Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 02 - Dark Carnival (17 page)

“Well, thanks then.  For
looking out for me.”

He seemed troubled, like
he wanted to say something, but struggled.  He set his beer down on the bar and
looked over his shoulder and then back down at the bar.  “The other day, when
Cee Cee heard about Nadia, she came to Miles’ right away.  Miles knew you’d be
alone, so he told me to go keep an eye on you.  But I didn’t.  I’m sorry for
that.  If I had been there, Sam wouldn’t have gotten near you.”

I considered how hard it
was for him to admit this. “It wasn’t your fault.  It turned out okay.  And I
know you were upset about Nadia—”

“Just take the apology,
okay?”

I nodded quietly and took
another sip of my beer.  Despite the crowded bar, it felt suddenly too quiet in
there.  Noah looked down at the bottle in his hand, and I didn’t know what else
to say to him.  He seemed too on edge for me to talk about what happened to
Nadia.  And small talk seemed silly at this point.

It was actually a relief
when Carrie nudged in between us and started flirting with Noah.  “Hi,” she
said to him.

“Hey,” he replied,
smiling, but avoiding eye contact.  Before Carrie could utter another word, Noah
excused himself.  “Have a good night, ladies.”  He motioned to the bar tender
who came over and took his money.  He then left the bar with a perplexed Carrie
staring after him.  I was sure he didn’t go far, choosing to blend in with the
crowd so he could watch over us without forcing awkward conversation. 

“Do you know that guy?”
she asked me.

“Not very well.  Hardly
at all, really.”

Carrie woke up the next morning with a hangover.  I
felt perfectly fine, physically anyway.  I was a bundle of nerves because the
ball was tomorrow night.  Miles wanted me to meet him at the convent for some
last minute training.  Other than that, I was free the rest of the day.

I was having breakfast
with Cee Cee when Carrie sloshed into the kitchen, holding her head, looking
slightly better than the zombie Noah had killed.  Cee Cee and I stifled a
laugh, but Carrie heard us anyway.

“Not funny!” she said in
a loud whisper and then whimpered.  She sat down with us and poured herself a
glass of orange juice from the pitcher in the middle of the table.

“I told you that you were
overdoing it,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” she
muttered, propping her head up with her fist.

Cee Cee laughed and got
up from the table.  She opened a cabinet over the stove and came back with a
small, white slip of paper.  She unfolded it and carefully tilted it over
Carrie’s orange juice.  A white, powdery substance poured out of the paper and
dissolved into the juice.

“Drink that.  It’ll make
you feel much better,” she said.

Carrie looked at it and
nervously bit her lip.  “Uh, what is it?  Some kind of Voodoo herb?”

Cee Cee laughed loudly.  “Girl,
that’s BC Powder!”  She laughed again.  “Voodoo herb,” she muttered to herself
and then laughed once more.

I laughed, too.  Carrie
chugged down the rest of her juice.  Later, she was feeling much better and
forced me to go to a parade.  This time, Cee Cee came with us.

They were the last of the
night, and the second I saw them at the end of the small line, my heart ached.  A
woman in a tattered coat and faded blue jeans held the hand of a little boy of
about six.  He wore a ski cap, but it was clear he had no hair on his head.  His
frail body seemed so small in the jacket that was about two sizes too big for
him.  The mother gently tried to push the boy toward us.  “No, momma,” the boy
whispered.

“Go on.  They won’t hurt
you,” she said softly.  The little boy looked up at me with fear but also with
great hope as he hesitantly walked up to us.

“My head hurts a lot.  Momma
said y’all can help it stop hurting,” he said, barely above a whisper.

“We’ll see what we can
do,” I said, smiling at him as I lifted my hand to touch his head.

Miles stopped me, gently
pulling back my arm.  He took a deep breath, looked at the mother and said,
“I’m sorry.  There’s nothing we can do.”

I turned to Miles, my
mouth agape.  “What?”

“Please, sir,” begged the
mother.  “I can pay—” she started, reaching into one of the tattered pockets of
her coat.

“It’s not money,” said
Miles.  “We cannot heal him.  God is calling him.”

“No!” said the mother,
trying to choke back tears.

“I’m terribly sorry,”
said Miles.

“Wait,” I said, becoming
angry.  “What about that old man who had cancer?  The one you healed a few
weeks ago?  Wasn’t God calling him?”

Miles ignored me and addressed
the mother again.  “I’m very sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”

“Oh, God!  Dear Lord!”
cried the woman, holding her young son to her.  In the corner of my eye, I saw
Sisters Wendy and Melanie coming our way.

“How do you know there’s
nothing we can do unless we try?” I pleaded of Miles, begging him to see
reason.

“God is calling him,” he
said softly to me.  “There’s nothing we can do.”

“But how do you
know
?”
I asked.  He glared at me, his eyes pleading with me to shut up and let this
woman on her way.  I stood up and went to the boy.  “Let me try,” I said.  Miles
stood up and stopped me, firmly grabbing my arm.

“Please, sir!  I’m
begging you!” cried the mother.  The sisters took a gentle hold of the mother,
pulling her away as she cried out to Miles to save her son.  The frightened boy
began to cry, too.  I saw the sisters trying to comfort her as they escorted
her out the door.

“What’s wrong with you?”
I asked Miles, jerking my arm back, angrier now than I had been in a long time.

“I said there was nothing
we could do.”

“I don’t understand!  Why
could you help that old man, but not this boy?  How do you know God is calling
this little kid but not the old man?”

Miles kept an even tone
to his voice as he answered me.  “I could see the guardians waiting for him.”

“Guardians?”

“The angels who will
carry him to the next life.  They wait for the dying.  They are always there
when a life is about to end.  As you become a stronger healer, you will begin
to see them, too.  They weren’t there when the old man was here.  He had more
to do in this life.”

“And that little boy
doesn’t have more to do?!”  I was becoming irate.

Miles shrugged sadly.  “It’s
not for me to decide.”

“But you could have
helped him!”

“Yes.  But we’re not
supposed to.”

“Does that really matter
at this point?  Who cares if you break a rule in the stupid paladin handbook?  You
can save a life!”

“You cannot go against
God’s rules.”

“What kind of god would
want this innocent boy to die?!”

“Not for me to decide,”
he repeated with that same even tone.  That made me angrier than anything.  I
punched the wall near me as hard as I could.  It hurt like hell, but I bit my
tongue to keep from crying out.  Miles gathered his things and headed toward
the door.  Before he left, he said over his shoulder, “However angry you are
with me right now, try to let it go.  You’ll have no room for emotions
tomorrow.  You need to be focused now more than ever.”  He walked out, leaving
me to my fury.

It was a long drive to the Grigori House.  I
couldn’t help but notice how good Noah looked in his tux and black-and-silver
eye mask which brought out his gray eyes.  He did not speak, but by his distant
look, I could tell he was troubled.

“So, what do you think of
my dress?” I asked, trying to make small talk, but it came out sounding more
trivial than I had intended.

“You look nice,” he
answered, not taking his eyes from the road.

“Thanks.  You look pretty
good, too.”

He said nothing, lost in
his own thoughts.  We drove the rest of the way in silence as the last sliver
of sun slipped beneath the distant gray clouds on the lake’s horizon.

When we arrived we found
ourselves at the end of a long line of cars.  Each vehicle took turns pulling
up to the grand entrance of the main house.  Tall, slender poplar trees lined the
pathway leading to the enormous dwelling whose exterior was mostly gray stone
with four gray marbled Corinthian columns; it was dark and beautiful with all
the windows glowing from the soft interior lights.  As I watched the guests
arrive, doors were opened for ladies as gentlemen handed their keys over to
masked valets who drove the vehicles to a large sectioned off lot about a
hundred yards from the house.  Each couple donned elaborate costumes with masks
and precious jewels.

“Look at all of them,” I
marveled, taking in the crowd of two hundred or so guests as we inched our way
to the entrance.  “Will they all turn into Dark Ones?”

“Yes.”

“Unless we get the mask.”
 I waited for him to agree with me, but he remained silent as we inched further
down the line until we were two cars away from the valets. 

“There’s a good chance we
won’t get that mask in time,” he said softly.  I turned to him, and his eyes
regarded me earnestly.  “You know that, right?”  I considered this and nodded.

We were now the next car
in line.  “Stay as close to me as possible the whole time,” he added.  “And if
anything happens to me—”

“—heal you,” I finished.

We pulled up to the
entrance, and Noah put his car in park.  I went to open my door, but he put a
gentle-but-firm hand on my arm.  I glanced back at him.  “Just run,” he said,
his eyes stern but pleading.  Before I could answer, my door opened, and one of
the masked valets reached out a hand to help me out.  Noah handed his spare key
to the other valet.

There was a long red
carpet lined with black velvet rope on either side, leading up to the grand
entrance of the manor, which loomed up three stories above us.  In any other
setting, it could be mistaken for a small fairytale castle, but we were far from
the sunny side of the fairytale.

The guests crowded each
side of the red carpet, but did not enter the house.  The valet took the car,
and then Noah came to me.  We joined the crowd on the right side of the carpet
and waited for the last of the guests to arrive.

“Why is everyone waiting
out here?” I whispered, starting to shiver in the cold February air.

“They’re waiting for the
King and Queen to arrive.”

“Well, when do they get
here?  I’m freezing.”

Noah took off his jacket
and hung it around my shoulders.  “Thanks,” I murmured.

He tilted his head up and
sniffed the air.  “They’ll be here soon.”   

“You can smell them?”

“No, but I can smell and
hear the horses getting closer.”

“Horses?”

The last car arrived, and
the couple exited their car, handing over the keys to one of the last
valets—most of the others had left, dwindling the workers to just two, who
waited at the head of the red carpet on the road side.  The chatter all around
us had been a steady murmur for the last fifteen minutes, but it soon grew to a
loud buzz as an air of excitement hit the crowd. 

That buzz grew louder
and, with it, applause that steadily built up from the left side of the carpet.
 The guests on our side craned their necks upward to see over the crowd.  Soon,
I saw a large, white carriage, pulled by four Arabian white horses, come into
view.  It looked like something out of a fairytale as the horses clopped up to
the red carpet, bringing the carriage to rest before the costumed guests.  A
deafening applause erupted, and laughter rang out into the twilight.

The two remaining valets
opened the carriage door.  They each held out a hand and each was greeted with
a long, delicate, arm that was swathed with a white glove.  The valets helped
the lady out of the carriage and onto the red carpet.  The applause grew
louder.  Next, the valets did the same for the only other figure in the
carriage.  Once the two were planted firmly on the carpet, the applause grew
impossibly louder, along with cheers and laughter as the valets drove the carriage
away.

The two figures were
dressed completely in white, from their feathered headdress and full-face
Venetian masks, all the way down to their shoes.  The lady’s dress was full
skirt, down to her ankles.  The material—which appeared to be silk, layered
with organza—puffed up around her and nearly covered her white slippers.  The
gentleman had on a sort of long, draped robe of the same material, which also
puffed up around him.  Each had a cloak and an elaborate white collar.

The king held his arm out
for his queen.  They linked arms and began their stroll down the red carpet,
waving to their guests, who bowed as they passed.  When the royal couple passed
in front of us, Noah nudged me to bow with him.

As soon as they entered
the mansion, the guests formed two lines, following them into the house and
then to the grand ballroom where the main celebration was to be held.

“Where are Miles and
Ruby?” I asked.

“They’re here.  They were
on the other side of the carpet, in the back,” said Noah.

I meant to keep an eye
out for them as soon as I entered the ballroom, but I was immediately
distracted by the radiance of the vast room.  Great golden columns stood as
sentinels in each corner.  A majestic, crystal chandelier hung suspended from a
stained glass ceiling latticed with golden slats to hold each panel of glass.  The
floor was white Italian marble.  In its center was a water fountain that could
rival those of Italy.  It was topped with golden cherubs, reaching upward
toward Heaven.

“Who’s their decorator?”
I whispered to Noah.  He ignored my quip and took me by the hand, leading me to
one side of yet another red carpet.  It seemed a repeat of the spectacle
outside.  Guests lined either side of the carpet which stretched from the
entrance of the ball room to the other side, where two royal thrones sat upon a
small stage.

I handed Noah his jacket
as the King and Queen strolled the carpet, waving to their subjects who once
again cheered and applauded.  The royal couple took their seats in their
thrones.  The only things missing were crowns, but they were soon brought out
by two masked attendants, each cradling a bejeweled coronet in their hands.  They
walked in synch down the carpet toward the King and Queen.  Behind them was a
man wearing a tuxedo and a black-and-white checkered mask that was made to look
like an angry pig.  The man grinned as the servants reached the King and Queen
and then kneeled, holding the crowns before them.

“Are the Grigori doing it
now?” I whispered to Noah.

“No,” he whispered back.  This
is all for show, just to lure everyone in.  They’re going to do their real
damage later.  But that guy in the pig mask is one of them.

“How do you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

“What about the King and
Queen?”

“I don’t think so.  Not
yet, but soon everyone in here will be, so keep your guard up.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,”
stated the man in the pig mask, “I present to you the Krewe of Grigori’s new
King and Queen, Edward and Anastasia LaBeaud!”  The crowd erupted as the King
and Queen arose, and the servants placed the crowns on their heads.  The couple
took their seats, and the servants left.

“Now, please enjoy the
evening!” said the man in the pig mask.  He signaled to the back corner of the
room where a string quartet had set up.  They began a lilting song as guests
broke off into couples and began to dance.

Noah turned to me, lifted
one of my hands and put one of his arms around my waist.  In one swift,
graceful step, he whisked us into the crowd, and we began to dance.  I hadn’t
danced ballroom-style since my class was forced to at my high school cotillion.
 This brought fresh memories of Lucas, who was my date then.  I quickly put him
out of my mind as I tried to concentrate on the steps, but it was easy, as Noah
was an excellent leader.

I noticed Miles and Ruby
dancing on the other side of the fountain from us.  Miles was handsome in his
tux and a half-faced gold mask that revealed only his mouth and chin.  Ruby
wore a lovely short, black dress made of Chantilly lace that puffed out at the
bottom.  Fittingly, she wore a half-faced black cat mask.  I nodded in that
direction and Noah took the hint.  He danced us closer to the fountain.

When we got closer to
Miles and Ruby, Noah said to them, “What have you found out?”

“Nothing yet.  Just keep
your eyes open,” said Miles.  “The two of you work the other side of the room.  We’ll
stay on this side.”

Noah and I danced and
chatted with the other guests for the better part of two hours before I
realized the crowd was thinning.  It was difficult to tell at first because
there were so many people, but the gaps in the crowd had been decreasing for
the past hour.

“Where’d everyone go?” I
asked.

“I noticed that, too.  And
Ruby and Miles are gone.”

“Do you think they’re in
trouble?”

He shook his head.  “But
we should look around a little more.”

We walked around the
ballroom, looking for anything suspicious.  I saw the man in the pig mask had
returned.  He was in one corner of the room, talking with one couple.  They
laughed as they sipped from their wine glasses.  After a few moments, he took
the lady by the hand and started to lead her away.  He motioned for her suitor
to follow.

Noah was behind me,
looking in the opposite direction.  I reached out for his hand and gently
pulled him along with me.

“Where are we going?”

“Pig Mask is taking that
couple somewhere,” I said.

We stayed far enough
behind them to keep out of their sight.  We followed them out of the ballroom,
through one of the large hallways that ran along either side of the grand
staircase in the main entrance.  We saw them round the corner into a large
kitchen with white-and-gold checkered flooring.  The light was off, but we
could see well enough from the light emanating from the hallway and the
moonlight pooling around the French door that led to the expansive back yard.  From
where we stood, I could see the lake in the distance through the matching
French window over the sink.  We peeked into the kitchen and watched as Pig
Mask led the couple through another doorway.  We kept our distance, but tried
to hurry to keep up with them.

Through the doorway was a
smaller hallway that had only two other doors—an open half bathroom on the
right and, at the end of the hall, a closed oak door.  We quietly went up to
the door.  Noah cocked his head, listening.  He put his finger to his lips.  I
nodded, and he turned the knob.

Inside was a wood-paneled
game room with a pool table in the center.  The only light in the room came
from a pair of dimly-lit sconces on the other side of the threshold where we
stood.  We quietly entered.  Noah closed the door behind us.

“Where did they go?” I
whispered.

Noah shrugged.

“Maybe there was a secret
door in the hall.”

He shook his head.  “I
can smell them.  They were in here.”

“They couldn’t have just
disappeared,” I said.

He started inspecting the
room, looking under the pool table and then feeling behind a shelf of CDs on
one of the walls.  The room was modest in size with the pool table the largest
item.  The carpet was soft and black and made a soft swishing sound as the hem
of my dress grazed across it.  I lifted a dart board from one wall, looking for
a secret lever or some other silly thing I had seen in a movie.  I was
beginning to feel foolish.  I put the dart board back in its place and looked
at the pool table again.

With an exasperated huff,
I shifted my weight to my left foot and noticed that, across the room, one side
of the wall didn’t quite match up to the other side.  The black vertical lines
of the wood paneling were too close together on one side.  When I shifted my
weight again, they were proportionate again.  “There’s something off here,” I
said softly, almost to myself.

“Off  how?”  He followed
my gaze.

I walked across the room
and, facing the wall, stuck out my hand to touch where it didn’t line up.  It
threw me off balance momentarily as my hand kept going forward where it should
have stopped on something solid.  I took another step and shifted my weight
again.

“What is it?” he asked.

I stepped forward again
and found myself
behind
one half of the wall.  To the right of me was a
very narrow secret hallway.  “Come see,” I said.  He joined me at the entrance
to the hallway.

“A secret passage?  It’s
like I’m stuck in a bad
Hardy Boys
story.”

“Or
Nancy Drew
,” I
added, as I started walking down the hall.

He gently grabbed my arm.
 “Wait.  Let me go first.”  I stopped and, before he took another step, he
sniffed the air and cocked his head, straining to hear.  Satisfied, he
cautiously began to move forward.  I followed closely behind.

The further we went, the
darker it got, until it seemed as though there was a thick curtain of black
velvet before me.  I stopped short and reached out on either side of me, but
only felt unoccupied space.  I was quickly becoming disoriented, even though I
could still hear Noah’s footsteps ahead of me.  “I can’t see a thing,” I
whispered.  I heard him turn around and come back for me.  He delicately
grabbed my hand and led me through the darkness.