Page 85 of Feast of Fools
I lunge for the knife. “No, you will not, Tinny.”
“Let me do this!” she exclaims. “This is the closest I’ve ever felt to real pain. Even death would be a more palatable fate!”
I scoff, still trying to wrench the knife out of her hands. “You’re so dramatic.”
After a short game of tug and pull, I manage to wrestle the knife out of her grip and place it out of her reach. She crosses her arms and pouts, but something over my shoulder catches her attention, and her face immediately lifts into a wide, amused smile.
I turn to find a beaming Gemini strolling into the ballroom, Veil in tow. My nape prickles at the sight of her. The same faintknowingthrobs inside of me, right at the edge of my subconscious. I quickly push it away.
Now is not the time.
They’re both disheveled, caked in what looks like blood and dirt. Veil’s pale blue dress is ripped near the shoulder while Gemini’s shirt has disappeared altogether.
Their current state isn’t shocking—we’ve all seen anddonemuch worse. Still, I know I’ll find displeasure on Mercy’s and Wolfgang’s faces, even before I locate them standing just off the dance floor with Vorovsky.
Gemini whispers something in Veil’s ear, and her attention shifts to Constantine and me. She starts for our table while Gemini heads for the disapproving couple, a wide grin on his bloodied face.
“Vee-Vee, my darling,” Constantine chirps as Veil approaches.
She gives us a sheepish smile, uselessly dusting off her tattered dress before sitting by Constantine.
“Please tell me what kind of high jinks you and Gemini got into. I’m quite literallydyingfor some entertainment.”
As Veil fumbles over explaining whatever Gemini roped her into doing, I reach for a cloth napkin. Pouring a fresh glass of water from the carafe, I dip a corner of the cloth into the water and hand it to Veil. She blinks at me owlishly, as if wondering why I’m handing her a napkin, but takes it from my grasp nonetheless.
“For the blood,” I say, tapping the corner of my mouth before flashing her a sardonic smile.
Realization dawns over her face, and her laugh hints of a timidity she’s obviously trying to conceal around us.
As she cleans herself up, Constantine presses her for more details, and I pretend to listen as I observe Gemini from the corner of my eye. He seems to be trying to pull Mercy away from Wolfgang.
I can only imagine what insults are flying out of her mouth as she appears to protest his efforts, but Gemini doesn’t balk, until finally, Mercy gives up the fight.
Veil has barely started her half-baked explanation about her current physical state when Gemini drags Mercy up to our table.
“Time for the bouquet toss!” Gemini gleefully announces, and Mercy’s entire body recoils.
She rolls her eyes with exasperation, but says nothing.
A quiet shock of surprise leaves my lips. “How did Geminieverconvince you to do a bouquet toss?”
Mercy’s cheeks pinken, and she fumbles over her words, staring at the all-black bouquet. “I — it’s —”
“Never the mindhow,” Gemini says with sparkles in his eyes. Now that he’s closer, I notice the beginning of a purple bruise under his left eye. “Everyone, up! Let’s move to the center of the dance floor.”
“But—” Constantine begins to whine in protest, but Gemini cuts her off by yelling across the ballroom, “Sasha!”
Vorovsky looks over, and Gemini signals him to come over with overly enthusiastic hand waves.
“Carry Tinny in your arms, will you?” he asks, still yelling across the room, then turns to Constantine and winks.
I sigh. Gemini’s personality always grates on my nerves, but I stand to join Mercy, who wordlessly thanks me for my begrudging participation.
Seconds later, Vorovsky trots over, lifting Constantine into his arms. She laughs gleefully, one arm raised in the air while the other circles Vorovsky’s neck, her pink cast sticking straight out in front of her.
After pulling Veil up from her chair, followed by an unnecessary show of affection, Gemini leaves us to flutter around the ballroom and round up as many willing participants as possible. Eventually, a small crowd gathers. I stay on the outskirts, having no intention of catching the bouquet. Mercy stands awkwardly in front of us, and I don’t miss her subtle glances to Wolfgang, who is wordlessly cheering her on.
Shoulders start pushing against shoulders when Mercy turns her back to us, and little shrieks of excitement rise fromthe participants as the anticipation of the bouquet toss rises. Meanwhile, Vorovsky parades Constantine in front of the whole group, as if winding up for a race.
