“What does it say?” Violet asked, standing on the last stair step with Pascal. I was too angry to say, so I handed over the crumpled wad of thick paper. Violet stared at it like I’d just handed her a tennis ball. She gave it back. “I can’t read.”
I froze for a second, startled. Violet couldn’t read? Pity stirred in my stomach. The kid had never had the chance to learn. Dub had found her living alone in a trapper’s houseboat, and there weren’t exactly schools and teachers living out in the swamps.
I told Violet what had been written inside the invitation, careful to keep my voice from betraying my reaction.
“What should we do?”
“I guess,” I said, “we’re going to a masquerade ball.”
A slow, feline grin spread across Violet’s face, flashing the tips of her fangs and giving me the willies. “Excellent.” She dashed up the stairs and stopped halfway to turn back. “Come. Pick a costume and mask. I have lots.”
I jogged up the steps and followed Violet to a room at the end of the hallway, opposite Sebastian’s door. She produced a key from a black shoestring around her neck and unlocked the door. A small lamp covered in a red scarf burned near the twin bed, its four posts hung with beads and scarves and masks. It was like stepping into Mardi Gras World. Every spare inch of wall space was covered with masks. Piles of gowns and costumes had been laid flat, stacked against the walls.
The light reflected off the sequins and beads and crystals, casting a rainbow of color on the ceiling. The effect was magical. “These are all yours?”
Violet set Pascal on the bed. “They are now. I collect these things.”
“Why?”
She stared at me as though she couldn’t understand the question, as though the answer was obvious. Then she began digging through piles of gorgeous creations and costumes. “The Arnaud ball is very formal. Each family has their own, and then on the last night of Mardi Gras, they have a council ball. You’ll need something to blend in. . no, not this one. . Ah. This is the one.”
Violet stood amid the pile, like a tiny dark fairy in a ring of jewels, and held a black satin gown trimmed in white. The bodice was strapless and contained hundreds of pearls and rhinestones, like stars in an inky sky. “It matches your tattoo and will look good with your hair. Like a domino. Black and white.”
She stomped over the discarded gowns, handed me her selection, and then stood in front of the wall, searching for just the right mask. I really didn’t care what she picked. I only wanted to get into Josephine’s house and get my friends to safety. But my hands stroked the smooth fabric and my heart leaped with. . anticipation. I suppose there was some girl in me after all, because I thought the gown was incredible.
“That one,” Violet said, pointing.
I followed the direction of Violet’s tiny finger to a shimmering white satin mask that tilted up at the corners and was trimmed with fuzzy little black feathers and rhinestones. It would just cover my eyes, brows, and the bridge of my nose.
I was tall enough to reach, so I lifted it down as Violet went to find her own costume. I thought about telling her to stay behind, but who was I to say that? I had no claim on Violet. The kid was her own person; she’d lived out in the swamp on her own for God knew how long. She’d do what she wanted, and it would probably offend her if I said anything to the contrary.
“Violet?” I said, removing my shirt and jeans to get into the gown.
“Hmm?”
“Are there schools in New 2?”
Her tiny shoulders shrugged, her back to me as she searched the pile. “The Novem has a school, but it’s only for their kids and kids with a lot of money. Not for us. There’s a woman who comes to the GD once a week to teach whoever wants to listen.”
Violet emerged from the clothes in a purple dress that came to midcalf, revealing her overly large black shoes and black-and-white-striped socks. She removed the mask on her head and picked one off a dresser topped with masks. It was purple and white to match the dress, and with her black bob, the outfit actually came together in a sort of punkified way. Fairy punk, I decided.
Seeing me struggle to zip the back of the ball gown, Violet spun me around to assist. It was snug, and it shoved my breasts up, creating cleavage where I usually didn’t have any. My bare shoulders and neck left me feeling a little vulnerable, but I could deal with it. The gown’s hem just covered the tips of my black boots, so I left them on and then pulled the mask over my face.
I immediately liked the feeling of being hidden. Of no one knowing who I was or what was wrong with me, though the hair would give me away. I wound it into a tight bun at the nape of my neck. Violet handed over a pair of clip-on chandelier earrings made of black stones and cubic zirconia. My neck was left bare; the earrings and the mask were decoration enough.
After locating a leather belt, I strapped the ????? blade to the outside of my upper thigh. It would smack against my leg, but the skirt was loose and flowing, so I had plenty of room to move.
“Perfect.”
As we hurried down the steps, I suddenly felt as though I was living in a dream. A dream where I floated down the steps of a grand old house, a dream where I was the beauty of the ball, and the night was mine to own.
The cold air outside only added to my exhilaration as we spilled onto the empty street in a wash of color and sound. The swish of our skirts. Violet’s delighted giggle. The sounds echoed all around us.
I shouldn’t enjoy the swirling material around my legs so much, or the breathless excitement that came from racing down an eerie, darkened road with old, decaying mansions all around me. Peering through the mask made me a different person, a confident version of myself. It made me beautiful, mysterious, and powerful, as though I belonged to the night and to the magic that existed here like no other place on earth. And it belonged to me.
I was winded by the time we reached St. Charles Avenue, just catching the trolley full of costumed tourists. Violet paid our fare; I hadn’t even thought beyond playing dress-up and rescuing our friends. At least one of us was prepared.
Talk was loud and cheerful as the car rolled toward the French Quarter, where we exited and fell into a quick stride, passing throngs of costumed people and regular folks as they made their way toward Royal Street for one of the nightly parades. Music wafted through the Quarter, mingling with revelry and clashing with the occasional tunes from clubs and bars.
The Arnaud house commanded the corner of Dauphine and Orleans Streets. It was three stories, with two balconies and lacy ironwork for railings. Ferns hung from the scrollwork and the tall windows were lit up from the inside, shadows passing by and classical music drifting from the house.
Violet and I stopped on the sidewalk opposite the house and watched as a group of masked women and men entered. Two butlers in formal attire stood sentry at the door. My hand gripped and fidgeted with the bent invitation. We’d arrived early, and in costume. And it looked like those were the only two things to our advantage. The real challenge waited inside.
“You ready?”
Violet slipped her tiny hand into mine and squeezed. She tipped her head up, her large eyes luminous even through the holes of the mask. “Yessss.”
Thirteen
THE FIRST FLOOR OF THE MANSION WAS FILLED WITH MASKED people, moving through rooms, distracting me in their colorful, sparkling gowns. Pockets of conversation and laughter were carried on the occasional breeze coming through the open windows and mingled with the soft string quartet that played in the ballroom on the second floor. I went up, following the music. The ball was breathtaking and surreal, as though I’d gone to another country hundreds of years in the past.
I wove through the throng of guests to the back of the house and the balcony that overlooked the vast
