The Moon Master's Ball (8 page)

A dusty old floorboard creaked, and Tilly
peered into the shadows. A pair of glimmering red eyes stared back
at her from the darkness. As the creature moved into the dim light,
a large, strong body with black, matted hair and yellow teeth that
looked sharp enough to gnaw through anything followed. The scar on
Tilly’s neck suddenly began to itch as she backed desperately
away.

There, directly in front of her, stood the
monster from her worst nightmares.

The rat had found Tilly again at last.

Fair maidens in fairy tales were constantly
fainting when horrible beasts caught them in their foul clutches.
Back when Tilly’s father had read the old tales to her, she
remembered looking up at him, scrunching her nose and saying, “
I
would never be like that, Daddy.
”

If only her father could see her now! She
had fainted dead away like a proper fair maiden after glimpsing the
dreadful creature that attacked her so many years ago.

Tilly groaned as she slowly woke up, her
eyes opening to slits. She wished she were still asleep, because no
monster and no mad Carlisle woman could invade blessed
unconsciousness. Hoping it had all been a dream, she forced her
eyes open wide and scanned her surroundings.

An old staircase led down to the dirty floor
of what Tilly assumed to be the basement. It was dark; the only
light came from a flickering lantern beside her feet. She shifted
her weight and tried to move her hands, but swiftly realized they
were bound firmly in place with a rough rope.

Lord Hollingberry had tried to convince
Tilly that something greater was taking place in Winslow, but she
hadn’t believed him. Now she was the prisoner of a woman who seemed
to have magic on her side. Though Tilly had never completely
believed in magic, she was quickly developing faith in it.

Moth-eaten rags in the corner of the
basement suddenly rippled, sending dust floating to the ground and
startling Tilly out of her thoughts. She remembered Mrs. Carlisle
telling the rat to escort her down to the basement. Was it still
down here with her?

Not wanting to see but unable to tear her
eyes away, Tilly watched the pile of old clothes with growing
anxiety. They shifted again before a mouse—a perfectly normal,
small mouse—came scuttling out from underneath.

She breathed a sigh of relief, struggled to
sit up with her back against the wall, and searched the area for a
way of escape. From what she could see by the dim light, there was
nothing in the basement of any use to her. Unable to believe that
she was actually tied up in a housekeeper’s basement, she closed
her eyes and blamed the Circus for all her misfortunes. That
horrible place had been haunting her ever since she was a child,
and Tilly hated it with every ounce of passion in her heart. It was
unjust that she should be here, tied up, and at a complete loss as
to why.

A scratching in a dark corner to her left
startled her. Tilly pretended not to notice. She focused on
wriggling her hands out of her bonds, determined not to be
distracted. If she could just loosen the knots—

“
Ooorian.”

Tilly froze.

“
Oooriaaann.”

The voice whispered again, sounding more
persistent. The scratching noise sounded again, and Tilly’s head
whirled towards it. Familiar glinting red eyes beamed out from the
darkness underneath the staircase. Tilly squirmed, trying to escape
her bonds faster.

The rat crept out from the shadows, staring
at the girl, who writhed desperately.

“Get away.” Tilly shifted awkwardly. When it
didn’t stop moving, she tried again. “Please,
stop!
”

To her dismay, the rat approached more
quickly. “
Stop it!
Just leave me alone!” She began to sob,
the long scar on her neck throbbing with horrible remembrance.
Still the rat continued until it was next to her bound hands. Then,
to Tilly’s increasing terror, it began to climb up her arm,
latching its long claws into the sleeve of her dress and proceeding
up to her shoulder.

“Get off me! Get
off me
!
” She
shook her shoulder, but the rat only coiled its thick, scaly tail
around her arm, balancing itself there. With maddening slowness,
the rat placed one paw on her cheek and the other on her head, its
sharp claws somehow not scratching her.

The rat leaned in, its black snout close to
her ear. Tilly shook uncontrollably, waiting for the creature to
kill her, to swipe its deadly claws across her throat and be done
with her.

But that blow never came. Instead, the rat
took a shuddery breath and whispered in her ear.

“
Help me!”

Even as the rat repeated its whispered plea,
there was suddenly a loud bang from above, as though someone had
opened the door to the house and let it swing to hit the wall. Two
voices began talking tensely, but Tilly couldn’t tell what they
were saying. The rat, still perched on her shoulder, appeared to
listen as well; but when the door at the top of the basement stairs
opened, it leapt down and dove into the darkness, its tail
following behind like a pale snake.

Two dark figures creaked down the stairs and
approached Tilly. “Are you all right?” one of them asked.

Tilly’s tears stopped flowing when she
realized who was speaking to her. “L—Lord Hollingberry?” She
sniffled.

“That’s right, love, that’s right.” As the
lantern’s light touched his face he smiled, warming Tilly to the
bone with his kindness. How could she have ever been upset with the
dear old man?

“’Ello, Tilly.” The person hovering behind
the lord spoke, and Tilly remembered there was someone else in the
room.

“Caroline?” She might have known the
innkeeper would be with him. Tilly leaned forward as Lord
Hollingberry untied her.

“Yes, dear.” Caroline offered her a motherly
smile.

“What . . . ?” Her eyes got blurry again
from tears, and Lord Hollingberry patted her back.

“It’s all right,” he soothed her. “I know
this is all a bit surprising. We really
were
going to choose
a better time to tell you, but circumstances being what they are .
. .” Lord Hollingberry’s voice faded away as he helped Tilly stand
up, groaning as he did so. “There, that’s better. Goodness me, I’m
not as young as I once was!” He began to hobble off towards the
stairs.

“Wait.” Tilly looked into the shadows
beneath the staircase where the rat had escaped. “There was a
rat.”

Caroline shot Lord Hollingberry a look. “So
you were right. They
do
have one.”

He shushed her as he scooped up the lantern
from the floor and held it towards the corner still shrouded in
darkness, where the rat had disappeared. Caroline wrapped a
protective arm around Tilly’s shoulder when in the gloom of the
flickering lantern they saw the rat huddled with one paw over its
eyes. It suddenly looked so much smaller than before, so much less
terrifying. It was chanting over and over again something Tilly
couldn’t quite understand.

“
Ooooriann . . . Ooooriann . . .
Ooooriann . . .”

Lord Hollingberry looked back at Caroline.
“I think we have a convert.”

Caroline nodded. “Do you suppose it’s the
one that was in your parlor?” she asked.

“No,” Lord Hollingberry said firmly.
“Whatever was in the parlor was far fouler than this fellow and
cloaked in magic.”

“What is it exactly?” Tilly asked, nervously
moving closer to Caroline.

Lord Hollingberry didn’t look at her as he
responded. “It’s a Dorian Rat.”

“But what
is
a Dorian Rat?”

Caroline looked at the rat and then at
Tilly. “They were given the name Dorian Rat because it sounds as
though they are always whispering the name ‘Dorian.’ They serve
anyone brave enough to capture them, and they can shape-shift.
Never seen one do it, though.”

Tilly looked back at the rat and suddenly
felt pity for it. Perhaps it wasn’t the same one that had given her
the scar so many years ago. “Can you help it?”

“Of course, dear! And we will. But we need
to take care of you right now.” Caroline herded Tilly to the stairs
and started up. “Bring the Dorian Rat,” she called over her
shoulder to Lord Hollingberry. “After you take care of him, meet us
back at my place.”

“All right. I’ll see you in a bit, Tilly.
I’ll see you in a bit.”

As Lord Hollingberry hobbled off towards the
Dorian Rat, Tilly almost cautioned him against getting too close.
But then she reminded herself that Lord Hollingberry was so much
more than he seemed. If he could set her free from the Carlisle
women, then he could take care of a rat. Tilly and Caroline made
their way upstairs and into the main room of the Carlisle women’s
house.

“Where are they?” Tilly asked, avoiding a
dusty gray rocking chair. The place looked long deserted.

“Mrs. Carlisle and Drosselyn?” Caroline
asked. “They’ve gone. Don’t know where, but I’m sure we’ll run into
each other again before the night is over.” She opened the front
door and ushered Tilly outside.

They trudged across the street toward Apple
Tree Inn. “What I don’t understand,” said Tilly, “is how I mistook
that old shack for your inn.” She followed the innkeeper up the
steps.

“A simple masking spell, dear. Anyone
might’ve fallen for it.” The old woman bobbed inside her inn,
pulling Tilly along with her. “Come now. I have something to show
you.” She giggled like a schoolgirl and led the way behind the
counter to a small hallway. Tilly, who had never passed that
counter before, hesitantly followed, wondering what her friend
could possibly want to show her.

At the end of the hallway, Caroline bent
over and pulled up on two iron rings, revealing the basement below.
“Come along!” she called to Tilly as she began to thump gaily down
the stairs.

“I think I’ve had enough of basements for
one day,” Tilly groaned, but nevertheless followed the woman.

She should have known Caroline’s basement
would look nothing like Mrs. Carlisle’s. As Tilly stepped off the
last step, her boots touched floorboards of polished cherry wood. A
basket of ripe, red apples sat over in a dark corner beside a
glowing fire on the hearth. Several of the apples had rolled onto
the floor and warmed themselves in front of the fire, their scent
filling the room. A crystal chandelier suspended from the center of
the ceiling looked entirely out of place, but its pendants knocking
together caused a lovely chime to ring throughout the basement. It
was altogether a warm, comfortable arrangement.

But lovelier by far than the apples or the
fire or even the chiming chandelier was the gown displayed on a
dressmaker’s form in the center of the room.

With her hand over her mouth, Tilly walked
towards it, unable to resist its beauty. Folds of luxurious creamy
silk peeked out from beneath a frosty lavender overlay, and the
bodice was soft velvet of the same color. As she circled the dress,
Tilly saw shining silver buttons marching up the back of the dress
like little round soldiers.

“Like it?” Caroline asked, her voice
brimming with excitement.

“It’s beautiful!” Tilly fingered the velvet
and looked back at Caroline. “Whose is it?”

The innkeeper smiled. “It’s yours,
dear.”

Tilly stepped away from the dress as though
it were the plague. “What?” She looked sharply at her old
friend.

Caroline ambled over to a settee Tilly
hadn’t noticed before and sat down. “I believe now is the time for
some explanations.” She patted the cushion next to her and waited
for the girl to sit. “There is going to be a ball tonight, and you
must attend.” She spoke in a low voice as though they were planning
something devious. “The Moon Master’s Ball, to be exact.”