Dance of the Red Death (Masque of the Red Death) Read Online Free PDF Page B

voice is equally soft.
    Will’s dark hair has fallen over his face, hiding his eyes.
    Without meaning to, I reach up and push his hair back.
    That breaks his trance, and with a sigh, he finally sets me on the floor, carefully avoiding any contact with my injured shoulder.
    Slowly, my eyes adjust to the dim light of the oil lamp sitting on a low table beside a faded velvet couch. The threadbare rug covers a large square of hardwood floor. It’s a dilapidated sitting room in a house that is sinking into a swamp, but at this moment, as I stand beside Will, it looks warm and inviting. Even though it shouldn’t.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    W ILL TURNS AWAY, LETTING HIS HAIR HIDE THE expression on his face. He gestures to the sofa. When I sit, it makes a terrible squealing sound.
    My mother would be proud of how calm I am pretending to be. What will I do if he apologizes? My palms begin to sweat. But I wait. I won’t make this easy for him.
    When he faces me again, his smile is sad, but there’s something in it that reminds me of the old flirtatious Will. Of a time when I spent entire days waiting to see him for a few moments as I entered the Debauchery Club.
    “It was too terrible, what I did.” He looks down at his hands. “You know I’m sorry, and I know it isn’t enough.”
    It’s only been days since he traded me to Malcontent in return for Henry and Elise. I understand why he did it. I would have done the same if my own brother had been taken by a madman. And that makes everything worse, because I can almost forgive him. Almost.
    Tears well up from my traitorous eyes. Why couldn’t he trust me to help him save the children? Why does it hurt so badly that he didn’t?
    He reaches out. I watch his hand, not sure whether I want to take it or slap it away. But it doesn’t matter, because he pulls back. Though I try to hold back my tears, the effort makes everything worse, and suddenly I’m sobbing.
    If Will held out his arms to me again, I might go into them. Afterward, I’d hate myself, but I’d let him comfort me. Instead, he looks away and lets me cry.
    Minutes pass. As I struggle to compose myself, he hands me the cleanest handkerchief I’ve ever seen. How did he keep it so impossibly white after everything we’ve been through? I force my eyes away from it, but rather than look at Will, I survey the room. Something about it, the faded wallpaper, or perhaps the sloped ceiling, speaks of comfort and whispered confidences.
    Will’s voice is light. “I learned a few things at the club. A young lady in distress will invariably need a handkerchief. I’ve had plenty ruined with mascara.”
    I blot at my eyes, but the square is unstained. We’re a long way from the Debauchery Club and the girl I was then.
    Finally, I look back at him. In the partial light his tattoos are dark against his pale skin. They swirl upward, disappearing into his hair.
    “You came here to be alone,” he says quietly.
    “So did you.” I say, just to prove to myself that I can still speak. I dab at my eyes one last time.
    “Our prisoner is down here, and I’m on watch until Elliott sends Thom to relieve me.” His eyes move toward the corridor, and then back to the sofa, to me.
    “I’m just going to sit here and read.” I hold up the journal. He knows what it is. He handed it to Malcontent right after giving me over, after all.
    “I’ll stay close, so I know that you’re safe.”
    I could spit out a thousand retorts to that, but I have no energy for accusations. And though I wanted to get away from everyone else, maybe I don’t want to be completely alone.
    He settles in a corner, nearly hidden by shadows, so I curl up at the end of the couch and open the journal. April needs answers. And maybe, while searching for information about the diseases, I can find some reassurance for myself.
    I pick up reading about the years when I was very young. The city was in chaos even back then, because the swamp was rising into the lower city,