The Casino of the Sky reflection rose unexpectedly close to Marylebone and Uptown.
In fact, from an architectural standpoint and in terms of magnificence it had nothing to envy to the beautiful house overlooking Regent's Park and the wide boulevards surrounding the park. Smaller, perhaps, it was normal to expect from a dependache, but surrounded by a large garden with trees and enclosed by high hedges enclosing it like a treasure chest.
past the black gate, and advancing through the trees, the building appeared suddenly in the middle of a large artificial tank that housed the shimmering reflection, projected in a dark sky where constellations of agitated water lilies and aquatic plants nebuolose.
Hence the nickname of the house, or at least that which was known to most people.
For those who regularly attended, it was the Lost Casino .
The casino was accessible by boat from the mainland, he remembered, in the styles, a Venetian gondola. The helmsman who drove Domino was dressed in a black silk velvet and chantilly lace, her face hidden by a mask that left only her eyes see the shadow of bautta.
Jericho Shelmardine Marmaduke had traveled a route to the black gate with unconsciousness of those who lost all references, finds his way home for a pure instinct. Instinct of self-destruction, in his case, but it mattered little when the annihilation seemed destined to be the only possible resolution.
Welcomed to the gate of a pair of blood red liveried servants, Jericho had driven the white gravel path that winds through the well-kept lawns and flower beds, while the noise of the city gave way to silence the sound of the lining fountains, the breath of the night.
When he came near the tank, the still figure of the helmsman stood out against the outline of the Casino, where the bright lights flickering lightning and caught fire in in the reflection below.
Without a word got into the gondola, which immediately began to cut through the water like a black blade.
did not take long. The descent was always tragically rapid than the ascent.
Approaching the landing, Jericho closed his eyes, hearing the music that was spreading through the open windows. There was always music, night, in the Lost Casino . Wore the silence of a beautifully dressed, covered him, smothering the whispers, the moans. The cries.
Turkish cymbals, castanets, rattles, bells, bamboo flutes, sitar, drums ... carved ivory and exotic woods to create a music was not music, dissonant, at times, yet undeniable charm.
When he set foot on the platform of stone, with the aid of handrails that would repeat the same twisted ornamental gate, Jericho was greeted by a young page, clad only in their own skin color of gold, as gold was in her hair sculpted curls around the face and neck thin.
Still without a word, the boy handed him a crystal bowl in which he waved an amber liquid, and Jericho took without hesitation.
The wine was fresh, full of aromas and suggestions, to make it special but was not sure what could be perceived with the taste, not its fragrance, nor the bouquet. The laudanum had no flavor, had no odor, but its effect on the limbs and mind was so instantaneous that when the boy took his hand leading him inside, Jericho is already felt lighter, as if he had in the gondola abandoned its condemnation, together with his soul.
The night had just begun in the Lost Casino , but some would not end ever.
Inside was a single, large circular room, though divided into different levels, in a bizarre distortion of perspective and volume.
Terraces seemingly unattainable looked onto peninsulas suspended in space, stairs that ended in blind against the heavy crimson curtains that covered the walls, opening to reveal only the reflection of the many windows. Windows that, at some point in the night, would have been obscured.
The center of the hall had a sinking, entirely occupied by the Oriental style of cushions and plush carpets. All around, a couple of meters, ran several series of steps that were thinking of a small amphitheater, although they too were strewn with sofas and chaise longe. And
arena onto which not beefy gladiators fought, though what is consumed there was not, at times, less bloody ...
Men and women moved into the environment, lit by shimmering crystal chandeliers, alabaster, from the braziers bizarre fashion spread everywhere dense clouds of incense and opium.
The women were mostly half-naked and barefoot, just to find out more veils that hide their shapes, bright jewelry on their wrists, ankles, neck, hair. Many of them wore masks from the bizarre shapes, beautifully embellished with gems and crystals. Some had golden skin color spaces, such as the page who had taken Jericho, or the body of arabesques painted in bright colors and decorated with peacock feathers, so as to make them appear as a curious and beautiful mythological animals.
King Belial, and soul of the host Casino, Jericho welcomed like a prodigal son.
when last he rose from the bench that he was deputy, and occupied a dominant point, from which one could embrace in a single glance, the whole environment. and descended the stairs, followed by the train of crimson gown that wound behind his footsteps, like a trail of blood.
It did not matter who he was, where he came from, how he lived when he was not at the Casino .
was hard for him to even conceive of an existence outside of that environment saturated with the fumes of opium, as if, far from the opalescent light, was destined to vanish like a shadow at dawn.
But the same could be said of all his guests, who were regular or occasional.
At the very moment when the gondola was detached from the shore, they became in effect the Lost , except to find themselves the next day. Assuming that they wish ...
King Belial embraced Jericho, brushing cheeks with their own. His face was pale, cold, cold as it appeared bare skin of his chest, left uncovered by the folds of crimson robe.
"Welcome back, Lucifer" greeted him, low voice, barely whispered, a faint, indistinct accent, which made it even more unspeakable its origin.
Perhaps, as suggested by its name, was sprung from hell itself.
He put a hand on the back of Jericho and leading them along a passage that ran rings around the arena.
between the cushions on couches and men in shirt-sleeves, lay, coaxed by the caresses of the young girls and children who constituted the court of Casino.
For some of those guests was easier to guess a real life, outside of that voluptuous dream, but it did not matter. Guests at the Casino
were just guests.
Non-customers. Were invited, and, having the right knowledge, you could expect to be welcomed into the ranks of the privileged at least for one night.
was the home of the King Belial, his palace of games, entertainment reserved for her and her friends. Nothing else. The fact that
arose not far from the Golden Cage, one of the most famous brothels in the city, which was said to be connected by a secret tunnel that ran through the park and under the lake, did not mean anything. At Casino
not existed the rules of the brothel. Not any rule was in force, in reality, only the whims of the King and his guests, just a willingness, or annulment thereof, of Lost .
"We missed you" whispered in the ear of the King Jericho, and led him through his reign.
Men with bodies that looked sculpted in bronze were guarding the room, ornaments and guardians, at the same time, as they also showed off their nakedness harness in leather and jewelry.
"soul more or less, hell, it makes so much difference," said Jericho, while another cup was placed in his hand, and mechanically took her to his mouth.
Two girls from peacock feathers with pink tongue licking the same liquid, pouring over the body of a third girl on a couch nearby, before the watchful eyes of some gentlemen.
"Your soul for us to make much difference," she corrected the hoarse voice of the King, from a place worlds away.
Jericho smiled, running his tongue over his lips. The mind was asleep, mercifully, and soon he would be nothing left, nothing that was worth keeping alive. The Lost would do the rest, they would have ripped from his body every shred of humanity, our dignity, tearing his flesh, violating every fold outs, exiled from himself as the ruler ousted in a lost kingdom.
And then nothing would come.
Someone was taking off his shirt. He had not noticed when they removed the jacket, but it did not matter.
arena a young girl crying, screaming, of indifference. Not all chose to be there, and opium and morphine should not have been enough to make it totally unconscious.
Jericho saw two men, three, pounce on her, immobilizing it, stifling her cries, while others approached to assist, and wait your turn. The white body the girl was the only point of light among the dark pillows, including the bodies of his assailants, a tragic banner torn by greedy hands, devoured by greedy mouths.
He looked away, annoyed by the flicker of conscience, somewhere in him, he still cried and moaned as the girl raped.
hands I felt slight brush against his bare chest and back.
King had pushed gently between a girl and a boy, although it was difficult to distinguish them, seemed so confused and indistinct in the uncertain beauty of adolescence.
"I hope to meet again in the arena, Lucifer, later" King Belial greeted him, looking at him almost tenderly. "I hope to see you burn and fall, and move us as only you know to do."
Jericho took place, just nodding. Not that those words were important. But what you had then?
She sank to the sweetness of the hands and mouths of the twins, a prelude to all that would come later. Someone passed a silk scarf around his eyes, deprived of sight, but that was fine. Even if he had seen, not for this would be more in control of himself.
And even when he was violently grab and throw between pillow, which smelled of flowers and sandalwood, did not react, if not smiling slightly.
All he wanted was to hear, even if the pain, like a dying star that exploded, not dying in the cold of reality, but burning in a single, blinding nova, and then vanish into the darkness.
At least that was him, his body traitor.
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