Dance of the Red Death (Masque of the Red Death)

by Bethany Griffin

Elliott, his boots sinking into the muck, puts two fingers to the boy’s throat. But the boy is dead. The Red Death takes its victims quickly.

  “Let go,” he tells the girl. “Take cover behind the banister.” She won’t release the boy’s hand. In the long silence that follows, soft splashes sound below. Peering over the banister, I see the dark-green backs of great reptiles slithering toward us from every direction. Their wakes are like a starburst.

  Elliott scans the line of trees and sets his jaw grimly.

  The gunman fires again, shattering the window behind Elliott.

  “April!” Elliott shouts, but she’s already firing. My ears ring.

  Elliott pries the girl from the dead boy and shoves her up onto the sagging wooden stairs. Can crocodiles climb stairs?

  The girl lets out a low wail, and then Kent is there, pulling her up and handing Elliott a gun. Elliott stands tall. He raises his hand in a half salute, half wave, mocking whoever just shot at him and missed.

  “I can’t leave him,” the girl says, her voice clear in the sudden silence.

  “He’s dead,” Elliott says, his eyes on the swamp.

  “But—” Her gaze is frozen on the dead boy’s face. She’s straining against Kent’s grip. I know the broken look on her face all too well. April climbs down, stopping just above where Kent stands.

  “Stay here,” I say to the children. Ignoring the pain in my shoulder, I crawl across the last few feet of roof to where the house has fallen away.

  The broken timbers form a natural ladder, so at least I can climb down, without taking a leap like Elliott did. Will is standing at the first turn of the staircase. I move to pass him, but he puts his hand on my arm.

  The girl is a thin little waif, but even streaked with swamp grime, she is lovely. Though the white mask covers most of her face, her big grief-stricken eyes are visible.

  “Elliott, here.” I toss down my cloak, and he catches it with one hand. “Cover his face, and then get back up here!”

  He catches the cloak but doesn’t indicate he heard my request or the urgency in my voice. “Show yourself!” he calls. I’m near enough to see that his eyes give lie to his calm demeanor. He’s scanning every possible hiding place in the swamp. His finger caresses the trigger of the gun.

  April, now halfway down the staircase, has her own poised and ready. Will’s hand tightens on my arm, and Kent peers through his binoculars.

  “Whoever is out there isn’t stupid. He’s not going to reveal himself. Araby is right. Get to the roof—move!” Kent pushes the girl up the staircase.

  Elliott isn’t moving. It’s like he’s offering himself as a target.

  April lists to the side, putting most of her weight on the banister.

  No one else seems to realize how weak she is. My heart pounds in my ears. I try to call out, but my voice has faded to nothing.

  April’s musket clatters down the stairs half a second before she collapses.

  Elliott turns, and another gunshot tears across the swamp.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  I FINALLY FIND MY VOICE AND SCREAM. I LUNGE forward, but Will keeps me from diving down the stairs, holding me back from both April and Elliott. I’m not even sure who I’m trying to reach first.

  April is lying on the stairway in a faint, and the surprise on Elliott’s face would be comical if his cheek weren’t covered in blood.

  “Everyone get back to the airship,” Kent calls. “It just grazed him.”

  Elliott raises his sleeve to his face, and his eyes blaze.

  Will lifts April and carries her up the stairs. How will we hoist her up onto the roof?

  The girl raises her hand, perhaps to beg us not to leave her friend here for the crocodiles, but no one is paying attention. Kent climbs up, and Will hands April to him. He has Elise and Henry in tow.

  “Come with me,” I say to the girl. The look she gives me is far from grateful, but she obeys.

  As we climb to the roof, Kent drops an ax to Elliott. He chops at the stairs, kicking the rotted wood down into the water.

  Crocodiles swarm below, snapping at one another. The boy’s body has already disappeared. I pull the girl away from the edge so she can’t see, and then turn back in case Elliott needs help.

  He kicks a last chunk of rotten wood down, onto the frenzy of crocodiles.

  “I dare anyone, or anything, to try to climb up now.” He passes the ax back to Kent, just as another shot rings out.

  Kent screams, and the ax falls.

  “My hand,” he gasps.

  I’m reaching for him, but Will is already there.

  “It’s your wrist,” Will says. “It could be much worse.”

  Kent’s face is white, and he’s cradling his arm. It’s the first time I’ve seen him upset. “I have to be able to steer the ship.”

  By now Elliott has pulled himself up. He inspects Kent’s wrist. “Will’s right. We’ll clean and bandage it, and you’ll get us out of here. It’s going to be fine.”

  The sun is setting behind the two chimneys where the airship is tethered. The girl stops when she sees it, her mouth falling open.

  “You aren’t from here. You aren’t swamp dwellers.” She sounds relieved.

  “Of course not,” April snaps. She’s sitting right inside the doorway of the cabin, fully alert now, and she waves the girl inside. “Do we look like people who live in a swamp?” Her dress is a dirty, torn mess, but the way April holds herself, no one would think she is from anywhere but the city. The upper city.

  Outside, the boys prepare the ship to take off. Kent, cradling his wrist, snaps instructions that Will and Elliott hurry to follow.

  “We were going to the palace,” the girl says. She produces a heavy embossed invitation from some hidden pocket. “He said that we’d be safe there.”

  April reaches for the invitation, but then she must remember that this girl has been in contact with someone who just died of the Red Death, and she pulls her hand back.

  “You’re a long way from there,” April says.

  “We’d never left the city before,” the girl says in a whisper. “We weren’t even sure that it was real, the palace, and this party. . . .” The ruined dress that she is wearing was probably the finest thing she has ever owned.

  “Where did you get the invitation?” April asks.

  “They were being delivered in the city. People were killing each other for them . . . .” She stops speaking and looks up. Elliott stands in the doorway.

  “We’re taking off,” he says. “As soon as Kent allows Will to bandage his wrist.” The place where the bullet grazed his cheek is only a thin trickle of blood now. Turning to the girl, he asks, “When did the man start chasing you?”

  “This morning. We were trying to escape the swamp. But he kept shooting near our feet, forcing us deeper and deeper into it. Finally we saw the house and decided to try to make for it. ”

  Elliott stays in the doorway, turned so that he can see the edges of the roof. I can hear the children’s voices from the interior cabin. They’ve gone inside with Thom. Will pushes past Elliott to get a bandage, and April begins to stand, but I put my hand on her arm. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “This is what comes of mercy,” Elliott says, looking at Will. “The good reverend is drawing the most evil and cruel of our population to his side. It doesn’t bode well for anyone if he takes the city.”

  It also doesn’t bode well for Elliott, since Malcontent wants to kill him.

  Elliott doesn’t know that Malcontent is his father. I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before. I look down at April, but she shakes her head.

  She must know that I will tell him. I have to tell him. Eventually.

  His eyes fall on the girl, whose name, I realize, none of us have asked. “Is it safe to have her here?”

  He’s looking to me, hoping I read something useful about the Red Death in Father’s journal.

  “It spreads through air and fluids,” I say. “Just be careful. Keep
your masks on, don’t drink after her. . . .” I don’t really know how contagious the disease is. I hope I’m not endangering all of us.

  “I guess we’ll have to risk it.” He doesn’t sound happy. From the deck, Kent raises his hand to show Elliott that he’s stopped long enough for Will to bandage his wrist, and Elliott hurries out of the cabin to help.

  April moves to recline on a cot that’s been brought from the sleeping cabin. The rest of us settle ourselves around the table in the center of the room.

  As the ship begins to rise, Elliott and Kent stay outside, but Will stumbles into the cabin, his face pale. He busies himself folding several of the maps, and then passing around glasses and several bottles. He motions for Henry to help him, and the little boy happily retrieves a basket to help serve everyone.

  The anonymous girl is staring across the cabin at Will. Henry tries to get her attention to offer her a slice of bread, but she doesn’t acknowledge him. When Will glances up for a second, she blushes bright red.

  I glance at April, who is also watching the girl watch Will.

  “It didn’t take her long to forget her boyfriend,” I say under my breath. But my voice carries, and she hears.

  She gives me a defiant glare. “He was my brother.”

  I open my mouth, prepared to apologize, but she shakes her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed, beyond tears. I understand. I am the only one on this ship who can understand.

  April leans close to me and whispers, “I know you’re mad at Will . . . don’t seem to be speaking to him . . . but you could have him if you want. We both know it. Even Elliott knows it. Sometimes the rest of us just need to stare at him for a few minutes.”

  She gives me her evil smile, and I marvel at how badly she’s misjudged the situation. Will doesn’t want me. Maybe he used to, but now there’s too much guilt between us. And I have gained just enough self-worth not to fall for him again.

  The ship lurches a few times, and then it feels like we are free of the roof. I was close to convincing Elliott to return to the city before we heard the screams. But are we headed that way now? I stand to go out on deck, but Thom comes to the doorway of the small cabin and gestures for me to join him. Henry is curled up on one of the cots, and Elise looks up when we come in but quickly loses interest in us.

  “Miss April’s sicker than she knows,” he says without preamble. “I’ve seen a lot of people with the contagion. None of us know why some die and we don’t. At least we didn’t, until the reverend came.”

  His voice goes low and worshipful when he speaks of Malcontent.

  “The reverend? Why did you escape with us, if you think so well of him?” I watch his face closely.

  “I was afraid of the burning, the flooding. But no matter what he does, Malcontent is the only person without the disease who looks at me like he doesn’t care.”

  As if to prove his point, the sore across his cheek begins to ooze, and I have to force myself not to look away.

  “I’m telling you. You need to get Miss April back to the city.” When he says her name, he blushes deep red.

  “So there’s nothing to be done?” I ask. “People like her would come to your settlement, and they would always die?”

  “Not always,” he says softly. “The reverend chose to save some. He might save her. His daughter.”

  Malcontent did tell April that he could cure her. But I don’t trust him. Still, it’s an option if my own father can’t be found.

  “Thank you for telling me,” I say.

  “She doesn’t have much time, miss,” he says earnestly. And I know that he is speaking the truth.

  Henry follows me back into the main cabin and climbs onto my lap, pressing his face against my neck. Even in the weak light of a single lantern, I can see a new bruise at the base of April’s throat. I make sure Henry’s mask is secure, and then my own.

  She catches me and grimaces. Shame floods through me, especially after Thom just told me how he felt about the way we look at him. But I can’t help checking Henry’s mask a second time.

  “Does it feel terrible?” I ask.

  “Yes. It itches and I look . . .” She trails off. “I look worse every day,” she says finally. “You have your makeup bag. Maybe we can do something about it.” She takes her small mirror from the bag and winces at her reflection. “Let’s do you first. At least you’re still pretty.” Though I’m restless, I sit still as she pushes my hair back from my face, then gathers it in a bun at the base of my neck. “We need some feathers,” she mutters. I smile despite myself.

  The girl we rescued is watching us, her expression wistful. April may seem silly with her love of bright, sparkly things, but she got me through the aftermath of my own brother’s death. Even now, she can make me smile. Has this girl, staring at us so intently, ever had a friend? It’s hard to make them when everyone is dying.

  “Where did you live?” April asks. April only knows a few areas of the city, but it’s better to talk to the girl than to ignore her.

  “Wherever my brother could find a place,” the girl says. “Wherever we were together was home.”

  “What’s your name?” April asks.

  “Mina,” she answers, before she turns toward the wall. The conversation is over. We don’t say anything else to her.

  Henry has fallen asleep, so I lay him on the cot, tucking a blanket over him before I walk outside.

  The wind has picked up, though the sky is blessedly free of clouds. As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to flying like this.

  “So, where are we going?” I ask, looking from Elliott to Kent. I hold my breath. I won’t go to the prince’s palace. I’ll make them drop me off here, wherever we are. But I’m not sure how far I will get on my own.

  “Back to the city,” Elliott says. I wait for him to look at me, but instead he stares out over the wilderness beneath us. “My city needs me. My people need me.”

  “We can’t go in during daylight.” Kent smiles. He knows as well as I do that this is our best chance to save April. But then he furrows his brow. “They shot us down as we were leaving, and it was nearly dark. We’ll have to bring the ship in on a night with no moon. That’s five nights from now.”

  Five nights? April doesn’t have that kind of time. “We can’t wait—” I begin.

  “I’m going in now,” Elliott tells us. “I’m tired of waiting. Kent can set me down near the outskirts of the city. In five days, I’ll have the roof of the Debauchery Club ready to conceal the ship.”

  Kent nods. “I can put you down half a day’s walk from the city. You can be inside by lunchtime tomorrow.”

  “We’ll have everything ready,” I say.

  Elliott and Kent both turn to me. “You could wait with us. With April,” Kent says. “We’ll be back to the city before you know it.” He watches Elliott, as if looking for some sign indicating what Elliott wants me to do.

  Elliott’s voice is thoughtful. “It would be safer for me to go alone.”

  “You need me,” I say.

  He doesn’t ask why, or what I think my presence will accomplish. Elliott won’t find Father without me, but I’m not sure how to convince him of that.

  And I don’t have to, because he nods.

  Kent presses his lips together, and I’m certain that he doesn’t approve. Alone in the city for five nights with Elliott. The idea is . . . daunting. Elliott smiles at me. Not a friendly smile—a mocking, suggestive one. I’m not going back to the city simply to keep him company, and he needs to know that.

  “We have to find my father quickly so he can help April. Help all of us.”

  “You’ll find him,” Kent says. He, at least, is sincere in what he says.

  I look out, gripping the railing. We’re no longer over the swamp. Instead, we’re flying over neat squares of farmland. There are orchards and fields, farms, silos to store the grain. I point, amazed at how orderly and beautiful it is.

  Elliott laughs. “Where did you think the food ca
me from? We don’t grow it in the city.” Turning to Kent, he continues. “Take all of the gold. Buy whatever food you can. It must be getting scarce.”

  “The rising swamp threatens these farms as well,” Kent says. “They need better ways to drain the excess water.”

  “It all comes down to water,” Elliott muses. Then, to me, “We should give him the journal, in case something happens to us. Do you mind?”

  He’s asking my permission for something? Unbelievable.

  “Father would want him to read it,” I say. Father knows I wouldn’t really understand, and he made no secret that he hates Elliott.

  Kent takes it reverently. “I’ll read every word. And we’ll discuss when we are reunited. Elliott, find Dr. Worth and make sure he is safe. He is the key to everything.”

  Elliott’s slightly singed eyebrows draw together. He doesn’t like my father any more than my father likes him.

  “We’ll find him, and keep him alive, but it won’t be easy. Not with these circulating.” He hands Kent the pamphlet I’d picked up during our escape and tucked into the journal. “Is this Will’s work?”

  The wind picks up and I wish the paper would blow away, but of course Kent keeps a firm grip on it.

  “No,” I say, without meaning to. More than anything, I do not want that pamphlet to have anything to do with Will. He must have printed it after our friendship had begun. Another betrayal.

  “Will is the only one in the city who is this good,” Kent says reluctantly. His eyes shift over to me. “But, Araby, even if he printed this, it was still about survival. He ran the printing press for money to support himself and the children.”

  “Perhaps,” Elliott says. “Or maybe he came under the sway of a certain Reverend Malcontent. Maybe our Will had a little religious conversion?”

  Below us are apple orchards, rows upon rows of beautiful trees. I try to focus on the beauty of the scene, not the reality that Will spent his spare time printing pamphlets calling for my father’s death.

  Will once said that science had failed. Could he have been working for Malcontent? If that was the case, was letting the prisoner go a mistake at all? Now it seems even more sinister.