Paper Flowers

Like the rest of the building, the room beyond the door was dark. The only light source was an open fireplace set into the left wall, that cast a red and gold haze over the room and turned shadows into twisting, living things. A black leather couch sat against another wall, and opposite the fireplace was a large blackwood desk. Worn, threadbare carpet covered the floor, and the only window was boarded up.

Due to some trick of the light, Styx didn’t notice the man sitting behind the desk until his eyes made a second pass of the room. When he did notice him, he couldn’t understand how he had missed him in the first place. Not particularly imposing, or a face that one would pick out of a crowd, but there was a presence about the man. Some indescribable sense of largeness, of importance, that couldn’t be ignored. There was power surrounding this man. Enough power that Styx knew to tread carefully.



He hovered in the doorway, awkward and uncertain beneath the man’s pale blue eyes. After the freezing conditions outside the heat of the small room felt like a furnace, and Styx shifted uncomfortably.



“Please, come inside. I won’t bite.” The man smiled as though he’d just made a joke. His eyes shifted past Styx, alighting on the boy who remained in the hall outside. “You can go now Jay. Close the door, will you?”



Styx didn’t look back, but he heard the door close softly behind him, then the sound of hurriedly retreating footsteps. He moved a little further into the room, trying to ignore the way the man’s pale eyes made his neck hairs stand on end. The basic, primal instinct of self preservation told him to flee, but he stubbornly stood his ground.



“Now. Welcome to the Inferno, Sir. I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before. First time?” The man behind the desk was all business, a friendly smile curving his lips.



“Yes.” Don’t hesitate. Don’t let him know you’re scared shitless.



“Ah, well it’s wonderful to have you here. I’m Mephistopheles, the proprietor of this establishment.”



“Styx.”



“How can I help you this evening Mr. Styx? Buying, or selling?” The man’s eyes flickered to Rafael’s limp figure cradled in Styx’s arms.



“Ah ... Selling.” Styx followed the man’s line of sight, and quickly added; “Myself. Not him.” His heart was pounding too fast in his chest. And why was it so hot in here? He could feel sweat beading on his brow and upper lip.



Mephistopheles nodded and steepled his fingers, tapping them against his chin.

“I see. So why is he here?”



“He’s sick.” Styx said, perhaps a little too defensively. “I need money to get him into a hospital. I was hoping you’d have a spare room he could sleep in tonight -- I’d pay for it, of course.”



“What made you come here, to my little establishment?” The man asked, raising one dark eyebrow. “There are plenty of other places an attractive young man like yourself can earn a few dollars.”



“I don’t have time for that.” Styx paused a moment to set Rafael down on the couch, then approached the desk once more. “I need the money now, tonight. My friend doesn’t have the time it’ll take me to earn enough elsewhere.”



“And you think you can make enough here, in one night?”



“They say your ... clients, are willing to pay a lot for a night with one of the Inferno’s whores. Is that true?”



“It’s true.” Mephistopheles nodded. “Some of my clients,” He deliberately used the same word Styx had chosen, “Will pay handsomely to spend time with some of my employees. But you must understand, these special few are, shall we say, more exotic than your run of the mill street whore.”



“How exotic?”



Mephistopheles looked Styx up and down slowly as though deciding if he was a piece of meat he’d like to buy.

“You’re quite striking. Dinn Liaana native, yes? But looks aren’t enough, I’m afraid. I can give you a job, but it won’t be as high paying as you seem to be expecting. Unless you have ... Something else to offer?”



Styx bit down on his lower lip and curled his hands into fists so tight his fingernails cut into his palms. This was it. The point of no return. He opened his mouth, ready to say he’d changed his mind, but at that moment Rafael moaned and called out his name.



“Raf ...” He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he’d made his decision. Lifting his gaze to look Mephistopheles in the face, he nodded. “Yes, I have something else to offer. I’m a lycanthrope.”



“A lycanthrope?” Mephistopheles raised his eyebrows, interest well and truly captured. “How wonderful. I didn’t think there were any of you left in Daichosa.”



“Well, there’s at least one left.” Styx said stiffly, looking away to stare at a spot on the wall.



“What kind are you?”



A slight hesitation, then;

“Wolf.”



“Show me.” It was an order, not a request.



Styx bristled at the authoritative tone in the man’s voice, but obeyed none the less. With heavy feet, he walked the short distance between himself and the desk. There, he braced his hands on the desk and bent over so Mephistopheles could look into his eyes.

That icy pale gaze seemed to burn him, and he instinctively flinched away. But before he could back off, the man’s hand shot out, grabbing his jaw between thumb and index finger. Bony fingers dug into his flesh and he grit his teeth, unreasoning panic rising within him.



“Look at me.”



Right now, looking into those soulless blue eyes was the last thing Styx wanted to do. But against his will, his eyes lifted, as though compelled by some invisible force. And as he stared into the burning cold gaze of Mephistopheles, he felt his eyes shifting, bleeding from their usual hazel to wolf amber. Feral, animal eyes in a human face.



“Wonderful.”



The word crawled over his skin like a wave on insects, then Mephistopheles released him, and Styx stumbled back from the desk, breathing hard.



“I think you’ll fit in very well here.” Just like that, the man behind the desk was all business again, his smile back in place. “You won’t have any trouble finding work, if you want it. I can even see to it that your friend is treated in our infirmary until you’re able to pay for a place in hospital.”



It was like a heavy weight had suddenly been lifted from his heart. Styx breathed a sigh of relief. Rafael was going to be okay.



“Thankyou. I mean it, thankyou.”



“There’s no need to thank me. All debts will be paid in time.” Something subtle shifted in the man’s smile and he reached into a desk drawer, pulling out a contract. “You’re aware of how this works?”



“Not really ... I mean, I’ve heard the rumours, but ...” Styx sighed. “No.”



“It’s very simple. Once you sign the contract, you effectively belong to me. You have no say in the clients I choose to give you to, and, providing no permanent damage is caused, they are free to use you as they please. A standard fee is payed before the session begins, of which I take sixty percent. The rest, and any tips the client wishes to give you, are yours. The cost of food and board is deducted monthly from your wages. You are free to come and go from the building as you please, but you must be present for all appointments. Any questions?”



“Um, yeah ... I only plan to work a night or two. Just long enough to get the hospital money, and pay for our rooms. So about the contract, do I really need to --”



“Details.” Mephistopheles waved a hand in the air, dismissing Styx’s concern. “The contract can be ended at any time. But you must sign it if you wish to work for me. No contract, no work.”



“Oh, well ... All right.” Though it went against his better judgement, Styx approached the desk, straining his eyes to read the small writing on the contract. The firelight did strange things to his vision -- the words seemed to slide around the page, blurring and fading, and becoming impossible to focus on. “What does this small print say? I can’t read it ...”



“Oh, just the details of what I’ve already told you. Fees, your obligations concerning clients, so on and so forth.”



Styx frowned, the queasy feeling in his gut telling him he was making a big mistake. But what other choice did he have?



“Do you have a pen?”



“Oh, of course. Here.”



He reached out to accept the offered pen, and something sharp pricked his finger. As he retracted his hand, a single drop of blood fell from his finger and splashed onto the contract.



“Oops, careful.” Mephistopheles smiled, steepled fingers resting against his chin once more.



Picking up the pen, Styx stole a nervous glance at the man behind the desk before lowering his eyes and signing his name at the bottom of the contract.



“Wonderful.” Before Styx had a chance to blink, Mephistopheles had snatched away the contract and hidden it away in the desk drawer. “It’s a pleasure to have you here, Mr. Styx. I do hope you enjoy your stay.” The smile that curved his lips didn’t touch his eyes and in the ever shifting firelight, looked like some kind of obscene mask. “If you go back out to the front desk, you can ask young Jay to show you to a spare room on the second floor. I’ll give you a few hours to settle in before you begin work.”



“What about Rafael?” Styx turned to cast a worried glance at his friend.



“He’ll be fine. I’ll have someone come by and take him to the infirmary shortly. Trust me. He won’t come to any harm.”



Said the spider to the fly. Styx bit his bottom lip, wanting to say more, but there was nothing more to be said. The deal was done. Now all he had to do was get through the night.



“Thankyou.” He waited for an answer, but when it became apparent that none was coming, he turned and let himself out of the office, back into the icy chill of the hallway.