Plagued: Book 1 (31 page)

Chapter 8

Small Change

If I wanted to be worthy of the Club's respect, I had to respect myself. “When God gives you lemons, find a new god!” as Brianna and Isobel always shouted gleefully. Late that night, curled up under the covers with Coco, just before falling asleep, I sent an email to the two of them. In it, I described the meeting at the Conrad in detail and outlined my plans to stop being a doormat for the Awesome Posse.

In the morning, yawning widely – it had been a late night – I decided against the anti-fashion uniform of black or navy hoodie. Instead, I picked out a pale green, V-neck Lacoste sweater I'd had for years paired with oversized, silver hoop earrings. Then, I dragged out my black Moncler parka from one of the boxes in the spare room labeled, “Lexie.” Dad bought it for me the year before on a business trip to Zurich. It was outrageously expensive and I remember at the time, I wished he'd asked me before spending that money because I really,
really
wanted a vintage Vuitton Speedy at half the price on eBay. The Vuitton would have kept my ego warm, if not my body.

Dad shopped exclusively at airport Duty-Free shops: Dubai, Copenhagen, Heathrow, Chicago. He used to bring back teddy bears and endless boxes of Swiss chocolates. That was fine when I was ten. Now, I wish he'd remember when he stopped at Armani or Gucci that his daughter was just as aware of brand names as he. Actually, I had not really spent much time worrying about it until Paris. It was there that real life began to come into focus. Places to go; people to see. Brianna and Isobel. Discovering I wanted to be a part of that blur of color and light, laughter and movement.

This morning I finished off with a pair of boyfriend jeans rolled up above the ankle despite the cold and my yellow Tod's driving loafers. I hadn't worn the loafers since that awful first day at school. Isobel's secret formula from her French
maman
had finally removed the cranberry juice
stains. Giving myself a quick once over in the mirror, I paused and looked more closely. I looked...
hmm
, I looked
good!

Over the next week, I met with Vanessa again and again. Maybe she was in charge of membership or something. I wasn't exactly sure how organized the Club was, not that I minded. She had a great sense of humor that seemed a lot like my own plus an amazing collection of laugh-out-loud stories from her and her friends' lives. Plus, she confessed, she had an addiction for chocolate filled croissants – which I had no problem becoming a co-dependent of. We tried out a number of patisserie coffee shops both cozy and elegant across town during those late afternoon
tete a tetes.
Afte
r seeing Vanessa, each time, I felt somehow more confident. Better about myself, the world and my new and improved place in it. She swiftly became my role model for grown-up confidence. We even looked a little bit alike, I thought, with our long hair. Though the New Yorker was
way
ahead of me on style points, poise, fashion, and languages – she spoke fluent Japanese. Okay, not much alike at all. However, on the way to school or during the long day, I began asking myself, “What would Vanessa do?” And that is what I did as well.

As part of my confidence-boosting campaign, I started bringing my own little bottle of cranberry juice. Adorned with  a thin bright ribbon, I placed it on my desk in each class next to a stuffed Cougar booster-doll key chain. When the St. Xavier's mascot showed up on my desk, I would engage in mock battles with it behind the teacher's back until the Cougar won. Everyone slowly began to laugh with me, not at me.

Then, very unexpectedly, I was old news to all but Amber Lynne and her pack. Not only did the Academy win both the sudden death play-off and the basketball championship, six ninth-grade girls stripped off their shirts on camera and posted pictures of themselves in their bras on Facebook. The school and Cougar Snarls could talk of nothing else. I saw all six of them the morning after the scandal broke, squeezed onto the nubby couch outside Mrs. McCarthy's office. They flashed peace signs and posed for pictures before the Registrar chased the crowd of students away.

That day
everything
changed. I was sitting in my combination Japanese language and culture class when I felt my phone give its text-message buzz. The teacher, Mr. Takahashi, was telling us about the Ainu people of northern Japan. They were a different race entirely from the Japanese and had been displaced like the Native Americans, forced farther and farther north until they settled mostly on Hokkaido island, the very top of the Japanese archipelago.

“Japan is not exactly overflowing with wildlife,” Mr. Takahashi explained. He was an American of Japanese descent, stocky with broad shoulders, cheekbones to match and a thick buzz cut going gray. He coached wrestling as well and sounded like he was from New York maybe. “It
does
have a lot of bears, especially in Hokkaido. Or did. The Ainu are animists, another similarity they share with Native Americans, and the cult of bear worship is widespread. Peter,” he pointed to a fair boy on my left with so many freckles they seemed to be merging into a super-freckle continent like Pangaea. “You've prepared a short report on this. Could you share it with the class?”

I took the momentary lull as Peter made his way to the front to slip my phone out and check the message.

“Party tonight for you, 8 p.m., Robuchon Chateau. Everyone coming. V”

“Everyone coming,” I let those words sink in. This was it. I was in, or I was out. Probably I was in, right? They wouldn't have a party saying “We don't want you! Go away, silly American girl.”
Tonight
. Heart pounding, it was a few moments before I tuned back in to Peter's 'Bear Worshipping Ceremony' speech.

“Hunters from the village take the baby bear cub they've captured back with them.” He was pointing to a photograph of some Asian looking people dressed in dark, heavily beaded costumes. “In each village they would, in the
past
you know, not now, hand-raise the cub. The whole village makes it a pet. Give the cub lots of treats, and special attention, and, you know, loving care and stuff. It becomes tame, just like a dog. It feels safe and happy in a bear sort of way. Then, when the festival day comes around, they bash the bear's head in with a club and hang its skin up on a pole.”

Chapter 9

All The Cool Kids Are Doing It

“We get dibs on hugs! We met her first!”

I immediately spotted Vanessa and Anders as they stepped out from a group of people gathered around a table that seemed to be covered with frosted cupcakes. Outside, a bitterly cold wind tore through the canyons between buildings. It pushed me through the doors, tossing my hair in my face and, here on the threshold, I was still trying to pull my bangs out from my mascara and lip gloss. So maybe I wasn't seeing so clearly. Anders, a little ahead of Vanessa, scooped me up into a hug, lifting me right off the ground. “Welcome to the Club.” Laughing, he kissed me on the cheek and set me next to Vanessa.

Linking arms, she pulled me into the room. “Come, meet the others.”

We were at the Chateau Restaurant Joel Robuchon. I had to google the place to find it. A perfect little miniature chateau set unbelievably right in the middle of Tokyo, high-rises on either side. I'd definitely have to come back and get pictures to send Brianna and Isobel. The Club was gathered in the first-floor dining salon (there were
several
unique salons on different floors, the website said). Black shiny tables and violet walls, subdued lighting. Very subdued, my eyes were still burning from the cold wind and I rubbed them, trying to bring the people more into focus.

I could see Vanessa clearly enough. “Your dress is gorgeous,” I told her sincerely. She was wearing a silky, belted, sleeveless maroon dress that showed off her narrow waist.

“Isn't it great.” She spun in a graceful twirl, the full skirt of the dress flaring out. “Marc Jacobs!”

Under my coat I had on a short, flowery little dress from Zara, sleeveless with a deep V. I was freezing. Wearing sandals instead of Ugg boots – which is what the wind chill factor outside really called for – had not helped. I couldn't feel my toes.

Arm-in-arm, Vanessa led me towards the group around the table and I tried to keep my teeth from chattering. The people were a mix of colors and ages and all of them, every single one, was beautiful. Shining. Radiant. Time seemed to slow down as I took in their graceful, languid movements while they, in turn, stared back at me. I saw every detail of the long, tapered fingers of one dark-eyed girl as she ran her hand through the silky black strands of her hair. She was wearing an over-sized amethyst ring and had what looked like diamonds embedded on each polished nail. Next to her, the wry half-smile of a sandy-haired boy close to my age, looked out at me from under a stylish sweep of bangs. Another guy, a little older and much darker, his kinky hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, raised a glass in my direction with a sly wink. They were both dressed in slim, tailored, suits and ties. Two identical pale girls with long, red hair draped over iridescent green dresses waved with their fingertips.

Time shifted back into normal speed and I noticed the table wasn't covered in cupcakes. Pale yellow roses with pink edging were massed together in low vases and tied round with pink ribbon. Dozens and dozens of them.

Everyone seemed to speak at once then.

“We've been so excited.”

“A new member.”

“Lovely to see you in the flesh.”

“Isn't it freezing out?”

“Here, give me your coat.”

Still shivering, I shrugged reluctantly out of my coat: black wool, empire-waist, double-breasted, bought with northern European winters and a pre-pubescent Lexie in mind. It was a little short in the sleeves and tight across my breasts these days. Unfortunately, it was the only thing warm enough in the closet that wasn't hip-length and filled with feathers and high school angst.

“What would you like to drink?”

I didn't drink. Not
drink
, drink. Except champagne. I could drink a glass of that as I'd proven at the Conrad.

“Champagne?” I said.

Anders grinned, “Alexandra's favorite drink! Nothing but the best.”

“Nothing but the best,” echoed Vanessa, smiling at me.

“Nothing but the best,” shouted a chorus of voices around the table.

People closed in, shaking hands, exchanging kisses, introducing themselves. They seemed a blur of lovely faces and good manners until a tall young man took my hand and I stared. Who wouldn't?

“I am Savan. We spoke online of spiders and sharks.” Leaning in he gave me a kiss on the cheek murmuring, “Mmmm, you smell absolutely intoxicating.”

He was very tall with thick, black hair tumbling in curls to brush his shoulders, brown eyes the color of antique mahogany, framed by strong brows, his full mouth a delicious, dimpled curve. He looked familiar somehow. It took me a moment to realize exactly who that was. David. As in
Michaelangelo's
statue of David in Florence's Uffizi Gallery. Savan was like the marble come to life.

“Have I got something between my teeth?” His English was lightly accented, a teasing, tickling lilt to each word.

He'd noticed I was staring, how embarrassing. “No, no, sorry. You look fine.”

“I should hope so, I dressed especially carefully for tonight.” He gestured towards his pale gray suit and darker gray button-down shirt and tie.

“Why?” I asked, then put my hands over my mouth. What was I saying? Something about him rattled me right down to my shoes and made me feel very much like what I was – a teenager playing at being an adult.

“Because I've so been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Why?” It just popped out again before I could stop myself.

He laughed. A rich, deep, throaty sound. “Alexandra in the flesh? How could you not be intriguing? You write so expressively.”

“I am? I mean, I do?” Doomed! I forgot to review my emails. I didn't even know who I was!

He laughed again, “You would be surprised how difficult people find it to write even the simplest of sentences. I have read many emails from applicants to the Club. Believe me, I know what I am talking of. I mean 'about'. I know what I'm talking
about
.” He gave a charming shrug, “English.”

Pull yourself together Lexie – full sentences! “Apparently it's speaking I have trouble with.” Looking up into those deep brown eyes, I decided to be frank, “Actually, I'm just a little nervous.”

“Come now, we are not all strangers. You've met Vanessa and Anders and several of the others, at least online. Besides, there is no need for nerves. We wish to be friends. This party is to welcome you, not an inquisition.”

“Really?”

Stepping closer, he closed the gap between us to next to nothing. His beautifully cut suit showed off his broad shoulders and long legs. He was maybe twenty-one or twenty-two I guessed, and the manliest man I had ever encountered this closely. Savan even smelled, somehow, indefinably
masculine
.

“Really.” Still holding my hand, he raised it to barely brush the surface with his lips. “If anything, it is us who must pass the test for
you
.”

The tingle from his touch went right down to my toes.

“All talk of tests is forbidden!” Vanessa swooped in, handing me a tall glass of champagne, still bubbling on top, her mood just as effervescent. “Junior year was hell and I feel nauseous if I even
think
the word 'thesis statement.' We are here to have a good time and
not
talk about university.”

I remembered Vanessa said she was taking time off from NYU to study fashion design in Tokyo.

“Come on Savan, give us a toast, I'm starving.” Vanessa winked at me and I smiled.

“A toast, a toast,” a dozen voices laughingly echoed.

A man and a woman dressed all in black slipped in on silent feet to swiftly fill a glittering tray full of glasses from big green bottles with shiny gold labels. Several others, also in black, scurried around the room, each carrying an ornate silver tray with masks laying side by side.

Wait. What? I rubbed my eyes. No, I was seeing clearly enough.

Masks.

Each of the Club members picked up one of the masks and tied it on. Colorful Venetian carnival
-
style festival masks, covering only half of the face.
Venetian
masks could be large and grotesque. Most of these were simple enough: brightly colored, gilded in gold and silver with long ribbons on the sides. Some only had a couple of ribbons, others, many more. The room seemed suddenly full of strangers. Their features unrecognizable.

A masquerade.

One of the serving people, a woman, stopped in front of me, holding the tray high, not meeting my eyes. I was surprised to see she was foreign, not Asian. A quick glance around the room showed that all the people in black were foreign. They also weren't wearing the sort of waitress/waiter uniforms you'd expect in a place like this. They were dressed all in leather: knee high boots, pants, and jerkins with metal studs. Each wore black gloves, as well. I gave myself a mental shrug. Who knows? Maybe that
was
the staff uniform. Tokyo could be a little over-the-top on style-points I'd read in various online guides to the city. Not that I'd had much of a chance to see it for myself. Until now.

Vanessa grinned, her smile brilliant, and I forgot all about the wait staff. She handed me a plain white mask with just one white ribbon on either side. “Indulge us, Alexandra.”

I didn't know what to say. Indulge them in
what
, exactly? For a few, erratic heartbeats, I felt inexplicably afraid. Everyone was laughing and smiling, the mood was light and cheerful. What was there to be afraid of? We were in a French restaurant in the middle of Tokyo. These were just masks. Nerves, that's all it was. Or guilt. I'd done nothing except lie about who I was. I stood quietly as Vanessa tied the white ribbons of the mask behind my head. Where it touched my face, a strange buzzing sensation started across the bridge of my nose and then crawled across my skin. It felt like spiders walking over my forehead and cheeks. By the time Vanessa picked up her own mask from the tray and waved the woman away, the sensation began to fade. I gave myself another mental shake. Wind burn from the cold, dry air outside. The mask irritated my skin that's all.

I watched Vanessa put on her own mask. It was black velvet outlined in intricately braided ribbon. Elegantly curled, the sides of the mask came up almost like wings on either side of her head, a flutter of inky black ribbons on either side. The eye holes were large to show off her brilliant, expressive eyes.

The whole production
of masks, ceremonial toast, and champagne was very
secret society,
'Masonic, gothic, History Channel special
', I couldn't help thinking. Which was kind of mysterious and adult. No plastic red cups and beer pong for
this
crowd.

Savan raised his glass and everyone became silent. “What a glorious place is the world. Out of the billions of people on the planet, people like us, against all odds, somehow find each other.” His mask was black with silver embellishments and the many ribbons were all scarlet. The sides stretched up into a sly grin completely changing the outlines of his face. “How strange, yet joyous are the workings of God and man.” He looked directly at me and I felt my cheeks go hot. “Tonight we are welcoming a new soul, Alexandra Carpenter.”

Everyone held their sparkling glasses high, “A new soul!”

“Join with me in a toast to this world and the next and the bonds that can survive both! To Alexandra Carpenter's pure soul!”

“Alexandra Carpenter!”

“Alexandra Carpenter!”

Everyone took up the toast saying my name over and over.

Vanessa leaned close, whispering, “You have to say 'to a new soul' and take the first sip, then we follow.”

Feeling a little silly, I did as she asked. “To a new soul,” I said in a slightly squeaky voice. Then, holding the cold crystal glass to my lips, I swallowed the champagne. There was a strange sensation, almost of vertigo, as I swallowed. Savan turned his face to me, the handsome features hidden behind the
carnival
mask. As I watched, his mask seemed to
move,
flowing
up and back to cover his head as if it had come alive. The young Italian's human features melted away revealing something entirely different. An animal.

Wolf
.

It was a wolf, dark and dangerous, staring at me, the champagne glass still raised in one human hand. Instead of scarlet ribbons, his wolfish head was smeared with scarlet liquid that drip, drip, dripped, onto his tailored suit, staining it red.

At that moment, all the Club members
masks shifted, becoming something more, something terrifying. Snake, tiger, wild boar, bear, crow, and I didn't know what else. All were smeared with red and I knew it was blood. Blood running down their faces onto their beautiful clothes and pooling on the carpet. Blood everywhere. I looked at Vanessa. She was standing right by my shoulder. She would explain what was going on. I turned my head and met her beautiful eyes staring at me from a masked face grown hideous. Instead of artful black lace and velvet, a grotesque snub-nosed bat snarled only inches away. As I watched, horrified, a pair of jagged wings unfolded from the elegantly curved sides of her mask to flap in the air. Vanessa's eyes swam from hazel to liquid black and she stretched her lips into a terrible smile full of fangs.