At the bottom of the steep stairway there is another door. I feel Valentine too close behind me as I stop by it – watching to see what I will do. I take a deep breath and I push it open.

My eyes widen.

The room opens out into what appears to be an old fashioned speakeasy – reminiscent of the Prohibition era. There's a stage against the opposite wall where a jazz band plays in front of a giant glittering dreamcatcher hung on the wall. Women in colorful flapper dresses, and young men in sharp suits and braces dance beneath glistening crystal chandeliers – weaving around the scattered round tables. And the air is thick with laughter and the scent of cigar smoke and hard liquor.

My eyes are drawn through the noise, though, to a man lounged on a crimson couch across the room. His arms are spread along the back; hands curved around a woman in a silver dress on his one side, and a blonde man on his other – both of whom are kissing his neck.

He is looking at Valentine though – a smile spreading across his face.

"Like I said, he's easily bored." Valentine's low voice tickles my ear and I breathe in sharply.

"That's Morpheus?" I say quietly – already knowing the answer.

"Yes."

I survey the God of Dreams across the glittering room.

His skin is dark, and his frame slender. He wears a long coat, a shade of blue close to black, and his loose white shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His black hair is short, and his dark eyes glitter with mischief when they slide onto me.

Something clenches inside me at his penetrating gaze and my heart begins to pound. He feels...powerful, somehow. An aura seems to radiate from him, hitting me even all the way over here.

Valentine nudges me forward and I pull my gaze away – but feel his on me still.

I start to walk through the crowds - eyes greedily drinking in details I missed before; a bar stocked with decanters of different colored liquids in front of a wall of clocks - each showing a different time, a ceiling black as night, and a large hourglass filled with glistening silver sand by the stage – tuned by a mechanical metal device.

The place seems to have a wild thundering pulse - that feels almost contagious.

When we reach Morpheus's table he grins up at us with a perfect set of white teeth. 

"Valentine!" he says. "And Valentine's friend."

With a flamboyant wave of his willowy arm he dismisses the man and the woman still sucking at his neck – his star like cufflinks glistening in the candlelight. I watch as they get up and skulk off back to the dance floor.

"We are all such stuff as dreams are made on," he says in a voice smooth as silk. I flick my gaze back to him and his smile widens. He gestures at the table before him with his slender fingers. "Please, take a seat. Join me."

Valentine drops into the wooden chair closest him – legs spread, leaning against the stiff back – instantly at ease. I hold Morpheus's gaze a moment longer, then tentatively perch myself on the chair opposite.

There may be a contagious pulse about the place - but this man, this god, makes me wary.

Morpheus snaps his fingers and a woman in a white dress approaches carrying a silver tray. She sets down a decanter filled with brown liquid – bourbon, I'm guessing - and three crystal tumblers before weaving back across the room.

"I've been so curious to meet you," says Morpheus as he leans forward and pours the liquid into the glasses – sliding one to me, one to Valentine, and taking one himself. 

Morpheus takes a sip – dark eyes watching me over the rim. 

Then, deliberately, he puts a hand onto Valentine's leg. "Anyone who captures the interest of my old friend here, must be very interesting indeed."

Valentine's eyes move to Morpheus's hand before meeting his gaze. He raises an eyebrow. Morpheus removes his hand and sits back in the couch – a wicked grin on his face. His eyes meet mine again.

"I've been trying to bed him for years," he says. "But unfortunately he only has eyes for another." Morpheus puts a hand to his chest in mock hurt – eyes glittering mischievously. "Can you imagine, though? The god of love, himself. I'd suppose him a very talented lover. What do you think, Lila?" I feel heat rising to my face. He leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You have thought of it, yes?"

I avert my gaze hurriedly to the glass beaker.

"No," I hiss – simultaneously wanting the floor to open up and swallow me, and to lean over and slap the God of Dreams in the face.

Morpheus laughs – a low musical sound that entwines with the jazz music. "There are many truths that lurk within the subconscious mind; many desires and perversions that are blocked to us on waking. But you forget – I have seen your dreams, Lila Black."

My face gets hotter. I feel Valentine's eyes on me.

"I know just what you crave," he continues.

"That's enough, Morpheus," says Valentine – there's a finality to his gruff tone that surprises me.

I look up, but he has turned his attention to the God of Dreams.

Morpheus sighs and dramatically flops back in the couch. "Very well, my friend. I was only playing."

"Play with someone else," says Valentine, raising an eyebrow.

"She is only for your games, I see. You can play, but I cannot. Very well." His expression becomes sullen. "Sometimes you are no fun at all."

"I'm not for anyone's games," I say abruptly, suddenly snapping out of my wordless embarrassed stupor – both turn to look at me. "No-one will be playing with anyone."

"All the world's a stage. And all the men and women merely players..." says Morpheus in such a way I'm not sure if he's talking to me, or himself. His head tilts up, his gaze and thoughts suddenly elsewhere.

Valentine looks at me and rolls his eyes, a half smirk on his lips. He picks up his beaker of liquid, tilts it at me in cheers, then takes a sip. And, what the hell, I pick mine up too and down it in one. It's hot and earthy. 

And very alcoholic. 

I cough, wincing, as I put it back down on the table.

The movement regains Morpheus's attention. He grins at me - his sulk clearly over.

"Where were we?" he says. "Ah. Welcome, Lila! Feel free to enjoy the delights of my castle, to succumb to your wildest dreams, to endeavor upon a path through your subconscious to true discovery. And if you need anything – do not refrain from asking. I -"

He is cut off by the woman in the white dress who served us the bourbon. She leans close and whispers something in his ear. His eyebrows raise, eyes glittering with intrigue. When she leaves he picks up his glass, swills around the liquid, then takes a sip before turning his gaze to Valentine.

"Apparently there has been a break in," he says. "Your lot, I'm told. Cupids. They're heading for your box. I thought you should know."

My heart jolts in my chest.

Cupid and Cal.

Valentine's face darkens slightly. He inclines his head and rises from his chair. He turns to me. 

I'm already on my feet.

"Well, Lila, it seems we have business to attend to," he says. "Shall we?"

"Yes," I say. 

A smile spreads across Valentine's face.

"You really do get to have all the fun..." says Morpheus.

"You are welcome to play with us, Morpheus," says Valentine.

"Fighting? No," says Morpheus, wafting a hand dismissively - dark eyes searching the dance floor. "There is fun of a more pleasurable variety to be had here."

Valentine's lip quirks up and he inclines his head, before meeting my eyes. "Ready?"

"Let's go."

Together we head across the strange Underworld speakeasy.

Hope swells in my chest.

The break in has to be Cupid and Cal. Who else could it be?

My pulse thunders beneath my skin.

But do they remember me?