The Clockwork Scarab (Stoker & Holmes 1)

"No, I haven't seen it. Her. But the Society of Sekhmet is gathered, and they're . . . well, you must see it to believe it." She stopped and gestured to a small door that led into the chamber. "No one will notice us entering here."

She cracked it open, and light filtered into the passage, along with a gust of sweet opium smoke. I peered around the edge and confirmed that we were entering from the side of the chamber, well placed in the shadows. Lights glowed, but there were none near the door, and it was simple to slip in unnoticed.

My jaw dropped at the sight. This was nothing like the previous Society of Sekhmet meeting we'd encountered.

Lamps, one in each corner, gave off small circles of light. The thick cloud of smoke was heaviest near the ceiling but it made the entire chamber seem muted and foggy. Silky fabric in crimson, garnet, topaz, and rust rippled on the walls. Large cushions and other soft, round furnishings littered the floor. Shallow bowls sat on low tables in front of the seats. They each held glowing coals . . . no, burning opium crystals. The smoldering drug gave off a low light and the narcotic smoke. Mellow music from an unfamiliar string instrument resonated, making the room feel even more exotic.

The scene reminded me of a picture of the thieves' den I'd seen in The Arabian Nights. So where was the massive chest of jewels and gold spilling onto the floor?

A dozen young women were seated or half reclined on the cushions. They were arranged in lounging, unladylike poses. Florence would have fainted at such an improper display: loose hair falling over their shoulders, missing gloves, and stockinged feet. But it was the bare ankles exposed by their bunched up skirts that was the worst offense.

However, the most shocking sight of all was the young men in attendance. There were several who seemed to be serving the young ladies-offering them goblets, plates filled with food, and even long-stemmed pipes.

They were shirtless.

I gaped for a moment, counting a total of seven men wearing nothing but breeches and sleeveless, open vests. I'd never seen a male without a shirt, and I could not tear my eyes away from the sight. They looked so very different than we women do, with their broad, square shoulders and bulging arms. And the muscular ripples on their torsos.

Was the room tilting, or was it the effects of the opium? My brain went soft. I felt warm and tingly everywhere, and my knees weakened. If I sank onto the cushions, would one of those young gentlemen come over and serve me? The thought made my insides flutter.

Someone pinched me on the arm, then jammed something sharp and pungent beneath my nose. It smelled bitter and unpleasant, but it cleared the fogginess away immediately.

Miss Holmes pressed a vial into my hand, and I held it beneath my nose as I looked around again. The double doors through which I had originally meant to enter were at the far right. A guard stood there. He took turns watching the room and checking the door behind him. Another guard stood at a set of double doors across the room from his counterpart.

There was no sign of the Ankh.

"I managed to speak briefly with one of the women here," Miss Holmes said softly. We remained unnoticed in the shadows, pressing flat against the wall. "What she said made little sense, due to the influence of this," she said, waving at the opium fog. Then she took a sniff from her vial. "But it appears that the Inner Circle meets beyond those doors. Presumably with the Ankh." She pointed to the double doors at the opposite end of the chamber.

"Is this what their salons are normally like?" I found it difficult to pull my attention from the shirtless young men. No wonder the ladies wanted to be members. This was more exciting than going to the theater!

"Smoking opium is dangerous and illegal, not to mention addicting," she said in my ear, her breath hot against my false curls.

"Not the opium! The young men. They are very . . . handsome."

"Don't be a fool." Miss Holmes elbowed me, and I grinned in the darkness before my moment of levity faded.

I'd been joking, but it wasn't a laughing matter. Two girls had been killed, one nearly murdered, and those crimes were somehow related to what was happening here and with the Ankh's Inner Circle. I had a feeling smoking opium was the least of the dangers for these young women.

We had to get beyond those double doors without being noticed.

Just then, one of the serving men passed closer to us than any of them had yet. He was carrying a tray of goblets, but didn't pause to offer any to the waiting ladies. Instead, he moved quickly through the room as if heading for a particular destination.

His bare, sleek bicep caught my attention first. He wore a wide band, and I couldn't tell if it was a leather cuff or a tattoo. But as he drew nearer, I happened to drag my attention up from his arm, over his shoulder to his bare throat. When I caught sight of his face, I couldn't control a gasp.

"What is it?" Miss Holmes hissed as Pix met my gaze.

His eyes widened, and his stride faltered. How could he recognize me so easily? I was in disguise! But the hitch in his step indicated he hadn't expected me any more than I'd expected him. Yet he gave no other indication as he passed by.

"Ouch! Stop poking me," I snapped at Miss Holmes. "I'll tell you later." And I slipped away.

Taking another whiff from my vial, I followed Pix. He stopped to deliver a chalice to a young woman. She reached languidly to take the goblet, looking at him with a gaze that made me both ashamed for her wantonness and unaccountably hot at her expression. She beckoned to him to join her on the cushion as some of the other young men had done.

If he dared sit down next to her . . . I kicked him in the heel as I walked past. At least he had some sense, for he straightened up to accompany me.

At the first unoccupied cushion, I sank down in a pool of skirts and turned to glare up at him. Before I could ask what he was doing here, he crouched and grabbed my arm, demanding, "What in the devil are ye doing 'ere?" His expression was flat and angry, without the humor that usually lingered in his eyes.

"I might ask you the same question." My head was swimming, and I was getting warm. I needed another sniff from that vial. His uncovered torso was right there, exposed behind the open vest. He was sleek and taut and dark. . . . I fumbled for the smelling salts and brought the vial to my nose.

"What are ye doin' here, Evaline?" His fingers tightened, giving me a little shake. "I didn' spec ye as a damned opium-eater, ye fool."

I wasn't certain which startled me more: his use of my name or his accusation. "I'm not," I said, yanking my arm away. "Lilly was a member of this society. They're killing young women, and I'm trying to stop them. But you're here, Pix," I said. His eyes were sharp and clear, despite the heavy smoke. "And you-"