Page 8 of The Devil In Blue
“I’d like to meet this count,” he said. “But how could I possibly know who he is with all these masks about?”
I didn’t answer him. Most of the time I knew that if he was asking a question, it was simply him thinking out loud.
“Ah, Father Eli,” Lucien said, heading over to talk to a man whose mask was raised to take a drink.
The name made my breath catch in my throat.
Father Eli had a face I’d never forget and it made my gut wrench. It was one no mask could cover. I gripped Lucien’s arm a little tighter, but luckily he was distracted by his surroundings that night and didn’t react. He stood in front of Father Eli, who wore a white robe with a gold collar. His white and gold mask sat on the wide brim of his hat while he sipped on wine. A clean-shaven face looked down at Lucien, his lips so full they looked too heavy for his plump face, caught in a perpetual frown.
Father Eli could not see my face, but I still felt a need to look down to hide it.
“Ahh, Baron,” he said, his voice booming and deep. His gaze flicked toward me and I felt small. Smaller than I had in a long time. With Lucien, I was obedient but never small. Father Eli made me feel like I was getting crushed under a giant boot. “This must be the lovely Briar.”
His eyes fell to my exposed chest and, unwilling to appear as meek as I felt, I held onto my composure with all my might and politely bowed my head.
“Father,” I greeted kindly.
The man had done nothing but care for me during my time at Southminster. I wasn’t sure why he made my skin crawl. Perhaps because I associated him with all the pain he forced me to work through when I was recovering from my trauma.
And the welts and the cold and the torment of his presence.
“She’s become quite the educated young lady, Father,” Lucien said proudly. “You should hear her play. Her music is simply divine.”
“I do not doubt it. She always had great potential. We all knew she could not go to waste. Have you bled her recently?”
“After tonight. I wanted her energetic for the event.”
Thankfully, the two did not discuss me for long. They started a boring conversation. One I easily ignored as I continued to look around. I watched the dancers for a while, wishing I could be twirling with them, but unless Lucien agreed to join me, he was unlikely to allow me to indulge. And perhaps it was for the best. If I lost myself in the crowd, I might become overwhelmed.
All around me, the colors ranged in a variety of red, gold, and copper. There was some purple about and a few shades of autumn green, but it all fit the theme of Allhalloween, a fall holiday filled with earthy colors. But as the music picked up a little, the crowd of dancers suddenly parted, the two halves dividing like a flock of birds that just had a stone thrown through it. My eyes were drawn to the dramatic movement and traced the long red carpet on the floor to a giant, marble fireplace clear across the catacombs.
Standing near the orange fire was a man in the most terrifying costume I’d seen so far. He was broad-shouldered and tall with a long, tailored coat the color of midnight. Silver and black embroidery made thorned vines across the bottom and the hems of his slightly flared sleeves and even his shoulders. A thick collar stood behind his neck and folded over his chest, decorated with giant black feathers. On his face was a glossy black mask shaped like an elk skull with the finest detail etched into its gleaming surface.
I could not see his gaze, but somehow, I knew he was looking at me and it stopped my heart for a beat. On his hands were black leather gloves tipped with silver jewelry to mimic talons and in one hand he was holding a silver chalice. He was leaning against the hearth, booted ankles crossed, just staring. He could have passed for a statue, but just before the crowd of dancers married again in the center of the dance floor, his head canted ever so slightly.
I quickly diverted my attention, my cheeks flaming beneath my mask. I dared not look back, fearing what I would do if the crowds parted once more to reveal him to me.
Lucien and Father Eli were still talking about boring business affairs, so I continued to absorb the party. I did not try to look back at the fireplace, but my eyes made it there anyway after a slow scan of the room.
The man was gone.
I should have ignored the fact, but instead, I found my eyes surveying the crowds for him. He was horrifying. Most attendees had chosen the elegant, lovely route in terms of style, but he took elegance and turned it into a beautiful nightmare.
And I liked it.
If my demon in the dark was real, I imagined he would look like the man in the elk mask.
“Sweet,” a sensual voice said near my ear.
I whipped my head around to see a woman in a black gown standing beside me, close enough for me to smell the rose perfume behind her ears. She had a mask shaped like the face of a raven with real feathers covering it. What skin I could see was white as snow and a head of tight, silky curls the color of coal was piled neatly with a thin lock hanging over her shoulder. A pair of vivid blue eyes peered through the mask. In her hands were two glasses of wine.
“A lady should never be forced to endure the boring conversations of men talking money,” she said, her full, black lips slanting. “Come,” she said, holding a glass out to me. “Let us walk the room.”
I shook my head. “I should not leave my—”
“Nonsense,” she said over me, holding the other glass out to Lucien just when his attention turned to us. She stepped in close to him, tipping her chin up. “You would not mind, my lord, if I stole your lovely companion away, would you?”
Her voice was velvety and seductive. Though hesitant, Lucien nodded once, his half-covered expression seeming conflicted but he did not argue with her.
