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Unmasking the Fallen Angel

Page 7

by Annee Jones

Beyond the historic district, the harbor lay dark beneath the rising moon. Fishing boats rocked against their moorings, their mast lights reflecting in the water.

I'd lived in Witch Harbor long enough to take much of its beauty for granted, but October always reminded me why people traveled so far to visit.

The town wore Halloween beautifully.

When we finally reached the Witch Harbor Grand, I understood why the masquerade had such a reputation.

The hotel rose above the street in a magnificent sweep of weathered stone, tall windows, and ornate iron balconies. Warm light spilled from the entrance, illuminating the broad steps and the elaborate arrangements of pumpkins, branches, and deep burgundy flowers flanking the doors.

Guests in formal costumes moved beneath the awning, their masks glittering in the light.

Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of polished wood, candle wax, and fresh flowers. Crystal chandeliers hung above marble floors, and an enormous staircase curved toward the upper level beneath oil portraits of stern-looking nineteenth-century gentlemen.

A woman in an elaborate raven costume swept past us, black feathers trailing from her shoulders. Two men dressed as eighteenth-century aristocrats stood near the staircase, laughing with a woman whose silver gown shimmered like moonlight.

Taryn took my arm.

"Tell me this wasn't worth getting dressed up for."

I surveyed the glittering crowd.

"Oh, it's definitely worth it."

We presented our invitations and followed the music toward the ballroom.

The moment we entered, I forgot about the inconvenience of crowded streets and the amount of time I'd spent getting ready.

The ballroom was breathtaking.

Hundreds of tiny lights glittered against the dark wood paneling, while enormous chandeliers scattered golden reflections across the polished dance floor. Black velvet draped the tall windows, framing glimpses of the harbor beyond. Deep red roses and autumn foliage overflowed from silver arrangements, and candles flickered along the tables surrounding the room.

A live band performed near the far wall, filling the ballroom with the rich sound of strings and a steady rhythm that drew couples onto the floor.

Everywhere I looked, masks concealed familiar faces and transformed ordinary people into creatures of legend.

A woman dressed as a moon goddess danced with a man in an elaborate demon costume. Near one of the windows, a masked gentleman with golden antlers leaned close to whisper something to his companion.

"There's Jenna," Taryn said, gesturing toward a woman in a sparkling emerald gown.

I squinted.

"Are you sure?"

"Almost. Unless there's another woman in Witch Harbor who owns those exact orange earrings."

Sure enough, beneath an elaborate green-and-gold mask, I recognized Jenna's familiar dark curls and bright accessories.

We exchanged waves across the crowd, but she was already being drawn toward the dance floor by a companion, and we continued exploring.

A waiter passed with a tray of champagne. Taryn accepted a glass while I chose sparkling water with lime. I wanted to enjoy every detail of the evening without worrying about feeling lightheaded in my heels.

We wandered toward one of the tall windows, where the view overlooked the dark harbor and the distant lights of boats moving along the shoreline.

"This is gorgeous," I said.

Taryn smiled over the rim of her glass. "I told you."

"I'm glad you convinced me to come."