Phoenix

Sinderella's Palace

Was it a strip club? A gentlemen's lounge? Ash had seen those kinds of places on the news would rather have chanced a night on the street than work for one. But contrary to the parted legs on the door, the interior was comfortably air-conditioned and expensively furnished. There were no floor-to-ceiling poles or garish purple lighting. Freshly burnished copper lanterns glowed a warm gold and waif women on jade velvet couches sucked on silver pipes attached to bubbling serpent-shaped chambers. Green and brown smoke dribbled from their mouths between puffs, filling the room with the mouth-watering scent of cinnamon and cooked apple.

Drawn forward by the trilling of a reeded flute, punctuated by the steady throb of a tambourine, she passed a polished mahogany bar to her left, sneakers sinking into the thick, Persian runner. She reached the stage and lifted the corner of the plush velvet curtain, only to be stopped by the firm grip of a small, feminine hand, tipped at the nails with pastel pink nail polish. She followed the line of fingers to the wrist, then to the elbow, then to a face and was astounded to find the prettiest girl she'd ever seen. With fair skin, pointed ears and long wavy hair feathering delicate, upturned features, she looked just like a pixie.

"Where do you think you're going?" The pixie tightened her grip.

"The man at the door said I could find the Madame backstage," Ash said.

The pixie pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, giving her face a harsh, pinched look. "What's orphan scum like you doing on Sunset Boulevard?"

Ash recoiled. She hadn't expected the pixie to notice what she was. She wondered what had given it away. Her hair, her clothes, her accent? She thought she'd done a good job of covering up her gutter slang. "I came to see the Madame," she said slowly. "Like I already said." She met the pixie's look with a brick-wall stare.

The pixie released her arm with a shove and hooked her finger on the belt of her silk dressing gown with lazy elegance. "The Madame's not here right now."

Ash didn't move. "Do you know when she'll be back?"

The pixie shrugged. "No idea." But just as the words left her mouth, a falsetto voice called out from backstage. "Who's there, Amerie?"

Amerie tensed. "Just some vanilla girl. I'm showing her out."

"Nonsense. Let me look at her."

"She's not suitable."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Amerie glared in the direction of the voice before pushing Ash towards the velvet curtain. "Well, go on then. You heard her."

Ash hesitated, disabled by indecision. There was something sinister about Sinderella's Palace, but the wafting tendrils of saccharine smoke had taken the edge off the LCD crassness of the street and the gentle trilling music had left her dozy and relaxed. She wondered if it would be such a bad idea to meet the Madame and find out what the Palace was all about. Nothing was stopping her from leaving whenever she wanted.

Eased by the thought, she stepped through the velvet curtain and into a dark corridor. Amerie's gaze followed her out, causing the hair on her neck to rise. Physical brutality, she was used to. But twisted words and feline intelligence were something completely new.

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