Masque of the Red Death

  Father laughs. “At this point, blame is useless, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Elliott stares at Father for a long moment. “Not for Araby,” he says. “Did you even consider—”

  A bullet zings past my face and hits the wall of the science building, dusting us with bits of red brick. I stifle a scream. Elliott scowls and turns, and Father starts to run. Without thinking, I grab the sleeve of his coat.

  “Father, I—”

  “Soldiers are coming,” Elliott says. “They’ve been following us.”

  “They will kill me,” Father says simply, looking at me. Before I can open my hand to let him go, he’s ripped the coat away, knocking me off-balance and into Elliott. Soldiers surround us, their muskets aimed at Father.

  “No.” Elliott holds up his hand. The soldiers point the loaded muskets skyward.

  “Nearly all the soldiers within the city are loyal to me now,” he says. “But there are a few who still look to my uncle for rewards.” Elliott turns to the man who shot his musket at us.

  “Deal with him,” Elliott says to another soldier, who I recognize now. It’s the man who I spoke to in the dark hallway at Akkadian Towers, what seems like years ago.

  He gives me a tiny nod of recognition and then asks, “Did you get what you want from him?”

  Elliott shrugs. “Enough for now. I need you to disappear for a few more days.”

  “Of course.”

  Elliott pulls me away. “And you thought I was playing at revolution?” His blond eyebrows nearly touch the fair hair that is hanging over his forehead. “We really should go. There was too much damning evidence in my apartment, so I set a small fire. Except it got out of hand.” He smiles. “Oh, and I have something for you.”

  Two presents, one from Father, one from Elliott.

  He hands me his knife, the one with an ivory handle. The one he was toying with while he spoke to Father. “Hide it, in your boot or under your skirts.” His eyes travel up and down my body. “Not that you have much left in the way of skirts.”

  I take the knife, holding it nervously.

  “We really should leave now, before something explodes.”

  The air is thick and heavy, as though the city is closing in on us. Elliott lifts me up into his steam carriage. We have to get out.

  “Why do you hate my father?”

  “I don’t hate him.” I can’t tell if he’s lying, and before I can ask more questions, we round a corner and Elliott has to swerve to avoid hitting a black cart that’s sitting in the middle of the road. An emaciated arm dangles over the side, white and limp.

  “Where are the—” Then I see one of the corpse collectors, dead in the middle of the road. Blood streaks his face.

  “The other one is probably dead, too.” Elliott’s words are calmer than his hands, working the controls. “People are dying. Like before. This voyage might keep the two of us alive, and the return I have planned will surprise my uncle.”

  But who will keep Will and the children alive?

  I expect to see the body of the other corpse collector as we pass the cart, but instead, in an abandoned doorway, I see a girl.

  “Don’t look,” Elliott says. His face has gone a sickly shade of green.

  She’s lying half in and half out of a doorway, and her skirts, ripped and tattered as mine, are pushed up around her waist.

  I swallow hard and look away.

  Elliott picks up speed until we reach the Debauchery District and then swerves to a stop in front of the club. My face smacks against the side of his carriage, and I put my hand up to my mask to make sure that it is intact.

  “There are two swords in the back of the carriage,” he says. “Take one. I’m going to teach you to hold it. You will never end up like that poor girl. Not if I have anything to do with it.”

  He opens the double door at the front of the club and leads me into an enormous room with high gold ceilings and murals of dragons feasting upon the entrails of fallen knights. The carpets are red, the exact same shade as the bloody intestines featured in the paintings.

  “I never knew this room was here.”

  “It’s a ballroom,” he says.

  It’s a direct violation of my vow. Finn will never learn to fight with a sword. And I know he wanted to. When we were little he was always hitting things with a wooden sword that Mother gave him. The handle was painted gold, and he used it so much the paint flaked off.

  Finn will never do this. But I can.

  Elliott grins. “I won’t be teaching you to fight so much as teaching you how to look like you know how to fight. Stand here.” He grabs my shoulders and pulls them back. “Hold the sword like this.”

  The corners of the room are dark and far away. An ornate balcony extends the length of the room.

  “Hold your sword stable,” he says. “And keep it upright, even if I hit it hard.”

  I grip the hilt and grit my teeth, bracing for his blow.

  “You can take off your mask in here, you know.”

  “I’m going to keep it on,” I say. “Wearing it doesn’t make me uncomfortable, so it will be to my advantage.”

  “You’ll need every advantage you can get.”

  Elliott circles me. He is amazingly light on his feet, and he keeps his mask on too. It’s a tiny victory.

  “If you take off your mask, I guess I’ll know you’re ready for a kiss. Like in the park today. With Will.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  Finally he attacks. It doesn’t hurt me so much as jar me. I hold the blade steady, challenging him with my eyes.

  “Sorry we interrupted your moment. What did you do with the diamond ring I gave you?”

  I left it on Will’s kitchen table.

  The sudden awareness that my ring finger is bare makes my sword wobble. His blade makes contact with mine, ever so gently. He’s insulting me with meekness.

  We fight in silence, except for the echo of his blade hitting mine. It reverberates throughout the room, but our voices don’t carry. And our footsteps, as we move from the ornate gold-and-white tiles to the red carpet and back, are silent. My arm throbs. Elliott hits and I block.

  Soldiers gather on the shadowy balcony, watching.

  “Elliott.” My voice is plaintive, and I hate myself for it. “I don’t know more right now than I knew that first night in the garden.”

  His blade slides toward me and I fall back, tripping over my feet.

  “Stay focused! Hold your wrist like this.” He twists my wrist around a little. “If you want to keep this up, you’ll have to strengthen your arm.”

  “I can strengthen whatever I need to strengthen.”

  He hits again, hard, and I would wince, but I can see anger in his eyes.

  “That’s good,” he says. “Always act sure; it will throw your opponents off.”

  “Always act sure,” I repeat. “Just like you.”

  My feet slide on the polished floor, and my arm has gone numb.

  “On the boat, I revealed more of myself to you than I’ve ever revealed to another person.” He swivels and turns, waves his sword at me, showing off.

  “You were holding me over water that was filled with crocodiles.” I hit my blade against his, hard. He smiles and gives me a slight bow.

  He raises his sword, and I ready myself for his next blow. I don’t think Elliott knows how exhausted I am, but the blow never comes.

  “I told you that I was falling in love with you.”

  Someone ignites the candelabra above us, and the shadows that I’ve become accustomed to waver. The darkness of the room shifts, and now it’s all reds and golds.

  “Love requires trust. You told me not to trust you,” I say finally.

  “You trust Will?”

  “Will has nothing to do with this.”

  “Remember the pamphlets I showed you? The papers rustling around in April’s steam carriage? There’s a printing press in the basement here that doesn’t run by itself. Do you think he prints inflammat
ory pamphlets for extra money, or does he have his own agenda?” He waits for the accusation to sink in. “Either way, I want you to stay away from him.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  He is standing over me. Too close. I could hit him with my sword if I wanted to.

  “I’m looking out for your safety.”

  I raise my sword. Elliott pivots and knocks it from my hands. Then he leans down, grabs the hilt, and gives it back.

  “Do you want to know how I became such a good fighter?”

  I raise my eyebrows. He can interpret that however he wants.

  “Put your sword down. I know you’re exhausted. My uncle hired an instructor to teach me. I was clumsy and weak at first, so my uncle forced me to fight in his throne room. Against his soldiers. Every time I lost, he executed someone I considered a friend. The other boys in the castle, boys I had played cards with. Once it was a boy who simply laughed at one of my jokes. Then it was my tutors, people who had done me kindnesses. He killed them one by one.”

  He’s pacing, running one hand through his hair while the other grips the sword that seems an extension of his arm. A draft turns the candelabra, and his face moves from shadow to light and back to shadow.

  “I improved and sometimes won. But my uncle insisted that I fight to the death every single time.” He leans forward and touches me, right above my heart, with the tip of his sword.

  I stand as still as I can, appalled by his story, uncomfortable because his stance has changed. The pain in his eyes has turned to something else.

  “I never made friends,” he says. “For fear I would lose them. One or two stitches more and this dress is going to fall off you.” He toys with the lacing on my dress with the tip of his sword, slicing my corset.

  He drops his sword and steps forward until his body is touching mine. I hold the bits of my dress together, my hands creating a tiny barrier between us.

  “April says that my inability to trust makes me weak. So I’m going to tell you everything. I still don’t know how Malcontent thinks he can take the city from Prospero, but I’ve been preparing to take it for years. I have the military. The prince’s guards and trained soldiers. They have families. They live in this city and know how little the prince cares. They’ve sworn to fight for me. Now, with the maps of the tunnels, we have a way to move unseen.”

  His breath is warm against my hair, his mask is suddenly off. “We will leave on the steamship, but we will return in two days. I have men stationed throughout the city. But only my uncle and those closest to him need worry about bloodshed. We will give away masks and provide food to the poor. The followers of this reverend may be a problem, but he has no army. Eventually we’ll bring his people around to our side. Show them how life in this city can be improved.” He smiles. “We’ll get to start rebuilding.

  “I need you beside me,” he continues. “At first I wanted you because you were the scientist’s daughter, and he was a hero. But now… I just need you to believe in me.”

  “I will help you,” I say. “I’ll do anything I can.” The chandelier spins, and pinpoints of light move over the floor. I realize with surprise that Elliott is handsome. And noble. And deadly.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  He hands me Will’s coat, and I put it on gratefully, as the remnants of my dress fall to the floor.

  The soldiers in the balcony applaud, and Elliott swings open the double doors of the ballroom and leads me out. The interior of the club is as shadowy as ever.

  “Hello, purple-haired girl,” the old man wheezes. He’s standing in the shadowy hallway.

  “Hello,” I reply. With Elliott beside me, I’m not so terrified. Elliott ignores him until the older man moves into our path.

  “We want to go to the palace,” he says to Elliott.

  “Tell your uncle. This place is no longer—” He stops and licks his lips. His tongue is like a lizard’s; in fact, his entire face is reptilian. “Satisfactory.”

  “Do you think I have his ear?” Elliott asks.

  The man smiles grimly. “If he wanted to kill you for your treason, he would have already killed you.”

  “I don’t think we should rate the prince’s affections by who he hasn’t gotten around to killing,” Elliott says.

  The old man chortles.

  “My uncle may be in town for the launch of the ship,” Elliott says. “If so, I will relay your message.” He nods a dismissal to the man and takes my arm.

  We climb the stairs, but when I turn and look back, the old man is glaring at us.

  I follow Elliott down the dark corridor that leads to his private chambers. Will said they were ransacked, but I suppose the maids have cleaned things up. He leads me to the bedroom. The bed is neatly made, and April has spread several dresses across it.

  Elliott stops in the doorway.

  I stop as well. “What about your uncle?” I ask. “What will he do when you are rebuilding the city? And how will you stop him?”

  He sighs. “I’ve considered taking the castle. He has stores of gold, and food. Things we need. But I think it will be better, with this new plague, this Red Death, to begin with as little bloodshed as possible. We’ll take his soldiers away, and he will have no real power. Eventually we will take back what he’s stolen from the people.”

  I study Elliott’s face. His plan makes sense to me, but I’ve met his uncle, and I am afraid of what he will do.

  “My mother?”

  “We will rescue her. I have people in the palace. I’ll get her back for you.”

  He’s still earnest, but he’s no longer meeting my eyes.

  “We were going to kill him,” he says in a whisper. “We were going to kill him tonight. But the Red Death has changed everything. He won’t come back to the city until it’s safe, and it will never be safe for him.” He clears his throat and resumes speaking in his regular tone. “I have to meet with some of my men. I’ll see you in two hours,” he says.

  “Promise?” It may be childish, but I need his reassurance.

  “Yes.” He hesitates, and I think, for a moment, that he might kiss me. But instead he straightens a dragon statuette on a decorative side table.

  “Elliott? When we’re on the ship, will you keep teaching me? With the swords?”

  “Yes.” His voice is soft. “Make yourself beautiful.” He stops in the doorway. “More beautiful,” he amends, and then he’s gone. But not before I hear a key clicking in the door behind him. So much for trust; he’s locked me in.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  APRIL GESTURES FOR ME TO FOLLOW HER INTO a dressing alcove. She arrived shortly after Elliott left. I’m not sure how she got in.

  Her dress has long sleeves. I have never seen April in a dress that covers her arms, especially not indoors.

  “Isn’t this dressing room fabulous? If we end up being the last living people in the city, we can stay here with all of our dresses and try them on, one after the other.”

  “That sounds … entertaining,” I say.

  “Elliott has books. If we are the last people on Earth, you and Elliott can read poetry to each other.”

  “While you try on all your dresses?”

  She meets my eyes in the mirror and frowns. She knows I’m mocking her plans. Her flippant expression drops.

  “I suspect I’ll be dead,” she says, examining her bloodred fingernails. “Tell me we will live through the next few weeks, Araby. Please?”

  I’m not sure how we went from joking to seriousness. But she’s gone pale, and her eyes are huge. She’s terrified.

  “A man died right in front of me. He was walking, and then he collapsed. He was shaking, and he looked terrible. Mad. Blood was coming from his eyes. And then he died. Araby, he’d been walking along looking normal just moments before.”

  She’s sobbing a little, over this man neither of us knew.

  “Before he died, the man’s saliva dribbled onto my shoe. I had to make one of the guards fe
tch me a different pair. And now our servants are dying, both at home and here at the club.”

  She pushes me in front of a mirror, and I study my reflection. The violet has mostly washed out of my hair. Otherwise I look strangely the same.

  “In the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? No one cares what we wear or how we look.” April turns away from the mirror. I have never, in all the years of our friendship, seen her turn away from a mirror.

  If the plague hadn’t happened, it would matter. People would be talking about what April wore, who she danced with.

  “Even I don’t really care anymore,” she continues. “I just want to stay alive. And for you and Elliott to stay alive.”

  “You’ve seen people die before.”

  “Not like this.” She pulls my hair back from my face and uncaps some glitter. It reminds me of the night Will told me that I should wear the silver eye shadow, that it would look better on me.

  She lines my eye with something liquid and dark. Her hand is steady. I pull away so that I can look into her face, but she’s focusing on my cheekbones.

  “They say this one will finish us off,” she says.

  Panic wells up from deep inside me. The vial my father gave me weighs in my pocket.

  “When did it start, April? When did the first people die?”

  “Two days ago.”

  I let out the breath that I didn’t know I was holding.

  “People say this is the end. That there is no point fighting it. Some of them are going to churches and praying, and … some of them are attacking girls on the street. My uncle doesn’t care about protecting anyone.” She brushes some glitter over my eyebrows.

  Elliott wants to protect the people. He cares. But he couldn’t plan for this new disease, and he can’t protect us from it. That is why he let my father live. Why he wants his notes.

  “Araby, I’m scared. I’m too young to die.”

  It’s selfish. Thousands of people who are younger than her have died. She’s lived a better life than most of them. But it is genuine. She’s scared. She is my closest friend; I put my arms around her.

  “I don’t want to die either,” I say softly.

  She returns the embrace.