Everything was silent but for the odd cough, the rustle of clothing, and the soft whisper of the curtain rising up to the ceiling. The lamps near the stage brightened, and there was a collective gasp from the audience.

The set was cast in the blacks, greys, and reds of some sort of underworld, shadowy figures in monstrous shapes painted against the backdrop and some sort of effect with the lighting making it seem as though flames danced across the stage. Music flooded the hall, dark and sharp and filled with echoing discord, but that was not the cause of the reaction.

Genevieve de Troyes perched on a faux-rock outcropping some six feet up in the air like some dark chimaera from another world. Costumed as Vice, she wore a black gown slashed with crimson, ebony-feathered wings stretched out to either side, and a cruel beaked mask obscuring her face. One hand was braced against the outcropping, and the other reached toward the audience. Both were encased in talon-tipped gloves, the metal winking dangerously.

She was beautiful and terrifying and altogether unnerving, but when she began to sing, everyone leaned toward her as though they were puppets attached to strings and she was their master.

Her song taunted the audience, invited them to partake in all manner of wickedness, captivated their thoughts, and rendered them glass-eyed and staring. Girls costumed as the sins danced on the stage beneath her, but I might well have been the only one to notice. Everyone, from the servants standing near the lamps to the Regent sitting in his high-backed chair, was captivated. No. They were compelled.

My unease returned, crawling up my spine. Enthralled as they were, anything could happen and I doubted any of the humans would notice. I shifted so that my back was pressed against the wall, watching for any sign of motion. Nothing. I glanced back at the stage, starting when I realized her eyes were directly on me. Instinctively, I fell still, mimicking the expressions of those around me, but I knew I had been caught out. But by who? Cécile’s mother, or someone far more dangerous to my kind?

The song ended, and motion returned to the hall. One by one the girls sashayed to the front of the stage to proclaim their sins’ names, and then cymbals crashed and a drum roll thundered through the room. A young man dressed as a devil sprang out onto the stage and began to sing and dance with the girls in a seductive twist of limbs, while Vice watched from above. The rhythm of the music changed, the girls swinging wildly on each other’s arms as Vice and the demon sang of their plot to capture Virtue and her maidens and steal their souls.

Still there was no sign of Sabine.

I ground my teeth in frustration, knowing that Genevieve’s half of the performance would soon be complete, and I was supposed to go backstage under a veil of magic to keep an eye on her while Cécile performed. But I did not want to lose track of Marie. She was the only person who knew Anushka’s identity with certainty, and I mentally weighed the risks of letting either woman out of my sight.