King of the Cage: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Devil’s Own)

As soon as I got home, I sat at my laptop and researched the hotel where this party of Aldo’s was taking place.

The Tartarus Hotel.

I was no expert on Greek mythology, but even I knew what Tartarus represented in ancient stories. The abyss beneath the Underworld. The lowest level of Hell.

A fitting name for a creepy old hotel on the Upper East Side where there had been a string of suspicious deaths a few years ago, and then no headlines since. I dug into the history of the hotel.

It had faced controversies when it had first opened for its wild and debauched events. It looked like nothing had really changed. There was also an old exposé in the ‘70s from a journalist who claimed to have sneaked into a satanic ritual in the hotel’s basement. It got attention for a few weeks and then dropped off. Interestingly, the journalist was killed in a car accident a few months later. The hotel won some awards for their Gothic-inspired design but never really courted attention. The latest crushing blow to their reputation was a string of suicides a few years ago.

Business had never really picked up again after the incidents with women jumping off balconies on the fifteenth floor. It got a reputation as a suicide hotel, haunted, people whispered. Nobody wanted to stay there, and yet the place was still in business.

Interesting. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out where they were getting their money from.

The Enclave. I supposed now that the hotel was quiet and free of normal guests, the secret society could have free run of the place, and whatever they wanted to do there, from swinger parties to whatever ended up with female branding.

I sat back and tapped my lip, considering my options. Tonight, there was a meeting of these depraved heathens, and I knew where. On one hand, that was a great lead. I’d get to see the other members of this society and the people responsible for Z Juice. Maybe I’d find Alice or other branded victims.

On the other… it was clearly dangerous as hell. Catching my brother up on the situation would take too damn long, and besides, he was out of town. If I went in there, I’d have to go alone. That wasn’t smart, not even a little bit.

Call Bran.

Right. There was someone out there who wanted to find out about The Enclave just as much as me. Unfortunately, he was committed to keeping me out of it.

My phone vibrated on the desk, and the message that came through instantly chilled my blood. It appeared that the decision about tonight’s event had been taken out of my hands.

It was a picture of Sol, taken like a selfie. She was hugged into a tall man’s side, blowing a kiss at the camera. Aldo had his arm around her, those blank eyes staring into the camera. Now, they weren’t as blank. Now, they held a hint of amused victory.

What the fuck? I immediately dialed Sol. The phone rang and rang without an answer. I’d put her in a taxi to send her home to the Moroni compound. How had Aldo managed to intervene? I was at my laptop and hacking into the security camera along her route in seconds. I followed the taxi all the way to her neighborhood. When Sol’s taxi drew up, Aldo was waiting, having arrived seconds before in a black, chauffeur-driven ride. He was waiting with blood-red roses and a winning smile. That fucker had outplayed me. I’d underestimated how far he’d go to get Sol to the party. No, not Sol. He wanted me at the party. He knew about Enrico, and he was pissed. He wanted to hurt someone, take revenge, have a hostage, whatever… and it was me. I swapped my heels for boots and ran out the door. I didn’t have time to waste.

Fear for Sol clawed up my throat. She could be given Z Juice at any moment. It might have already happened.

Now, Aldo was forcing me to rush into a pit of vipers, and there was nothing I could do about it. I didn’t have time to ask anyone for help. I didn’t have time to make it safer. They had Sol. I had to go.

I caught a taxi outside my building and paused in the act of getting in. Twisting my head this way and that, I sought the shadow that had been following me for the last few days. I spied Declan a block over. He hailed a cab.

Follow me, I tried to communicate with my eyes. This time, and this time only, please fucking follow me.

My eyes held Dec’s, and then I got into the cab.

“Tartarus Hotel, as fast as you can.”

It looked like the spooky reputation of the hotel extended to more than the building itself. The entire block felt empty and dark. The streetlights weren’t working, and there seemed to be a ring of construction in the surrounding buildings that made the place feel deserted.

The cab left me outside the hotel. Lights burning in the windows were the only illumination in sight, which was odd indeed for New York City at night. The only thing different from the painting at the gallery earlier was the absence of faces in the windows. The stone façade was choked by ivy, and jagged gargoyles crouched along the eaves. I didn’t want to go in there. The instinct to turn around and leave was strong, but I ignored it. Sol was inside somewhere. I was going in.

I approached the entrance. It was a discreet awning, a gold plaque set into the stone beside the impressive doors. It read The Tartarus in ornate writing, and right below was an intricate round design. The logo of The Enclave. They were barely even hiding it. It stank of either false confidence, or worse, the true confidence of those who knew they’d never answer for their crimes.

As soon as I stepped inside, I was met with a wall of security.

Men in strange black surcoats stopped me, channeling a medieval vibe for their uniforms. Strangest of all, all three wore masks. Bone-white with soulless black eyeholes staring at me.

“Are you invited?” one asked solemnly.

“I—” I scrambled for an answer, before an obvious fact occurred to me. I slid one of the invitations from earlier from my jacket pocket and passed it over.

Security stared at it, passed a blue light across it, and then nodded. He pointed me to an X-ray machine set along one wall. What the hell?

Thank fuck I hadn’t brought any of my knives for tonight, figuring I might get searched entering the gallery earlier.

Next, I was sent down the hall to a cloakroom. I took off my coat and handed it to the row of attendants and was handed something back. I stared, perplexed, at the bundle of fabric in my hands. It was a rich crimson color. A lacy venetian eye mask sat on top of the bundle.

“Are you serious?” I asked the attendant, also in a cloak and mask.

They inclined their head. Without speaking, their answer was clear. Wear the ridiculous getup or get out.

I slipped the heavy cloak over my dress and fastened it up, then tied on the mask. It was a ludicrous item. Anyone who knew me would be able to recognize me. It had none of the anonymity of the security guards’ blank white masks. Maybe anonymity in The Enclave was only for the initiated.

Once I was dressed, one of the cloakroom attendants pointed down the long hallway. Music played ahead, the lights low, and an increasing number of candles appeared on surfaces. The hotel was Gothic inside, with lots of narrow windows and shadowy corners. The floor was black marble, the walls stone. Huge dark oil paintings in heavy gold frames depicted depressing, medieval scenes or battles and beheadings, even the odd hanging and what looked like witch trials. The music added to the unsettling aura, ghostly strings and minor cadences that sent the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. The place felt like it had fallen off a set truck, a production piece detained for Hammer horror. It was over the top, otherworldly, and completely insane, and yet, it was real. People drifted past in long black robes. I couldn’t help but notice the difference in our getups. Theirs were black, mine was red. My mask didn’t conceal my identity, theirs were full-face-concealing carnival masks, some with curved beak noses and others with rictus grins, and still others with harlequin diamonds. They glanced curiously at me as they passed me by.

What in the holy fucking creepfest was happening?

Huge drapes hung dramatically over the entrance to the ballroom at the end of the corridor. I stopped just short of opening them.

My instincts screamed at me to run. I had to get out of here and come back with the cavalry, as soon as I could. The truth was there was no time. Aldo wanted me here like this, unprepared and alone, and he had Sol. I was powerless. I could only hope my little O’Connor shadow had run back and told his master where I’d gone.

Do you really think he’ll care? Hasn’t he had enough of you by now?

I took hold of the ugly little voice in my head and shook it. Regardless of how uninterested Bran O’Connor might be in me, he was interested in The Enclave and getting revenge for his sister. That alone would bring him. It would.

I just had to hope it was true.

I took a deep breath and pulled the curtain back.

I had to hand it to the secret society. They knew how to throw a party. The huge ballroom was full of people in cloaks. Massive works of art hung on the walls, and antiques dotted around the space on pedestals.

So far, there were no swingers in sight, only small talk and expensive entertainment. Fire-breathers in the courtyard and trapeze artists hanging from silken ties overhead. Someone had walked past with a puma on a diamond-studded leash. There was live music, and singers in different rooms. No one spoke to me. I walked through the rooms, looking for Sol, but my presence did seem to kill conversations wherever I went.

No one else wore a red robe.

Panic swelled in my gut, getting stronger and stronger as I moved about, hunting for my friend, and disturbing masks turned in my direction. I scattered silence in my wake. There was a sickening sense of anticipation in the air, like everyone was waiting for something. I had to find Sol and get out of here. I tried to search systematically, but the rooms were confusing, and everywhere I went, the stares of the anonymous strangers set my nerves on edge.

I was a rat in a maze, and they were just waiting for something to happen. I was playing into Aldo’s sick little game, and they were here to watch. I was lucky they didn’t have popcorn.

After about half an hour of this frustratingly fruitless search, a loud gong sounded through the rooms, and everyone drifted into an atrium. A large table sat in the middle, looking for all the world like an altar.

A tall figure stood on the top step of the raised dais behind the table. They had on a plague doctor mask, their body swathed in an even heavier cloak than the others. It was impossible to make out a single distinguishing feature other than their general bulky shape and height.

“Welcome, brothers and sisters of The Enclave. In tenebris prosperamus.”

The crowd echoed the Latin phrase. The speaker used a voice modulator, ensuring complete anonymity.

“Tonight, we have gathered, as is our tradition, for an initiation. The Enclave has always held closed ranks. One leaves, another enters. Tonight, one will enter. He who can survive the Hunt and Offering shall have the chance to advance.”

I backed slowly through the crowd. With everyone occupied, there was a good chance of searching for a way upstairs.

I gradually worked my way out of the crowd while the speaker continued. No one glanced in my direction. They seemed trancelike in their concentration. I wouldn’t have been surprised at all to find out that everyone was on something. None of this was normal. Adults didn’t usually play dress-up, but then they didn’t usually design drugs to turn people into zombies or brand people either, so it was pretty clear that members of The Enclave weren’t playing with a full deck.

I hurried down a long winding corridor toward the ladies’ restrooms. I hadn’t been here before. The hallway was no less Gothic than the rest of the building, and this one had what appeared to be ornate wooden confessionals set against the wall all the way down. What a strange thing to have in a hotel corridor. The Tartarus Hotel was beginning to feel like a place that people might never leave. There was a discreet gold plaque set in the wall beside the booths that read:

To Sin is Divine.

Alrighty then.

Just behind the last confessional, mostly hidden by a sharp turn in the wall, and the heavy wooden corner of the booth, was a door. My heart leaped into my mouth, and I hurried toward it. I turned the knob, hoping against hope that this was it, the place where Aldo had hidden Sol.

It was a storage room, by the looks of it, full of stacked chairs and folding tables. It was stuffy, a few clouded windows along one wall, allowing a tiny amount of light into the space. And Sol wasn’t here.

I turned to leave as soon as I’d gone in, only to find a shape stepping into the room after me. I got one quick glimpse of a beak-like profile in the light from the hall before the door snapped shut, closing us in. It was dark, despite the windows, and I couldn’t make anything out for a few agonizing moments while my eyes adjusted. Nerves licked down my spine. I didn’t have my knife. I didn’t have anything to protect myself with. I retreated until my back hit a wall.

Before me, I felt, more than saw, the person approach. I waited until they were close, and feinted to the side, before stepping the other way. A hard arm slammed into the wall beside me, blocking that exit route. I went the other way and found another arm there. I was caged in place.

Panic threatened to freeze me, but I couldn’t let that happen. I brought my knee up, but our heavy cloaks made my blow ineffective.

“You’re running out of time, Giada. Poor Sol… if only she had a friend who could actually do something.”

Aldo’s smug tone washed over me. He was so close, nausea reared up inside me.

“Where is she, Sepriano? Hand her over, and we’ll pretend none of this ever happened,” I lied.

This man would die for touching Sol, and all these fuckers outside could burn to death in this creepy building for all I cared. It would be a blessing to the world.

Aldo chuckled coldly. “Sure, you’re good at pretending nothing happened, aren’t you? Like the way you pretended not to know where my brother was earlier… you know, tonight was supposed to be his initiation. His night.”

“I have nothing to do with your brother. I honestly don’t know where he is right now, and Sol certainly doesn’t know anything!”

“Solaria is just collateral damage. You, on the other hand, you’re mixed up in all of this. It’s because of you that Enrico even crossed paths with that fucking psychopath, O’Connor.”

“You think you’re in any position to be calling someone else a psychopath? Have you seen the loony tunes running around here?”

Pain blossomed across my cheek. The fucker had slapped me. My teeth cut into the side of my mouth, and I sucked the blood out and held it on my tongue.

“You were saying?” Aldo drawled.

I split the blood at the white plastic of his mask in a long jet.

“You hit like a girl, Sepriano,” I murmured. If I could get him riled up, there was a chance I could take him. He was big, and lumbering, and not known for his fighting skills. Politics was his thing, and my toxic trait was thinking an unexpected fight with an untrained guy might put me at an advantage. Also, there was a heavy-looking candelabra right behind him on a shelf I was sure I could do some damage with. If I could hurt him, and then threaten him, I might be able to get him to tell me where Sol was.

But Aldo didn’t take the bait. His mask swung from side to side as he shook his head.

“Oh, Santori. You think you’re so loyal and true. I’m not going to make tonight easy on you. If you can find your friend… you can keep her. If not, soon enough, the initiation will begin. People wait years to have a chance at becoming a member of the society. They’ll do anything. If you stay… they’ll be hunting you. My role tonight was to bring some little rabbits into the warren to chase. Sol is one, you’re the other. I won’t spoil the ending for you… I’ll just wait my turn.”

With that, Aldo stepped back and released me.

“Better find her. Ticktock… time’s nearly up.”