I let out a little sigh, not exasperation, but more like the sweetness was escaping from my body in tiny gulps. He was doing this so the mark on my wrist wouldn’t feel like a brand anymore. Instead, I could look at it and think of Kian rather than his former masters.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Want me to put it on you?”
“Absolutely.”
He stood up and I shifted enough for him to reach, lifting my hair so it didn’t get tangled in the clasp. The chain was the perfect length, settling into the hollow at the base of my throat. For a few seconds, he just gazed down at me with the look that said he’d be kissing me if my dad wasn’t sitting here reading Scientific American. In response I touched his hand.
“My present probably won’t seem as cool by comparison.”
“If you picked it out for me, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
With an eager expression, he tore the wrapping like a little kid to reveal the Alfred Hitchcock box set I’d gotten, five classic films. He’d probably seen them but based on my covert observation of his DVD collection, he didn’t own them. I knew he loved Notorious, so maybe he liked Spellbound too. Nervous, I waited for his reaction.
“This is great,” he said softly.
“Why don’t you play one of them?” Dad suggested without glancing up.
Yeah, maybe suspense would be a better move than a holiday flick we’d all seen ten times. I got the right cable and hooked up my laptop to the TV, then Kian chose the movie. Spellbound, probably because of Ingrid Bergman. We settled on the couch together to watch. After a while, my dad put down his magazine, drawn in despite himself.
Once the movie ended, I asked, “Can I go out on New Year’s Eve?”
“With Kian?” Dad asked.
“Yeah.”
“Then it’s fine.”
My mom would’ve demanded to know where we were going, at what time we’d be home, and when she was around, Dad would’ve been right there with her. But he’d abdicated since then, trusting Kian to the point that it worried me. Not that there was anything to fear, but still. Fathers were supposed to be fearsome and protective, right?
“I’ll take good care of her,” Kian promised.
That rallied my dad enough to add, “No drinking.”
“I promise.” Considering that we were going to a party hosted by the Harbinger, getting shit-faced might be the last mistake I ever made.
Soon after, Kian collected his movies and headed home, freeing my dad to retire. I stayed up late reading, which set the tone for the rest of my break. Probably I should be studying, but school had lost its urgency. If I retained my status as a catalyst, Wedderburn would make sure I got into the right college to stay on the path. If I’d already lost, then I wouldn’t have the freedom to do as I pleased anyway. Consequently, I felt pretty zen about my future. Other people, like Kian and my dad, however, might worry me to death.
The rest of the week was pretty chill. I did a little assigned reading, scrawled some homework, chatted with Vi, and answered an e-mail from Ryu, who’d gone to Sacramento for the break to see his grandparents. The time difference from East Coast to West was better than Boston to Tokyo, so we did a video chat too. At some point since I last saw him, he’d had the blond tips trimmed off, so he looked less J-Pop and more straight-edge handsome.
“How’s your friend?”
“Hanging in there.” Which was truer than he knew.
The convo didn’t last long because it was getting late here, and I had the Feast of the Fools the next day. I still didn’t have a costume and I doubted going as a mad scientist like I had at Cameron’s party would cut it. After disconnecting with Ryu, I fiddled around online, looking for DIY ideas. I couldn’t decide if it would be better to go nondescript or to pick something monstrous. Maybe the immortals would think I was one of them?
In the end, I decided on silent movie actress. A trip to the thrift store the next day hooked me up with a flapper dress, and I did my makeup so I looked pale and otherworldly, which also gave me an inhuman vibe. I used black on my lips and eyes, dark gray on the lids, then I put on a floppy velvet hat and draped a bunch of long beads around my neck. My shoes were plain flats because it made sense to be cautious when going into a situation like this.
My dad was reading in the living room when I came out. “It’s a costume party?”
“Yeah.” I waited for him to ask something else.
“Make sure you’re home before one.”
That was much later than he’d have allowed before. But I told myself it was a special exception for New Year’s Eve. It doesn’t mean anything bad.
Kian arrived just before nine. My nerves had escalated to mountainous proportions, as all the horrific possibilities raced through my head. I’d messaged Kian about my costume earlier, so he had on a black suit and tie with a white shirt. Quickly I did his face to match mine; people might take us for a couple of ghosts instead of what I had in mind, but that might even be better.
“Ready?” he asked.
Not really.
But my dad would think it was bizarre if I didn’t want to go to the party I’d requested permission to attend. So I nodded, we said bye, and headed for the Mustang. In the car Kian got his phone out, tapping GPS for a clue how to find the address. Leaning close, I saw it was outside the city. Worrisome. Chickening out wasn’t an option, though.
Attendance is mandatory.
Negotiating city traffic on New Year’s Eve took a while, so I was tense by the time we cleared Boston. The route map seemed to be taking us along the coast. We drove for nearly an hour when the GPS lady warned us we were getting close to our destination. Which turned out to be a creepy-as-hell pile of stones with jagged rocks and an angry ocean instead of a pretty beach. There weren’t many cars, something that shouldn’t have surprised me, because most of the guests wouldn’t require transportation. Most could terror-travel—through sewers or mirrors or electrical lines—and were probably already lurking inside.
“Awesome,” I said aloud, gazing at the Gothic architecture.
If some eccentric tycoon set out to build a terrifying house, he couldn’t have achieved his goal better. From the mullioned windows to the flying buttresses and gargoyles perched on the roof’s edge, the place radiated ominous. The lawn was overgrown, bordered by hedges so wild that they encroached on the view. Ivy ran amok on one side of the foundation, digging in its roots so the stones would crumble sooner or later. I breathed in, conscious of damp and salt and something else, sharp and wild, nothing I’d ever smelled.
“This is so his style,” Kian said.
“That’s not very reassuring.”
With a faint smile, he took my hand. Yeah, you’re relaxed. You’ve got nothing to lose, you already bargained it away. I wanted to yell at him—to ask him how he thought his mother would take the bad news. Now that I’d met her, I felt even worse.
“Come on.”
When we approached the door, it opened in the kind of spooky-squeaky slow motion from haunted houses, but when I checked, there were no wires or sensors I could see. Inside, it felt ten degrees colder, and it was chilly enough to snow outdoors. I huddled deeper into my coat as my breath misted white. The ornate marble floor was chipped, the pattern obscured by years of neglect. Here and there, tiles were broken, as if from great impact, and ominous stains discolored the lighter squares. This place only needed the classic warning sign: ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE.
“This party sucks,” I muttered. “Where’s the evil butler to take our jackets?”
“You’d freeze without it.”
“True.” I didn’t hear any music, but really, what did I know about the Feast of Fools? An Internet search had only uncovered a bunch of stuff about the Catholic Church. And that definitely didn’t apply here.
Kian navigated the warren of hallways as if he’d been here before. We passed shadow-drenched parlors that were sinister in their silence, especially when I registered the flickers of
movement within. My heart kicked into overdrive as we rushed past. Sometimes I shut my eyes against the sensation of something standing directly behind me: scrape of unseen claws on my jacket; brushing chill on my cheek. I shuddered as Kian quickened his step.
“This is just the gauntlet. We’ll be there soon.”
“Sounds like you’re a pro.”
“Wedderburn’s sent me before when he didn’t feel like putting in an appearance.”
“Kind of like his emissary?”
He nodded, tightening his hold on me. “Don’t let go, okay?”
“Are you kidding? Let me guess, in this scenario, we’re the fools they’re feasting on.”
He ignored my nervous wisecrack. “Seriously, Edie. Not even if you think I’m on your other side. You might feel someone take your hand, it might even look like me, but don’t let it lead you away.”
I swallowed hard. “I promise.”
By the time we got to the heavy double doors, I’d probably put bruises on Kian’s fingers, but he didn’t seem to mind. “This is the ballroom. I can’t even begin to explain what it’s like inside, so it’s easier if we just go in and get this over with.”
“Confidence, I am now full of it.”
In response he kissed my forehead. “Stay close. I’ve survived two of these, one entirely on my own. So if you stick with me and don’t draw attention, you should be fine.” With that, he held out a hand. “The invitation. You brought it, right?”
“Yeah, here you go.”
While I watched, partly in fear and the rest fascination, he set the vellum against the wood, which rippled like flesh, then a mouth appeared, grotesquely misshapen, and the thing devoured our card. Only when every morsel was gone did the doors pop open. As requested, I was Kian’s shadow as we slipped inside. It scared the crap out of me when the whatever-that-was made a … digestive sort of noise as it shut.
“Did we just get eaten?” I whispered.
“It’s one of the Harbinger’s parlor tricks.”
“Then I’d hate to see a real application of his power.”
I was trying to be funny, but Kian nodded. “You really would.”
At first the ballroom was too dim for me to get a sense of what I was seeing. My eyes tried to adjust to the darkness but a blinding strobe flooded the room at random intervals, leaving me purblind. Audio tried to compensate but the room was full of echoes and reverb, disorienting me further, so I could only parse the scene in staccato flashes, imprinted in an inverted color spectrum, so I felt like I’d fallen into negative space.
That went on for what felt forever. It got hard to breathe for the panic tightening my chest, and I held on to Kian as hard as I could. Thin cool fingertips trailed over my other hand, but I knew it wasn’t him. I jerked away and strained to see exactly what was touching me. The creature twirled away in a flutter of inky hair, ragged clothes, and the shine of too bright eyes, like a cat in the dark.
“What was that?”
“Harmless. Mostly.” That didn’t really answer the question.
But before I could press the point, the shadows dispersed to normal levels and the strobe stopped. I blinked, repeatedly, adapting to the candlelight. It was hard to tell what was costume and what was reality, though even if something seemed human, it probably wasn’t. The strong smell I’d noticed outside intensified; it reminded me of a deep, dark wood, dense with trees and ancient things, unknowable but earthy too. It also held the essence of a storm—lightning splitting the sky, ozone, dirt, and decay—wrapped around a desiccated bone.
Then the Harbinger appeared before us, defying gravity in a slow drift to a dais I hadn’t noticed. This time, he was dressed as a mad harlequin, complete with belled hat and pointy shoes. His hair hung in multiple braids, each adorned with some crazy icon. The cat statue had vanished, and in its place, he carried a carved walking stick topped with a dog head.
I pressed closer to Kian, who was watching the show. He wrapped an arm around me in response but he never looked away from our benefactor. A show of respect, maybe. I followed his example and waited to see what would happen next.
“All of my esteemed guests have now arrived,” the Harbinger said. “Which means the entertainment can proceed.” That prompted a wave of applause, and like any good showman, our host paused to permit the revelry. He went on, “There stands among us one who is willing to die for love.”
Hysterical laughter echoed throughout the room, gaining volume until it assaulted my eardrums in maniacal crescendo. Four creatures slunk toward us, until it was all I could do not to slap them away. I’d been told not to draw attention to myself, and starting a fight would definitely qualify. My eyes couldn’t decide what they looked like—sometimes they were arachnid and other times they were feathered head to toe like avian demons. There was probably some awful story to explain their creation, but I was more concerned with keeping them from touching me.
I’d learned my lesson with the thin man.
The Harbinger continued the show, once the derision subsided. “I think we can all agree that such a one must be honored tonight, for there is no greater fool than that.”
“Crown the king!” came the thunderous response.
What the hell. I remembered something, but so many hands were already pulling at Kian, tugging him away from me and toward the dais. The chant gained ground, coming in hisses and moans, ecstatic screams and hoarse croaks. Kian tried to fight the mob’s will, but our hold broke and then there was only the endless tide of monsters surrounding me.
I went up on tiptoes to watch him being shoved upward until he was standing at the Harbinger’s side. He clapped Kian on the shoulder. “Tonight, you are king and I, your fool.” To the audience, he added, “Behold your liege, the Lord of Misrule.”
Four pairs of hands settled on my shoulders, keeping me from moving toward the stage. I tried to shake them off, but the more I struggled, the less it seemed worth it. My mind went strange, fuzzy and indistinct. The scent of cut flowers filled my head and I relaxed. Suddenly, this seemed like the best party I’d ever attended.
“Kian is really hot,” I told one of the shadows nearby.
It drew me close with a whisper I didn’t catch. Seems really important. I should—
“What would you have me do, sire?” The Harbinger broke the spell, and something slithered away from me with a frustrated snarl.
But I was shaky as hell, like I’d gone days without eating, and my mouth was dry as a bone. When I touched my lips with trembling fingertips, they felt like leather. How long have I been here?
“I led the procession, like you wanted,” Kian said. What? I don’t remember that at all. “Now I need to find Edie.”
“Ah, yes. Your beloved queen. Go to her, then. I’m certain sure she’s unharmed.”
I suspected his definition and mine were much different. The crowd gave way, letting me meet Kian halfway. He wrapped his arms around me, and I smelled blood on him. His shirt was stained dark with it, and his beautiful face bore streaks of grime. When he lifted a hand to touch my cheek, I saw that his knuckles were scraped raw.
Damn. I didn’t even know what to ask.
He beat me to it, swearing viciously. “Something fed on you.”
I stared up at him, confused. “Are you sure?”
Reflexively I flinched when he touched a sore spot on my neck. “Yeah. Right here.”
That was when I realized I wasn’t wearing my coat … or the dress I had on before. But sadly, starting with that lost time, my Feast of Fools troubles had only just begun.
DEATH MATCHES ARE NOT PARTY GAMES
A smoothly sinister voice spoke from behind me. “Introduce us.”
Kian kept his arm around me as we turned. I still hadn’t recovered from realizing I couldn’t remember what happened; it was too soon for another complication, but from Kian’s expression, I didn’t have a choice. The person who’d addressed us, well, he was radiant. There was simply no other word. Garbed in shades of bronze
and gold, he should’ve looked tawdry, gaudy even, but instead he radiated an aura of majesty. I fidgeted, as if I were staring into the sun.
Unlike the Harbinger, I had no problem focusing on these princely features. Everything about him was beautiful, perfectly sculpted. Hollywood would instantly plaster his face all over billboards and make him model underwear, if they ever saw him. But this creature also radiated an uncomfortable heat. Sweat broke out on my forehead and beneath my armpits the longer he looked at me without speaking.
Finally Kian said, “This is Edie.”
I wasn’t sure if that was the best move, but unless they were asking for your head on a stick, maybe it was best to be polite? Somehow I managed a sickly smile. It made my cheeks feel swollen and my lips felt like they might crack. My throat was so dry I could hardly swallow.
“You need to take better care of her.” So far the creature hadn’t addressed me.
I was mesmerized by the inhuman spikes of hair that somehow looked more like precious metal. Even his eyes were golden. As if reading my mind, he swiveled his head in my direction, reminiscent of a hunting hawk. The intensity of that stare rocked me back a step.
“She’s protected,” Kian replied.
A graceful gesture, indicating disbelief. “And you trust her to that one?”
I followed his gaze to the Harbinger, spinning madly across the room, for no reason I could discern. It did seem like a bad bargain, but if there had been anyone more powerful, who wasn’t also part of the game, Kian would’ve approached him instead. Sparks of light prickled in my field of vision, giving the creature before me an odd ambient glow.
“Do you know who I am?” His voice sounded strange.
“Dwyer.” I rasped out my best guess. “Formerly known by many names, most of whom were sun gods.”
The resultant smile was blinding. “I see why you treasure her,” he said to Kian. When he turned to me again, his face fell like sunset, darkening, threaded with orange and scarlet, bright notes amid the shadows. “Mark me. I will destroy you.” He might’ve been commenting on the weather. There was no malice, no hostility, and that made it worse.