I watch his face, waiting for his reaction. I remember the depth of emotion I glimpsed when we were on the prince’s boat. He’s hiding whatever he feels.
He lowers the vial.
“You drank the other half?”
“No. I gave it to April.”
He holds it out to me.
“Your father wanted you to drink it.”
“Elliott, you told me that the reason you wanted my help was that I didn’t care. You drink it. Go back and save my mother. Kill the prince, and Reverend Malcontent, and anyone else who … needs killing. Save the city. I probably won’t get the sickness; my mask is intact.”
He puts it to my lips.
“I’m going to do all those things. But I need a reason to do them.”
“No,” I say, because this isn’t how I planned my act of selflessness. But when I open my mouth to say the word, he tips the vial, and I have no choice but to swallow the contents.
I sit, miserably, on the deck of the ship.
“What happens next?” I ask.
“We have two clear choices,” he says. “We can go looking for other people, or we can join my uncle’s party.”
“My mother will be there, won’t she?”
The castle is a dark blob to the west. A steady stream of carriages lines the road.
“There’s a third option,” Elliott says. “But it’s crazy.”
“Tell me.”
He holds the empty vial between two fingers. “We go back into the city and find the only man who can help us make sense of all this.”
We look down at the chaos that is the city. Burning and flooding and diseased. And then there is a great cracking sound and we see one of the Akkadian Towers—not the one where we lived, but the unfinished one—cracking and falling. My building is obviously on fire.
“Oh, no.” I grip the wood railing. Some part of me still believed that I could return there, that my parents would greet me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He reaches to put his arm around me, but then pulls back. “Perhaps we should have someone stitch that up.”
“Will can do it.” I sigh.
“Let’s go below and ask him. I don’t want you to die.”
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
His eyes meet mine, and I remember that he told me once that he was falling in love with me. I might finally believe him. He touches my shoulder with his singed fingertips, and I lean my head against him, so tired. But there are things that he has to know.
“April has the contagion.”
He stiffens. “What?”
“The Reverend Malcontent infected her on purpose. We could all die.”
“Not if we can find your father.” The flyer rustles in the wind. I remove it from my sleeve, clutching it tightly. “They say that he had a vaccine. And that the night your brother died, he cursed humanity and threw it into the harbor.”
“Who says that?”
“Kent’s father. He worked with yours—”
“He doesn’t know anything. Finn didn’t die at night.”
But perhaps Father found out about Finn’s death in the evening. I don’t know anymore. Why would a father curse all of humanity when he still had a living child?
“We must find your father. But first we have to recover, make plans. We’ll camp for a few days, regroup.”
I can see the tops of trees at the edge of the city, an oasis that we might just be able to reach.
“Going back into the city will be dangerous,” I whisper. But it’s what I want to do. We’ll find Father first, and then Mother.
Elliott lights a match. “Don’t tell Kent. We aren’t supposed to smoke onboard. The hydrogen.”
Something explodes far below us. Not a result of Elliott’s match. I hope.
There’s a sound behind us, and April joins us on the upper deck. She settles between us, pulling her knees to her chest.
She takes my hand. I squeeze hers without thinking about the contagion. She has it. And we’re here together. Elliott takes her other hand, meeting my eyes from above his mask. He lets go of her hand and puts his arm around her. I smile.
When I close my eyes, everything is dark and silent. I feel as weightless as the ship.
The charcoal sky has begun to spit a cold rain as we rumble along, out of the city, and into the wilderness beyond.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank:
The Musers, who both keep me sane and keep me company in insanity.
Suzanne Young and Amanda K. Morgan, who were with me through every step of this adventure.
Kurt Hampe, who never minded looking up information about airships, and for being part of my real-life critique group, along with Katie McGarry, Colette Ballard, and Bill Wolfe.
Lee Faith, who doesn’t mind my constant preoccupation when I’m writing.
Ezra and Noel, for making me happy every single day.
My mom, for reading me so many books and then for taking Ezra and Noel on oh-so-many grandma excursions so I could write my own books.
Kellie, Carrie, Laura, Judy, and Doug, because sometimes you have to quit writing and go out for a few hours.
My agent, Michael Bourret, for general awesomeness and for answering emails at the speed of light.
My editor, Martha Mihalick, for drawing little hearts all around the love scenes. Oh, and for making this book better than I ever imagined it could be.
And my students, who keep me from getting too old and out of touch, with special thanks to Elizabeth Maddox and Joye Walton.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BETHANY GRIFFIN has always admired Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. “The Masque of the Red Death,” which this novel reimagines, is one of her favorites.
“I’ve always loved the amazing atmosphere Poe creates,” she says. “But ‘The Masque of the Red Death’ is one of his shortest stories. I wanted to know more. I wanted characters and their stories within the context of this devastating plague. And that’s where this story originated.”
Bethany Griffin lives with her family in Kentucky.
www.bethanygriffin.com
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CREDITS
COVER ART © 2012 BY ALEXANDER ALEXANDROVITCH KHARLAMOV AND SAMMY YUEN
COVER DESIGN BY SAMMY YUEN AND PAUL ZAKRIS
COPYRIGHT
This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used to advance the fictional narrative. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Masque of the Red Death
Copyright © 2012 by Bethany Griffin
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Griffin, Bethany.
Masque of the Red Death / Bethany Griffin.
p. cm.
Summary: In this post-Apocalyptic twist on Edgar Allan Poe’s gothic horror story about the wealthy trying to escape a plague, Araby Worth, a privileged seventeen-year-old girl who feels numb after the death of her twin brother, becomes caught up in a conspiracy to overthrow an oppressive government, falls in love, and faces the threat of a new plague.
ISBN 978-0-06-210779-4 (trade ed.)
EPub Edition © APRIL 2012
ISBN 9780062107817
[1. Plague—Fiction. 2. Love—Fiction. 3. Wealth—Fiction. 4. Adventure and adventurers—Fiction.]
I. Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849. II. Title.
PZ7.G881327Mas 2012 [Fic]—dc23 2011039806
12 13 14 15 16 LP/BV 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
GREENWILLOW BOOKS
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
Bethany Griffin, Masque of the Red Death
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