#WorkInProgress

Something about the floating club reminded him of Wonderland. Not Disney’s Wonderland, either, but Wonderland according to Lewis Carroll: dark, sumptuous. Treacherous. It was the sort of place where anything could happen…and probably did. He had a feeling if a deranged, bloodthirsty monarch suddenly swept in and started demanding people’s heads, no one would bat an eye.

Already, he could feel multiple pairs of eyes fixing on them. Darius kept his face carefully blank and leaned down to Bez’s ear. “Maybe we should get a drink.”

Bez nodded. Her face was blank too, but nervous energy rolled off her in great, uncontrolled swells. “I could definitely use a drink.”

This time, her arm tightened around his. She visibly steeled herself, then led the way deeper into the club.

The further they went, the more sinister the place felt. Music pulsed from speakers hidden in the dark, velvet-lined walls; an unsettling…