Page 62 of Muerte
Aside from the various shops and eateries that peppered the streets, there was Medbay, a state-of-the-art medical facility that almost looked out of place. Esther explained it attracted wealthy families from afar, promising treatments that were both revolutionary and discreet.
“If it’s so discreet, how do they know about it?” I asked.
She gave me a blank look as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “Do you not believe that there are affluent people with ties to the Impío?”
I did believe that, actually. When I considered the men who owned and ran Millennium, I believed it even more. After all, the Erebus family had secrets of their own. And I knew that thanks to Anya, who’d tried to find out all she could about them. We’d met two of the brothers only once, and that’d been enough for her to become scarily obsessed.
“Hey, are you okay?” Nicolette asked, gently nudging my shoulder.
Esther looked on with concern.
I forced a smile for their benefit and nodded. “Yeah, just taking it all in.”
“It’s a lot, but you’ll get used to it. Look over there, what do you think of that?” She pointed out a regal building deemed Stygian Theater, a blend of vintage charm and modern opulence, offering ‘performances that mesmerize’—Nicolette’s added words.
What I didn’t see was the lighthouse. We had to be more inland. To escape this place and somehow hitch a ride on a boat, I needed to find the coastal point, right? I needed a damn map.
“Would you like to pop in anywhere for a better look?” Esther asked, interrupting my plotting. “If anything catches your eye, just point it out and it’s yours.”
I made a show of surveying the street we were on and rested my gaze on a looming structure a few blocks ahead of us.
“You let people go in there?” I pointed to the cathedral standing tall and grand.
There were tourists milling all around it. Some held cameras, others were carrying notebooks. Esther gently grasped my elbow to keep me moving and leaned closer to reply. “It’s merely a decoy, the original Stygian turned museum, and it serves as a brilliant ruse. It allows the tourists to leave with tales that are far from the Isle's truths, while sating their curiosity.”
“And it works?”
“Sometimes it really is as simple as people seeing what they expect to see,” she replied with a shrug. “The faux Chapel, this town.” She gestured around us. “It all serves a purpose. Strategic distraction. And a money pit.”
Huh. I guess that was smart. We meandered over the crosswalk, and I couldn't help but notice a road that looked as if it belonged in a gothic version of Las Vegas.
I turned to Esther and Nicolette. "Casinos too?”
Esther laughed. “Yes, and our Pleasure House.”
"The Pleasure House?" I echoed, a hint of surprise in my voice. "Is that like the Isle's version of a strip club?" The idea seemed so out of place in this meticulously maintained, almost surreal world.
Nicolette's answer came with a knowing smile. "You're on the right track, but it's more intimate than that." Her words hinted at secrets and stories untold, further piquing my interest.
I nodded slowly, hearing what she wasn’t saying. "But why? Why have something like that here?" My question was genuine, reflecting my growing fascination with the complexities of this place despite my perilous predicament and its true nature.
Esther's explanation was straightforward yet revealing.
"It's another strategic distraction, really. Plus, you'd be surprised how many visitors come to the Isle specifically for that." Her words reiterated a calculated purpose behind every facet of this mysterious community.
Nicolette added, "The women there are carefully chosen and trained for their roles. They're a different kind of servitor, dedicated to providing a very specific service."
She meant sex, obviously. I didn’t have a problem or strong opinion on sex workers, but even with my limited understanding of things, I understood these women weren’t being paid for their services. I wouldn’t allow myself to think too strongly about how they wound up in such a position to begin with. I couldn’t exactly bust in and save them. And it was a given that some might not believe they needed to be saved at all.
As we continued our stroll, my thoughts involuntarily drifted to Alexander, and a twinge of annoyance pricked at me.
He seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my mind—and not entirely in a negative sense. The thought of him possibly visiting this Pleasure House nagged at me. I quickly pushed it aside, focusing instead on the stores we passed.
I refused to acknowledge any feelings of jealousy. Admitting that would mean acknowledging a deeper connection to him, something I was not ready to confront. I was caught between detesting my captor and being drawn to him, his presence now a constant echo in the back of my mind. It was exhausting.
Why couldn’t I hate him for what he’d done? Not for the first time, I wondered what the hell was wrong with me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN