All conversation ceased, as masked revelers inspected her. Itzy stood in a pool of yellowed light. Her dress danced and spun, reflecting against the jet-black piano and onto the many eyes of the crowd. From the bar, the distant clinking of glasses and a slash of amber light and polished glass.
Music, which had been halted, began anew.
Off somewhere in a darkened corner came a harsh whisper followed by a brittle laugh. And with that, a collective chatter returned. A girl-child in a glistening doll mask greeted Itzy with an orchid, and Itzy thanked her with a grateful smile. There was no sign of Luc.
Itzy walked though a suffocating sea of tuxedos and ravishing gowns. People jostled her, closing in on her. There were whispers, pale shoulders beneath indelicate glares. From behind their masks, people leered, their eyes dark and empty. Breath fell upon her, hot and arid. Someone brushed past her and she felt cold fingers on her shoulder. She passed a tower of champagne coupes, their cool effervescent bubbles fading in the heat of the gathering.
Shreds of conversation wafted over her.
“A scholar? You don’t say … their clothes are so worn—”
“They say it’s from rubbing shoulders with demons—”
A hand closed around her elbow and she found herself waylaid by Mrs. Brill.
“Darling.” She took Itzy’s hand in hers, her eyes dreamy. “You look wonderful. Who knew you had it in you?”
“Mrs. Brill?” Itzy asked, unsure. Pippa’s mother had undergone yet another transformation, her cheekbones seemed somehow enlarged, her brow impossibly smoothed, her face strangely catlike. “Is Pippa here?” Itzy looked around, but saw only unfriendly eyes in the process of turning away from her own.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Mrs. Brill said, laying a bejeweled hand on Itzy’s arm, squeezing it too tightly. “Do you even know how fortunate you are to be chosen? How very blessed?” Her voice wavered with emotion.
“Chosen?” Itzy asked, heart racing. She tried unsuccessfully to reclaim her arm.
“Little Itzy Nash.” Mrs. Brill smiled. “You’re in the big leagues now.” Mrs. Brill’s eyes wandered to the corner. “Oh look, there’s Dr. Jenkins. Yoo-hoo! Doctor!” Itzy looked, her stomach sinking at the sight of the doctor at a corner table. He was watching her intently from the shadows.
There was a hand on her elbow. Itzy turned and found herself for the second time in recent memory staring into the flawless face of the international superstar.
“J-Julep!”
“Let me buy you that drink,” Julep said firmly.
“Are … aren’t they free?” Itzy looked around at the waitstaff and their trays of champagne, the tower of overflowing coupes.
“It’s an expression, Itzy.”
Julep turned and delivered a million-dollar smile to Mrs. Brill. “Excuse us,” she said, and led Itzy through the remainder of the crowd to the bar.
“Wait!” the older woman called, eyes brimming with emotion. “You must tell me what it’s like—”
Julep expertly steered Itzy away.
“You could throw a drink on anyone in here and see someone sizzle,” Julep muttered. “The place is filthy.”
At the bar, Itzy had heard a familiar voice.
“Pippa!” Itzy cried, relief washing over her. Pippa and Gaston were leaning against the polished counter, bodies drawn together in conversation. Gaston’s smile was easy with Pippa, his copper wings laced with scented laurel leaves.
“Oh my god, Itzy!” Pippa held Itzy at arm’s length, whistling. “That is you under that mask, isn’t it? That dress—it’s—it’s—words fail me!”
“That’s a first.” Itzy smiled.
“You look stunning,” Gaston said, his voice holding none of the ridicule Itzy expected.
“Thanks, Gaston.” She turned to Pippa, who was in black silk, tall and elegant, a ribbon of sheer black lace tied over her eyes. “Pippa, you look beautiful!”
“Tommy.” Julep smiled at the bartender, a man with a history nearly as long as the hotel’s.
“Evening, Ms. Joie.” He polished a thick-cut glass with a white towel. “Tough crowd tonight.” He winked. “What’ll it be?”
Julep turned to Itzy, deferring.
Itzy scanned the room. The piano player was eyeing her, moving his hands like a puppeteer behind the black casket of a piano. A small spotlight caught his eyes. They were dark as death.
“Evian,” Itzy said.
“Good girl. Make that a double,” Julep ordered.
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“Julep, this is Pippa. Pippa, Julep Joie. And you know Gaston already, I believe.”
“Ah! Your hair is much improved,” Julep said to the angel. “Careful. I hear if you make a face long enough, it’ll stick.” Gaston and Julep grinned at each other, and Itzy found herself happy to see Gaston’s crooked smile.
“Jules!” Pippa exchanged a series of kisses with the star. “It’s been forever! How are the kids?”
“Is there anyone you don’t know?” Itzy asked.
“No,” Pippa said simply.
“I guess Ava’s not coming,” Itzy said.
“By definition, recluses never go out.”
Pippa pulled Jules aside, and they began catching up like old friends. Itzy found herself beside Gaston and the famed murals by the bar. Ludwig Bemelmans had painted a warren of rabbits here. It was a shadowy gathering, and the animals were dressed in costume, parading about an enormous crypt inside a vast cathedral.
“I met a friend of yours,” Itzy said.
“Who?”
Itzy thought of Laurent as she had seen him in Aunt Maude’s room. His broad, impossibly perfect shoulders, a living sculpture, without the fig leaf. His wings—immense things, ivory iridescent feathers, powdered and glittering as the air moved through them, as he breathed. The shivery feeling as she was made to move, to talk, to obey—the Divah’s words flowing from her mouth.
“Laurent.”
Gaston’s face betrayed nothing, but his voice turned bitter. “Laurent is friend to no one.”
“But I thought you and Luc—” She paused. “You and Maurice—” Itzy’s voice drifted off.
“Laurent is an angel disgusted with humanity. It is an unfortunate combination. He is power-hungry and devious. Maurice feels that his talents come in handy, but we are not as sure. And, Itzy, he is not our friend.” He shrugged. “But we all have our parts to play.”
Itzy looked again at the mural beside her.
And I’m doing mine right now.
The smell of rotten eggs reached her nose like an abrupt assault. “Do you smell that?” Itzy turned to Pippa.
“Smell what?”
The smell was all-encompassing and growing stronger. The curtained door to the bar opened.
“Divah at one o’clock,” Julep hissed.
Itzy didn’t need the warning. She smelled her. She felt her. Her insides were jerked forward as if by an invisible string toward the entrance. A wave of nausea overtook her and her skin prickled uncomfortably, like a bad sunburn. Itzy fought against the magnetic pull, closing her eyes and concentrating. The back of her throat heaved as her stomach turned over.
The room grew hushed as a pair of silhouettes filled the entrance.
Pippa squeezed Itzy’s hand encouragingly.
“Whoa,” Julep whispered. “What the hell is that?”
Itzy’s mind raced. The miracle of Botox.
The Divah stood on the threshold in a brilliant deep-red dress. It clutched at her body, her wasp-like waist, and fell toward the floor in a cascade of waves. The fox coat had been ripped into a stole, the fox hide wrapped around her neck. She wore a lacquered mask over her human skin and borrowed skull, upon which she’d placed an elaborate white wig with a froth of curls.
On her arm was her escort. He was tall and poised—regal, even.
Laurent, Itzy thought, as her stomach dropped. At least he put some clothes on.
The Divah had advanced into a pool of light, her face pulled tigh
t behind her mask—eyes deep pools of tar. Her mask, a golden oval, had an exquisite black feather. Her escort emerged from the shadows on her arm wearing a simple, unadorned mask. She smiled and pulled him close, whispering something in his ear.
Not Laurent—a sudden realization shook Itzy.
It was Luc.
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“Eww. She’s all over him like static cling,” Pippa said. She gripped Itzy’s hand tightly as Itzy steadied herself against the bar. It felt solid and smooth behind her, whereas the room—the view—was unreal. Her dress was tightening around her ribs. A blackout threatened; the sides of the room wavered uncomfortably.
Luc said to trust him. No matter what.
Itzy’s head was spinning and each gulp of breath was foul-tasting. With the Divah’s arrival, her body was once again not her own. She shut her eyes, fighting to retain control.
“They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”
It was the cadaverous voice of the doctor—and it was close.
“A love affair for the ages. Dark angel and demon queen, the ultimate power couple. They do this, you know. He searches out girls to fall in love with, and she, in turn, joins him, possesses them. Marie Antoinette was not the first. You will not be the last. Theirs is an eternal love. The stuff of dreams.”
“Or nightmares,” said Pippa.
Itzy watched from across the room as Luc and the Divah made their way slowly through the throngs of adoring acolytes. His amber eyes now struck her. Amber caught insects, and they reminded her suddenly of flypaper.
“Oh, child. Did you really think he loved you?” the doctor sneered.
“Well look what the devil dragged in.” Julep was by Itzy’s side. The doctor ignored her, his eyes glittering in the low light.
“Let’s get you some air,” Pippa said at her other elbow. “Excuse us.”
The doctor made no move to let them pass. “Shame about your father.” His smile was a jagged slash across his face.
Itzy froze. “What do you mean?”
Pippa had heard enough. She grabbed Itzy’s hand. “This way.”
But the doctor was again in front of them.
“Oh, hadn’t you heard? He never got off the plane in Paris.”
The room wavered and threatened to collapse entirely before Itzy’s eyes. My father? she thought. Dark things skittered in the corners of the room, at her feet. My father went in search of the Gates of Hell, but I found them instead.
“Pick on someone your own size.” Jules snarled from somewhere oddly far away.
Itzy’s brain burned with fever. She thought she saw a flash of crystal, the low light catching the cut glass of the tumbler, sparkles burning her retinas. Imported French water arced through the air from Julep’s glass and splashed squarely upon the face of Dr. Jenkins. Sound itself slowed to a standstill, and for a moment there was nothing but her beating heart. Then, a low, awful rumble.
The Evian, where it landed, was burning his flesh. His mouth and neck had erupted in shiny, putrid sores and steam rose from a misty puddle that had formed on the floor. But Julep was not finished.
As he sizzled before them, she swung about, pivoting, catching her foot squarely in the doctor’s gut. The impact sent him sailing across the room, arms clawing at his face, where the famed Carlyle piano caught his fall. The piano played its last horrible symphony to the sound of splintering wood and demon wreckage. A final note sounded, and then deathly quiet.
Itzy opened her mouth, but the words died on her lips. The room had filled with a low, inhuman growl. A concussive round of pops rattled as a row of champagne bottles exploded along the bar, and a crystal ashtray sailed by, leaving a trail of ash in its wake. It shattered on the floor, followed by a muffled swear, and then the famed Bemelmans Bar erupted into chaos.
Itzy and Pippa found themselves in the relative calm beneath a small circular table beside the sparkling tower of champagne coupes.
“We’ve got to get out of here.” Pippa’s red lips were set in determination. “I’ve got a date.”
Polished shoes, ladies’ spiked heels, scrabbled about them as guests joined the fray.
This was news. “With who?” Itzy shouted.
Pippa turned, eyes ablaze. “Oh, Itzy. I’ve been meaning to tell you but, well—he’s so secretive.”
“Who is it?”
“The most amazing angel. He’s a loner, keeps to himself. But so incredibly handsome. Our little secret, okay?”
A devhil in a tuxedo fell face-first before them, and Pippa kicked at him. He rolled farther away, his face pulled back in a grimace of missing flesh.
“An angel?” Itzy shouted, but the question was lost to the chaos. She heard Julep off somewhere taunting a demon.
“Back door!” Pippa shouted, indicating the discreet exit by the bar that led through the Café Carlyle to the hotel’s lobby. She uncapped a bottle of Evian and raised an eyebrow. “One for the road.”
“You bet,” Itzy said.
They crouched, Pippa leading the way from one table to the next, as the tower of champagne coupes shattered behind them, raining down bubbles and crystal shards on their overturned table. Something black with too many legs dropped to the floor, skittering away in the dark. Jules shouted loud, gutteral French from somewhere behind Itzy, and she felt something light and ghostly touch her cheek. Through the chaos, she saw Luc, standing completely still as the battle crashed down around him. His face was calm, unworried. Slowly, he raised a hand, pointing. Itzy turned her head. There, in the middle of a steaming puddle, Itzy saw it. A golden eye mask, two empty black holes. And a feather.
Luc’s feather.
Her fist closed around it.
The air had taken on a deep-red glow, casting the bar in an eerie dimness. Soot and ash floated lazily by when, suddenly, the room descended into pitch black.
“Wh-where are the lights?” Itzy stammered.
The eerie red glow of the EXIT sign above the door was all that remained—and then, with one final pop, it too was extinguished.
“Come on!” Pippa urged.
Itzy half-walked, half-stumbled, her hands outstretched, her heart pounding with pure fear. And then she could go no farther.
“The dark—” Itzy whimpered. The dark is where everything falls apart.
“Itzy—”
But Itzy was a little girl again, by the fireside. In the ash bin. The smell of burned cinders flooded her nostrils.
A hunched figure shrouded in shadow stood framed in the open door, and Itzy felt a chill trying to crawl into her skull. Her head was buzzing, a humming noise, over and over.
Pretend you’re loading film in the dark. You do it all the time.
Itzy closed her eyes. She thought of her Leica, loading film into its chamber in the musty workshop with Johnny in the pitch black. She struggled to find the image of her father’s house in Brittany, of the pale yellow sunshine. Of Marilyn prowling her tunnels.
Pippa yanked her hard. She pushed Itzy and sent her staggering toward the doorway.
“Pippa!” Itzy turned, stumbling on her heels. A horrible thought had just occurred to her. “Pippa—what’s the angel’s name?”
But there was no reply.
Dr. Jenkins, burned skin pulled back over bare gums, was holding Pippa by the throat. A scattering of jewels rained down from her hair.
“Itzy—go!” she rasped, eyes wide with terror.
Itzy pushed through the door. There was a sucking sound—as if the room itself contained a vacuum—and then nothing.
From somewhere deep within the lobby, the phone was ringing.
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Itzy was alone. She stumbled into the lobby, which was empty, abandoned. With each step, her head was clearing as she distanced herself from the Divah, but her heart ached at leaving Pippa behind in the doctor’s clutches.
Now what? Itzy’s mind raced. Luc’s plan to retrieve his feather did not involve a barroom brawl. Or being the Divah’s armpiece. Still, here it was, in her hand. What
had he said?
Itzy examined Luc’s feather, its pitch-black plumes catching the smallest of breezes in their curlicues, on the Divah’s gore-stained mask. She held it to her face, trying it on.
He said he’d meet me here.
But the sight of Luc and the demon queen together was burned into her memory.
I think I’m going to be si—Itzy retched, her body wracked with chills, the sound echoing wetly across the bare floor.
From the corner of her eye, Itzy saw movement. Several small, hunched men covered in matted hair darted into the shadows. She squinted for a better view, pushing her hair back from her face, and wiped her mouth. One carried a knotted club. Above her, the Carlyle’s crystal chandelier flickered—once, twice, and then died.
The fireplace was blazing, bigger than Itzy remembered it being, crackling like a medieval hearth. The painted cherubim stared down at her, eyes flickering.
The discordant phone sat on the counter and Itzy headed for it. Candles fizzled and popped, dripping wax in pools upon the marble.
Itzy lifted the phone from its cradle, bringing it to her ear. A silence descended upon the room, but then, from the earpiece, a far-off scratching began.
“Itzy …” the scratching called out. “Itzy, it’s me.”
The voice—she knew it.
“It’s your aunt. Your beloved Aunt Maude.”
“No! You’re dead.” Itzy whispered into the receiver. “I saw you in the closet.”
“Itzy, listen closely. You needn’t fear anymore. We are Nashes, you and I. Aunt Maudey is here. We always liked one another, did we not? I always kept a special place in my heart for you, and now it’s time to repay the favor. It’s really ever so simple. Come to the basement. We’re all here, my dear. Your father, too. It’s a regular family reunion. You know the way don’t you? Under is a place, Itzy.”
Those last words sent a shiver down Itzy’s spine, and she slammed the phone down.
The phone ripped through the silence, commencing its clamorous ringing again, and Itzy jumped.
One ring.
Two rings.
By the third ring, she was upon the wretched thing and, grasping the snaking cord, she yanked it from the wall.
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