The person stopped just on the other side of the door. The rattling of keys was followed by the unmistakable sound of a lock being turned. Even through the wood, Arista could sense the murderous intentions of Bones, and the urge to flee flooded her body. “Go.” Arista nudged Becky toward their room. The girl fumbled with the doorknob, and kept looking over her shoulder. Arista groaned with frustration. Her hand fell to her side and rested on the hard knife handle under her skirt.
The inside door swung open and Arista made out the shadowy outline of Bones standing there. An involuntary shudder raced over her. Her dealings with Bones were infrequent in nature, with Nic the usual liaison between them. That suited Arista fine. This, though, wasn’t just his terrifying temper; it was something more, something darker. He approached, and her skin crawled.
“Miss?” Becky held the lamp up to her face and gestured hurriedly for Arista to come inside the room. She could run, but it would do no good. Others had tried to run away. They’d been made examples of.
Though she doubted Bones would harm her physically, there were other ways he could get to her, and he knew them well. Arista straightened her shoulders and shook her head. “No. You go. Close the door quickly, and lock it. Do not come out until I tell you to. Here he comes.”
Becky didn’t move. Her gaze flicked to the door, and the color left her face.
“Becky! Leave me.” Arista hated being short with her friend, but it was imperative that she was safely behind the door before Bones got to them. Becky made a terrified sound deep in her throat, and the light disappeared. Arista heard the click of the door latch falling into place, and exhaled.
When she was young, Arista would close her eyes and pretend that in the darkness, she could become invisible. A useless trick; Bones always found her. Tonight, Arista kept her eyes open and stared directly at Bones. His pupils were dilated and his lips were a tight, thin line.
“Girl, did you have anything to do with this?” Bones’s raspy voice grated across her skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake. He waved a leather pouch in her face, but she’d never seen it before. She had no idea what it held.
“I don’t…” Arista steeled herself. It was always the same when faced with her guardian, if he could even be called that. Slave master, maybe? He owned her as if she were a piece of paste jewelry, and could reduce her to a small, scared child with a single glare.
Who could she be tonight, right now? Not that scared child. Someone else.
Arista called on her alter ego, and Lady A straightened her back. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice regained its cultivated tone, with no evident trace of street dialect.
She saw his fist too late. Pain exploded along the side of her jaw and she crumpled back against the wall. He never hit her in the face because of her value as Lady A. Something had happened to change her worth.
“Don’t you dare use that uppity voice on me, girl. I made you, and I can unmake you just as quickly.”
Arista held her jaw and pushed herself up to stand. She would not lie at his feet like a dog. He could beat her senseless, but she would not cower. Not anymore.
“That boy o’ yours. Where is he?” Cold, steely fingers wrapped around her wrist. Bones was much stronger than he looked.
“Nic?”
“Ni-ic,” he mimicked. His lips turned up in a snarl. “You got more than one boy, then? Whorin’ yourself behind my back, girl?”
“No!” Heat flooded her face.
Bones dug his fingers into her wrist until she thought she would hear a snap. His snarling face was inches from hers. His breath reeked of garlic and tooth rot. “Where is he?”
“I thought he was out on an errand for you,” she gasped. Prickles of light danced in her vision. Bones had always been cruel, but tonight something had changed. Tonight, Arista feared he might finally kill her. “I went out alone tonight.”
“You were out tonight?” Bones lifted the light over his head and peered down over her, finally noticing her costume. “What game are you up to? I didn’t send you out.” Spittle flecked his lips and he shoved her back against the wall. As he held her there with an arm across her throat, the flames from the lantern burned in his eyes. He looked like the devil himself. “Are you double-crossing me, girl?”
“You sent me.” She tugged desperately against his iron grip.
She realized the truth in a rush. The card that granted her entrance to the masquerade hadn’t been from him. Of course not—why would he send her to meet Wild? Unless Wild had arranged the meeting under the pretense of needing Bones’s services. But judging by the murderous glint in Bones’s eyes, he knew nothing about tonight.
Bones released the pressure on her neck, but then tangled his gnarled fingers in her wig. The pins pulled painfully at her scalp, and Arista grabbed his wrist with both hands. “I’ll not be double-crossed, girl. Not by the likes o’ you. Who gave you the order to go out? Do not lie to me.”
Arista glared at Bones. “You did.”
He yanked upward until she stood on her toes, pinned against the wall. She dug her nails frantically into his flesh, but he didn’t relent. He twisted his hand, tightening his grip on her hair, then drove his free fist into her gut over and over again.