Garrison Fawkes’ POV

The tavern was called Pandora’s Box. I thought the wordplay was hilarious because the second we stepped foot into the establishment, it was clear that this place was a den of depravity. And we were looking for Pandora. 

Pandora was a man in a cream linen toga. “What?” he asked when I stared at him.

“You’re Pandora?” I said incredulously. 

“Surprise,” he deadpanned. 

I coughed into a fist. “This is who you were looking for?” I muttered to the Madame.

They smiled that tiny smile. “Dora, don’t be difficult, I have things to do.”

“Yes, Madame,” he said and led the way to a private room. 

It was gaudy and looked like a cheap imitation of The Harem in Edenis. Like someone didn’t understand the meaning of tasteful decoration and simply dumped everything they thought wouldn’t look out of place for a brothel. I didn’t dare to sit down. 

“What are you here for, Madame?” asked Pandora curiously.

The Madame played with the hem of their lacey sleeves. “A check-in,” they replied. “I want to know who’s been coming through this city and if you’ve noticed anything strange.”

“Strange, like how?” he wondered. 

“Unusual clientele, missing persons, that sort of thing,” they clarified. 

“Well,” said Pandora contemplatively, “I suppose something unusual has been happening lately,” he glanced at us. “But I’m not sure if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“Why? What’s happened?” I demanded.

Pandora tsked at me. “Have some patience! People these days.” He shot me a heated glare. “As I was saying, there’s been an influx of incubi and succubi activities in the last month or so. I don’t know why, I don’t care to know why either, but it’s been good for business. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth!”

“My brothers and sisters have been coming here?” the Madame frowned. 

Brothers and sisters? The Madame was an incubus or succubus? How come they never had to feed?

“Yes, Madame. Plenty of them have come through Pandora’s box in search of a place to stay. Of course, I gave them a place in exchange for the usual favours. Most of them only stayed a few nights before moving on.” 

The Madame and I shared a look. 

Pandora seemed unconcerned by all this. “I don’t ask where they run off to. That’s not my business. And they aren’t regulars, so it’s difficult to really remember them anyway.” He spoke callously.

The way he spoke of those people didn’t sit right with me. But the Madame only warned Pandora to be careful. “Something is coming,” he cautioned. 

“I understand,” he said. It was the first I had seen the man be serious since we met.

~

Later, in the room that Pandora had allowed us for the night without “the usual favours”—I’d rolled my eyes when he said I was welcome to take a paying lover, I asked my friend about it. 'It' being the unexplained disappearances and why they hadn’t said more about it to Pandora.

“He doesn’t recognise anyone, and we can’t help them,” answered the Madame. “There’s nothing we can do now until we know more. Get some rest, Garrison.” They made to leave the room.

“Wait, what about you?”

The Madame looked questioningly at me. “What about me?”

“Aren’t you going to rest too?” I asked. 

They smiled. “I’ll be fine. There’s something I need to do first. Go to bed.”

I watched as they left, confused and somehow reluctant to part with my friend. On the other hand, if they stayed, there was only one bed in the room. It was big enough for both of us, but I feared my body’s reaction in my sleep.

It didn’t matter now. They had left to do whatever they needed, and I was alone in the room. There was no hardship in doing as they’d instructed. Even though we’d mostly travelled via the Madame’s magic, I felt exhausted. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how they must be feeling by now.

Nightly ablutions quickly completed, I dropped into bed and half-heartedly pulled up the covers. 

In my dreams, the Madame removed their gloves and touched my face with gentle fingers. There was a brush of skin against my lower lip with the pad of a thumb and a quilt covering my bared shoulders. 

When I awoke, the covers were pulled up to my chin. The Madame’s pair of black lace gloves rested on the empty side of the bed. They were not in the room. 

I reached for the gloves, turning them over in my hands. The lace was soft and worn. I tried them on, they fit. The Madame and I were almost similar in height. Only, their muscles were leaner than mine, but their hands very probably about as big as mine. I slipped the gloves off and went to find them.

~

They were setting the table for breakfast in the empty brothel when I found them. Though the veil remained, I could see their hands now; pale and smooth.

“Madame, your gloves,” I said, holding out the pair.

They gave me their tiny smile. “Keep it,” said the Madame as they beckoned me to sit and eat. 

I could hardly keep my eyes off their hands as I ate my fill. The Madame was sat across me, hands placed on the table as they watched me. 

“Something wrong?” they asked lightly.

I coughed and shook my head, tearing my eyes away from their hands. The Madame reached for mine; their palms were soft. They took my left hand in theirs, thumb brushing the skin above my pulse and tracing my calluses with smooth fingers. I swallowed my embarrassment at having such beaten hands and fought the heat creeping up my neck.

The Madame was only touching my hand and I was reacting like a virginal maiden who had received her first kiss with tongue. I’d seen and done far worse than this. What was wrong with me? 

Even then, I couldn’t bear to pull away. Their touch was magnetic. It was addictive, the way it made me feel like I was caught in a trance.

“Finish your breakfast, Captain,” whispered the Madame.

I surfaced with a small gasp. And pulled my arm away. “R-right,” I stuttered. Shovelling food into my mouth was the only thing I could manage to keep from blurting something stupid like pleading and begging them to keep touching me.