Page 11 of The Devil In Blue
I shrugged my shoulders. “I had no interest.”
That part was true. While I enjoyed fashion, I had no need to choose my own.
When the woman held out a hand, I almost forgot to take it in greeting.
“The name is Lura,” she said, her smile persisting.
“I’m—”
“Briar. Yes, my sister told me.”
Sister? I took notice of her dark complexion again but brushed off the notion thinking perhaps they were adopted siblings and Lura didn’t say anything to clarify.
Picking a grape off the table, Lura slid it between her lush lips and sucked, her polished black nails like little claws. As she peered up at me, her black eyes almost seemed too dark to be real. When she bit into the grape, a small drip of juice trailed down her chin and her tongue darted out to catch it, but she never broke eye contact. In fact, she squinted like she was waiting for me to say or do something.
My gaze immediately raised over her head in search of Lucien. I hated that I was looking for him. The twisted security he provided made my gut turn, but I was becoming so anxious in his absence now.
“You nervous, love?” Lura said, pouting her lips.
“Not at all,” I lied.
“Just excited, then.” Suddenly, her hand jutted out to curl around my wrist. She raised it between us, her thumb pressing on the vein hard enough that I could feel the sharp prick her of nail. “Your pulse is rather fast.”
“Lura,” Naeve’s familiar tone slipped between us. I saw her waltzing in our direction with a handful of black cherries in one palm. She was chewing on one as she approached and flicked the stem over her shoulder just as Lura dropped my wrist. “You mustn’t frighten the girl. Elanor is watching.”
Lura rolled her big, round eyes and stole one of Naeve’s cherries, ripping it from the stem with her teeth.
“Elanor is always watching,” she sighed.
“And when Elanor is watching,heis watching.”
My pulse fluttered at the sound of that and suddenly my skin was cold like the autumn air had come rushing into the catacombs. As the two women giggled amongst each other and ate their cherries, I took another slow look at the crowds just as another song began to play. Some left the dance floor, allowing room for many more to take their place. Skirts swept across the floor. Feet pirouetted in all directions in perfect unison. The string instruments filled the hall with a beautiful melody… and yet, I was feeling chilled by something unseen.
Lura and Naeve stayed by my side for some time. They indulged in the extravagant foods set out for guests while I refrained, unwilling to unmask myself. Except for one time. I just couldn’t resist tasting one of the dark chocolate cherry pastries. They were bite-sized so, turning my back for a split second, I lifted my mask just enough to slip the pastry into my mouth without anyone noticing.
Except for one person…
My eyes fell upon a woman in the crowd like she was a light in the darkness, only she was dressed in the deepest of black gowns. It was so black it almost looked like a void. She had the mask of a skeleton on her face, painted in white with black shadows and silver filigree on the outer edges. Long, straight black hair fell over her shoulders in perfectly combed locks. Big, puffed sleeves made her look broad whereas her corset tapered her waist to unbelievable narrowness. A high collar of black feathers sat around her long neck and, as if she was a wax sculpture, she stood there staring at me in the middle of the dance floor, unmoving.
Everyone around her seemed to avoid her like she had an invisible barrier around her.
I thought that maybe, like the other women in black, she would come to speak to me. Her attention certainly was fastened to me. Pale-blue eyes cut into me from twenty paces away and yet she did not approach.
I was getting uncomfortable under her scrutiny when she finally turned and glided through the crowd and out of sight. I was frozen, feeling the weight of a thousand gazes on me even though no one was even paying attention. Then I turned to see both Lura and Naeve had stopped talking and were staring at me.
“He’s seen you now, love,” Lura said. “He’ll want you to dance with him.”
“Who?” I asked.
Both girls retreated, arm in arm, their chins raised high as they lost themselves in the mobs of attendees.
“There you are,” a familiar voice said, drawing my attention.
Lucien stood behind me, his complexion a bit paler than I recalled it being moments ago. And, I couldn’t be sure with his face half covered, but I swore that there was a slight sheen of sweat on his skin.
I prepared to endure a mild scolding for walking off with strangers without him, but he had nothing for me.
The music changed again, encouraging a new dance. Looking at the beginning stance for the dance, I realized it was the Peros. It was a beautifully provocative piece. Not too many people included it at their gatherings for the intimate nature of it, but the fact that the masquerade was featuring it excited me. I listened to the haunting violins and shuddered, feeling a wonderful heat on my skin.
