by Raven, C L
"Throw it here."
I caught it and checked it, keeping the gun trained on him.
"Operation: Midnight involves gathering intel on Prince Charming, the son of a prominent political figure. We need you to infiltrate his home and plant bugs. You must leave before midnight."
"Why? So I don't turn into a pumpkin?"
"He's hosting a Masquerade ball. Midnight's when the guests unmask. Your cover might be blown."
"Masquerade ball? Which century is he living in?"
"You'll be attending as one of his guests. Lady Ella Harrington."
"What's my legend?"
He handed me a file. "You're a scientist working on a formula to create the ultimate weapon."
"I failed science and I can't dance."
"This mission's in the best hands then." I glared. "Agents Dunbar and Thorne will be there."
"Great. The Ugly Sisters. They hate me."
"They're experienced and unknown to the targets."
"Why aren't you briefing me at HQ?"
"There's no time. We've only just got the intel."
"Why are Six interested?"
"We believe Prince Charming's trafficking nuclear weapons abroad."
"When's the ball?"
"Tonight."
"I need more time to learn my legend, read up on this science crap."
He glanced at my motorbike leathers. I was pretty sure I had oil smeared over my face. I couldn't look less like a renowned scientist.
"Your outfit's inside."
"Who are you? My Fairy Godmother?"
"I couldn't pull off wings, a bustle and a wand. Though I do have the legs for the dress. The ball starts at 8pm. I hope you've got a good memory." He nodded at the file. "An earpiece will be fitted inside your ear. It'll be undetectable by sight and should elude their security if they sweep for bugs."
"If it doesn't?"
"Hope you can run fast."
"Not if I'm wearing stripper heels."
I holstered my gun, killed the light and headed inside. So much for a fun evening.
I tossed my jacket onto the banister, unzipped my boots and flung them under the stairs. I trooped upstairs and headed for the bathroom. A glance in the mirror confirmed I looked more suited for warfare than a ball. I turned on the shower, stripped off and stepped in.
Ten minutes later, I was clean and my hands looked like I'd been bitch slapping sandpaper. I wrapped a towel around me and left the bathroom.
"Jesus!" I stumbled backwards. "If you keep sneaking up on me you'll get yourself shot."
"You shouldn't have a gun if you're nervy."
"Do you regularly sneak up on women in the shower?" I narrowed my eyes. "Are you the peeping Tom they're talking about on the news?"
He blew a raspberry. "I'm a spy. If I wanted to perv on women in the shower, they'd never know about it."
"If I find a spy cam in there, I'll break your telescope."
I barged past him, shutting my bedroom door. I stared at the pile of emerald satin and lace that had spread over my black four poster bed like a contagious disease. Was that a dress or some weird alien substance that breeds when it gets wet? I gingerly picked up a piece. Was that a petticoat?
"Oh hell no!" I flung open the door. "What is that?"
"The dictionary defines it as a dress, Ella." Finton smiled, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.
"It looks like some fabric-eating creature's vomited on my bed."
"It's designer."
"Which one? The chief designer for the Troll Queen? It has ruffles. I'm allergic to ruffles."
"I'd let you wear your own, but I don't want people thinking we employ Elvira. It's a ball, not some erotic underground club. I like your violet walls, by the way."
"Have you been in my wardrobe?"
"I needed an outfit for Halloween."
"I'm not wearing that."
"It's either that or nothing but your mask."
"I'd rather that."
"So would I." He winked. "Lady Ella Harrington would never dare attend a ball naked. She's very fashion conscious."
"Fashion victim, more like."
"Would you prefer something in pink? With added frills? And a matching hair bow? No! A bonnet! You'd look adorable in a bonnet."
I glowered and slammed the door. I marched to my chest of drawers and pulled out fishnets stockings, making sure they concealed the tattoo on my left thigh - a snake coiled around a dagger. I slipped into lingerie then fetched the dress. It took several minutes to fight my way through the skirt and emerge from the bodice, redder than a blood stain. I spotted shoes by the door. Green stilettos with leg straps. My ankles twisted just looking at them.
I pinned my black wavy hair up with a silver ribcage clip. My fringe looked like a spider was sitting on my head, but it would do. I applied charcoal eyeshadow and violet lipstick.
Finton stared. "You look-"
"Like a spinach patch. If I fall off these," I waved the shoes, "every rabbit in a ten mile radius will eat me."
"Not if I get to you first." He smiled coyly. I tried to ignore my racing heart.
I sat on the stairs, put the shoes on then tried descending in a ladylike manner. My ankles wobbled and I slid down on my arse, landing at the bottom in a sea of satin. I struggled up, stood on the petticoat and landed with a thud.
Finton laughed. "You should practise walking. It's something most people learn at nine months."
"Why don't you put them on and show me how it's done?"
"They don't match my outfit. I save my stripper heels for my Friday night pole dancing."
Great. Hot and funny. And I was falling over more times than a drunken girl on a Friday night. I walked into my front room, turned and sashayed back. My ankle twisted and I landed on my knees.
"Screw this for a game of soldiers." I un-strapped the shoes, chucked them aside and grabbed boots from under the stairs. They were black, with buckles up the side and a chain going from the top to the bottom.
"You're not wearing those."
"You can't see them under the monstrosity." I stood and dropped the skirt. It covered the boots.
"Your carriage awaits."
I followed him outside to a silver Rolls Royce Phantom.
"Where are the white horses? The round carriage? My footmen?"
"Budget cuts." He opened the back door then closed it after me, jamming my hem. I opened it, gathered the skirt then closed the door. As I was slapping the skirt down so I could see out the window, he slid in beside me. He opened a file and handed me a photo. "Prince Charming. He might look like a spoilt daddy's boy, but he's a nasty piece of work. He's also very paranoid. This was a member of his entourage he suspected was an undercover cop." He showed me another photo of a bloodied mess that was still sort of human shaped then undid his jeans and whipped them off.
"What, no foreplay?" I tore my gaze away from him.
"I've got naughty board games in the boot if you like." He pulled on black trousers.
"Was it an undercover cop?"
"No. So don't get caught."
I opened my file and read my legend several times. Nothing like a mangled corpse to help it stick. When I looked up, Finton was topless. A barbed wire tattoo snaked across his shoulder blades and pecs then wrapped around both biceps.
"Like what you see?" He winked. I studied the photo. Mangled corpses were a great passion killer. Finton dressed in a shirt and suit jacket. "He'll want to see a sample of your weapon."
"That sounds like a terrible pick up line." He handed me a phial filled with turquoise liquid. "Does this outfit come with a bag?"
"No."
I tucked the phial into my bra. He stared. "It's the last place anyone'll look. Put your tongue in, you're drooling. This dress is dry clean only."
"It's a chloroform mixture, designed to imitate a nerve toxin. Mix it with water, you'll knock everyone out in the room. If he wants to speak to your boss, this phone has only my number in it." He handed me a small
phone. That also went in the bra.
"Next time, Fairy Godmother, magic me a friggin' bag. My cleavage isn't impressive enough to smuggle contraband."
"Your cleavage is…" I almost enjoyed his discomfort. "Adequate."
Dark trees flanked a long driveway, their branches scraping the windows like skeletons trying to claw their way out of their coffins. The Rolls stopped outside a Gothic mansion. Lights blazed inside its stone body like demonic eyes. On the ground, the moon had cast eerie silvery light that resembled slain ghosts.
Finton opened my door then offered his arm. I tripped, took his arm and strutted to the door.
"Walk slower, gracefully. Lady Ella doesn't stride like a furious penguin."
"Penguins don't stride, they waddle." I glared. "Bitch."
He laughed, handed me a black masquerade mask and gave my name at the door. He escorted me inside to the ballroom.
"I will bid you adieu, Lady Ella." He kissed my hand and disappeared.
I stared at the throng of people dancing, milling around and looking as pompous as a room of dandies. Their masks concealed their expressions, turning them into faceless mannequins. The room was decked out in dark wood and claret velvet. I looked for the camera, convinced I was an extra in a period drama.
"I'll get you for this, Fairy Godmother. I'll hollow out your insides like a pumpkin and use your intestines to strum a lullaby."
"Are you flirting? Be still my beating heart."
"I don't believe we've been introduced." A man briefly lowered his mask. Prince Charming.
"Lady Ella Harrington." I curtseyed, feeling like an idiot.
"May I have this dance?"
Given the choice between ballroom dancing in a toilet roll cover or sticking hot needles in my eye, I'd rather be heating up the needles.
I followed him, smirking at the ladies we passed. Those masks couldn't conceal the vitriol glances they were shooting my way.
Prince Charming faced me and bowed. He actually bowed. I bit my lip to stop myself laughing. Classical music played. The only dancing I did was air guitar and occasional head banging. Air drums if the song demanded it. I trampled his feet several times. As he twirled me, I spied Dunbar near the stairs, dressed as a waiter. Thorne loitered near the bar, just another guest. They were glowering at me like psychopaths.
"I don't see why she gets to take lead." Thorne deliberately caught my eye as he spoke to Dunbar. "She should be on a desk job."
"Don't screw this up, Cinderella," Dunbar's voice crackled in my ear. I put my hand behind my back and gave them the finger.
Prince Charming tilted me backwards. I prayed my formula and phone didn't slither from my cleavage and do a kamikaze leap for freedom. As he righted me, I slipped my hand down my dress and fished out a tiny bug.
I crashed into him, tucking the bug beneath his collar and smiling apologetically. "I'm not a dancer. Too much time in the lab."
"Even lab rats should dance."
"I'd rather work out the kinks in my formula than dress up in sequins."
"What are you working on?"
"Something to do with molecules and biochemistry. I won't bore you."
"I'm intrigued."
The song ended.
"My feet need a break and I need a drink."
He graced the back of my hand with a kiss before I escaped to the bar.
"I've piqued his curiosity," I murmured to Thorne.
"By the way he's looking at you, you've piqued more than that."
I glanced over my shoulder. Prince Charming was staring in my direction. "Shit. I need to lose him."
"Keep him interested then you can plant a bug in his bedroom." He smirked.
I shuddered. "I'd rather eat barbed wire."
"It's for the good of the country, Cinderella."
"Chopping off your head and putting it on a spike to frighten terrorists would be for the good of the country, but the boss denied my request."
In my earpiece, I heard Finton laughing.
"I forgot you don't like men."
"I'm just allergic to jerks. They bring me out in rash behaviour."
I ordered vodka and drank it as I faced the crowd. Their masks glinted beneath the harsh light of the chandeliers. Indistinct voices clamoured for attention, buzzing against my ear drums like persistent mosquitos. I recognised one of the security personnel as an agent. Another female agent was dancing with an unknown male. I glanced at the impressive black staircase. Thorne was right. I needed to get into Prince Charming's bedroom. That's where his secrets would be revealed.
"Which room's Prince Charming's?" I whispered.
"Upstairs, third on the left," Finton replied in my earpiece.
Prince Charming was watching me. I downed my drink and slid off my stool.
"Target approaching," Dunbar whispered.
I scuttled away from the bar, keeping one eye on Prince Charming. He was following me. I'd never get up to his room. There was no way I was seducing my way into it. Some things couldn't be scrubbed clean. I stepped behind a waitress then pretended to trip. The waitress went flying, wine glasses sloshing their contents like arterial spray over nearby guests, who shrieked as though they'd been hit with acid. One lady in her attempt to dodge the flying stain crashed into Prince Charming, taking him down like a toppled Totem pole.
I gathered my skirts and dashed for the stairs. I climbed them as fast as I could without looking like I was fleeing a crime scene. Upstairs was quiet, as if the guests had been muted. Crimson carpet lined the landing. I slipped a bug behind an oversized plant pot. I kept my mask up, averting my eyes from the couple battling a door without untangling their tongues. Her dress needed an R rating or at least censor blobs. I waited until their door shut then hurried to door three.
I removed a lock pick from my hair and opened the door in seconds. I used the backlight from my phone to guide me around the room. I dropped to my knees beside the bed, grabbed another bug and slapped it under the bed, onto a wooden strut.
Voices.
I froze.
They stopped outside the door.
"Move along, nothing to see here," I murmured.
Someone laughed. The door creaked. Then edged open.
"Shit."
I rolled under the bed, frantically clawing my skirt towards me. It was as endless as a magician's handkerchief. I silently cursed as Prince Charming walked in.
"The bugs are online," Finton informed me.
The Prince picked up the phone. "I'd like a bottle of Champagne brought to my room. With an ice bucket and meal for two."
I would be stuck here while he wined and dined then…I didn't want to think of what he had planned for dessert. There was no way I'd hide under the bed while they got jiggy on top of it.
"Ella, you've been Code Black for twenty minutes," Finton spoke.
The door knocked.
"I'm trapped under Prince Charming's bed," I whispered. "Room service has arrived. He's expecting someone. So unless you want the next few hours from my mic to be mindless chatter then pleasure filled groans of two drunks rutting, get me the hell out of here."
He sniggered. "As long as you're not one of the rutting drunks…"
"Not even close to being funny."
The waiter wheeled the trolley in and set up the meal on a small table in the next room. Prince Charming returned to his bedroom. I inwardly groaned.
"Are you expecting someone?" The waiter asked. Dunbar.
I watched him put roses in a vase and rolled my eyes. Cliché.
"Downstairs you'll find a beautiful woman in a satin emerald dress. Please ask her to join me."
Time ticked by agonisingly slowly. There was another knock at the door.
"Nobody's seen Lady Ella," Dunbar said. "Perhaps you should return to your guests until she reappears."
Prince Charming swore in a very un-princely manner. "Find her!"
I peeked out from under the bed. Prince Charming entered the bathroom and closed the door. There was no w
ay I'd make a silent exit drowning in this Barbie Vomit Princess Gown. I wriggled out of it, like fighting my way free from a pass the parcel game. After a terrifying moment when I thought petticoat would be the last thing I'd ever see, I was finally free.
I rolled out from under the bed, opened the window and threw the dress out. I climbed onto the windowsill and saw a drainpipe to my right. Lowering myself, I gripped the sill with my fingers and edged to the pipe. I grasped it with one hand then carefully closed the window and shinned down.
"Meet me at the west side," I whispered.
I jumped when I was four feet from the ground, landing on the dress. I checked my watch. Midnight. I scooped up the dress and crept forwards. Shadows lurked in every dark crevice the moonlight was too scared to venture into. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. I flattened myself against the wall. A shadow slunk around the corner like a murderous ghost creeping up on its victim. The moonlight betrayed a gun's shadow. I sprang out, throwing my dress over the man as we hit the floor.
I scrabbled through the dress, feeling like a dog digging for rats in the sand, until I found my victim.
"That's not how I plan to leave this world," he gasped. I got up. "Ooh. Maybe it is." Finton grinned as he rose. "Are you going to Rocky Horror?" He gestured to my black basque, satin shorts and stockings, before relinquishing his jacket.
"Stop staring."
"Stop giving me things to stare at."
I picked up the dress, marched to the car and slumped in the back seat. He joined me.
"There's another ball tomorrow night."
"Two in a row? Is he desperate?"
"Prince Charming thought you were divine."
"Either I have a different dress or I'm not going. You can seduce him."
"I'm banned from seducing handsome princes. They keep falling in love with me. It's the way I wield my wand."
I laughed. The car stopped outside my house. I opened the door, leaving the dress and Finton's jacket behind.
"I'll bring a worse dress tomorrow." He smiled teasingly. "Maybe you won't wear it at all."
***
I was fitting the last spark plug to my bike when Finton appeared.
"What did I say about sneaking up on me?" I grouched.
"We're friends now."
"I'll still shoot you."