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CHAPTER41
CHRISTY
Standing in the shadows of the Grand Hall, I cast my gaze around the space searching for a glimpse of my sister, but despite the elaborate masks everyone is wearing, I know none of them are her. She has a very distinctive rose tattoo that winds up her neck. It’s unmistakable.
“Where are you?” I whisper, anxiety washing through my veins as I sweep the hall with my gaze for the hundredth time this past hour.
My eyes briefly pass over the stage where Six is singing the aria in place of Twelve, her voice captivating the audience who stare at her, enraptured. There’s a poignancy to her singing, an innate sadness that emanates from her. It filters across the space, a melancholy that only adds to my building anxiety and the already suffocating atmosphere, at least for me.
She too is wearing gold, but her dress has a layer of black chiffon covering the golden silk skirt and a black bodice with gold flowers sewn across its surface. All of the Numbers are wearing a variation of the same dress in black, gold and white or a combination of all three colours. I’m the only one wearing all gold. Maybe that was intentional on The Masks’ part, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, in a short while this beautiful gold dress will be stained with their blood.
In another lifetime, not marred by a complicated history with three even more complicated men, I would’ve stood and stared in wonder at the intricately woven performances each of the Numbers have executed so effortlessly tonight. I would’ve enjoyed every single second of it. As it is, my thoughts are troubled. Nothing will ever be the same again after tonight. It will either be the start of new beginnings or the end of everything.
My fingers graze over the knife strapped to my leg beneath the material of my skirt, the leather feels strangely warm against my skin and I feel both relief and a deep sense of restlessness at its presence. Our future, mine and The Masks, boils down to one act of kindness masked by an act of cruelty. If it doesn’t work we are all lost, The Masks will die and my heart will cease to function. I know this as surely as I know that dawn will break on a new sunrise tomorrow, just like it will every day after without them.
These men who—for such a long time I feared, then hated, then wanted dead—now own my heart as much as I own theirs. In them I have found true acceptance, and in me they’ve found a home.
Pressing my hand over my heart, my gaze falls on Leon, Jakub and Konrad who are sitting at the table nearest to the stage. They’re distinguishable from the rest of the guests not just because of the shiny, ebon masks they wear but because of the connection I share with them. In a room full of a thousand people I’d be able to pick them out. The bond we share is more tangible, more real, and far more visceral than anything I’ve ever felt before.
Ifeelit.
Like a beacon, I’m drawn to them. Their darkness is no longer pitch black, but scattered with tiny spots of light just like the swathes of silk that decorate this hall and I wonder, briefly, if anyone else sees the change in them like I do, or if all they see are the monsters they once were.
Forcing my gaze away from The Masks, I search the room focusing on each table as I look for men with the same build as Beast and Ford, wondering perhaps if they’ve separated to be less conspicuous. But my search, yet again, comes up empty.
Yet, Iknowthey’re in this room, somewhere. Beast had said he saw me dance so if they’re not in the audience, that must mean they’re…
Oh, God. Of course.
Just as I start to look more closely at the staff milling about the room, Five rests her hand on my arm. “That’s your cue,” she whispers as One begins to play the opening chords ofDancing After Death. “Are you ready?”
“Honestly, no,” I respond, forcing my voice to be steadier than I feel.
“You can do this. I have faith in you. We all do.”
“Keep them safe, Five,” I say, pulling her in for a hug.
“I’ll watch over them until you return. I promise you.”
With one last dip of my head, I step out of the shadows and into the candlelight, Five’s promise ringing in my ears just as Six begins to sing.
As the haunting song floats around the room, I lift up onto my pointes and pirouette across the floor, the skirt of my dress floating around me as I move. I’m supposed to dance my way to the stage before the first verse ends, finishing my performance there, but instead I use this opportunity to move about the grand hall in search of my sister, Beast and Ford.
Candlelight rushes past me in a blur of yellow against the inky backdrop as I twist and turn, just like a comet passing through the night sky. I dance fluidly, adjusting my steps as I make a new path around the Grand Hall, weaving between the tables of guests who all follow my movements, their true identities hidden beneath masks made of silk and lace, bone and metal, wood and paper. Some masks are utterly beautiful but in a way that is more sinister than attractive, with plumes of feathers and jewels embedded across the surface. Others are demonic, monsters come to life. I see twisted faces with horns, bulbous noses and crooked features. Fangs, claws and sharpened teeth. I don’t know if it’s the way the hall is lit, or the fact I’m dancing and they remain seated, but their masks begin to distort as I move. Twisting and morphing into strange and fantastical creatures you might find in a Grimm fairytale, the ones my sister used to love reading to me as a kid.
Everywhere I look the beautiful sit beside the ugly, the twisted beside the perfect.
And every single one of those masked creatures is focused on me.
Demon. Devil. Monster. Witch. Fairy. Siren.
An audience of humans transformed into mythical beings harbouring secret longings and sinful needs that can only be fulfilled within the walls of a remote castle far away from everyday life. This is their version of heaven, one debauched night filled with alcohol, drugs and sex. For one night they’re free to look upon such exquisite beauty, free to enjoy such incredible talent and each other, with like-minded people. They can gorge on it, and those with enough money can buy it.Havebought it.
As I dance, I realise that this is just a brief glimpse of another world that lives alongside our own. Where money buys you anonymity, fantasies,sex. Here in this castle these men and women can become who they truly are inside, and somehow, rather than making me feel afraid it gives me the strength to continue, to see this night through. Just like them I can put on a mask and become a monster.
Tonight I will be the poisoner of blood, the slayer of hearts. I will take the dagger strapped to my thigh and carve my name into The Masks’ chests, scarring them forevermore, saving them from death. I will commit a sin as heinous as any of these men and women here might.
And I will do it out of love.
Giving up on trying to find my family and accepting that I cannot change what will be, I allow myself to be drawn back to the centre of my universe, to The Masks, one last time. Moving fluidly, my limbs feel like melted gold as I dance towards them. My body is my own and yet strangely… it’s not.
A warmth spreads out across my skin as my hair flies out behind me, my arms a pair of butterfly's wings as I float around the room. Goosebumps lift the hairs on my arms as One plays the notes so perfectly and Six sings like an angel.
Occasionally a guest will reach out, their fingertips grazing my skin, my skirt, my hair. These people taint me with their touch, their wrongdoings sinking into my skin, imprinting me with visions that I do not seek and have little strength to endure. I had thought my ability toseehad abandoned me, but alas I was wrong. Yet I don’t flinch away. I’m unable to do anything other than dance, my feet moving of their own accord, my brain disconnecting as multiple visions try to drag me under. I fight them off, using movement as a weapon. I can’t go under. Not now.
Lifting up onto my pointes I kick my leg into a fouette turn, refusing to succumb. I dance as though it’s my last performance, forcing myself to move, to refuse to submit, but it’s a losing battle as the hall fills with the same kind of electricity that infuses the air before a storm. It dances across my skin as my senses become sharper, more defined. Six’s voice is clearer, One’s notes crisper. I breathe in different scents: a meadow filled with wildflowers, sea-spray on warm sun-kissed skin, a wood burning fire, the sodden earth of a forest damp after rain has fallen. Those scents scoring memories that aren’t my own into my mind’s eye. Stumbling a little, those smells are replaced with sudden, glaring brightness. The candles on the table become flashes of light, the glinting fairy lights are no longer soft but sharp, almost blinding. Each step I take becomes burdensome, every movement heavy. I no longer float, but drown under the weight of a dozen visions that fight to claim me. But throughout it all I fight to stay awake, with only one thought on my mind. I need to get to the men I love…
