Paint Me as Villain ✔

Five

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For Angel's sake!" A voice barked on the other side of the door when Adélard knocked. "I said get lost!"

Ady knocked again, determined to get what he came for.

The music was still raging, albeit downstairs now. Adélard was standing at the far end of the unlit hall, where the club stairs led him. Past the balconies, past the VIP tables, past the darkness, just as Mir instructed before leaving.

The same girl with huge hoop earrings was here again, shifting from foot to foot at the top of the stairs behind Ady's back. There was a glass in her hands now, and she was sipping her drink, eyeing Ady. Adélard couldn't really tell, though, whether she was tipsy or--like him--confused and disappointed and unable to decide if she wanted to see the one who was hiding behind this door or not.

Putting his doubts aside, Adélard knocked again.

"How many times should I tell everyone..." The old wooden door creaked open, and an annoyed stocky guy, about the same age as Ady, appeared at the threshold. "...the toilet ain't here!" To indicate how greatly annoyed he was, he arched his eyebrow as Ady didn't move.

The stranger looked as if he had just woken up, though it seemed impossible to sleep with the roar of the party shaking the walls around. Tattoos covered his arms from his wrists to this he neck under the crumpled T-shirt, and his tousled hair was of bright blue color--like the sky on the clearest sunny day.

"I'm not looking for the toilet," Ady said. "I need... eh," he hesitated. The idea that he had come to ask about magic still sounded bizarre in his head. Ady had just found a rational explanation for all the strange things in Mir's behavior and his own life, and now, as it turned out, his work was in vain? Did he want it to be vain? "A vial of Morox."

"If you wanna forget the shitty night, go and get drunk," the blue-haired guy began to close the door, but Ady managed to stick his foot between the door and the doorway.

"I said I needed Morox," he repeated, firmer. It'd be stupid to back away now. "I'm Mir's friend?"

As if Ady said something funny, the guy tilted his head to the side. "Is this a question or a statement that you two are friends?"

I wish I knew. "A statement."

"And what did you say your name was?"

"Adélard. Lishan."

"Lishan?" The guy's prying eyes ran up and down Ady's figure. "Like..."

"Yeah, yeah, like the mayor's son." Ady was used to such reactions, but they still irritated him. It sounded as if everyone was interested in him for this one reason only, and there was nothing else, worthy, in him.

"Nah, I meant to say that I know your sister." He shrugged, and finally opened the door fully. "Whatever. Come in."

The room behind the door appeared to be small, stuffy, and simple to the point of banality--a shabby couch with a pile of pillows, an old, polished chandelier, a bookcase jammed with what looked like an impressive collection of antiques, and a large window with the moonless night beyond. One part of Ady feared, and another wished to find some secret lair here with a bunch of bones and scrolls with incantations scattered all over the place--so that Ady could once and for start believing that the rumors were true, that their city was indeed reeking of witchcraft. But all he got was a sleepy boy with hair dyed blue. Were the old tales that boring in reality?

"You know my sister?" Ady asked, taking an uncertain step in.

"Sure, we've met a couple of times downstairs," the blue-haired yawned. He walked around the room, pushed several volumes on the shelf aside, and pulled a tiny vial with a liquid as black as fuel oil out. "By the way, my name is Nilam, if Mir didn't tell you. So...why do you need Morox?"