The Aurelian Hotel and Keynote Club and Cabaret

[Kestrel]

There exists a world beyond the traditional and prosaic where intrigue and mystery liaison with plotting conspiracy and confidential intimacy, a world where nothing is beyond a limitless grasp and fantasy is reality for those capable of manifesting it. Standing at the vanguard of that divide is The Aurelian. A posh hotel to those who shuffle past on sidewalks and streets, those who are unwittingly counted as members of the mundane while they pass its doors with a curious, but fleeting, glance. But to those who have learned to look beneath the surface, to scratch through the façade of normalcy, The Aurelian stands as a gateway to all those who count themselves as driven, calculated, and unflinching, to those whose passport is power and pack their bags with avarice, violence, and refined savagery.

Overseen by a chimerical collection of transgressors and powerbrokers, the Aurelian is, along with various other locations, owned and operated beneath the same shadowy umbrella. The hotel itself is a landmark and timeless icon of elegance that has preserved legendary hospitality and spirit for generations. The Aurelian sits at the crossroads of eras and civilizations that meld old-world opulence with dreamlike exoticism. Though its refined palette and polished black breccia marble floors might feel worlds away from the technicolor hue of heritage and history, the factory-style casement windows adorning every room, repurposed wood beams and a distressed travertine fireplace in the lobby all collectively ooze unquestioned authenticity. Kaleidoscopic street life might be just steps away yet this bijou auberge will welcome those with a mélange of marble, nuanced sophistication, and impeccable munificence.

Spend the proper currency, both amount and denomination, and move past the front desk and ever watchful concierge, Kestrel, and into a courtyard vertical garden. Ornate wrought iron caged elevators await to collect and lift patrons to the proper floor, the view of the lobby ascendant through the antiquated scissor gate only opened at the proper floor by an attendant. Once elevated, one can find themselves ensconced within serene suites possessed of a cosmopolitan collection of subdued neutral hues, pearly marble, and starry glass sure to sing the high note of no expense spared. Meticulously styled, each suite affords its occupant(s) restorative privacy free of loud noises and otherwise distracting interruptions. Each suite offers modern amenities that the Aurelian’s patrons would come to expect at such a locale and is, to put it politely, the gold standard within the collection of properties.

The Aurelian’s spa offers both private and semi-private spaces that include classic saunas, cold plunge pools and a saltwater indoor pool. Also offered on premises is an avant-garde approach to wellness for those arriving with a bit more…wear and tear. Traditional massage treatments are offered alongside Watsu, cryotherapy, Psammo Therapy, infrared saunas, and quantum harmonic baths to soothe the body and offer restorative care.

Those fancying an au courant listing of beverages both alcoholic and benign can prowl the drink listings in three different locales. Adjacent to the lobby where the industrial mingled with a mid-century design, The Admiral of the Red or more simply The Red possessed a copper tiled ceiling floated above a cherry hued bar. Its floors and wainscot were dark redwood, its walls a soft and muted gray that held the light as well as the patrons held their liquor. A pool table awaited both spontaneous games as well as those that tilt towards preplanned high-stakes competition. Fret not about last night as The Red will be waiting with a fresh Continental spread each morning while those looking to continue their celebrations through the morning can find The Solstice midlevel within the Aurelian. Two floors of space offer swank upscale seating for socializing with bottle service and the finest, top shelf views. A fireplace at one end warms the ambience as much as the air for those that desire a more intimate affair. Far above The Red and The Solstice on the hotel’s rooftop sat Sakalas. The plant laden lounge perched atop the Aurelian offered creative cocktails spiked with altitude and attitude on city facing terraces. Modern sculptures questioned existence while the infinity pools stretched towards a horizon entirely within one’s grasp from such a place.

Are you the type to lay your head at the Aurelian? No easy question as the Aurelian is no simple hostelry. For those that wish to enter this world understand that it is just as, if not more difficult, to leave than it is to join. Blood in. Blood out. If you have the mindset and the ability coupled with the coin, then a room and refuge can be purchased easily enough at the Aurelian. Yet for those that require it, those that have a true need, they can inquire about the Aurelian’s unique set of keys. Rare items indeed though valuable as they grant specific access to parts of the hotel and other areas otherwise off-limits even to the wealthiest of patrons. Where do they lead? One can always inquire of Kestrel, the Concierge, at the front desk but never forget one of the most important principles at The Aurelian, a guiding belief that sets it…and those who lay their head beneath its aegis of protection…apart: Acta non verba. Deeds, not words.

Deeds. Not words.

[Kestrel]

All within the Aurelian is not simply a hotel with modern amenities and luxuries. Stand in the lobby and feel the telltale beating of the hotel’s seductive heart beneath its main floor. The Keynote Club and Cabaret as it’s known throughout the underground offers beguiling and bewitching burlesque shows meant to enrapture, enthrall, and entertain throughout the day and night. There was no time at The Keynote like the present. No time at all as there were no clocks or windows to judge the spinning of time’s flat circle. Tomorrow was promised to no one, a message those staying at The Aurelian knew all too well as did those who came simply to be entertained and focus on anything other than what they’d left upstairs.

So enjoy your present.

Breathe in the narcotic notes on the air and ride the hypnotic, hypnagogic high from the seats surrounding the large stage. All sorts of sensual shows reveal the talents of dancers, singers, and performers alike. Like the right dress in bright sun, the shapely stage drew the eyes to all the right places, so attention never drifted from Rococo ruffles and wantonly unrestrained rites. Libertine freewheelers manipulated sight, sound, taste, and touch to deliver high flying delights, soulful siren songs and decadent dance. No night was ever exactly the same though epicurean delights were forever on the menu. New places were always hungry for new acts and the new owner was more than willing to give fresh faces a go. It kept the audience energized though certain acts and performances were quickly becoming fan favorites. Loud cheers and long applause pauses let everyone know just what the crowd enjoyed the most.

The main hall had plenty of room between raucous, raw, red brick walls to feature a full-time big band ensemble that kept the pulse pounding and the energy frenetically high. Sway to the Speak Easy sounds of Undercover Brass and the Swing Secrets as the night nudges into dawn and the stage performances refuse to disappoint. Drumbeats hammered like cannons on the line reminiscent of the musical genius Gene Krupa while noisy brass sang the praises of Glenn Miller, Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, and Benny Goodman…true Kings and Queens of Cool and Sultans of Swing. In the Mood? Take the A-Train and spend April in Paris where you can Sing Sing Sing the night away.

Timid? Tired from dancing? Exhausted from entertainment? How did you ever get here then? Summon up a bit of courage and try one of innumerable cocktails from the bar beneath a grand Great Gatsby glittering glass chandelier that would impress Daisy Fay Buchanan herself. Backlit by the Angel’s Share of white light, the bar has every bottle you can think of and half again more beyond. Try one for some liquid courage. Try em all for debauched chaos and become ombibulous! Stacked seven levels high, the racks of liquor were an excuse all their own to come back till each had been conquered. Ride the White Lightning while sipping some Jamican Ginger or put Mary Pickford in the Sidecar while cruising Ward Eight with Tom Collins firing off a French 75. And for the brave The Monkey Gland. It’s that absinthe rinse that leaves a mark and makes it unforgettable. And that’s The Last Word.

If The Aurelian had a list of beliefs and rules, The Keynote Club and Cabaret had only one: Unlock Your Fantasy.

[Kestrel]

The city stretched out, seemingly endlessly, from his perch atop his hotel. The enigmatic owner of The Aurelian stood and watched with predatory guile as he scanned the city from his rooftop vantage. Moonlight bathed the tranquil night in anemic satin and reflected in the still infinity pool to his left. He watched the twinkling of lights and shifting flow of traffic which wound its way through the glowing arteries of wide streets and avenues, jammed up in the narrow capillaries of alleyways which crisscrossed the urban sprawl like a labyrinth only the initiated and practiced could navigate. He stared with dispassionate disinterest as he imagined so much mundanity blithely carrying about. He shouldn’t have such disdain for the banality of it all…there was much work to be done and he typically took to it with a certain zeal…but he could not deny, this night, he felt a certain pity and disgust, a profound umbrage towards those that moved about the world as placid as cattle.

“You’ve been standing there for quite some time, Kestrel.” His voice broke the rooftop silence with a smoky timbre flavored with exotic cigars, expensive liquor, and polished refinement.

“You seemed rather contemplative, Deacon.” Kestrel answered with the owner’s official title within the Order. He stood unmoving and unflinching from his position of support behind and offset to the owner’s right shoulder. “And in no mood to be interrupted.” The concierge exuded a stoic serenity that belied his readiness and whatever emotions roiled behind his set jaw and perpetually neutral expression remained shrouded in mystery.

Kestrel watched with perspicacious, bronze-colored eyes that shrewdly consumed every minute detail of what he studied. Attention to detail. It made him impeccable at his job. Immaculate attention to detail that was turned to the man in front of him. The man’s suit, ruthlessly tailored, the shine of his shoes as he stood on the very edge of the Aurelian’s darkened rooftop, the light hold of the iron mask which dangled from the middle finger of his left hand…forgotten…for the moment.

“Mm. I was. For a time.” The answer came without looking back to the concierge.

“We did not expect you back until tomorrow.” It was not a prompting statement. Kestrel knew better than to try and prompt such a man though the devil’s mask had prompted his next statement. He knew the owners wore masks to keep their identities secret from one another. One did not get promoted to owner by being timid. “The Convocation…”

“Ended early.” The owner finished and finally turned about to face his concierge. The limpid marbled twilight of the man’s piercing gaze possessed a grim and oppressive power that found Kestrel standing straight in a suit with tattooed hands loosely clasped in front of him, the color of his jacket matched his shoulder length charcoal hair touched by the gray of age at his temples. “The High Chancellors had other plans.” Lips curled into a mirthless smile as a ripple of predatory malice flickered across the inky surface of his eyes. “Which means they had no further need for us.” A glance to the black iron mask which dangled from his finger by a single horn.

“The other owners must be in similar positions then. Is it business as usual?” Kestrel inquired without attempting to mine the minutes of the high-level meeting.

“For now.” The owner nodded. “Which means finding a replacement to operate Keynote. Someone, preferably, that Aviana will not try and cut. See that the little djinn stays in her bottle. We’re being watched, Kestrel.” The owner warned. “Closely. Which means there is opportunity.”

“Of course, Deacon. She can be…tempestuous.” Kestrel finally chose his word after a moment’s consideration. “I shall begin the search for a replacement at once.” Kestrel added though lingered as he had not been discharged just yet.

“You have something else?” The concierge was asked with a canted head.

“The Gambler checked in this morning. He has inquired about you directly and your continued game.”

“Ahh.” The owner exhaled an amused sound past lips caught halfway through a smirk. “Jevvan Dyrr. The pirate must think it safe enough to show his face again.” A pause for consideration and his free hand marked by a pair of rings on fore and ring fingers scratched at a faint scar high on his jaw. “Give the man a key, though not the one he desires. And tell him he can win what he wants, from me tomorrow night, should he have the acumen and brass necessary for victory.”

“He did not seem perturbed in the slightest. I left him at the billiards table.” Kestrel fed the owner every tidbit of information he and his network of eyes and ears filtered. “It is good to have you returned to us, Deacon.” Kestrel said with a slight bow and turned to attend to the business at hand while leaving the owner as he had found him.

[Orion Hendrix]

Heavy footfalls plunged into the gray waters of the swamp and threatened to claim more than a shoe as the figure continued its half-blind, terrified rush forward. The twisted bogs stretched and sprawled for many miles in all directions and Aki Ziso was hopelessly lost. Hopelessly lost…and hunted. The thick, musky fog limited his sight to just a few yards and every shadowy shape which moved in the marsh beyond, every creature that writhed in the water only to disappear into the darkness…they all could be the man who now hunted him.

Sweat stung poor Aki Ziso’s eyes and the pudgy hand that wiped at his brow did little to dispel the continuous flow nor did it dismiss the cloud of gnats that preyed upon his flesh and breath. He twisted out of his jacket and trudged to his left for what he hoped was a distracting throw before high kneed steps propelled him in the opposite direction. The foul-smelling water clung and clawed at his nostrils, the cloying scent of rot and decay assaulted his nose while the stink of mineral rich mud settled like a weight in the back of his throat. Wild eyes looked behind him and he shuddered. Aki Ziso swore he saw a tall, lithe silhouette coming for him and he turned, fueled by fear, and ran on. He could not be sure if the shadowy, nebulous shape was real or a nightmarish projection…but either way…Aki Ziso could now allow himself to remain rooted in place.

Bleached skeletons of trees stood silent sentinel to the fleeing man’s passing while brown reeds crowded rotting trunks. They whispered in a chilled wind against their taller cousins, the sound a malicious mockery for the doomed man that stumbled past, nearly tripped by unseen tangles of roots, and forced to catch himself with a hand. The gnarled wilderness, with its ruined trees and stumps projecting from the dark water like so many rotten teeth, couldn’t become his grave. It couldn’t!

Aki Ziso’s lungs burned, each breath was another inhaled flame that scorched his insides and fueled the blossoming pain through his ribs. How much further could he go? He chanced a look over his shoulder, this one spared while at full speed forward, and saw only the same emotionless soup of fog and water behind him. He continued to sprint forward, his lead foot unable to slow with attention in reverse, unable to see the stump just submerged beneath the water. The ensuing crash spilled the portly man face first into the muck and sent him scrambling on all fours as he fought to regain his footing.

“Ahh…Aki Ziso…” The deep tenor of the voice richly purred not behind the fleeing man but in front of him. “Did you really think you could do what you did and escape Her wrath?” The voice asked as an impuissant breath of air managed to stir the mist enough to reveal a crouched figure atop a mighty trunk long ago felled by the necrotic energy of the place.

Aki Ziso froze when he heard the voice, the timbre of the man’s words far colder than the water he lay in. He looked up and hissed a squeak of surprise before scurrying back like a frightened little sand crab. How had he gotten in front of him? It was impossible! Black mud stirred in the wake of the man’s retreat, gave him away as it churned and settled within the dark water like a black mirror to the mists above. “I didn’t mean to…” The excuse stammered from Aki Ziso’s lips. “I never would have done it had it not been…”

“Tsst.” The figure silenced the purposeless protestations with a single hissed sound. The figure retained its kneeling position, kept the casual rest of a forearm across bent knee and the canted, curious look of a man that delighted in such mental torture. A stern expression and jaw lined stubble that appeared as if no amount of shaving could ever lighten it, the figure was handsome in dangerous, deadly fashions. “Your words only insult Her. What’s done is done.” He stood with a predatory grace, hopped from his superior perch with preternatural agility to land in the muddy waters below and reveal a height that far exceeded Aki Ziso’s five foot nothing frame. “Meet it with a shred of dignity and perhaps the Fallen Mistress will grant you clemency on the other side.”

“Orion…no…” Aki Ziso pleaded as trembling hands wiped at the mud and sought to set his spectacles back on his nose. “It’s not like that. I didn’t know…but I can help…” He felt a sense of cold dread snake its way round his spine as he stared up into the black and blue eyes of Orion Hendrix dispassionately inspecting the inconsequential insect cowering before him. “I…I can work with you…I can show Her my value…I can help you find the others…”

It began to rain then. A sudden deluge of falling water swept across their shared part of the bog. Fallen trees and ruined stumps stood steadfast against the cascade of water as a sudden wind whipped up to throw clumps of reeds back and forth with its chilly grip. Heavy drops of water exploded off their surroundings and brought the crushing closeness of the marsh down around them. Orion cast his head back and accepted the baptism and its meaning. He allowed the falling drops to shatter like tiny crystals against his skin for several silent moments and then, only when he was certain he understood, did he open his eyes once more.

“And how will you overcome the two problems plaguing that idea, Aki Ziso?” Orion’s question announced the return of his attention from that brief reverie as he reached beneath his jacket and pulled the black pistol from his belt.

“Wh…what problems?” Aki Ziso asked with an eagerness that belied a degree of hope. Hope that he might live out the day. “Whatever they are, I know I can help you…if we work together…”

“One…” Orion answered and the cold, unflinching bruise of mismatched eyes remained locked on Aki Ziso as he quickly lifted the pistol and pointed it down at the doomed man. “I work alone.”

The muffled report of the gunshots did not echo far in the fog shrouded swamp. The brief flash of muted light no more than the hauntings of a wil-o-the-wisp. Not a single bird was forced to flee, nor was any denizen that might call such a putrid place home stirred in response to the assassination.

“And two…” Orion stripped the handgun with quick, ruthless efficiency and casually tossed the weapon’s various pieces in various directions as he closed with the now lifeless body. “The Fallen Mistress has already laid claim to you.”

Orion knelt alongside the ruined face of what had once been Aki Ziso and watched as dark crimson oozed from the corpse to form its own river within the dark bog water. He watched, transfixed, by the serenity of it all and slowly invoked the Fallen Mistress’ power to complete the ritual…and Her will.

“Latêt úñed êful kauz êtez têm mêt êon sêtetnêo múñit…” The words were imbued with power far beyond even his considerable ability and as he spoke them a cerulean glow began to light the darkening space and crawl like heavy smoke across the corpse. It found entry through the bullet wounds where tendrils hooked like claws to pull at what still lay within. “Driftas doma kê plankas sêtetêt…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Call.” Kestrel’s voice echoed that of the pirate Jevvan Dyrr. The concierge then looked to his left where Orion sat behind a tall stack of chips. “Mr. Dyrr calls.” And gestured with a tattooed hand towards the man to indicate it was his turn to play or fold.

“Fresh from the bogs…you do clean up. Word is everyone was very pleased.” Jevvan’s words meant to lightly sharp stick the surly assassin and play at the multiple meanings behind his words. “Do be a good sport, Orion and fold.” Jevvan Dyrr teased from his opposite position. “The Deacon, I’m sure, “ Jevvan nodded towards the enigmatic hotel owner who occupied the third seat at the table to Jevvan’s right and Orion’s left. “Would greatly enjoy the challenge of a heads-up battle without you…complicating….things.” He gestured towards the colorful stack of chips in front of the assassin.

Orion allowed a sliver of a smirk to surface on the hard features of his face. Where Jevvan, renowned pirate and gambler was easily amused and amusing, Orion was all hard edges and corded muscles. One pilfered and plundered…ports, cities, casinos, and gambling tables…for a living and the other served a higher calling. They were opposites and yet found ways to coexist within the unique setting of the Aurelian and Keynote. “You talk too much, Dyrr.” Orion’s flat retort delivered with a matching stillness to the way he sat and observed the game. No movement was wasted. Ever. “As for my business…your gossip hardly rates and won’t save you here.” Orion observed and needn’t look at his cards or the community ones. “Raise…five thousand.”

“Raise.” Kestrel confirmed and quickly counted the stack of chips Orion pushed into the pot. “Five thousand. The play is yours, Deacon.”
The owner lounged with the lazy posture of a princely potentate and absently observed the betting and cards at the table from behind the iron mask he wore whenever appearing in public. There were reasons for his anonymity…and then there were reasons. “Of course, I want him, Dyrr.” The owner intoned and pushed an equal amount into the pot without hesitation as Aviana took center stage below their private perch of his exclusive lounge far above the patrons and party goers below. “I asked for him by name as a matter of fact. There is work to be done. Here and abroad.”
“
Very well. Let no one call Orion a storyteller and be called a liar in turn.” Jevvan smirked though he did perk up and lean forward at the prospect of the Deacon’s tale. “Though I’ll pay to hear this story…” Jevvan crooned and the golden flecks within the submerged reefs of his eyes sparkled like sunken treasure. “Reraise…Rio’s five…and another five for the details.”

Orion’s attention was momentarily divided between stage and hand as the crowd announced their appreciation and approval for the well-known Aviana. The diminutive nickname drew him back and he remained undecided if he liked the way the pirate took such a liberty. He trended towards dislike as a default. Especially with Jevvan Dyrr. “Buying secrets now, Dyrr?”

“Would you prefer me to steal them?” Jevvan riposted with humor carving out a generous smile of amusement and challenge. He paused to set sail after Orion’s stageward stare and only after several moments of appreciation did he ride the tides back into the conversation at the table. “I heard your little djinn got into some trouble, Deacon. What was it she said, “it was just one little hotel…what’s the big deal?’” The smirk he wore was one of admiration and amusement. A shame he had missed that explosive outburst. He’d heard, however, the fireworks could be seen for miles. “And you’ve yet to field a replacement here…” Jevvan gestured about to indicate the Keynote.

“She’s right where she belongs, Jevvan.” The owner fended off the leading line before shifting to the broad topic of Keynote leadership. “Complications have…” The owner began to explain and looked to Kestrel with a pointed nod for the concierge to answer.

“Caused us to be more selective this time.” Kestrel answered as if that should explain everything for the pirate and indicated it was still Orion’s bet.

Orion, thus far, had ignored Dyrr’s goading barb. He knew the pirate well enough to know the man was a consummate gambler and pirate…a win at all costs competitor that wasn’t above dirty tricks to take what he wanted. In that regard the two weren’t all that dissimilar. He considered the bet in silence, the previous bets, the card combinations that still existed and allowed the conversation to flow round him like a river does a stone.

“I do miss so much when I am away.” Jevvan sighed with wistful amusement.

“Bet your ship and you can stay.” Orion finally spoke as he called Jevvan’s raise and sent the bet back round to the Deacon.
“Call.” The owner added his chips and pushed the play back round to Jevvan once more.

“And where would the Keynote get, in part, such a fine collection of…” He paused to finish his drink and then gestured towards the private attendant. His whispered words brought forth a smile and then a blush from the attractive woman as he sent her on her way. “Everything.” He finally decided. “I’ve yet to hear why you personally reached out for Orion, Deacon.” Jevvan sighed and checked with a single knock of his knuckle against his stacked cards.

“I paid more for his silence than your raise, Dyrr.” The owner sounded amused though that mask made it impossible to divine his true feelings. A distinct advantage at a card game though Jevvan had wisely left that observation off his tongue. “And you can’t buy what you cannot possess.” He flipped over his cards and turned to watch Aviana from their elevated position.

“The night is still young, Deacon…” Jevvan countered and turned over his cards alongside Orion. Pirate and assassin both leaned to have a look at who had won.

[Aviana Lenox]

CW: Mature Themes



Saklas at sunset was absolutely stunning. The dying sun saw its rays splintered and sliced by the artistic sculpture which dominated the central reflecting pool that the bar cozily wrapped around. Already people were standing at the rails and admiring the view, claiming position at the bar or one of the tables scattered about the area. But Aviana had the best seat.

Ensconced behind a velvet rope, the little djinn could watch the happenings, the comings and goings and all the pretty people who gathered at this golden hour. She enjoyed the sensation. Let them all perform for her for a change.

One of the Keynote’s continued bankable performance acts, Aviana thrived on stage, yet the woman enjoyed her time away just as much. She sipped a classic aviation cocktail and paused to admire the rich color courtesy of real violets. Only the best, even in rarer cocktails, at the Aurelian. The drink was stunning. And a challenge. Not unlike the woman drinking it, but well worth it in the end. Every component, be it gin, maraschino liqueur, the floral flavor of crushed violets had its time to shine with every sip. Aviana especially liked the flamed lemon peel garnish and the way the essential oils from the rind sparked over the flame before drizzling down to her drink.

Complimenting the drink’s color was the short citron dress that both accentuated and highlighted her long legs and revealed her shoulders and back all the while telling any who might stare to long that she was too far above their desires. Aviana absently bounced a diamond jeweled heel as it lay draped over a knee. She was growing bored. The restricted access of the VIP area gave her a degree of enjoyed separation. And protection…she eyed the bodyguard detail that alertly stood scattered about and smiled at the knowledge that they weren’t there to protect her. But even that could only sate the little djinn for so long. Another sip and then she reclined back against the curved couch. The rich Egyptian blue cushions had been perfectly paired with a muted, matte dove gray frame set on darker slate stone flooring.

A painted nail tapped against the metal, the sound a metronome pacing the steady stillness while the flames from a low burning bit of decorative fire reflected in her eyes. The flames were meant both for a bit of a more natural light as the sun set and a visual barrier for the roped off section, but Aviana stared into them, lost herself in their flickering dance for a long moment.


Where she went with that distraction only she knew, though when she blinked the sun was now just half a disk slowly being consumed by the dark line of the horizon and Saklas had grown more crowded. Another blink and she finished her colorful martini and gestured to one of the bodyguards to alert the bartender she wanted another. The glass was teasingly swung back from the man’s reach in a playful way before Aviana scented a delectable little shifter treat sitting at the bar that hadn’t been there before she had traversed the flames. “A refill…if you please, Donovan. And dirty this one up with that blonde bombshell at the end of the bar, would you?” Aviana purred as she released her glass and turned her attention back to the indicated woman as if she’d wished her into existence.

Impossible to be bored with one that looked like that, no?

“You look like the Barbie I never got to play with.” Aviana eyed Alara up from heels to that gorgeous halo of golden hair. Her head tilted in such an avian way. The pretty peacock usually enjoyed playing in her rarefied atmosphere and the shifter had just changed the electricity of the room. Aviana did so enjoy collecting new shiny things. “Never too late, no? I slept through that era.” A dismissive wave of her martini glass with a hand before setting it down. “Tragic that I wasn’t there to rectify that whole I Dream of Jeannie situation. Yes Master.Such a mocking moue as she pantomimed the words with a pretty pout and a blink of lush lashes. “No shade at Barbara Eden.”

Aviana lit a cigarette that glowed with a violet light. That first drag lit cheekbones that looked as if they were sculpted by hands in the time of the Renaissance and popped up with her lashes that lifted with the lavender smoke like an exhaled veil. The scent of crushed violets was there and gone before Aviana finally pulled the pin of her stare from Alara and ticked her gaze around the room as if to decide where to throw the next grenade.

“So…do you have some boring, square jawed Ken wandering around I have to worry about cumming in his pants the minute he sees us together? Hope not. Really not my vibe tonight.”

(To be continued…)

[Aviana Lenox]

Alara’s mouth twitched at the elemental’s words. Never trust a djinn. The citrine gleam of her gaze eyed up the slender woman’s bodyguards before murmuring with an amused tone. “No Ken tonight. He’s busy at the dojo. Sure they won’t mind?”

Aviana was pleased to find such a pleasurable puzzle that was the shifter amidst a forgettable pack of the usual pick me pretties of RhyDin. A soft laugh at Alara’s words before she gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’re not here to protect me.They’re here for everyone else. I do have certain…parameters.” Aviana held up her wrists to show off the seemingly delicate and glittering pavé diamond bangles on her wrists that flickered in the firelight as if in response to Aviana’s words. She motioned with her cigarette. “Sit awhile— if you have the time.”

Tick. Tick. Tick…

She was part Muse and part Mystic.

“Up for a little snowstorm?” Aviana conspiratorially murmured with a hush-hush bit of wry humor to Alara while leaning back to drop two drops of a milky white liquid into each eye. Fathomless dark eyes with lush lashes blinked and momentarily frosted over as the high took effect. “Just a couple of drops…the high is a dream but some disturbing visions are…rare. Care to join?” Sing-songed as Aviana rang the little bottle between flawlessly manicured fingertips like a Pavlovian bell. It hadn’t been a true question and Alara wasn’t the type to turn down a free high.

“May I?” Purred as Aviana raised a delicate hand to gently tip Alara’s head back and drag her fingers through those many spectrums of gold in her hair that were already glowing like a halo beneath the lights, she truly admired the blonde beauty and thought she’d make the perfectnew note to the sensual little symphony of sirens, songbirds, shifters and smoke monsters at Keynote.

Oh my.

Black market imported, the narcotic was taken via the eye where a cool drop or two transported the user to a soporific state of mind. Noises were muted, intimate conversations became the sole point of focus and light fractured through invisible ice crystals and fractals to give an opalescent spray of scintillating splinters. Rumor had it one could see about a million different colors. Snow took that living kaleidoscope exponentially higher until the eventual melt and comedown.

The woman’s business card still shimmered with iridescence as Alara looked at it one more time before placing it within her clutch. It felt good. The night. The drinks. The drugs. The opportunity. It was a bounce back from…other…things. She still wasn’t looking forward to going back home but at least the coming departure now had a destination.

Don’t worry about finding a place. You get hired…you can stay at the hotel. Maybe even with me. Aviana offered in parting with a hidden secret in her smile.

Champagne bubbles still fizzled in the shifter’s veins as she high heeled her way home from the Aurelian with a buzz, a high like no other and a possible job offer all courtesy of the same woman. “Aviana Lenox.” Alara murmured the woman’s name as a breeze swept past her as of the djinn’s essence was still on the air around her. Her heels clicked against the wide, well-kept sidewalks of posh New Haven neighborhoods as snippets of conversation came back to her amidst the sounds of late night New Haven traffic.

I’m Aviana. You’re far too lovely a creature to not be kept behind a velvet rope with the finer things and I’m not talking about the usual boring bottle service babies. Care to sit and keep me company? A little pat to the seat next to her that was all

Come play.

The woman’s introduction still echoed in her mind’s memory.

The shifter had been battling more than a few inner demons since the Shanachie theater closed. Acting had been both a passion and an escape for the woman and, without it, she’d felt adrift on familiar, uncertain seas. Add to that the fact that her recent—situationship had conveniently made a run for it for “work” and…well…it totaled out to Alara needing a night to let loose. Little did she know she’d be letting loose with a star performer at Keynote in a VIP section of the Aurelian’s rooftop bar.

Alara had been at the bar to start the night, but Aviana hadn’t wasted time reeling her in for better company than her bodyguards. Free drinks…the little djinn had access to the hotel’s top shelf…and a night of drowning her feelings turned into one of scandalous opportunity. It went even beyond that when Aviana had offered her a drop or two of Snow.

Alara paused at an avenue intersection and turned to admire a selection of hand sewn dresses done up in the boutique’s broad window. Traffic was light at this hour, nonexistent even, and she could have easily skipped across to the other corner but got caught in the haze of picturing herself in the latest fashion. The window-shopping dalliance was aided by the drug’s lingering effects and the ease at which she could see the dress overlaying her reflection in the glass.

Do you want that? You can have anything…I’ll make you into whatever you desire…Vedryn’s voice intruded on her thoughts and daydreams like a stab of black lightning. You’ll look…perfect…once you say please.

Alara blinked as Vedryn’s face seemed to appear behind her in the window’s reflection. She blinked again and saw his steady, so very still, hands coming to encircle her hips that possessed the *perfect* golden ratio to the rest of her. The hips…they’d been one of his favorite parts of her. Whatever high she’d been feeling melted away and she nearly gave a startled cry before wheeling around to see…nothing. Not a soul occupied the street corner but her.

Alara furiously dabbed at her eyes as she moved across the street in a vain attempt to clear the lingering narcotics from her system. She forced herself to calm down, to breathe and reminded herself it was just a silly reflection. A mere figment of her imagination, a nightmarish remnant that was gone from her life for good. Another jolt rattled those still ragged nerves when a sleek black convertible rumbled to life behind her. She half turned, caught in the weightless pin of bright halogen headlights, and once again had to fight off an urge to ditch her expensive heels and run.

Get in. And don’t touch anything. Just look pretty.

But this convertible rumbled past without so much as a pause in its accelerating speed. The sound of Alara’s exhaled laugh chased the car through the intersection and down several more blocks before it disappeared. “Just having all the terrible feels aren’t we, Alara?” she asked herself while staring up at a sparkling spread of stars chemically enhanced by the drug and drink still in her system. “Never letting it Snowwith the dijinn again.” She promised herself before heading across the street and the dark echoes of Jeremiah Vedryn.

By the time she got back to where she’d been staying, she was practically riding high again. Vedryn was, like in reality, a distant and dimming memory…dwarfed even…by the stacks of boxes and empty space waiting for her on the other side of the door.

At least it’d be easy to move again.