30. Jet #2
At least there’s a split second where he looks afraid. At least there’s that heartbeat of ‘oh fuck’ on his face. Because he knows I’ll do it. He knows if it weren’t for his guard, he wouldn’t be walking out of here like he is.
The door closes behind them. I throw the poker onto the stone hearth. It clangs as I curse loudly.
I should never have left her. It was fucking stupid to leave her alone even for a single fucking minute.
“Fuck!”
My hands are fists as I cross the room to put that damned costume on like this is some sort of fucking game.
I see the diary again and pick it up, flatten out the page Amal was looking at.
I look at it, at the drawing. It’s a full page of thorny vines and roses intertwined and tangled.
A small bird is impaled on one of the thorns.
“Jet,” my brother’s voice comes following a knock and then opening of the door.
I close the notebook and turn to him.
He walks inside and looks around. I answer his unasked question.
“They took her.”
“What do you mean they took her?” He enters and closes the door.
“Shit. Why did I fucking leave her. Fuck!”
“Keep it together. Where did they take her?”
“They’re preparing her, Robertson’s words, not mine, obviously because I don’t talk like a fucking asshole.”
“Preparing her as in for the masquerade,” Sev says.
I nod.
“Did they say when you’d see her?”
“At that damned ball.”
“Okay, well, get fucking dressed and let’s go then. Senna just told me the contract will be ready tonight so we can get the hell out of here.”
“Seems too good to be true, doesn’t it? Too easy.”
Sev studies me, eyes narrow. He nods once. He knows it too, but I read his warning in his silence. They knew the moment Amal was alone. They knew I wasn’t here to protect her. There’s either a camera or a bug and they’re watching and or listening to every word we say.
“Let’s get ready then, brother,” I say, picking up my costume, wondering if they watched us fuck in the shower too. If every square inch is bugged. Probably.
“I guess we’re bottom of the barrel,” Sev says, picking up my mask. “I have the same.”
“I could give a fuck. You?”
He grins, pats my back as we walk to the door. “I don’t trust this,” he mutters whoever is listening can’t hear.
“Me either.”
“I saw boats coming and going with guests,” he says quietly once we reach the door.
I glance at him, understanding his meaning. If we get the chance, we need to get off this island on our own, contract or not. “I’ll knock on your door soon as I’m dressed.”
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”
I dress quickly as I think. If I get the chance, I will get us off this island.
If there’s any trouble, I vow to at least get Amal and Sev off.
I glance at our things. I don’t care about anything of mine and I know for a fact Amal would leave everything behind except this diary, so, although I don’t want to damage it any more than it already is, I bend it and shove it into the pocket of my slacks then head out the door to Sev’s room, mask in hand.
Sev is pulling on the simple black military style jacket.
“We’re cannon food I guess,” he says. “Think it’s a step up from serving staff?”
“A step down,” I say as a gong sounds somewhere in the castle. It’s been going off for a while now at about fifteen-minute intervals. “Ready?”
Sev nods and we head down the hall to the part of the castle where I’d seen all the activity earlier.
Soon, we start to hear the first sounds of people.
Music from a string quartet carries up as we near the front entrance where the ancient doors stand open.
Guests enter beneath large umbrellas carried over their heads by staff who are dressed in more decorative uniforms than the costumes Sev and I wear.
Women drift past in opulent gowns, each more elaborate than the last, the men all in black, most wearing ceremonial cloaks.
The women’s masks are creations made of lace, some simply covering the eyes, others whole faces.
The men, however, wear dark, sinister masks concealing their identities completely.
Animal faces pass, demons and saints, plague doctors and elephant men. Not one walks by us without openly staring at us their attention making it clear we are not guests. We are outsiders. And if there’s one thing The Society does not like, it’s outsiders.
Sev and I exchange a glance. I’m sure he’s thinking the same thing but neither he nor I give a fuck.
Lamps light the road that leads up to the castle and Range Rovers much like the ones we took from the airport deposit the guests at the foot of the red carpet. I make a mental note of just how many are in the procession. Could we get lost in the crowd? Unlikely but I’m an optimist.
The castle’s interior is transformed too, the gothic darkness of earlier now lit up in warm golden light. Music grows louder as we near the great hall where guests loiter just outside waiting to make their entrance.
We make our way into the great hall where the sound of the string quartet grows louder but still remains subtle enough that it’s background noise to buffer conversation, offering privacy as well as art.
It is beautiful and maybe it’s just the setting, the ancient castle, maybe it’s the constant storm and furious sea surrounding the island, but there’s a darkness here that has nothing to do with the night.