Masque of the Red Death (24 page)

How dare they lock me in this room?

I sit forward and lean my chin against my hands, careful not to muss my hair or makeup.

I should get something to drink, water perhaps, before I put on the green dress, but as I walk to the basin, someone grabs me and puts a hand over my mouth so that I cannot scream.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

I
DON’T FIGHT.
H
IS GRIP IS LOOSE ENOUGH THAT
I could bite. But I don’t.

“You won’t scream?” I feel his breath on my ear.

I shake my head and he lets go.

Will’s wearing the same outfit he was wearing this morning. His hair is messier than I’ve ever seen it, and his expression is unreadable.

I can’t help wondering about the printing press. It would be ironic if he were printing the pamphlets that vilify the wealthy here in the basement of the Debauchery Club. But it isn’t amusing because if he hates the rich, where does that leave our … friendship?

“I know you’re going with him. I won’t try to talk you out of it, but there’s time before you sail. Come with me for a few moments.”

I hesitate.

“If I could get into this room, then other people could.” He glances up at the ceiling meaningfully. He’s right—those men upstairs aren’t happy with Elliott. “You’ll be safer with me.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door.

“Stop,” I say, and he does, though I can tell it’s difficult for him; his body is ready to spring into motion. “I’m … not wearing anything … under this coat.” I can’t interpret the look on his face, so I just stumble on. “Elliott cut my dress with his sword.”

He frowns. Doesn’t say anything.

I pick up the green dress from the bed and slip it on, while still mostly wearing the coat. When the dress is in place, I drop the coat and struggle with the stays.

“Let me help you.”

I let him.

I should offer him his coat back, but I want so badly to keep something of his. I put it on. He leads me through the door, closing it behind us. We slip down a corridor and leave the Debauchery Club through the back. The alley smells odd. There’s a cloak lying in our path. Someone must have dropped … my foot makes contact with something solid, and I gasp. The shoes I’m wearing have an open toe. I stare down at the dead body. Will lifts me over the corpse.

“People are dying.” He sounds scared.

I like that he doesn’t pretend not to be afraid of death.

We cross the street to the former brick factory that is now a club, the Morgue. “This place isn’t owned by the prince,” he explains. “The upper rooms probably won’t open tonight due to his decree. But the basement is always busy.”

He leads me down a narrow staircase and through a wooden door that has been painted red.

Inside, the room is dark and smoky and filled with bodies. I stand slightly behind Will as he leans forward to talk to the bartender. He downs a shot of straight liquor and then pushes the glass back across the bar. The bartender refills it without looking at Will. This is the first time I’ve ever seen Will drink.

My pulse quickens when someone gestures to me, offering pills. I ignore the offer. I need to be fully aware, though my head has started to throb.

“So this is the Debauchery Club’s competition,” I say, trying to shift his attention to me rather than the bottom of the shot glass.

The bodies are crushed in here, crowded. Bare shoulders and arms, visible above plunging necklines, remind me of the corpse in the alley. I don’t let myself think about the girl in the doorway. It’s easy enough to tell that these people are alive. They reek of sweat and the fear of death.

The bartender slides a couple more drinks across the bar, and I take one quickly. I sip the alcohol. It burns. I can’t believe Will is drinking so much of it, and so fast.

My eyes are drawn to a couple in the corner. A girl is straddling a boy, moving against him, but what I notice is that they are wearing their masks. Somehow, kissing has become more intimate than anything else.

Will scans the room. We don’t have much time together, and I want to get out of this place.

A young man approaches, emerging from the smoke. His spectacles reflect the light of the cigarettes that people are smoking behind us.

“Success?” Will asks.

“Yes. But you owe me. Are you drinking?”

I recognize Kent, the fellow who had that mysterious meeting with my father, and who saved me from the prince’s poison. I’m not sure that I want him to see me here, with Will.

Will throws some money down on the bar and puts his hand on my arm. My eyes travel to the couple in the corner. The girl’s head is thrown back. I feel jealous of her abandon. She isn’t aware of the people around her, of this terrible claustrophobic room. I brace myself for eye contact, for a connection like I felt for the girl that evening in the rain. But her eyes pass right over mine. It feels like a slap in the face.

Will slides both hands to my shoulders, less sure than usual.

“We’re going up to the roof,” he whispers. “Come on.” His urgency mirrors mine.

The three of us climb five flights of stairs. Will has his arm around me by the first flight, and his hand is doing something to the hair at the nape of my neck, where April pinned it up. It makes my knees weak, which in turn makes it difficult to climb.

And now we’re on the roof and Will is leading me to a great wooden basket, big enough for the two of us. It’s the famous Debauchery District balloon.

“My brother always wanted to go up in a balloon.”

“Well, then you should do it for him,” Will says softly. It’s the exact opposite of the way I’ve tried to deal with Finn’s loss. The idea of living for Finn is alien and fascinating.

Kent walks around the balloon, stopping to inspect something. “The rope that tethers it is attached to a pulley. If you want to come down, you’ll have to let out some of the air. Otherwise, I’ll pull you down myself. You have fifteen minutes.”

There’s something else on the roof. Something enormous, under a giant beige tarp that looks like a tent, except for the way it’s tied down.

Kent sees me looking at it and flushes.

“What is that?” I ask.

“Just an experiment,” he says. I recognize his tone. He sounds like Father when he’s in the middle of something. When he isn’t sure whether his idea will work, and isn’t ready to talk about it.

I’m standing scandalously close to Will, and I know I should step away, but I can’t, not even for appearances.

“This is Kent,” Will says. “He’s the resident expert on this balloon.”

“Nice to meet you.” There’s no reason to point out that we’ve met.

I don’t offer him my hand. We stopped doing that years ago, due to the contagion, and both of my hands are on the front of Will’s shirt, clinging to him like he might evaporate if I let go.

Kent gives a little bow. “Nice to finally meet you.” He plays along with me. “Will’s mentioned you.”

“Are you ready?” Will asks.

He waits for my answer, and then he lifts me into the basket and climbs in beside me. The balloon rises fast enough that there’s a moment when I’m actually frightened. Will clears his throat.

“All day I kept thinking of the look on your face when you were leaving. Henry’s mask still works, you know. But you looked so lost. So hopeless.”

I don’t want to talk about being lost or hopeless.

The roof of the club is already far below us. I can see the steamship, all lit up in the harbor. Crowds are gathering.

My stomach hurts, like when Finn and I used to ride the seesaw at the park. Bursts of hope make despair harder to live with.

“I thought once that I had never met anyone so suicidal. But there’s more to you than that. It’s why I took you home.”

“Instead of leaving me to die?”

“Instead of leaving you in the doorway of the hospital. I saw how you were changing. Then, this morning, it was like a light went out.”

I’m crying. I do not deserve happiness. And if I find it, I won’t be allowed to keep it. The city shimmers through my tears. I wipe them away with the back of my hand.

“It’s peaceful up here,” I whisper.

“Yes.” He pushes his dark hair back from his face. “We can take off our masks. The air is safe this high up.”

I don’t dare ask if he’s sure, because if he hesitates, I won’t have the nerve to risk it.

I take off my mask. This act feels more revealing than taking off my dress. Perhaps because of the tears on my face. He takes the mask from my hand and lays it carefully on the floor of the basket, with his stacked neatly on top.

From up here, you can’t smell the decay of the city, can’t see that everything is crumbling.

“This is what I wanted you to see,” he says. “From up here you can see the whole city. Look at the streets, the canal. Look at the church steeples.”

“It is lovely,” I say. But that’s not really what I’m thinking. The city is only wonderful when you are far away from it. I don’t want to go back.

In the harbor the new ship glows seductively. We’ll have to navigate around rotting ships as we leave.

“There is goodness in the world. We made this city. It’s beautiful and marvelous.”

He’s not convincing me that there is beauty in the world, but I’m happy because he wants to convince me.

He presses up against me, hard, with his hands gripping tight to the basket on either side. It should be difficult for me to turn, but I do it effortlessly. He wraps his arms around me and somehow my hands are twined into his hair, and his lips are against mine. We’re kissing like it’s the only thing keeping us alive.

The basket swings lightly back and forth, and he shudders. I open my eyes and look at him. He’s beautiful. Completely beautiful with his eyes closed, leaning forward. He pulls me toward him without opening his eyes.

“Will?”

He kisses the side of my face. “I want to stay up here forever,” he whispers.

We kiss again, and I feel like I’m drowning. So this is what April always said I was missing. It isn’t as messy as I thought. His hands are in my hair and on my shoulders and my back, and I feel boneless and weak. The vow that I made, and even Finn, seem very far away.

The balloon bumps and descends slightly.

Kent is already pulling us down.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You have to remember that there are reasons to live, and that at least a few people are decent, and that the world is worthwhile some of the time, okay?”

I raise my face to his, wanting another kiss, but he stops me.

“You will remember?”

The balloon bumps downward again. His eyes are still closed.

“Why don’t you open your eyes?”

He opens one and squints at me for a second. “I’m terrified of heights,” he says.

The basket bounces again. “We should put on our masks.” He puts his trembling hands on either side of my face and kisses me once more. The balloon drops rapidly.

“I need to tell you something,” he says into my hair, and then there is an explosion, and I gasp.

Reds and yellows and blues burst in the air above the harbor.

“Fireworks,” I breathe. They explode over the
Discovery
, and I can hear people clapping. I’ve only seen fireworks once in my life, at a celebration in this same harbor when I was a little girl. Even from here I can hear the reaction of the crowd.

I try to twist toward the harbor, but Will and I are intertwined. Another round of fireworks explodes above us. The smell is acrid and unpleasant, and the sound is startling—too many things have exploded and burned in this city.

He hands me my mask, and I put it on.

We untangle our bodies and step out of the basket, onto the roof.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

“S
EEMS THE CELEBRATION IS STARTING EARLY
,” Kent says. “His Majesty must have discovered that some religious zealots were planning to ruin his party.”

Our view from the top of the Morgue isn’t clear like it was from the balloon, because we are quite far away, but we can see the crowd parting for a group of soldiers.

“The prince is arriving now,” Will says.

“I doubt it. If there’s any hint of danger, he’ll stay away.” Kent frowns and glances back to the tarp covering half the roof.

“I should be down there,” I say.

“If you’re going, you’d better hurry.” I think Kent is more worried about inspecting his balloon than about us, but then he says, “Elliott is expecting you,” and looks at me. I flush.

“There’s no way we can make it. The harbor is too far,” Will begins, holding tightly to my hand.

“Take Elliott’s steam carriage,” Kent says. He’s moved from the balloon to the basket, running his hands over the straps. “As long as you ask the guard to bring it back. He left it with me so that I could procure supplies for our project.” He looks at me when he says this.

I pull Will along behind me. We hurry down the stairs and out into the street. The prince’s illuminations can’t reach this far, and it’s very dark.

I grip his hand tightly. I love the feeling of my fingers intertwined with his.

“Finn wouldn’t mind,” I say.

“Exactly.” His voice is gentle.

Elliott’s steam carriage is parked where we left it, outside the Debauchery Club. A guard stands beside it, holding a musket.

“We have to get to the harbor,” I burst out.

“Miss Worth?” he says, though I’m sure I’ve never seen the guard before. “I’ll take you as far as I can, with the crowds.”

Elliott’s steam carriage is only built for two, but Will pulls me up into his lap and holds me close, and the soldier drives quickly. I catch him glancing over twice, frowning at Will. And at me.

Finally, the streets become too congested and the guard stops.

“Good luck,” he says. Will nods.

The streets are so tightly packed that we can barely force our way through. Vendors sell phosphorescent necklaces, and one is wearing maybe a dozen of them. They make his face green. His teeth are yellowish and the whites of his eyes are a sickly yellow. I don’t think it’s just the phosphorous glow from the necklaces that makes him look sick. His sleeve rides up, revealing a rash. I stifle a scream and step back. Will is right behind me. He puts his hands on my shoulders to steady me.