It happened in the middle of a ballroom that resembled the splendor of an era best forgotten. Powdered wigs, ruffled cuffs, embroidered dresses and tight breeches were worn as a tribute to the time that had sired the leader of them all: The Marquis de Sade. Of course, the sumptuous clothes were just as easily shed in his name, for there were all sorts of deviant acts being shamelessly performed in everyone's view.

For once, Emmet wasn't engaged in one of the intricate games taking place around him. Since he had attended in a professional capacity, he should have been on the floor working, but he couldn't find the will to move out from the shadows in which he had hidden since he had arrived.

Despite having been aware of his condition for quite some time, had never truly considered it beyond the necessity of preservatives, the frequent check-ups and the pills. Facing his own mortality hadn't enlightened Emmett with the sort of epiphany that would have made him turn his life around. It took the sight of some of the sickest human specimens, performing some of the vilest acts he had ever watched for the spell to be broken.

They are nothing. The thought came unbidden, but with the force of the truths known by the soul. He was finally free from the empty promises of a world that was nothing more than shallow joy and deep rooted despair. Becoming one of them would never make him whole … It would never erase the events of his past.

Too bad freedom came too late.