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Isadora
Present day …
I stare in the mirror, as Giulia pins the last curl in place with a clip adorned in crystals. My hair hangs in long, lazy curls over my shoulders, gleaming with whatever products she used to make it shine. Since I never bothered with prom, or any of the dances in school, I’ve really never had the opportunity to dress up this way, aside from for the few weddings Aunt Midge has dragged me to, but she was often the one to do my hair, and all I can say about her efforts is she tried.
The dress is not one I would’ve chosen myself. Long, black and vampy, it clings to my curves, and flares out past my knees. The obscene slit up the side feels almost too racy, but the woman at the boutique insisted I was the epitome of grace and elegance, in spite of my trepidations. Lace and jewels make up the bodice that emphasizes my breasts, while long sleeves cover my scars. The black, Swarovski rhinestone, Venetian mask punctuates what I’ve always been told are cat-like eyes, and the red lipstick plumps my already too-fat lips.
“My God, Isa. You look like a maleficent goddess.” The solemn expression on Giulia’s face belies the awe in her words. I’d believe it jealousy, for not having been invited to the masquerade, but she wouldn’t have gone through so much trouble, fussing over me, if that were the case. And that’s not what I’ve gathered of her personality so far.
“Is everything okay?”
In the mirror’s reflection, she frowns, before her gaze falls away, prompting me to turn around.
“Giulia?”
“You need to be careful around these men tonight. They’re not what they seem.” Before I can ask her more, she crosses the room and grabs the shoes set out for me, and when she returns, she lowers herself to the floor at my feet. “I don’t know why he would ask you to do this.”
“What is it about them that concerns you?”
Raising the hem of my dress, she slips the black stiletto heel over my foot, which fits snugly, followed by the other, then pushes upright again. “These are not just random guests he’s invited. They’re very powerful.”
I recall Lucian’s comment a while ago, about the men being important. I imagine a lot of important men come and go in this place, so what makes these so exceptionally u
“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Smiling, I take one step toward the bathroom to blot some of this obnoxious lipstick, but feel a tight grip of my arm.
“It’s not like that, Isa. These men are … dangerous.” A flicker of remorse dances across her face, and it’s then, I realize she’s trying not to divulge too much.
“How are they dangerous?”
“I can’t say much. I won’t, so don’t ask. But stay by Lucian’s side. And if one of these men try to proposition you, tell him your debt is with Lucian.”
“What?”
“Trust me.” Her fingers squeeze my arm, emphasizing the urgency in her eyes.
“Is this the secret group thing you told me about a while ago?”
“Yes. And no more questions.”
“Just one more. Please. Why did you go through so much trouble, making me look like this, if I’m to avoid drawing attention to myself?”
“Because Lucian demanded that I help you look elegant for the evening. But I’m afraid, even he couldn’t anticipate that you’d look like this.”
“Like what?”
“Food for the sharks.”
I have to remind myself not to wring my dress, as I stand outside the door of the atrium, palms sweating and trembling, while the clamor of voices on the other side tells me it’s a full house.
A couple walks toward me, arms linked, wearing masks, and evening attire that I imagine cost as much as this dress the woman at the boutique insisted I charge to Lucian’s credit card. The man’s stare through the holes in his mask lingers long after they pass, forcing me to turn away as I recall Giulia’s warning.
Damn this dress. The consultant, as she called herself, wouldn’t take no for an answer, when I insisted on something less flashy and … sexy. I’m certain it was the most expensive in the shop, as Lucian had apparently told her, before I arrived, to spare no expense. Even Makaio shifted uncomfortably, when I emerged from the dressing room wearing the thing.
“Breathe, Isa.” They’re just people. Human beings who sat on toilets sometime today looking as undignified as everyone else. It was a saying Aunt Midge used to have about the haughty tourists she encountered at the The Shoal on occasion: They shit in toilets like the rest of us. Crude, but it’s always put things into perspective for me. Aunt Midge was good for that, never letting others make her feel inferior.
“Isa? Is that you?” At the sound of Rand’s voice, I glance up to see him approaching in a black tuxedo, and catch the widening of his eyes through the mask. “Oh, my. You look … stu
“He did. I’m just … trying to settle my nerves.”
“Well, come on, then. I’m sure he’ll be very anxious to know you haven’t backed out on your promise.” He bends his arm toward me and jerks his head. “Shall we?”
“Of course.” Linking my arm in his, I take another long inhale and stand in the entrance of the atrium behind the couple who passed me moments ago.
Breath hitches in my throat as I take in the beauty of the room within. Lights have been dimmed enough that the hundreds of lit candles give the room a soft flicker and glow. The various-sized lanterns overhead are falling stars against the night sky, and the glow of lights winding through the vines only adds to the ambience. From the curved steel beams overhead, what look like birdcages hang over the crowd below, though it’s hard to make out what’s inside of them. Around the room stand a few more cages on pedestals, and though I can detect something moving within, I can’t identify what they are.
A small line forms where Makaio runs a metal detector over each guest, before checking what must be an invitation and allowing them to pass.
The man in front of us cranes his neck, looking back at me, and I catch the corner of his lips lift with a smile--the sight of which has me turning away to avoid eye contact. Thankfully, the masks do a fairly good job of concealing everyone’s identity. If not for his voice, I’d have never recognized Rand in the hallway.
It isn’t long before we reach Makaio, who waves us inside.
“Master Blackthorne would like you to start playing in about twenty minutes, or so. That’s when the orchestra is due for a break.” As soon as Rand says it, I notice the music beneath the din of laughter and conversation. A stage has been set up toward the back of the room, where a small orchestra sits, and beside them, the piano that I’ll be playing.
“Got it.” The scenery continues to lure my gaze, drawing my eyes toward the ceiling that I can see, now I’m inside the room, has been made to look like the glow of a flame overhead. Still, I can’t make out what’s in the cages, but the spectacle of it enthralls me so much, I don’t notice Rand is no longer beside me.
Curious, I cross the room, ignoring the unwanted stares of those I pass, both men and women, as I make my way toward one of the beautiful, gilded cages. It’s only when I’m up close that I can finally make out the dark creatures fluttering around inside. Large moths from the looks of it, and on their backs is a strange marking that resembles a skull.