The Red Masquerade.

“We are so accustomed to disguising ourselves to others that in the end we become disguised to ourselves.”
-Francois de La Rochefoucauld

***

Miranda turned to say something to Richard and saw that he wasn’t there. Only then did she realize she had no idea where she was.

She was standing on a patio attached to a house she didn’t recognize. It was night, and the tide was coming in on the beach below, and the fog was coming with it. She hugged her bare arms and retreated inside, closing the French doors behind her.

The lights were off, but the room was lit by a dozen grinning jack-o-lanterns on a table. That’s right, she thought, it’s Halloween. But where am I? And where is Richard?

Miranda circled the room, looking for anything familiar, trailing her fingers over the tops of tables and along the pattern of the wallpaper, but it was no good. She could not remember how she came to be in this house.

She found the door and went into the hall. There were voices coming from somewhere nearby, and music. She followed the sounds.

She started when she passed a mirror and saw what she was wearing. She looked herself up and down, taking in the purple dress, the red and gold embroidered shawl, the white party mask, and the silver tiara she wore on top of her head. She smoothed her hands over the fabric, wondering where the costume had come from, as she didn’t remember ever seeing it before.

She looked at the tiara. Am I princess, she thought, or a queen?

“Do you like it?” said a voice behind her. In the mirror she saw a tall man dressed all in red standing at her shoulder. He wore a red cape with a hood, and a mask of a skull over his face. She turned and threw her arms around him.

“Richard!” she said. “There you are. I was looking for you and—“

She stopped. The body of the man she was hugging was cold and rigid, like a statue. She backed away. The man in red nodded slightly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said. “I thought you were someone I knew.”

“I am,” said the man. “I am not, however, your husband.” He took her hand and brought it up as if to kiss it, though his mask prevented it. She shivered and took her hand back. It was cold.

“Is this your house?” she said.

“Yes,” said the stranger.

“Then I know this will sound strange,” said Miranda, “but could you tell me what’s going on? I really don’t remember how I got here.”

“That does not sound strange at all,” said the man. “You are here because you are my guest at tonight’s party. Which reminds me: It’s time we both got back. Shall we?”

He took her by the arm and led her down the hall. She followed, bewildered. He opened a door and the sound of voices and music poured in. They came to a great room decorated all in blue: blue walls, blue carpet, blue upholstery on the furniture, a pulsing arrangement of strange blue lights, and a blue crystal chandelier hanging over it all. The man in red closed the door behind them. The room was full of people in costumes and masks, a swirling mass of colors and voices. Miranda felt suddenly dizzy at the sight of it all and put a hand on the strange man’s arm for support, though he was unpleasant to touch

“Would you care for a drink?” said the stranger.

“No, thank you. Do you know if my husband is here? I’m afraid I don’t know what he’d be wearing, but—”

“I know exactly what he’s wearing, and I may even know where he is. Would you like for us to find him?”

Without waiting for an answer, he led her on. A troupe of faceless mummers marched past, and behind them a man in black with a wide-brimmed hat and a ghastly mask, and behind him a woman dressed as a cat, and then a soldier in full dress uniform, and then the Man in the Iron Mask, and on and on it went in a never-ending parade. Everything in the room seemed to spin and the music made her want to dance and dance and she had to stop herself from becoming lost in it.

“This is all so strange,” she said.

“But that shouldn’t bother you at all,” said the stranger. “It’s only Halloween.”

Miranda’s dress snagged on Poseidon’s trident and she had to slow down to keep from ripping it. “Are you sure Richard is here?” she asked.

“Very sure,” said the stranger. “I wouldn’t forget meeting a man like that.”

***

Richard sniffed the air and smoothed the wolf mask over his face. He counted his breaths and rolled his feet with each step to move quietly. He was hunting

There was a woman nearby. He could smell her. He could smell a great many things with the wolf mask on, thousand and thousands of distinctive, overlapping scents. Through the mask, colors looked brighter and objects appeared sharper and more distinct, and he could hear things too, so many sounds he had never even realized were there.

He’d left the main party downstairs. Miranda was out there somewhere, but he’d left her behind too, following the scent. The woman, whoever she was, had gone off alone, and Richard, curious, had followed her. The flickering faces of jack-o-lanterns were the only lights in the hallway, but it was enough for him to pick out her footprints in the dust. Such delicate little feet.

A sour smell wafted out of a doorway, distracting him. Curious, Richard looked and found a small room with a four-poster bed. A man dressed as a legionnaire, his mask torn and his costume covered in blood, lay on the bed, trying to stand but apparently lacking the strength. The comforter was soaked with blood too.

The soldier saw Richard and reached toward him. “Please help me,” he said.

Richard closed the door and walked away.

He followed the scent of the woman’s perfume down the hall. He came to a room that was all in yellow, and though it was a large room set up for the party there was no one here but the woman. She was wearing a gossamer white gown with some kind of elaborate headdress, and a white mask over her eyes.

“Are you the Big Bad Wolf?” she said. She was looking out the window. The glass was tinted red.

“I’m not that bad,” he said. “Are you lost?”

“No,” she said. “I came up here looking for something.”

“What’s that?” said Richard.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t remember. But the man in red said I’d find it here.”

Richard closed the distance between them one step at a time.

“I like your costume,” he said. “What are you supposed to be?”

“Dido, Queen of Carthage,” she said. “Isn’t it perfect? The man in red said that it suits me.”

“He was right,” said Richard. Now that he was closer he smelled what was under her perfume: fear, loneliness, regret, pride, and anger. His mouth watered.

“I think it suits me too,” she said. “But I don’t think I like it.”

“Why not?” said Richard.

She frowned, and the smell of regret became stronger. “You know what happened to Dido, don’t you?”

“No,” said Richard. He was very close now.

“Nothing good,” said the woman.

“Then it’s the part you were born for,” he said. And before she could scream, he grabbed her. He put his hand over her mouth and pushed her against the wall.

For a second he hesitated. And then he imagined that she was Miranda, and his hesitation went away.

***

Miranda was having trouble keeping up with the man in red. The crowd always parted for him but then it closed around her, and she was struggling against a sea of clowns, ghosts, devils, knights, lords, ladies, fairies, mermaids, and monsters. More than once she thought the mob would carry her away.

They’d left the Blue Room and passed through one similarly decked in green, and now he lead her on into a room of deep violet. Everywhere there was drinking and dancing and food and absolutely everyone wore a mask. The throbbing beat of the music unsettled Miranda, and she felt it was somehow pushing her back with every step she took.

A harlequin detached from the crowd and stood in her way. “Posso aiutarti?” he said. “Quale e il suo nome? Di dove sei?”

She tried to walk around him but several more masked men blocked her.

“She doesn’t understand you, Arlechinno,” said a man with a beaked mask and a loud voice.

“I was only trying to be polite,” said the harlequin. “Are you alone at the party, little dolcezza? Do you need a chaperone?”

“Move,” said Miranda, and the crowd burst into giggles.

“She’s not your type,” said a man in a bright red mask with a crocodile’s snout. “She wants Fanfarone. All women want Fanfarone.”

“Not Columbina!” said a voice in the crowd.

“Or Isabella!”

“Or me!”

More laughter. Miranda was ready to make a break for it when the man in red stepped into the knot of partygoers and scattered them. “Away, away,” he said. “This one is my guest.”

The masked men left in a hurry. The stranger nodded at Miranda. “Excuse them, please,” he said. “They are used to indulging themselves.”

“You left me behind,” she said.

“You did not keep up.”

“It’s not easy to run in this dress you know.”

“I know,” said the man. “You never did tell me if you liked it.”

“The costume?”

“Yes,” said the man. “I picked it out just for your, Miranda. I picked everyone’s costumes and I put a lot of thought into them. The only rules at my party are that you must come in costume and that you must keep your mask on at all times.”

“Wait a minute,” Miranda said. He was turning away, but she touched his sleeve to stop him. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I told you: I’m someone you know.”

“But who?” She peered into the eyes behind his mask. He stood up straight and raised his voice to be heard over the din of the crowd:

“’He was tall and gaunt, and shrouded from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his broad brow, with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with the scarlet horror.’”

He looked at her, as if waiting. Miranda shook her head. “I don’t understand?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said the man. “I am the Red Death.”

***

Richard had expected a struggle. In fact, he’d been looking forward to it. To his surprise, Dido threw her arms around him instead. He felt her nipples through the thin fabric of her costume.

“Finally,” she said. “What took you so long?”

“I just got here?” said Richard.

“But I’ve been looking for you all night,” she said. She kissed him under his mask and bit his lower lip. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for you forever. But it’s fine now, so long as you’re with me, and we’ll be together always. We will be together, won’t we?”

She smelled like fear and he heard her heartbeat accelerate, but he knew it was not him she was afraid of.

“You don’t have to answer,” she said. “Just love me. Please, love me.”

He squeezed her ass with both hands. This time when she tried to kiss him he pushed her away. This seemed to excite her, and when she tried yet again he put a hand on her throat and forced her to her knees. She moaned and rolled her eyes, sucking his fingers into her mouth.

I cannot possibly be this lucky, he thought.

She tugged down the straps of her dress, squeezing her tits and shaking them. “Does this please you?” she said.

He growled.

“I only want to please you,” she said, running fingers around her erect nipples. “I would do anything for you, my hero, my champion, my lover. Tell me what you want and it’s all yours.”

Definitely nuts, he thought. She licked one of her own nipples and winked at him. “You know I’m a queen, but tonight I’ll be your slave.”

He touched his mask, as if to remind himself it was there. Hers hid her eyes. For a second he wanted to turn and leave, to run away in fact, and go back and find Miranda and then leave this house altogether. But he remembered what the man in red told him about having a night to do what he wanted. All his life he never got to do what he wanted. He felt hunger gnawing inside, and he grabbed Dido by her hair. She moaned again.

“I want everything,” he said.

***

The Red Death bowed, sweeping his cape back. Miranda frowned.

“The Red Death?” she said. “You mean like the Poe story?”

“Very much so,” said the Red Death. “You recognize the motif, don’t you? You’ll find it all here: the colored rooms, the costumed guests, and the great black clock that tolls the hours. And me, of course.”

“It’s a strange idea for a party,” she said. “And you still haven’t told me anything. Who are you really? How did I get here? Where is my husband?”

“So many questions,” said the Red Death. “Why don’t you forget about all of that and enjoy yourself for a little while? You’re my guest, and I’d like for you to exercise your liberty as long as you’re here. Tonight I want you to do anything you want as long as it pleases you. I would like that very much.”

“What I really want right now is to find Richard and leave,” she said. She expected a rejoinder, but when she looked up the Red Death was gone. She turned around and around, but he’d vanished into the crowd.

“Oh hell,” she said.

Miranda looked up the stairs, and then back the way they’d come. She could not see anything in either direction through the wall of people. Well, she thought, Richard is probably looking for me too, so maybe I should just wait in one spot. She found an empty corner of a couch along the wall of the Violet Room and sat down. It was almost a minute before he realized what was going on around her.

She looked at the couple next to her on the couch and did a double take when she saw that the woman, who was naked except for a grass skirt, a lei, and a feathered mask, was giving a blowjob to a turbaned man whose silver mask covered his entire face. Her lips slid over his naked cock and her tongue lolled out of her mouth, licking around and around the head, but her eyes were on Miranda, watching her. When the woman saw Miranda watching back she winked.

A foot down the long couch was another couple, an angel with black wings bobbing her head up and down on a pharaoh’s cock, and next to them a woman naked except for a mask over her eyes was on all fours between two men.