Roman trusted Satsu, but that didn’t stop his growing unease as he let the token lead him deeper into Kanto.

Pleasure houses, like blue skies and open spaces, were a foreign experience to Roman. They didn’t even exist on Bulwark. True, Cradle had its share of parlors and houses, never all that far out of reach, but—

Roman was a Wolf, a soldier, a hunter. Wolves didn’t need the soft comforts of the inner systems. Wolves didn’t need to be pampered and indulged and catered to. Of course Satsu would think of something like this. She was a Griffon; she’d come from a world where this sort of thing was a regular part of life. She didn’t understand.

It wasn’t massage and music and delicate food and pretty dancers that Roman needed. No matter how fancy—and with a token like this, Roman expected the fanciest. The house would no doubt offer perfectly pleasant diversions that Roman, in all this life, had never found diverting.

Trouble was, the only other option was to turn around and return to the hotel and hand the coin back to Satsu, refusing her gift.

He couldn’t do that. The last thing he wanted, after she’d gone through this trouble for him, was to hurt her feelings. So he’d sit through a night of…whatever…and go home with a smile and thank her for her thoughtfulness.

The coin led Roman to the gated entrance of a garden lit by soft glowing orbs among thick willows. At the back of the garden, a tiny, well-kept cottage peeked out through the trees. Hard to believe this was the right place, except the token had grown warm in his hand and the gate swung open at his approach.

It didn’t look like the entrance to any sort of pleasure house, much less the sort of grandiose venue that created tokens like this one. But this was Kanto and this was the Serpent and nothing could be judged by its surface.

At the door, he was greeted by a young woman in a plain mask who took his token with a smile. Her thumb traced over the rough side, and she gave a little nod, reading something from the texture that Roman could not. Her eyes flickered down to the crest at his shoulder. “Please follow me, Sur Hayashi.”

The young woman led Roman in and down, through thick-carpeted hallways lined with doors and shrouded in silence. They could have been the only two people here. They were underground, Roman was sure, in a complex much larger than the surface building had implied.

Roman sighed. Serpents.

The woman stopped at a door that looked no different than any other and knocked softly. It swung open, and a young masked man who could have been this girl’s twin bowed. “Welcome, Sur Hayashi. My name is Tam. If there’s anything you need, do not hesitate to ask.”

As Roman passed through the door, he felt the shiver of the nima moving over and through him. He stopped, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. “What is this?”

“Privacy,” Tam answered simply.

The room was barely more than a closet, with just enough room for Roman and Tam to stand comfortably apart next to a table that was the only piece of furniture. “I must request that you leave your sword and any other weapons you may be carrying. I promise nothing will be disturbed in your absence.”

Satsu’s gift, Roman reminded himself. Whatever was happening, he could trust it. He unbuckled his belt and lay it on the table along with the knife he wore inside his boot. The young man watched, his face unreadable behind his mask. “Now what?” Roman asked.

“Please follow me.”

Another short hall, this time with only the one door at the end. The magic on this door was so strong Roman could feel it from several feet away. In the dim light, Roman could just make out glyphs inscribed around the doorframe. Roman was no akashic, but he recognized sigils for protection and warding. “What’s going on here?”

“You have the whole night, should you wish it,” Tam said. “There is an intercom inside that I will be monitoring. If you’d like refreshment or…anything, please ask. Beyond that,” he smiled, “everything has been arranged as requested.”

“What exactly was requested?”

Tam only gave another bow and retreated back down the hall, leaving Roman alone.

Serpent showmanship. Serpent secrecy. Satsu had arranged this, and now Roman couldn’t deny a growing curiosity about what it was Satsu had arranged.

Roman opened the door.

The room was nothing like Roman expected. There were no veiled dancers, no hot tubs, no overly perfumed men and women to feed and pamper his body or entertain his mind.

What the room most resembled was someone’s living space. A nice space, at that—the single room larger than Roman’s small apartment back at Castle Faust. There was a bed on one corner, piled high with thick, cushiony blankets. A living room arrangement of plush-looking couch and chairs around a lacquered table took up the space near the door. On the far side, a sitting and dining area with embroidered placemats and gold-edged china teacups perfectly arranged.

At a desk along the back wall, a delicately beautiful woman in a diaphanous black dress sat painting. She wore no mask. Her smooth black hair was arranged in a single braid and wrapped in a thick coil atop her head. Her rich bronze skin was flawless. Her brush moved in graceful strokes across—

A portrait. Expertly done.

Of Roman’s face.

“Welcome, Hayashi Roman.” The woman’s voice was low and rich. When she said his name, it was like a caress.

“Do you know me?” he asked. Surely he’d remember this woman if they’d met before.

“No,” she answered simply. She lay down her brush and stood, her every movement polished and graceful. Her eyes were a crystalline green and they swept up and down Roman, lingering on his face. “Ah yes, just as I imagined.”

“How did you…?” He waved his hand at the painting. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“You held my token.” She came towards him. As she moved, the layers of her dress swirled around her, her curving silhouette clearly visible through the thin fabric. “I saw you. I heard you. Which is how I know no one told you what you were coming here to find.”

What was it about her eyes? Roman couldn’t look away. A shivery heat washed through him. A scent—familiar—like a dream—

Roman grabbed her hands and shoved her away, reaching for the sword that he, too-late, remembered he’d left behind.

The woman laughed. No, not a woman. Not…

He had to say it out loud. He had to be sure. “You’re a demon.”

“But of course, my sweet. Isn’t that exactly what you came here to find?”