Page 95 of Rattle the Cage

Cyrus beelined for the railing that overlooked the venue.

We need eyes.

Each of us took our place along the metal bannister. Below, hundreds — if not thousands — of people partied. Some danced to the music, sweat dripping down their faces. While others made out on the dance floor. Hands traveled up dressed, heads rolled back.

Swallowing, I felt my heart beating in my chest to the same beat as the music.

From up here, I could see the array of colors and cuts. All of it coordinated to the dress code.

When I’d read it, I thought it was impossible that every person here would fulfill one of those colors. But as the crowd stretched out below us, it became abundantly clear that they did.

My chest tightened at the thought. As soon as these people walked into The Station, they consented to what their outfit signaled. All of them agreed to let those things happen to them here.

Drugging. sleep-play, whipping. More that I wasn’t sure I could even name.

But none of it was all that different from Fright Night. When I said yes to the hunt, I agreed to let the Freaks have me however they wanted. And I learned the hard way that they really meant however they pleased.

My body ached at the thought, wanting another night of their desires despite my better judgment.

Nash, Blade, and Cyrus scanned the layout of the Station below.

Despite being elevated above the first floor, the multi-paned glass ceiling overhead was still dozens of yards away. In the light of day, I could only imagine how stunning the marble and limestone building looked.

But even in the glow of the flashing party lights, The Station was undeniably magnificent.

It was Blade who pointed at a far wall where an arched tunnel led to a hallway. “There.”

Despite her anxiety before walking in here, she’d become calm and level the second we stepped into the chaos. It was like she belonged to the havoc.

Cyrus nodded and pushed off the metal railing, heading straight for the crowded staircase at the edge of the mezzanine. Leaving a space for me on the landing, Nash made sure to sandwich me between her and Cyrus. Blade flanked us, keeping the high ground as we descended into the madhouse.

The stairs were just like the platform above, metal slates with plexiglass to stop heels from slipping into the cracks. Despite being used to high heels, my thighs were starting to burn by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs and landed on the stone slabs of The Station’s main terminal.

As soon as we stepped off the last step, we were thrown into the thrashing of the excited crowd. My eyes caught on the rainbow of colors, reds, blues, purples. I remembered what those meant, tops, bottoms, and switches. But the greens, blues, pinks, and yellows were foggier for me.

Nash pressed her hand into my lower back, pushing me on as she used her towering frame to push people away. Boxing me in, Blade came up to my side. Barricaded by my Freaks, no one would be able to touch me.

My outfit alone should have signaled that.

What’s the point of the dress code if someone violates it?

But the Freaks didn’t trust anyone but themselves. And who could blame them?

Protected, I finally let my eyes wander past the five feet in front of me. I peeked over the bobbing crowd, moving along to the throbbing music coming from the DJ stand.

Everything about this place looked like a functioning train terminal. At the edge of the massive depot, an elegant ticket booth was lit in warm, orange light. Inside, workers in matching black suits zipped around.

Glass barriers separated them from the clients. Between the rocking bodies of the crowd, I spotted cocktails being slid through the opening in the glass.

Bartenders.

But as we walked closer, I caught a glimpse of their nametags. No names, just “Teller”.

Then my head whipped around to find the sound of ticking that just barely managed to spill through the EDM beat. Overhead, a massive arrivals and departures board flicked with new times and track numbers.

It was an old-school ticker board, probably as ancient as The Station itself.

Had it been a functioning terminal?