THE ROOM was filled with a dim, warm light and Lillian could just make out the faded, abstract shadows of the audience through the sheer silk that hid everything but her silhouette. She felt the warmth of the lamps behind her, and as she filed behind the other scantily clad dancers she felt that familiar nervous buzz. Lillian called the dance routine to mind, remembering each pivot and step, her fingers tapping out the beat of the song against her thigh.
"Lil," a voice pulled her back to reality, dragging her away from her imaginary rehearsal. "Mind helping me lace up?" A petite brunette stood beside her, her white wig askew, revealing the mahogany ringlets underneath it.
"Late again, Matilda?" Lillian shook her head, an amused smile touching her lips. Happy for the distraction, she straightened the edges of the corset, deftly tightening the laces. The thick ribbon dug into her fingers as she pulled the corset tighter, finishing it with a neat bow. "There you go," she said, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow.
The other dances milled around nervously, their heels clacking against the worn wooden floor. Hushed voices echoed backstage as corsets were tightened, wigs straightened and garters adjusted. Slowly they ordered into a neat line, with a tall elegant auburn-haired girl standing at the front. Lillian stood four dancers from the end of the line. She was a new hire, and was still adjusting to the hectic, nocturnal life of a cabaret dancer, but her talent had been recognized. Just a week ago she had been standing at the end of the line. As the auburn-haired starlet parted the silky curtains with an elegant flourish, the music kicked in.
It was a thick, seductive sound and Lillian felt her body instinctively fall into her starting stance. It was the sort of music that urged one to sway, to move. She was regarded by many as nothing more than a glorified lady of the night, dancing for bored aristocratic men in little more than a corset and stockings, sometimes less. She had fallen far in life, had felt the shame of poverty, and yet, all the darkness of her past faded away when she walked into the stage light. It was a drug. She craved the forgetful ecstasy that the club had given her.
The dancers filed onto the stage, sashaying with swaying hips and tightly bound corsets. Feather-trimmed fans and feather boas were waved by the newer recruits who twirled and posed, their young eyes framed by arched eyebrows and parted cherry-red lips as they feigned surprise.
Lillian barely noticed the other dancers, her mind entirely caught up in the movements she had practiced so many times. She swung her leg into the half-arabesque they had been taught, finishing the lithe movement with a tap of her heel. Stepping forward with her other foot, she bent forward, laying her arms across the back of the dancer in front of her. She felt a deep satisfaction when her movement coincided perfectly with the clang of the cymbals. Her timing had been perfect.
The auburn-haired starlet's performance had been consummate, without fault, but it wasn't her that the audience was transfixed by on this starless London evening. It was the cabaret's newest acquisition that had caught the hungry eyes of the crowd. The young dancer who moved with the straight-backed discipline of a prima ballerina, her green eyes betraying a reckless hunger.
From the audience, Sebastian watched the green-eyed dancer intently. He had asked around about her, discretely, of course, but she was different from how he had imagined. He had expected someone broken down and beaten by fate and circumstance. The girl on stage was steeped in darkness, and carried the weight of loss, but her soul carried a delectable spark of life. So solemn, weighed down her mortal existence, and yet there was something incorruptible about her. Her air of noble superiority remained, despite the fact that she was scantily clad and in one of the dingier areas of London.
It was a miracle that she had remained hidden in plain sight for so long, this heiress to a lost fortune, when traces of her aristocratic upbringing clung to her so visibly.
Narrowing his eyes, he sighed. Could she be the Vipress? The poisoner who had risen to infamy in mere months. Her potent poisons had led to the undoing of many, up until three weeks ago, when all traces of her had disappeared. He had heard rumours through his contacts. Some said that the Black Dog gang was scouring London for their best poison mixer, who had vanished completely.
Night lay thickly across the skies of London. From the gaps between the balconies and buildings that loomed over her, she caught glimpses of the starless night. Even the moon was obscured by the thick clouds of pollution that cloaked the city. Lillian pulled her overcoat more tightly around her, regretting her decision to not change into warmer clothing before leaving the club. She was still wearing her stage clothing underneath her long black coat. Rumours had circulated around the club that night—whispers that the Black Dog gang members would be in the area. After her dealings with them over the last few months, she had attempted to escape their grasp. She had hoped that relocating to the other side of the city would be sufficient, but she was beginning to believe that she might never fully escape their influence. How far did she have to run?
Soft footsteps sounded behind her. Speeding her pace, she heard a voice call out to her.
"A word, Miss Ayres?"
Turning around, she found herself face to face with an exquisitely handsome man. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and his black hair framed striking carnelian eyes. Something about him drew her towards him, and she caught herself staring. There was something otherworldly about him, and he was familiar. She had seen him in the crowd that evening.
"How do you know my name?" Lillian tried her best to keep her voice steady, as her heart raced. Subtly, she uncapped the poison ring on her left hand with a practiced flick of her pinkie finger. Had he followed her?
A slow smile crept across his lips. "We both know that you go by many names, don't we?"
Lillian felt her stomach drop. Could it be that her past had come back to haunt her? He knew about her, she was sure of it. She wondered who could have sent him. Her father, perhaps? The Black Dogs, eager to retrieve their Vipress? She didn't want to go back, didn't want to mix someone's death in a vial, especially not for the Black Dogs. Desperate, she did the only thing she could think of in the moment. Distract him, she thought.
"For a handsome man like you," she began, batting her eyes, "I'll go by any name you like." Slowly, she reached out a hand and took a handful of his black waistcoat, pulling him closer. "Your place or mine?" She kept her eyes fixed on him, while she looped her other arm around his waist, placing her spiked poison ring over his hip.
Dark humour glittered in his strange red hued eyes, and she felt his hand close around her wrist. He flipped the cover over her ring, still grasping her wrist. "Clever, but I'm afraid it will do little harm to me."
Lillian opened her mouth to object, but he stopped her with an impatient look. Her poison had only failed once before.
"You have no intention of sleeping with me," his gaze fell down to her corset-bound chest. Embarrassment flooded over her as she realized her coat had fallen open, she shivered in the cool midnight breeze. The man loosened his group on her wrist. "As lovely as you are, and despite what the hour might imply regarding my intentions towards you, I am here to discuss business."
Stepping away, Lillian closed her coat and crossed her arms, attempting to retain the last of her dignity. "How much do you know about me?" A fierce, defiant light filled her eyes and her voice was assured, steady. "First you tell me what you know, then we'll talk business."
The carriage rocked as they rounded a turn sharply, jostling Lillian to the side. Curiously, she pulled the thick velvet curtain aside and admired the pastoral landscape. It reminded her of home—or rather, what had been her home during her childhood years. She had no idea what had become of her family's old manor, and a part of her feared to know. Sometimes it was best to leave the past untouched.
Lillian was still rattled from her encounter with the red-eyed man, Sebastian Michaelis. He had discovered all of her secrets with such ease. He had the makings of a formidable enemy, and yet, it seemed that he had recruited her as an ally.
Here she was, on her way to work for a young lord she had never met, hired by a butler she had only met once. Not that she had much of a choice. He had known too much about her past, about the many names she had gone by over the years. There was another reason, too, one that she was less happy to admit. Sebastian had drawn her in. Even now, she could imagine the warm, heady smell of his cologne with its hint of spice.
"Two years," he said. "After that you may choose to leave the Phantomhive Manor."
Lillian took a step forward, studying Sebastian's expression. "Two years is a long time."
"For you, perhaps," Sebastian said softly. The moonlight caught the gleaming ends of his pitch-dark hair, forming a halo of sorts. "Demons don't age."
Catching her expression of shock, he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "You aren't surprised, not truly. I know you have had dealings with my kind in the past."
Gathering her thoughts, she spoke. "What do you want from me?" she asked, her voice hushed. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear.
His breath tickled her skin, "I want your obedience." His lips hovered over her throat where her blood pulsed. Nipping her skin delicately, he swiped his tongue over the curve of her ear, eliciting a muted intake of breath.
Lillian tapped the varnished window-ledge as she recounted the evening before. He had been right, although she hadn't admitted the fact that she had, in the past, had dealings with demons. Once, she had tried to poison a demon. He hadn't died, and she had gained his wrath.
Yet another jolt shook her from her reverie. One of the carriage horses snorted, while the driver clambered out of his seat. A knock on the door sounded and moments later the face of the young land greeted her earnestly. "Here we are, Miss. Phantomhive Manor," he announced in a cheerful tone as he reached out his hand to help her descend from the carriage.
"Thank you," Lillian said with a smile, walking towards the manor, her shoes clicking softly against the cobblestones.
"Ms. Lillian Ayres," A voice stopped her in her tracks.
Sebastian Michaelis. A shiver went down her spine when his eyes met hers, and she tightened her shawl around her shoulders, feeling a blush make its way across her cheeks. Sebastian sent her a glance and there was something devilish about the glimmer in his eyes, the twist of his lips. They both knew that it wasn't the cold or fear that had made her shiver.
"Fancy a tour of the grounds, Miss Ayres?"