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“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 … stunning. Why are you standing out here? Master Blackthorne requested you play piano this evening, did he not?”
“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.
“Acherontia atropos.”
The deep, rich sound in my ear sends a flutter through my chest, mirroring that of the moths’ wings against the cage. My blood sizzles, and the air seems to grow thinner. I turn to find a tall, handsome figure rounding the cage from the other side.
Wearing a demi-mask, and a perfectly-tailored black brocade coat over a gray vest and white shirt beneath, Lucian looks both handsome and diabolically wicked, like something out of a gothic novel. “It’s named after Archeron, the river of pain and sorrows, and atropos, eldest of three fates who cut the thread of life. More commonly known as the death’s-head hawkmoth,” he continues, and my cheeks flush at the sight of him. The mask completely covers the scarred half of his face, leaving only the too-handsome side of him exposed. “People once believed they were an evil omen.” He runs his fingers along the outside of the cage. “Two moths were discovered in the bedchamber of Mad King George the Third during a bout of psychosis. It’s said the incessant squealing sounds they made plagued on his weakened mind.”
“And you keep them in beautiful cages as pets.”
“I appreciate things that others tend to fear and cast off as evil.”
Stepping to the side, he lifts one of the candles from a cluster on a nearby table and holds it up to the cage. The moths flutter and climb the spindles of the cage toward the flickering light.
“Fascinating, isn’t it?” he asks, keeping the candle just far enough away so as not to harm the insects inside. “The way they flock to torment. Death. A fatal attraction.”
“Can you blame them? Fire is warm and inviting.”
“How tragic, to crave the very thing that can destroy you. If I opened this cage, we’d watch them burn alive.”
“That’s … macabre when you put it that way.”
Twisting around, he sets the candle back down alongside the others and turns his attention back to me. “You chose this dress?” Beneath the shimmer of appreciation in his eyes lies a shadow of annoyance that mirrors the tone of his voice.
“You don’t like it?”
