XXII
The Madam's fingers curled lightly around my elbow, guiding me away from the lingering tension of the hat man's outburst. I could still feel his waxy hungry stare burning into my back, but Madam's presence cut through it like a blade of cool air.
"Enough theatrics for one evening," she murmured. "You need someone… steadier."
She led me toward a cluster of guests who parted with a ripple of curiosity, revealing a man who looked as though he'd stepped straight out of a sepia‑toned carnival poster.
He was tall, lean, dressed in an emerald-green striped waistcoat and a velvety black tailcoat with brass buttons that gleamed like coins. A handlebar mustache curled elegantly at the ends, waxed to perfection. A pocket watch dangled from a chain across his chest, ticking softly even though I couldn't see any hands moving. Long grey pinstriped pants encased his legs and ending in leather shoes polished to a high shine.
And his grin was roguish, mischievous, the kind of smile that promised both trouble and delight.
But his eyes…
His eyes betrayed him.
They sparkled like a showman's, lively and looking to perform, but behind the twinkle was something sharp, calculating, ancient. A predator wearing a performer's charm, but his goals were pure profit.
"Darling," the Madam said, her voice smooth as silk, "allow me to introduce Mr. Vaude."
He swept into a theatrical bow, one hand flourishing his hat, the other pressed to his chest.
"Enchanted," he said, voice warm and rich like caramel. "Truly enchanted."
The Madam's tone shifted. Her voice held respect but coldly edged with warning.
"He is one of the Shadow Council."
My breath caught. Even the guests nearby seemed to straighten subtly, as if the title carried weight.
"The Council," she continued, "oversees the economy of our world. Souls, favors, memories, and light, all must be regulated or result in mutual destruction. A few centuries ago, all souls here lost their ways, faded, and their spiritual bodies were just gone. Many merely went away, others were consumed by monsters, and monstrous souls. The rest of us decided to organize into a group to support society and develop an economy. The Shadow Council does the same, but within the dark of society. The deal in things that polite society does not want to mention, deal in things like meat and blood wagers."
Mr. Vaude clicked open his pocket watch. The inside glowed faintly red, as if lit by embers.
"And I deal in wagers," he said with a wink, "I run the Red Carousel."
I felt the name like a shiver down my spine.
"The Red Carousel is a casino," he added, "and a soul circus. I run a place where the rules bend, the stakes rise, and the brave, or foolish, wager pieces of themselves."
He snapped the watch shut with a crisp click.
"Your arrival has caused quite the stir, my dear. A tethered soul with a shine like yours? Why, that's the sort of thing that makes all sides of the Council… curious."
His grin widened, but it didn't reach the depths of his eyes.
"And curiosity," he said softly, "is the most valuable currency we have."
Madam's hand tightened on my arm, grounding me.
"Mr. Vaude can help you," she said. "If he chooses to."
He tilted his head, studying me with that glittering, showman's gaze, but beneath it, I felt the weight of someone who had bought and sold more souls than I could imagine.
"Well," he murmured, "let's see what your light is worth." He slipped his fingers into his pocket, pulling out something round and glowing faintly blue.
The Madam's smile sharpened as she watched Mr. Vaude's pocket watch glow, and I felt the shift in the room. The feeling was subtle, but unmistakable. The air grew heavier, humming with a kind of tension I didn't yet understand. She leaned closer to me, her voice dropping into something low and conspiratorial.
"You should know," she murmured, "how this world truly runs."
Mr. Vaude snapped his watch shut with a theatrical click, then twirled it once around his finger before letting it fall neatly back into his vest pocket. His grin widened, delighted to have an audience. The watch was his prized possession, an artifact that let him see the worth of each spirit he met, the amount of energy that remained.
"Oh, Madam," he said, "don't spoil the surprise. Let the girl hear it from someone who knows the business."
He stepped closer, and the scent of old velvet and carnival smoke clung to him like a memory. His eyes sparkled brightly. They glittered not with innocence, but with the thrill of a man who lived on the edge of a knife and enjoyed every second of it.
"The shattered mirror world," he said, gesturing grandly with one gloved hand, "has always run on energy. Not the kind you can burn like in the other tangible world. No, no, something far more delicate, and far more consumable."
He tapped his chest lightly.
"Soul energy, the very essence of spirit."
A murmur rippled through the nearby guests, though none looked surprised. This was old news to them, the way gravity is old news to the living.
Mr. Vaude continued, voice dropping into a storyteller's cadence.
"Most of the energy here is intangible. Ambient. The leftover shimmer of broken worlds, fractured realities, and the echoes of what once was." He leaned in, eyes glittering. "But the Council… ah, the Council found a way to make it useful."
He reached into his coat and produced something small between his fingers, twirling it in a deft motion, a coin.
It glowed blue, softly at first, then brighter as he rolled it across his knuckles. The light inside it pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This," he said, "is a soul coin." He pulled a faintly glowing coin out of his pocket.
My breath caught. The glow inside the coin wasn't just light. It felt… aware. Like a whisper trapped behind glass.
"They discovered," he went on, "that a soul substance, even a fragment of a shattered one, can be preserved, condensed, and stored. A perfect little battery. A currency that never tarnishes."
He flipped the coin into the air. It spun, leaving a faint trail of blue luminescence before landing neatly in his palm.
"Some souls are bright," he said, eyeing me with unsettling interest. "Some dim. Some fractured. Some… oh, some shine like stars." His fingers rolled like a magic trick, revealing one, two, three glowing coins.
I felt the weight of his gaze settle on me like a hand.
"And those like yours, still connected to the living world, are full of energy, and" he said softly, "are worth more than gold."
The Madam placed a hand on his arm, a silent reminder not to push too far. He only smiled wider.
"The Shadow Council regulates it all," he said. "Extraction. Preservation. Trade. Wagers." His grin turned wicked. "And I, my dear, run the Red Carousel where souls spin, gamble, and dance for their freedom."
He flicked the coin once more, and it vanished into his sleeve.
"Your light," he said, "would turn every head in the Shadow Council. You alone are worth every coin in my casino."
The Madam's grip on me tightened.
"Be careful with your words, Vaude."
"Oh, I'm being very careful," he said, eyes never leaving mine. "After all,… she's the brightest tethered soul I've seen in centuries." He looked at me through glittering chartreuse eyes. You my dear, are worth a mountain of coin, and are worth the gamble."
He chuckled, tucking his coins back into his pocket. "I assume you want to return your wanton energy back into that body of yours. To put the coins back into the bank so to speak?"
I nodded.
"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained sweetheart. We must get you to my casino and win you a pass through the abyss and guide you back to your body through your tether. I can help you, but I have something to ask for in return."
Yes. I had finally found someone with a halfway good plan. I had nothing to lose anyway. I needed to either get to my body, or I'd fade away in the process. It was better to spend a little piece of my soul, than lose it all. Life is always a gamble. It was time for me to take a chance on myself.