The Homecoming Masquerade

by Baum, Spencer

  They were dancing, soaring around the floor, enveloped in the music. He moved with perfect confidence and control and Nicky had no choice but to follow. She could feel her body slipping into ever deeper submission to his. Her mind was in a daze, conscious thoughts brief and discrete. She saw the dance floor as if from above, from out of her own body, looking down at herself and her partner, moving in such perfect unison that they were no longer two people, but a single being, their bodies intertwined, their movements one with the music. She imagined her own body held closer to his, held tightly in his arms, and he made it happen.

  And the music. The gentle bouncing motion, waves in an ocean – he’s pulling me back to the water from which my life had come, back to the most basic, animal part of myself. He’s pulling me into a place where I throw aside manners, conventions, memories, rules, a place where I give reign to the creature that lay dormant inside me.

  The rhythm was everything now. One-two-three one-two-three one-two-three breathe-in-me.

  Those last words were like a whisper on the wind. What did they say?

  Breathe in me.

  It was a message. A signal from a part of Nicky she was about to lose.

  One two three, breathe in me. Breathe in me one two three one two three.

  She saw a picture in her mind, a bright silver ball with beams of sunlight bursting from all sides, and the image made her scared. It was the first of a deluge waiting to come out.

  Breathe in me.

  Something was wrong. Something inside her head, something put safely away, wanted to come out. It was hidden behind that bright silver ball. It spoke to her now, in her father’s voice.

  We’re going on an adventure, Nicky. We leave tonight.

  “No,” she whispered.

  “No?” said Sergio. “You deny me?”

  “You go too far,” Nicky said. The words were exhausting to her, as if every syllable was a brick she had to push from her throat.

  Sergio smiled. Such a beautiful smile. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

  “I go wherever I want,” he said.

  Breathe in me breathe in me one two three one two three.

  One two three turn two three breathe in me turn two three.

  She repeated the words to herself in time to the music. She was back in the ballroom, matching the words to the movement of her feet, trying to remain in the moment.

  Breathe in me.

  She was dancing. Dancing with her sworn enemy, coming back from the brink.

  She looked at him with fresh eyes. He was beautiful, nothing more. Just beautiful.

  Breathe in me.

  He smelled good, but it was just a smell.

  One-two-three, one-two-three, breathe in me, breathe in me.

  His body felt good next to hers, but she could control her desires.

  I can resist the taut muscles on his back, the perfect lines and curves of his body.

  “You’re fighting me,” Sergio whispered. “Why?”

  Her head still in a daze, she had no idea what to say to this question. So she told him the truth.

  “I don’t want to be your slave.”

  Like a dog on a leash, Sergio pulled her to a stop. The music still played, but Sergio and Nicky stood still. He looked right in her eyes.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I don’t want to be your slave. I want to be your equal. That’s why I wore black tonight.”

  She could tell by the way he was looking at her that this was a pivotal moment. She had not reacted as he expected her to. Now he was suspicious. If she didn’t play this exactly right, the entire mission was over.

  Breathe in me breathe in me – come on….breathe in me…

  Her pulse, her pupils, her breathing – Gia had warned her of this and she hadn’t prepared herself properly. Sergio had tried to get in her head and she had pushed him out. He knew.

  They began to dance again. Sergio was looking at her, appraising her.

  “You are a very interesting girl,” he said.

  “I am who I am. Perhaps you don’t normally encounter that with the girls wearing black.”

  “I most certainly don’t.”

  “Some of it’s your fault, you know.” She felt herself sliding into character. Nicky Bloom, the girl with the nerve to tell a vampire she wants to be his equal. Someone sassy. Someone fearless.

  “Please…enlighten me,” he said.

  “You just came in here with your delicious smell, your perfect body, your brooding face behind the mask, and then you swept me up. For a moment there, I would have been anyone you wanted me to be.”

  “But now you won’t?” Sergio asked. There was genuine curiosity in his voice.

  “I suppose that’s up to you,” Nicky said. “I have a feeling if you wanted to, you could turn on the charm to a degree I couldn’t resist no matter how hard I tried.”

  “Perhaps we’ll find out some day,” said Sergio. “For now, we will dance. I will lead.”

  And oh did he lead. For a few glorious minutes, they were a torrent of movement, and the sheer audacity of what they were doing ripped at Nicky’s heart. All that she thought she knew about herself and the character she was playing were called into question. Years of burning, vengeful hatred for these creatures, of desire for justice, of memory – all of it became clouded in those moments, and the best she could do was hold on.

  “Do you know why I come to the Masquerade?” Sergio asked.

  Yes. She did know why he came. He came to dance with her, and the other girls wearing black. He makes them come to their own funeral.

  Nicky shook her head.

  “I am supposed to get inside your head and command you to remain loyal to the contest to the bitter end. And when I am done, I am supposed to leave you with a mark.”

  “A mark? What kind of mark?”

  “You’re being coy,” said Sergio. “But I like that. You know what kind of mark. Would you like to have it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Nicky. “Is your work with me complete?”

  “It isn’t,” said Sergio. “You pushed me out. If I am to place the command in your mind, you’ll have to allow me back in. Do you intend to do that?”

  “I don’t,” said Nicky.

  “Then it will be our little secret that I left you alone,” said Sergio. “Just make sure you don’t lose the contest.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”

  Sergio smiled, and Nicky felt herself swoon back into the trance. Had the music continued, she might have lost herself completely.

  But the music stopped. The sound of silence was like an alarm waking Nicky from a deep sleep.

  She looked up and Sergio was gone. A white orchid corsage was pinned to her chest.

  28

  Nicky staggered off the dance floor and collapsed onto a stool at the bar.

  “I see you got your corsage,” said the girl next to her. It was Annika Fleming. A sad version of Annika Fleming. All the jollity that was her normal persona had been spent, and all that remained was a girl who was drunk.

  “How was it?” Annika asked.

  “How was what?” asked Nicky.

  “Dancing with Sergio.”

  “Did you see us out there?” Nicky asked, wondering how anyone could have seen her at all, thinking about how she felt like she was somewhere else entirely during that last dance.

  “No. Hardly anybody sees Sergio, even when he’s dancing with someone. He’s like that. But you have your corsage, and you look like a girl who’s just danced with an immortal.”

  Was she that obvious? Nicky was disgusted with herself. Not only had she allowed Sergio inside her mind, but she came away from the encounter looking like any other girl who had danced with a vampire.

  “I’m just a little tired,” Nicky said.

  “Honey, you look like you could use a cigarette,” said Annika.

  A second of silence passed between them, then they laughed. Annika laughed a littl
e too hard. Nicky waited for her to finish before saying, “Jill tells me you’re not coming to my party.”

  Annika’s shoulders slumped. “No, I’m not,” she said.

  “You’re scared of Kim,” said Nicky.

  “You don’t know anything about it,” said Annika.

  “I know enough,” said Nicky. “You hate Kim Renwick. Not only do you hate her, but you hate everything she stands for. You hate that there are some people whose whole purpose is to keep other people down, and that it’s those people who have all the power in Washington. You hate the thought of going to Kim’s after-party, but you’re going anyway, and you hate yourself for it.”

  “Holy shit, New Girl. That was harsh.”

  “Calling it like I see it,” said Nicky. And she was. For reasons that weren’t entirely clear to her, she was being completely candid. It probably wasn’t the wisest strategy. Nicky had seen Jill out of the corner of her eye. She was ten yards behind them, watching. In a minute, Nicky would turn Annika over to Jill so the blackmailing could begin. As it stood, drunk, defiant Annika was going to be a difficult subject for Jill already. If Nicky angered her, she’d make Jill’s job even harder.

  “Maybe I should call it like I see it too,” said Annika. “Maybe I should tell you that you’ve signed your own death warrant tonight, and it’s a shame too, because I’m sure you would have had a nice future. You’re smart, you’re pretty, tonight you’ve shown that you have self-confidence in spades, but still you’re going to die. You’ve entered a contest you can’t win. And don’t start telling me Jill’s bullshit about a secret consortium. I don’t know who you’ve got backing you, but they’re not enough. All the Renwicks have to do is snap their fingers and the richest people in the world all show up and want to give them money. You’re right, Nicky. I do hate the way all of this works, I hate the game and I hate myself for playing it, but I do what I have to do. Come graduation, I’ll still be alive. And then I’m out of here.”

  “Out of here?” Nicky said. “Where are you going?”

  “None of your business,” said Annika. “But I guarantee you this. While the rest of these fools spend their entire lives kissing Kim’s ass, I’ll be living my own life, on my own terms.”

  Living in Brazil, Nicky wanted to add, with Hong Chung.

  But that wasn’t her line, it was Jill’s, and now was as good a time as any for her to deliver it.

  “Sounds great,” said Nicky. “Good luck with that. I really mean it. I hope that you’re able to get away from all this madness. See you around.”

  As Nicky stood to leave, she put her hand on Annika’s shoulder and gave a friendly squeeze, a gesture that wasn’t quite a hug, but was enough to tell her she wanted to part as friends.

  She’s all yours, Jill, Nicky thought, and she’s ready for some tough love. Don’t fuck it up.

  29

  Jill watched as Nicky and Annika sat at the bar, talking. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see that Annika was going through a full range of emotions. She recognized the way Annika was leaning in as she spoke, moving with slow, exaggerated movements. It was the same way she moved on the night they watched Crimson Sunrise at her house. It was the way she acted when she was drunk.

  Nicky said something that agitated Annika. The way Annika responded, like a cornered dog, made Jill nervous. She didn’t know if she could go through with this.

  Spying on her classmates, breaking into the school computer, pushing out a whisper campaign about Nicky Bloom and a secret consortium behind her – Jill had signed up for all of it, and, truth be told, had enjoyed doing it. But blackmail…blackmail was a completely different universe of activity. Blackmail was forcing someone to act against her own will. It was head-on conflict, and the thought of it terrified Jill.

  What if it didn’t work? Jill imagined herself talking to Annika, and, in her mind, her own voice was weak.

  I know about you and your secret boyfriend. If you don’t want anyone else to know, you’ll do as I say.

  What if Annika sensed Jill’s weakness and fought back? It wasn’t like Annika was without options here. Jill needed her, badly, and Annika knew it. Without Annika and the crowd she brought, Nicky’s after-party was a bust. Was Jill in a position to dictate anything to her? All Jill had on Annika was some dirty laundry, obtained illegally. Jill had broken into Annika’s hotel room and put illegal software on her computer. If Annika refused to cooperate and Jill had to release the dirt, Annika could easily arrange to take Jill down with her.

  It was all a giant bluff, and Annika was sure to see that. It was a big confidence game, like everything else in Washington, the sort of game at which Annika thrived and Jill stunk.

  Nicky and Annika seemed to be past the worst of their confrontation now. They were speaking quietly to each other. Nicky was looking straight ahead. Annika was looking right at Nicky. In her drunken state, Annika probably didn’t know she was staring, her eyes affixed on Nicky’s face even as no words passed between them.

  And now Nicky was getting up to leave. It was go-time for Jill. She needed to put aside all these doubts and just do it. She didn’t have any other options.

  But Jill observed two things happen as Nicky took her exit.

  The first was a touch, Nicky’s hand on Annika’s shoulder. It was a friendly gesture, mature and full of self-assurance, more like a teacher to a student than one student to another, and Annika responded in a big way. Annika leaned into Nicky’s touch, like a cat arching its back to meet its master’s hand. As Nicky let her hand slide away, Annika’s body followed along, extending the touch as long as possible.

  The second was a stare from Annika, practically a gape. As Nicky walked away, Annika’s eyes followed her out, scanning from top to bottom to top again. She looked like a hungry lion gazing upon its prey.

  Or just another dude who was checking Nicky out.

  The part of Jill’s brain that had taken in the entirety of her mother’s Clean Street code and seen the error, the same part that could sift through thousands of lines of dialogue all around and hear the pertinent bit of gossip, the one sentence that had any meaning – it now saw all the disparate ends of her relationship with Annika, from the Annika she barely knew before this summer to the Annika who took her to Cozumel to the Annika who watched Crimson Sunrise to the Annika who had a secret lover in Brazil.

  Not a secret boyfriend. A secret lover. A secret lover to whom Annika sent encoded messages where the other students at Thorndike were all characters from Crimson Sunrise.

  Jill turned around and walked away from the bar. She went to the far wall and walked along the outer edge of the ballroom, going all the way to the front of the mansion where she asked the slaves to kindly open the door so she could step outside.

  She ran to the far end of the driveway and banged on the back door of her limo. Her driver, a tall and plump fellow named Dante, popped the locks so she could get inside.

  “Hello, Miss,” he said. “How was the dance?”

  “It’s still going on,” Jill said. “I just had to come out here to think. I’ll need some privacy please.”

  “Certainly,” said Dante. He pressed a button on his dashboard and a plastic screen rose up behind his head, giving Jill her own soundproof space.

  Jill reached under her seat and pulled out her tablet computer, which she used to log onto her system at home. She pulled up the old surveillance files from freshman year, the text messages and phone calls she had intercepted from her classmates in a moment of boredom. All the data from that spying job was stored in a database that could be filtered by name and phone number. She of course had studied Annika’s data stream to the point of memorizing it.

  Tonight she was interested in one text message Annika had received on November 14th, a Thursday.

  I really enjoyed talking to you last night. My parents are going out of town this weekend. Come over tomorrow and watch a movie with me.

  Annika’s response to that message, a be
nign acceptance of the offer, had never struck Jill as unusual or noteworthy. The text had come from Shannon Evans, who had been a member of Annika’s group since the beginning. So what if they had watched a movie together one weekend in freshmen year? The exchange was no different than a hundred others Annika had with every one of her friends.

  It was what happened after that exchange that suddenly seemed significant to Jill, and that she now wanted to verify. Scrolling through the rest of the file, looking at every incoming and outgoing message from Annika’s phone until Jill had shut down the surveillance software, there was no other communication with Shannon. None at all. Annika texted people in her group every day, but not Shannon. And it wasn’t like they’d had some falling out or something. Far from it. From the beginning of freshman year right up until her untimely death, Shannon was a member of Annika’s clique in good standing. Jill had freshman algebra with both of them that year. Miss Metzler, fourth period – Jill remembered how Shannon and Annika always came in to class together, how they always sat in the same two desks in the back corner, how they giggled and carried on every day until Metzler screamed at them to shut it.

  Jill flung that data out of the way and got into some different software, using her tablet to log into Annika’s laptop with the spyware she had installed in Cozumel. She got into Zhang Li’s secret email account and looked at the properties, pulling up the account creation date.

  November 17th, freshman year, just three days after Annika’s final text message exchange with Shannon.

  They had quit communicating by text because it wasn’t secure. Now they were using anonymous web mail accounts, named after the main characters in the movie they had watched at Shannon’s house that weekend, a movie about two teenagers whose secret love pits them against the rest of the world.

  She pulled out her phone and made a secure call to Alvin Green from the Network.

  “Jill, I’m surprised to hear from you. Is the dance over already?”

  “Don’t worry about the dance right now,” Jill said. “I need you to do some research, and I need it right away. I could use an answer in the next minute or two.”