, the lives of every person at this masquerade. I want and want and want until the hunger feels like it's going to tear me apart.
Helena gasps. The thread breaks, andthe contract shatters.
I collapse, the envy burning through my veins like acid.
"Go," I manage, gripping the back of a chair to pull myself upright. "Leave now. Before, before Idris comes."
"Thank you," Helena breathes, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you."
She's running for the stairs, and I'm alone with the envy clawing at my insides.
I need to move. Need to get back to the House of Gold. Need to find that storage room and purge this before it consumes me.
I stumble trying to raise the mirror we came through. The envy is making everything worse. I want the walls, the mirrors, the reflections. I want to be every version of myself I see in the glass. I want lives I never lived, choices I never made.
