The downtown neighborhood was a far cry from what Pylar was used to on a Saturday night. For the majority of the last ten years, Saturday nights had been spent at his house; in front of the TV, playing games with Maddox, having movie nights with Maddox or his mom, oftentimes both, or generally being in the quiet, but comfortable, space of his home. He never really wanted to be out late at night. High school parties weren't his thing; music too loud to hear anyone over and drinking so much cheap beer you threw up in the bushes never seemed like fun to him. And funny enough, most of the people who bothered to talk to him at the few parties he'd gone to all made the same jokes about soulless gingers, friendless gingers, and being a pale-ass freak. They were jokes he'd heard in grade school, middle school, high school... The alcohol must've made his classmates forget the jokes they'd already told.

Yet instead of sitting in the quiet, comfortable basement, the cool night air caressed his face and went down his neck, only stopping at the collar buttoned tightly around his neck. The sun hadn't gone down fully yet, but the street lamps had already turned on and music from the various bars down Main street and its subsequent neighbors gave the sidewalk atmosphere. Maddox lead the way down the sidewalk, his phone in one hand and the letter in his back pocket. "The lake's down that way, and the park's over there, so it should be right down here somewhere."

The two moved down St. George Street, passing by a bar, a closed men's wear store, and a breakfast/brunch place, they came upon an off-white building, probably six stories tall, with six grooved columns lining the front. Large square windows and a set of double doors didn't allow any extra peaks inside as they approached. Either the curtains were drawn or they were blocked off. The building looked like a mansion, stepped out of time, maybe two hundred years ago. However it was redressed to give the appearance of a hotel, rather than a historical visitation site. From across the street, a glass globe on top was visible, shining light into the center of the building that must've been as deep as it was tall. A gold plaque by the set of double doors read, 'Le Sanctuaire.'

"This can't be the place," Pylar said.

Maddox dug the invitation out of his pocket, checking the address at the bottom of it against the address on the mansion. "This has to be it. No way that place is sharing property with anything else." Maddox put the paper back and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"Maybe the GPS is wrong." Pylar took the invitation from Maddox, carefully looking at the address, then at the building. "Maybe we're looking for the pub down the street."

"Or maybe this is it. Look." Maddox walked up to one and knelt down. Carved finely into the base of each pillar read the spread out characters H V N. In the right light, the branding wouldn't have been visible, though as the sun went down, the letters gained a soft, golden glow. Maddox backed toward Pylar and slipped his phone into his pocket. "I don't ever remember seeing this place before, do you?"

"No," Pylar said.

A black car pulled up to the curb directly below the steps in front of the door. A couple climbed out, first a woman with curly, red hair and a black dress, then a man with slick black hair and a suit which must've cost more than Pylar's wardrobe combined. The two took each other's hands then went up the stairs. The doors opened and they stepped inside. No music had leaked out when the doors opened. No laughter, conversation, or loud noise was added to the soundtrack the rest of downtown created. Pylar watched the car as it pulled away and turned at the first corner.

Pylar grabbed Maddox's bicep. "Don't you think it's kind of weird?"

"What?" Maddox drew his eyes from the door, back to Pylar.

"'What?'" Pylar repeated. "That we've never noticed this huge mansion here and we've been down this way a thousand. How did we not see it?"

Maddox pursed his lips, glancing back at the front door, then Pylar. "Because we weren't really looking..?" Maddox turned to face Pylar. "There are places like this everywhere in town. Churches, mansions... Have you looked at the 'things to do when visiting Mardoll'? Tours all over the place. It's just another place we figured we'd never go in and forgot about it..."

Another car pulled up to the curb, this time letting out only one well-dressed man, before it took off around the corner. He went up the stairs and just like the couple before and entered without a sound.

Maddox said something but his words were lost on Pylar. His legs drew him forward, he moved up the stairs with his eyes fixed on the door, fixed on where the man and the couple had disappeared. He heard Maddox behind him, but anything he said mixed in with the white noise of the city. Soft whispers underlined the distant sounds. He reached out for the door, but before his fingers could even graze the handle, the large, white doors parted ways and allowed him in. He froze, fingers curled and heart racing in an inexplainable anticipation as the whispers filled his senses, deafening him to anything else. A hand pressed into the small of his back, neither pushy nor controlling, but guiding and warm. The doors closed behind him with a rushing 'hush' and the whispers that had been floating, that had grown louder, disappeared. The lobby was open, bright, and just as classical as the exterior of the building. The marble floor shined. The soft, peach wallpaper consumed the light rather than bouncing it, and every lamp was shaded with carved glass.

The pressure on his back returned and Pylar was guided from the lobby down a short, windowless hallway. The lights dimmed and became softer and more subtle the further down he went. At the end of the hallway he was left in the elevator, the lights darker and more intimate than they had been so far. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he chuckled and his shoulders fell with his breath. "Feels a little weirder than a normal mansion tour, huh, Mad?" Pylar turned to see his friend, but no one stood there. "Mad?" He squinted down the hall. "Maddox?" He said again, louder, hoping somehow, he might have managed to somehow overlook his friend. But no voice came back. When did he even walk away from Maddox? He had just been talking to Maddox as they walked up the steps to the house. A faint gust of wind and a tug on his shoulder pulled him back into the elevator. The doors slid shut before he had a chance to react.

Only one floor was lit up on the panel alongside the now closed elevator door. Soft music played in the small space, but all Pylar could hear was the pounding of his heart. He felt his pulse in his fingertips as he reached out to push the button. He leaned back against the railing along the back wall and took a moment to catch his breath.

The elevator bell rang and the doors parted ways, opening up into a small room. The lights in the room remained low and atmospheric, not dissimilar to what was in the elevator. White silk hung along the walls, draped off of plain black crosses. Rusted carpentry nails, contrasting the clean lines and soft colors, pinned blood red roses to the crosses. Pylar stumbled over the plush rug that paved a path across the room to another set of doors and a woman that stood before him.

A large, black cowl covered her head, it cast dark, deep shadows over her face and only allowing the bright light of the room to illuminate only her chin and ruby red lips. Curls of black hair protrude from the shadows and frame her neck. The hem of her hood clasped tight at her throat, and draped down the back of her white robes that hung from her shoulders. The robes were slit down the center, allowing the garment to peel apart at both sides and expose the curves of her breasts and the indent of her navel. A thin, golden chain draped down her cleavage, with a crucifix hanging just at the dip of her diaphragm.

She lifted her head as Pylar approached and he felt his heart jump into his throat. "Sorry — I was — I got this letter and I thought — I knew this had to be the wrong place—" He patted his pockets in a panic only to curse when he realized Maddox had been carrying the letter. The elevator doors closed before he could retreat into them.

The woman smiled and lifted her hand, Pylar's letter rest comfortably between her middle and index finger. Her hood fell back and revealed a pair of short, dark horns protruding from her forehead, partially hidden by her hair. "No, no, baby. You're in the right place. You wouldn't have made it up here if you weren't." With her free hand, she pulled the edge of her hood back and winked. The tips of her fingers glowed a soft red and the letter she'd taken from Pylar first burned around the edges, then toward the center until there was nothing left. "Welcome to HVN, Pylar Fanning." She reached for Pylar's hand and held it palm down against her own. Quick and precise, she traced her finger over the top of his hand. Pylar's skin burned; he hissed and yanked his hand back. A symbol matching the one at the top of the letter glowed red against his skin, pulsing for a few seconds before it faded to black.

"What the hell—?" Pylar growled.

"The mark will remain until sunrise and you may return at your leisure," The woman bowed her head and extended her arm. "We hope you have a wonderful time."

Sconces lined the walls, emitting soft flickering light. Heavy curtains drape over doorways and entrances, and he suspected there were windows hidden somewhere behind all the draping fabric. All sense of time was lost; It could have been early morning, afternoon, late evening, and Pylar would never know. His pace slowed as he walked past a set of double doors that were cracked open ajar. The room was filled with pillows, mounded high atop couches. The smell of food and sweat hits him first, and then the flash of skin, a woman’s nipple, caught his eye. The woman was wearing the same white robes as the one before, but it had been pulled back, exposing her shoulders and chest as the fabric gathered at her elbows. Pylar watched as she knelt down on the floor before a masked man on one of the couches, reclined, legs spread. She gripped his knees, her hands crept up his thighs. "Please, punish me father, I've been bad." Her soft voice stood out, even in the room's quiet conversation.

Pylar blinked hard and quickly moved forward. He shook his head, unsure of if what he saw was even there. This had to be some kind of messed up dream- A hand pressed into his chest and stopped him from going forward. He held his breath and snapped his focus onto the man before him.

Despite standing at similar heights, the man in front of Pylar felt much larger. His completely black suit was tailored perfectly to hug his broad shoulders and narrow waist just right. He was intimidating, at best, and Pylar was quick to take a step back to put some space between them. The upper half of the man’s face was hidden behind a black masquerade mask; the surface smooth, matte, swallowing up any light that came at it from the nearby candles. Golden embellishments framed the sides, swirls and textured leaves that echoed back to the Grecian styled columns out front, poked up into the tufts of short, black hair atop his head. Pylar could feel the sweat gather on his brow as he sought out the man’s dark, judging eyes through the mask.

"This is your first time here, correct?" There was a strong command about this man, confident with age and wisdom, though there wasn't a wrinkle visible along his cheeks. His strong, angular jaw tensed, then relaxed as he continued. "Before you go anywhere, we need to cover a few things."

"Who-" Pylar voice cracked and he cleared his throat, though his voice remained low. "Who are you?

"Vasile," the man said. "The owner of this place."

Pylar quickly came closer.

Vasile looked Pylar over, sizing him up.

"What is this place?" Pylar repeated himself, louder, more confident this time.

Vasile exchanged a glance with a man standing beside him that Pylar hadn't noticed before. The man had a much different disposition than Vasile. His suit was white, a stark contrast to Vasile's, and had blond hair, neatly combed back. His jaw was much softer and he wore a polite smile beneath his half mask. Compared to the other, he seemed more inviting and submissive in a way that put Pylar at ease. He wore a white mask with black cracks running through it like shattered pottery. Spots of gold filled some of the cracks in the otherwise simple, plain mask. The globs threatened to seep out of the cracks, as though the pieces had been desperately glued back together. One of the man's eyes was a piercing, bright, blue eye, but the other was a solid black pool.

Pylar tilted his head to the side and leaned closer, trying to get a better look at what he assumed was an illusion. But light caught on the man's eye, and he blinked. It wasn't an empty socket or an eye patch, but maybe one of those fancy all over eye contacts? The man in white gave a smile and turned his head in a way to hide the black eye from Pylar's prying gaze.

Vasile snapped his fingers in Pylar's face, drawing the attention back to him. "The rules are simple. No killing, raping, feeding, or destruction of property. Consent is key for fun and feeding, understand?"

"Ah, not exa—"

"Good." Vasile said. He signaled his assistant and the man in white held out a mask. It covered the right side of his face from his hairline to his jaw and the rest of his forehead. Large red blocks colored thick eyebrows above the eye holes and underneath the right eye was a trail of red and white diamonds, framed by golden vine detail moving down the cheeks, across the nose, and twisting into the eyebrow. "The most important rule here: don't be a dick. It might be a masquerade, but we know everyone."

"I—"

"There are a few different shows running tonight." Vasile smiled, though it wasn't as inviting as the other man's smile. His lips pulled back, exposing a set of fangs sharper than anything Pylar had ever seen on a person before. "Please explore, enjoy, and ask if you need any help at all." Vasile turned and started to move down the hall, the man in white followed closely behind.

Pylar looked over the mask for a moment. "Wait, wait—I need help."

Vasile stopped. His head dropped back a little before he slowly turned around. "Yes?"

Pylar's thumb stroked the vine design running up the nose-piece on the mask. "I.. How was I invited?"

Vasile didn't immediately respond. "By recommendation of another patron, who wishes to remain anonymous." Vasile turned away again.

Pylar grit his teeth and thrust the mask out in front of him. "What am I supposed to do with this??"

"It's a masquerade. Figure it out." While Vasile disappeared into a set of closed double doors down the hall, the man in white separated and went into one of the open set of double doors.