Page 101 of Fallen Court

Her eyes lit up like she’d won some argument I didn’t realize we were having. But triumph faded as I started toward the beat-up old building.

“Wait! This is it?” She scanned the collection of official notices taped and stapled to the battered door, a frown deepening at the condition of the ancient theater’s crumbling brick facade. “This place looks like it should be condemned. There’s going to be an orgy here. Is that even sanitary?”

I bit back a laugh and extended my hand. “Appearances can be deceiving, princess.”

She took it, eyes still wide and uncertain. “I’m trusting you on this.”

Unlike most of the other magical enclaves in the world, the Quartier’s avenues were open for any magical creature to stroll along—no formal entrance or esoteric handshakes necessary. The magic in one’s blood served as a ticket, barring hapless humans from stumbling into our private spaces. La Porte was different. The street entrance to the theater had been built outside the Quartier’s bespelled boundary line. “The notices keep most of the humans away,” I explained to her as I reached for the door. The knob warmed in my hand, the threshold’s magic recognizing my own. “During the day, this door is locked to keep away the more curious ones.”

I pushed open the door with an ominous creak, a few thin cobwebs stirring across the top of its worn frame.

Cate didn’t budge from the cobbled sidewalk. “And at night?”

“Come inside and see.” I flourished a hand toward the dim entryway. She stared into the void, her eyes flickering over to me before she finally sighed and took a tentative step into the darkness.

“La Porte and this neighborhood have always been largely…self-governing,” I told her, choosing my words with care. “I’ve tended to keep my distance over the years out of respect. At least, that’s one of the reasons.”

A visit to the theater meant she was likely to meet the other reason, whether I liked it or not. I forced a thin smile. Even the Quartier’s cherished autonomy only existed because I allowed it—a fact they might need to be reminded of right about now. Gripping her more tightly, I led us out of the shadows and into the lion’s den.

Uncertainty prickled my skin and set my pulse thrumming as the false frontage melted into an opulent lobby. A series of gilded plaster arms lined the rich burgundy walls, outstretched to hold flaming torches, their flickering light dancing on the polished marble floors. Cate’s mouth fell open as she took it all in. “This was not what I expected.” Her gaze snagged on a large archway, draped on either side by puddling yards of thick velvet curtains fringed with gold tassels. She craned her neck toward the sounds spilling from beyond. Piano and violins drifted toward us, their swelling notes punctuated by the clatter of roulette wheels and dice and subsequent cheers and groans. She glanced up at me. “Is it a casino?”

“Theaters used to be an excuse to gamble in the crescent city,” I explained as I led her slowly toward the bustling activity in the adjoining room. “Back when the local authorities were stricter about such things.”

“And it’s still like that here today?”

The wonder filling her voice made me smile. “Vampires cling to vices like they’re life rafts on a sinking ship. Technically, this is the oldest running casino in New Orleans.”

“Technically?”

“You won’t find it listed on any historic registers,” I murmured as we worked our way into the crowd.

She clutched my hand, her eyes widening as she drank in the gamblers, most of whom were costumed in a strange mix of the glamorous and the grotesque. A man dressed in a Victorian tailcoat turned as we passed, revealing a porcelain mask with a long, curved beak and hollow black eyes. His head tilted ever so slightly in acknowledgment before he returned to his hand of blackjack. At the next table, a woman in a flowing blue gown, a crown of silver stars twinkling atop her pinned curls, blew on a pair of dice before scattering them across the felt tabletop. Her companion, dressed in a tattered lace wedding gown smeared with something that looked suspiciously like dried blood, cheered.

Cate halted so suddenly that I accidentally yanked her arm. Alarm sounded in my veins, and I took a protective step to her side. But she was staring at a group of drunken men wearing normal clothes. “Are they…human?”

Leaning close to her ear, I murmured, “Humans are only allowed in the parts of La Porte where they can lose money.” I hesitated before adding softly, “Or blood.”

She shivered, her gaze darting around the room. “I guess that’s why vampires never give up their vices.”

“Well, we try not to,” a lilting voice cut in, “but sometimes our hands are forced.” I tensed as Baptiste greeted Cate with a smile. Like most, she wore something from the past, the brocade gown with its ruffles and layers likely from an old stage performance, her powdered wig drawing out the tawniness of her flawless complexion. Among so many humans, her pupils had dilated into black orbs that zeroed in on the woman at my side. Baptiste’s nostrils flared slightly as her smile widened. “The rumors must be true.”

Cate stared at her, her own face composing itself into a careful mask in the presence of a vampire. “Oh?”

“They say the Prince of New Orleans is under a spell.” Her eyes flicked up to mine, mischief glinting in their bottomless black. “It must be true if Lachlan Gage deigned to show his face here, and you must be the witch who cast it.”

I stiffened. I hadn’t expected a welcoming party, but this felt like a test.

“I’m not a witch.” But Cate smiled. “I’m just better in bed than his past girlfriends.”

I barely smothered a laugh as Baptiste took a step away, surveying Cate like she was seeing her for the first time. Her face tilted to mine with a silent question.

“Cate, allow me to introduce Baptiste Du Roschiers.” I gestured toward her, already wondering how Baptiste would try to inflict retribution for Cate’s glib remark.

She extended her hand, a velvet glove stretched to her elbow. “The proprietor of La Porte,” she said as Cate shook it gently, adding, “and Lach’s ex-girlfriend.”

Cate fumbled, her composure slipping slightly as Baptiste’s words sank in. “N-nice to meet you,” she stammered, drawing her hand back quickly.

I cleared my throat, stepping closer to my mate. “That was over a long time ago,” I said dismissively. “Ancient history.”