Masque of the Red Death

by Bethany Griffin

  “The cellar was frightening. There were dark corners and places where the bricks had settled into the earth below, places where creatures could crawl in, lizards or spiders, and there was never enough light.

  “At twelve, he liked to deny that he was afraid of anything, and he didn’t want me to be afraid either. My fear spilled over and affected him. And I spent the nights in the cellar tossing and turning, afraid that something was going to creep out of the corners and touch me with tentacles or hairy spider legs. I barely slept.

  “One evening, I was reading beside one of the lanterns, and Finn dropped an enormous white spider onto my lap. I don’t suppose it was that big, the size of a coin, maybe.” I shudder at the memory. “I don’t know what he thought I would do—kill it maybe? Perhaps he thought I’d see that my horror was illogical, that a spider was easily killed. Instead, I fell out of my chair and hit my head against the wall.

  “My head started bleeding, and then he was holding a rag against it to staunch the blood, and I knew that he was sorry. For two months after that, he would sit beside me until I fell asleep. Sometimes, when the clocks told us that it was morning, he was still sitting there.”

  I take a deep breath, prepared to continue, and realize that there is nothing more to say. Instead of a sweet story about my gentle brother, I’ve made him seem awful. But Will laughs.

  “It’s the sort of thing a brother does to a sister. My bond with Henry and Elise may be different from yours with Finn, but if I die, I would hate to think that either of them chose to live half a life because of me.”

  He eases the mask off my face.

  “And your brother would not care that I am going to kiss you before I go to sleep.”

  He kisses me. Very gently, on the cheek. How tragic it is that my mask is off, and he’s just kissing my cheek.

  He hands me back my mask. By the time I get it in place, he’s asleep.

  I sit beside Will for a long time, until a commotion from the other room distracts me. When I investigate, the children are all smiles, holding up their paintings for me to admire.

  We share the last cinnamon buns. Their cabinets are stocked with food. I smile. I’ve helped.

  Elise invites me to put a wooden puzzle together. I’m not particularly good at puzzles, but I like the look of happiness on Henry’s face each time he places a piece in the right spot.

  “I have a game called chess,” I tell Elise. “You would be good at it. Next time I visit, I’ll bring it to you.” Our chessboard has been put away since Finn died.

  “That means you’ll be leaving,” she says. I nod. “But if you bring me the game, that means you’re coming back!” She hugs me so hard that it throws me off-balance.

  As I’m helping Elise with the evening meal, the unthinkable happens and Henry starts to sneeze and cough. Will is out of bed immediately, touching Henry’s forehead, asking him how he feels. I back away. Not because I’m afraid that Henry will make me sick, just horrified by the idea of sickness.

  “He has a fever,” Will says, tucking Henry into bed. “Children get these things, it happens.” But his face is pale.

  I position a chair beside the bed. There’s nothing I can do for a sick child, except to entertain him, so I spend the evening telling Henry stories that my mother used to tell me. He squeezes my hand during the exciting parts and eventually drifts off to sleep.

  I realize, surprised, that it is fully dark. Elise touches Henry’s face, around the periphery of his mask, and then pulls a trundle bed out from beneath the big bed and gets in. Will stands in the doorway.

  “I’m not going to make it home tonight, am I?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “I can’t take him downstairs, not if he’s sick.”

  “He’s going to get better,” I murmur, but it’s just something you say. Father told me over and over that Finn would get better. I’ve questioned everything he’s said since, but at the time I believed him.

  “We should get some sleep,” he says, handing me another of his shirts and gesturing to pillows that he’s placed on either side of Henry. I carefully disentangle my fingers from Henry’s and go to change.

  Exhausted, I fall asleep nearly as soon as I climb into bed.

  I wake in the middle of the night, shaking. I push my hair back. Even though it is cold in this room, I am dripping sweat. The only thing I can think about is Elliott’s silver syringe. Oblivion. My mouth is dry, but Will has no alcohol in his apartment. I wasn’t looking; I just noticed when I glanced at the food in the pantry.

  Will and the children are asleep. I try to ignore the tears that are sliding down my face and soaking Will’s spare pillow.

  I turn the pillow over, and lie awake, watching Henry. It isn’t until the morning light is streaming through the uncovered window that I realize he is no longer burning with fever.

  “I told you that children catch things,” Will says when he wakes up. “Illnesses aren’t always fatal.”

  Henry opens his eyes and blinks, probably wondering why we’re all staring at him. Will turns to get something from the wardrobe for Elise. His shirt is untucked and halfway unbuttoned, and the light gleams off his tattoos.

  Plenty of guys at the Debauchery Club have tattoos, but I’ve never seen anything quite like his. I want to touch them.

  “I’ve wanted to ask you about those,” I say.

  Henry stretches, climbs out of bed, and goes to the kitchen to join his sister. Will gives me a shy look, so different than the way he looks at me in the semidarkness of the Debauchery Club.

  “I told you I hang around in the Debauchery District because I like girls with tattered dresses and unnaturally colored hair.”

  I feel a twinge of jealousy when he talks about girls in the plural.

  “Tattoos attract that sort of girl like nothing else.”

  “Well, I’m glad you have a reason,” I say, hating that my voice sounds like I’m judging him. I know I have no right to judge anyone.

  “Actually, that’s the story I give … other people. My mother was an artist. The design is from something she made for me before she died.” He stares out the window for a second. “The print in the other room is her work.”

  “I want to go to the park,” Henry says from the doorway.

  Will closes his eyes. I sense his struggle. He doesn’t want to expose Henry to dangerous germs, but in a world where a child could die at any time, can you deny such a simple pleasure?

  “If the streets are clear, then we can go to the park for a few minutes,” he says finally. “I wish there was something better, but I don’t feel comfortable walking far, not with all of you.” His eyes move to my bare legs and negligible dress, and then away. “Not in this neighborhood.”

  On the way to the park the children walk between us, fighting over who gets to carry their precious ball. They bounce the ball back and forth, laughing when it hits Henry’s mask and bounces harmlessly sideways.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if he had caught the contagion,” Will says. He hesitates. “Do you ever hate people, when the people they love get better?”

  The question hurts, because he’s right. I have hated people who still had their brothers. But not him. I was terrified at the prospect of Henry being sick.

  “I brought you the mask,” I say.

  “I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t want him to get better. I saw how you were with him last night.”

  “I don’t want people to go through what I did,” I say.

  “If Henry died, I would feel guilty for not protecting him. But you were a child. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I shrug, not because I don’t care, but because I can’t put the depth of my guilt into words. He knows more than I’ve told anyone else, but not everything.

  “Finn wouldn’t want you to deny yourself.”

  I don’t like him speaking casually, like he knew Finn. Sharing the pain was good for me, but it’s my pain and I’ve hoarded it for a long time. I’ve done regr
ettable things to forget my guilt. How many times have I lost consciousness, only to wake up with the pattern of the floor tiles imprinted on my face?

  “I’ve been doing everything wrong, haven’t I?” I whisper.

  He puts his hand under my chin and searches my face with his dark eyes. “Do you think you could take off your mask for just a few moments? We could try not to breathe.”

  I’m reaching up to my face before he’s finished asking the question.

  His mask is already off.

  He looks at me like he does in the darkness of the club. His eyes are half closed, and there’s something almost languid in his movements. He raises my chin and gazes into my eyes for a long time. He slides his hands under the coat until they rest on my bare shoulders.

  I close my eyes.

  “Araby!”

  It’s April. Will fumbles with his mask, as shocked as I am. Such a lack of awareness could be deadly. I feel breathless and guilty, as if we were doing something wrong.

  The most lavish steam carriage in the city is parked at the curb. April’s servants wait in the carriage, dressed in spotless uniforms, but there are also men wearing the uniform of Prince Prospero’s private guard.

  April is smiling. Maybe because she’s managed to find me, or maybe because I was about to kiss Will. She’s always said that my vow was stupid, though she never delved into the depths of it.

  In this light, the bruising on her cheek and neck is even more prominent. Elliott steps up beside her and crosses his arms. He is wearing his bored expression, but I know that his jaw is clenched.

  “Thank God we’ve found you,” April says sweetly. “We’ve been looking everywhere. Elliott was concerned.”

  Elliott uncrosses his arms and toys with his walking stick.

  “She might have been kidnapped,” he says. “Her family disappeared. We didn’t know where she was. It was concerning.”

  I know his anger is deep, but in front of Will he’ll be cool, arrogant. He won’t show anything that might suggest jealousy.

  “I can’t believe you abandoned me, Araby. I wanted to take you to the club last night, to celebrate my return.” This isn’t April’s usual brand of gaiety. It’s forced and a bit mean. “It was frightening when we couldn’t find you.” That is genuine. April is frightened, and she covers it up by acting flippant. Every word she utters has a grim undertone. She has painted her eyelids purple, as if that will camouflage her bruises.

  Will feels me removing myself from his embrace and lets me go. Without the warmth of his arms, the temperature drops.

  “What happened to your dress?” Elliott asks. His eyes are on my legs, which are exposed because Will pushed the coat back. He sees where my knee was skinned when I fell. “Are you hurt?” With the question, he’s lost a bit of his nonchalance. I wonder if Will was right. If Elliott could actually care for me.

  “There is a new illness. People are dying, lots of people,” April says, her voice serious.

  “A new illness?” Will asks. He sounds incredulous, but there’s an undercurrent of fear. A plague robbed all of us of our childhoods. All of us fear unchecked disease.

  “Not another plague?” The words feel alien on my tongue. Impossible.

  April puts a gloved hand to her mask. If she’s wearing gloves, she must really be afraid. “It kills instantly. You fall down dead, bleeding from your eyes. They are calling it the Red Death.” She is both terrified and relishing the terror, like a child telling a ghost story.

  I’m already telling myself that I don’t believe it. I can’t.

  “She isn’t exaggerating. I need to speak with your father,” Elliott says.

  And that fills me with a cold, foreboding horror. I stare at his very serious face, unmoving.

  But the children don’t understand what’s happening. Elise inches close to April. “Can I touch your dress?” she asks.

  April smiles down at her. “You are very pretty,” she says. “Like your brother.” She means Will, not little Henry.

  Will squeezes my hand, but then Elliott moves quickly between us, breaking us apart.

  “My uncle has your mother. He says he is keeping her safe.” He gives me a second for this to sink in, not looking into my eyes.

  “And Father?”

  “He evaded the guards.”

  Father is on the run and Mother is alone. Elliott wants to speak to Father. So he needs me as bait.

  “I know this is difficult, and I’ve been trying to find the best solution. You will go with me on the expedition, as planned. The ship sets sail tonight, and when we return … things will change.”

  His voice holds a sense of authority that wasn’t there two days ago. What has happened while I was here with Will?

  Elliott turns to Will. “My sources tell me that things will get ugly tonight. The upper city is already in chaos. Stay inside with the family.”

  “Did someone hit you and black your eye?” Henry asks in a high-pitched, excited voice.

  “Yes,” Elliott says without inflection. “A very bad person hit me.”

  The soldiers pace restlessly. We have to go.

  Elise buries her head in my skirt and whispers, “I wanted you to stay with us.”

  I lean over to tell her that I will see her again soon, but April pulls me back.

  “Thank you for keeping her safe,” Elliott tells Will. His voice sounds sincere, but I don’t trust sincerity from him.

  “I will always keep her safe,” Will says, raising his eyebrows.

  They stare at each other, over my head. I look back and forth between them, trying to think of something, anything, to say. April rolls her eyes.

  The buildings surrounding the little park seem more sinister than they did just a few minutes before. The empty windows, the door hanging from its hinges. The lack of sunlight…

  “How will you protect your little siblings, if you are trying to protect Araby?” Elliott says. “Be careful that you don’t spread yourself too thin. The more people you care for, the harder it is to protect them. Come—”

  We are turning away when two men in dark cloaks run toward us. One of them is carrying a torch; the other has a cudgel. The man with the torch throws it through the only unbroken window on the building that stands to the west of the park. He runs directly for us.

  I stand frozen until the sound of breaking glass convinces me that this is real, and by then the man with the cudgel is only a few steps away. He leans down and almost casually scoops Henry off his feet.

  Elise screams.

  CHAPTER

  NINETEEN

  BEFORE I CAN DRAW THE BREATH TO SCREAM myself, Elliott springs into action, pulling a long sword from his walking stick. But the blade is thin, and the club the man is carrying is large and heavy.

  Will tears at the park bench, ripping up a piece of rotted wood. It won’t be much of a weapon.

  “Do something!” I scream at the soldiers. The one who is closer aims his musket, but I don’t watch. I run toward Henry. April grabs my arm, and we almost fall.

  The man holding Henry raises his club over Elliott’s head. For a moment I imagine it crashing down, but before the man can move, Elliott stabs him through the heart.

  The man falls backward, clutching his chest.

  I dive, but April wraps her arms around me, and I can see, even as I plunge forward, that I’m not going to get there fast enough.

  Henry hits the ground, hard.

  His mask connects with the bricks of the sidewalk with a sickening crack. The soldier finally fires his musket into the air, and Elliott is already chasing the second attacker.

  “Follow him!” Elliott yells to the soldiers.

  Elise stares at the dead man. Her shock is a testament to Will’s care. Even in the upper city, we see death every single day. In the silence, we hear the crackle of flames as they start to spread through the first floor of the building. I hope no one is inside.

  “They broke my shiny mask that Miss Araby brought,” Henry say
s, and puts up his arms. He is speaking plainly, so he isn’t badly hurt. When I pick him up, I’m amazed how light he is.

  “Elliott shouldn’t have followed them. They may not be alone,” April says.

  “Elliott has a sword,” I say, to reassure her.

  “It’s a flimsy blade,” she retorts. “Maybe Elliott would think more clearly if he wasn’t distracted, wondering about you and William.” She gives me a pointed look.

  Henry wiggles, and I nearly drop him. His trust in me to keep him safe is painfully misplaced, yet he wraps his arms tighter around my neck.

  “Take them home and keep them there,” April tells Will. “Today is a violent day.”

  “Who hit you, April?” I reach out to her with the arm that isn’t cradling Henry.

  “A madman,” she says. “Who has reason to hate my brother. And my uncle.” She sighs. “Elliott is the one we need to be fighting for, he’s our best hope, but he makes it so hard sometimes.”

  “You’ll tell me all about it later?” I ask. She nods. Will steps forward. I hand Henry back to him and immediately miss Henry’s warmth. It’s too cold to stand alone, and I’ve pushed everyone away.

  Elliott returns, racing back to us with his guards close behind.

  “He went underground. If a rebel group starts using the catacombs effectively, my uncle will lose control of the city.” His hands are fists. I think he’s afraid that Reverend Malcontent is working faster than he is. He stretches out his fingers, calming himself, before he puts his hand on my shoulder. “We have to go.” His voice is soft, and for a moment I think he understands how difficult leaving will be.

  “We can’t just leave,” I say.

  “Why, do you have another mask to give the boy?” Elliott asks. “No? Then there is nothing further we can do. William should take the children to safety.”

  “We could drive them home,” April says.

  “We’ll be safer by ourselves,” Will mutters, and he reaches for my hand. My heart nearly stops. I deserve a few more hours with him. Deserve to know what it’s like to kiss him, before our world goes up in flames. Again.

  “I’m sorry, Will.” I slide my mask to the side and stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.