“I find that impossible to believe.” He took her hand in his, and at the touch of his red leather glove, the music abruptly changed. A classical string arrangement sprung up, a resonant cello quickly joined by lively violins.
The next thing she knew, his cool gloved hand had curled across her ribs, and he lifted her right hand into the air, making her gauzy arm cuff flutter. She had just enough time to realize that they were about to start dancing, and then they were off.
He led her onto the dance floor and into an elegant waltz. It was all Dru could do to not stumble and fall. Her brain scrambled to remember directions from long-ago dance lessons. Something about stepping in the shape of a box. Her mind conjured up a confusing diagram of black-and-white footprints connected by dotted lines. None of it helped.
Luckily, her feet hadn’t entirely forgotten. After a few unsteady steps, she eventually found her rhythm. She was able to keep up with him, as long as she didn’t overthink it.
Meanwhile, everyone watched them.
In fact, so many pairs of eyes followed their waltz through the spotlights that Dru had to stare up into the skull mask to blot everyone else out of her consciousness. She couldn’t give in to the crushing panic that came with being the center of attention.
After what seemed like an eternity, they left the spotlights behind, and other couples danced around them. Oddly enough, no one else seemed to be moving to the same beat.
“Everyone is hearing different music,” Dru concluded. “That’s why it was so quiet when we first got here. It’s some kind of enchantment, isn’t it?”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Of course. But then again, I was enchanted the moment I saw you.” From the shadows inside his skull mask, his eyes met hers.
She turned away, her mind racing. This was all happening too fast. She’d just gotten here.
Who was this man in the mask? What did he know about this mountain? Or the undead? Was he responsible for Greyson’s disappearance? Or was he innocent?
She couldn’t just ask him outright. Possibly he was the pinnacle of evil. Or equally possible, he could be a crucial ally. There was no way to know. She had to get more information out of him first.
“We haven’t been properly introduced,” she said quietly. “Do you have a name?”
“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to tell. It is a masquerade, of course.” His face was turned slightly away from her as he led her across the dance floor, slipping effortlessly through the crowd. “Your costume is breathtaking. I can’t resist a guess. Could it be Titania, the fairy queen?”
“Could be Dolce and Gabbana for all I know.”
His lips curled up in a smile. “But there is a theme. You must tell me, or I will be heartbroken.”
“I’m the crystal princess. Either that or Sex and the City with sparkly stripper boots.” She winced. “Just so you know, in my head, that did not sound even remotely that dirty.”
His only response was a slight smile. From the depths of his skull mask, his dark eyes met hers again, and then glanced away.
She cleared her throat. “And how about you? What’s your theme?”
“You must try at least one guess,” he said, sounding disappointed.
She looked him over. He was tall by any standards, looming over her even in her heels. And despite the elaborate costume, she could tell he was much more athletically built than most sorcerers she’d ever met, Rane and the wolf-mask guy notwithstanding. Under her left hand, the velvety fabric of his sleeve hid a rock-solid arm. His grip was gentle, but firm and unyielding as he led her through the waltz.
“Um, Skeletor?” she said. “Was that the guy who fought Captain America?” She winced again, wishing she could force herself to stop talking. “Okay, I have to warn you, we could be here all night.”
“Indeed? Then I will do my utmost to keep you guessing.” He led her in a new direction. The pace of the music became somber, and he slowed down their dance to match it.
Despite her misgivings, Dru felt herself getting caught up in the beautiful music and the magic of the dance. A poignant piano joined the soaring strings and made her feel somehow more alive. In this rare moment of beauty, the rest of the insanity around her faded away, until there was nothing but the dance, and she started to lose herself in it.
“Je suis la Mort Rouge qui passe,” he said softly in French. From within the skull mask, his dark gaze caught hers. “I am the Red Death that passes you by.”
Under the intensity of his gaze, her voice failed her for a moment. She swallowed. “Edgar Allan Poe. Creepy, but nicely done. Wait, in that story, didn’t everybody die?”
“Poe never shrank away from the inevitability of death.” His eyes glittered. “You are a fan of the classics?”
“Had to read them all in high school. Nevermore. Ha.” She saw a hint of confusion in his eyes. “Just a little . . . never mind. You’re really good at this whole masquerade thing. Is this your place? Did you put this all together?” She deliberately avoided his gaze, knowing subterfuge was not her strong suit.
Only then did she realize they had circled halfway around the room. On the nearest stage, a woman in a shimmering onyx-black dress and a black horned mask threw her head back and exhaled a furious plume of emerald-green fire. The flames curled and roiled like living hands grasping out toward the crowd. Someone cheered, and a few sorcerers clapped.
“Who are the judges?” she asked the Red Death. “I don’t see any.”
“There are none.” He sounded amused, as if the very idea was ridiculous.
“Well, that doesn’t make sense. Someone has to be in charge. Isn’t that the point of this whole masquerade? A great big sorcery competition, to find the best of the best?”
“I suspect you yourself have nothing to prove. Your powers are beyond compare.”
She felt herself blush beneath her mask. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, exactly.”
“Your modesty is quite becoming.”
Knowing she was being flattered and trying to ignore it were two different things. She cleared her throat. “So if the contest doesn’t actually have judges, if no one is in charge, then why put on the show? What’s the point of it all?”
“A distraction to occupy the troublemakers,” he said. “Those stages are an obvious avenue for the frustrated and arrogant to put their angst on display. It allows them an opportunity to vie for the admiration of their rivals and enemies.”
Dru could hear more than a little frustration and arrogance in his voice, but she decided not to call attention to that. Maybe this was an opening to learn more about what was really going on underneath this mountain.
“Well, when it comes to winning admiration from your rivals, that’s not a bad way to go,” Dru said carefully. “Every sorcerer I’ve ever met is drowning in angst. Maybe if they knew the real reason they were here . . .”
“Angst is simply ambition that’s been denied too long, until it has soured from zeal into pain.” He waltzed her away from the stage. “We all need to suffer through a certain amount of pain in order to reach our ambitions.”
“And what’s your ambition?” she asked.
He gave her a sharp look. “To save the world. Isn’t yours?”
Booming lightning flashed overhead, making Dru jump. A branching blast of energy zigzagged over the crowd, leaving tree-like afterimages on her vision. In the wake of the deafening boom, the crowd roared with approval, and the woman on the other stage—wearing a black-and-gold harlequin costume—took an elaborate bow. Then she held out her hands and slowly pointed toward the unseen ceiling hidden in the darkness overhead.
Glittering sparkles began to drift down from the sky, fluttering into the light like metallic snow. A few scattered flakes quickly multiplied into a twinkling snowfall, sprinkling everyone with shimmering specks.
The Red Death tilted his head back to admire the falling sparkles. They fell into his slicked-back hair and gathered on the red velvet of his coat. “I believe the Harlequin has won the
popular vote.” His words were drowned out by another roar from the crowd.
The waltz music finished with a flourish, and he released her, bowing deeply over her hand. She expected to find herself relieved at the end of the dance, but instead she was oddly sad that it was over.
“Wait, you never answered me,” Dru said. “Is this your place? Why the masquerade?”
He smiled enigmatically. “In many ways, you’re just like me, Ms. Jasper. Your happiness peaks when everything becomes complicated. I would not take that happiness away from you.” With that, he backed away, his dark eyes boring into hers, as if he wanted to say more.
A touch on her arm startled her. Opal sidled up next to her, her face clearly showing alarm. “If you’re done playing Jane Austen, we’ve got a big problem.”
“Hold that thought.” Dru held up a finger for her to wait a moment. She turned to ask the Red Death for another dance, but he had already vanished into the crowd.
Only then did she realize that he had called her by name. He knew who she was.
The question was, who was he?
23
BEHIND DOOR NUMBER ONE
Dru plunged through the crowd, going after the Red Death. She needed to find answers. She ducked between half-sloshed dancers and those who still stood around staring upward, entranced by the falling sparkles. The air smelled bitter, like the smoke after a fireworks display.
Opal followed close behind her. “You looking for Rane?”
“No, the guy I was just dancing with. Did you see which way—”
“Forget him. You better hurry and find Rane before Ember does, or else there’s going to be hell to pay. And I mean it. With all this magic around, if those two start a fight, mark my words, somebody in here is bound to get killed tonight.”
Dru pulled up short and surveyed the crowd. No sign of anyone she knew. “Ember is here, tonight?”
“I don’t know. But Rane took off, saying she was going to cage-match that girl soon as she found her.” Opal stayed close as they made their way through the crowd and came out on the shadowy edge of the room.
Dru searched, but there was no sign of the Red Death. She had lost him. She sighed and turned to Opal. “All right. Which way did Rane go?”
“I don’t know. All I did was get one drink—just one drink, mind you, and damn this is good. Here. Try this.” Opal thrust out a vast martini glass festooned with a shimmering metallic pink umbrella, a curlicue of shaved lemon peel, and some kind of fluffy cranberry-colored tropical flower.
Dru eyed it suspiciously. “What is it?”
“A zombie.”
“A zombie? Seriously?”
Opal cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Never mind.” Dru waved it off. “Where did you even get this?”
“Ruiz. That man’s so sweet, isn’t he?”
“He is,” Dru agreed. “Does he know you already have a boyfriend?”
“No I don’t. Not since recently.”
“What happened recently?”
“End of the world started?” Opal propped her free hand on her hip. “You remember when those meteors started going crazy, and I found out doomsday was on the way, and I tried to call that man, and he wouldn’t pick up the phone?” She took a long drink through the straw and smacked her lips. “Turns out he’s not as commitment-minded as he says. Got a little somebody else on the side. And I don’t play that game. So that’s it. We’re done.”
A wave of sympathy washed over Dru, tinged with guilt for not knowing this already. “I’m so sorry.”
Opal took another drink, holding the shiny pink umbrella away from her orange feathered mask. “Got some girl named Karri who likes to text absolutely everything in those little smiley faces.”
“Emojis?”
“Like trying to read texts from King Tut’s tomb. But all those hearts and winky eyes don’t leave much to the imagination. I know what she’s saying to him.”
Dru gave her a hug. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. Jeez, I can’t believe Diego would do that.”
“Diego?” Opal shook her head, making her feathers shake. “No, Diego was way back. This is Leon.”
“Leon?” Dru scratched her head. “Um, I don’t . . . Did I meet Leon?”
“Well apparently, now you don’t have to. And he’s not getting his phone back, neither.” Opal swirled her drink in her glass, making the curlicue of lemon peel bounce. “You see Rane anywhere? Should be easy to spot her, even in this crowd. I don’t know what on earth that girl said to Salem, but he’s about ready to go nuclear.”
Dru’s stomach clenched. She’d be lucky if she didn’t spend the entire night trying to keep her friends from murdering each other. “Okay. Where’s Ember?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like I’m on team Ember?”
“What I mean is, are you sure Rane and Ember aren’t already beating each other up somewhere, right this second?”
Judging by the way Opal’s eyes went wide, she obviously hadn’t thought about that. Her face cycled from horror to worry to indifference. Finally, she shrugged. “I give up. I can’t be that girl’s keeper. She’ll get herself into trouble no matter what we do.” She touched Dru’s sparkly dress with her index finger. “You just need to make sure we don’t get kicked out of this party.”
“Wait a sec. Are you just asking me to handle this so that you can go off and party?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m going to party no matter what you do.” Opal sucked down another straw full of her drink and started swinging her hips to the music.
Ruiz shuffled out of the crowd, grinning inside his silver luchador mask. He clasped a pair of gigantic drinks in his hands, and held one out to Dru.
“Keep it,” Dru said with a sigh.
So many worries swirled around her. Where was Rane? Was she okay? Dru had no idea. Opal and Ruiz were too busy chatting to be any help. If she was going to find Rane or the Red Death, she would have to do it herself.
Taking care to avoid any more dance floor entanglements, Dru crept around the periphery of the room. No one was wearing red. The mysterious stranger seemed to have left. But where could he have gone? There were no other exits from the cavernous chamber.
She walked by an alcove hung with gold-framed paintings, some of which she vaguely recognized from history books. A few stuffed animals stood in eerie silence, including a polar bear and a mountain goat with epic three-foot curved horns.
She passed a row of bronze statues holding lit candelabras aloft, and then the old film projector. It blasted out grainy black-and-white footage of trees and houses being swept away in a hellish explosion. Something about the projector was broken, so that it spewed shiny streams of spent film onto the floor, piling up in a dark mass. Two drunk sorcerers, arms around each other, fell into the seaweed-like mass of film, laughing and spilling their drinks.
Past that, the shadowy rock walls were free of any decoration, and since this was obviously where the interesting stuff ended, Dru almost turned back. But something caught her eye.
At the edge of the light, a rectangular area of the rough rock wall turned smooth. It was a slightly darker shade of gray than the rest. Dru looked it over as she stepped closer. It was just barely big enough to be a door. Surreptitiously, she turned her back to the now-distant crowd and slipped her ulexite crystal out of her bag.
Pressing it to her forehead, she tried to blot out the noise and confusion behind her and focus. The crystal tingled slightly against her skin as her energy flowed into it. Her vision warped and shifted, giving her a truer look at the wall.
It was a door, all right. A sliding metal door, not quite like an elevator door. It was painted gray to blend into the rock wall, and in the gloom, it was nearly invisible. An empty gap the size of a drink coaster showed where there had once been some sort of a keypad or lock built in at waist height, now filled with a tangle of cut wires. The sliding door was open about an inch along the left edge.
C
arefully, Dru wedged the fingers of her free hand into the gap and pushed. The door didn’t budge.
She pushed harder, until she groaned with the effort. Gradually, the door started to give. It slid open another fraction of an inch, and something in the broken machinery inside the wall hissed out air. She paused to take a breath, thinking she needed a better way. There had to be a trick to it that she was missing.
From behind her, long fingers seized Dru’s shoulder and yanked her away from the door.
Dru’s breath caught in her throat as she lowered the crystal from her forehead. It took only a moment for her vision to clear, but in that moment her entire body went cold with fear for her life.
But it was only Salem. Behind his black mask, his wide eyes looked even crazier than normal. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
“I found a way in,” Dru said, hoping that was enough explanation.
“Hurrah for you.” He looked past her, quickly taking in the details of the door. Then he gave her a calculating look and carefully said a single word: “Why?”
As she slipped the ulexite back into her bag, she briefly considered making up some kind of excuse, but then decided that honesty was probably the best policy. Especially since she knew she was a lousy liar.
“I’m looking for Greyson, and everything points into this mountain. Obviously, he’s not here at the party. But if the Red Death is running the show, then he knows where Greyson is. And this is the only way he could’ve gone.”
Salem sighed and gazed off into the empty space slightly over her head. “Don’t you need to go tumble some rocks or something?”
“Really? You’re going to be like that?” A surge of anger rose up inside Dru. “You know what? That’s it. I’ve had enough. You can insult me all you want—”
“Oh, good. I’ve been waiting for your permission.”
She gritted her teeth. “You know, if you’re not going to help me, maybe you could at least stay out of my way. Is that too much to ask?”
He made an inarticulate sound and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Go explore where you don’t belong and get yourself killed. If you insist on taking this to its logical conclusion, I can’t stop you.”
A Kiss Before Doomsday Page 19