For a moment, we sat there in a solemn silence. Sam turned a page in her cross-word puzzle booklet and would occasionally break concentration to look at the wall just ahead of her. I didn’t know why, but I assumed she tried to find words to break the tension in the room, but fell short. I don’t blame her. I can’t really imagine how much she’s seen and how much she’s lost while being under his control. I can’t let this continue. I’ve been told by Sam I have a knack to find anything now. If that’s the case, I’ll put it to good use. I have to do it for her, Sebastian, and anyone else that these freaks think they can easily control.
“Hey” Sam says suddenly.
“Hm?”
“You’ve been fidgeting with that pack of cigarettes for a while now.” She tilts her head in curiosity. “You conflicted on smoking now?”
I chuckle to myself. “Weird, I use to smoked but I finally kicked the addiction, and ever since I’ve been put in this terrible situation, I have a strong urge to do it again. Is that weird?”
“No. I’m sure that’s a reasonable thing to do after all this chaos you just went through. I took a couple of them myself, sorry.”
“It’s okay, I noticed half the pack was gone and remembered I only smoked one since we’ve been here. If it’s helping you cope more than me, then take as much as you need. Its okay.”
Without the slightest hesitation, Sam reaches over and snags the cigarettes with enthusiasm. It made me laugh internally, because Sam resembles that of a young woman just coming out of her goth phase in life. Although, she did tell me her age is well above one hundred. I couldn’t think of how long she could’ve been trapped behind that mirror, nor do I want to bring it up to her. She most likely lost quite a lot of people. To watch them grow old and to be forgotten by her family sounds like a nightmare. I couldn’t imagine seeing my brother, sister, and nephews age and wither away with nothing but confused indifference towards me for disappearing. No, focus. The powers at play isn’t anything for me to mess around with. Having my arm snapped like a twig by a big hulking giant is clearly a smidge of what they can really do. They’re strong and unpredictable, but I’ll find out how to beat them. I’ll find out how to get us and everyone else out of this-
*knock knock*
We both swing our heads to the door. “You expecting someone…?” Sam says in an alert way.
“No…” I responded. “Not at goddamn midnight…”. I slowly stand and ask who it was, but received silence. Whoever is behind that door, isn’t friendly.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
I approached the door cautiously. I reach for my side arm and position myself in a way so it wouldn’t be immediately seen if the door is broken into, or opened up. My heart steadily races, which in this particular situation, is more than warranted. Being unprepared for any super natural phenomenon is highly idiotic from this point on. I asked for their name again but sternly, and only finally got an answer.
“Masquerade” they said. A name like that most certainly justifies arming myself, especially when I hear a faint gasp coming from Sam. Turning and giving her a slight look of confusion, I ready my gun. Whoever it was, definitely holds some sort of weight in terms of danger if she gets worried.
“It’s okay…” she finally says. “Let him in.”
It definitely wasn’t the response I expected. I could barley bring myself to lower the gun, but if she says it’s okay, then maybe I should listen. No, I can’t do that. Its too dangerous. These kinds of people are dangerous and unpredictable. I creep slowly towards the door while keeping my weapon at waist length, placing it at the height of an average man’s stomach, just in case I need to incapacitate. You would think I’d learn that from the academy, but no, my own father taught me. Being paranoid or skeptical was an unfortunate tradition passed down in my family, more so the African-American community. Although it has saved me from protentional threats, the emotional and mental anguish that comes with it can’t be described. I couldn’t see a near future where we as a people can finally shed that mental disease, let alone leaving the cities that perpetuate it.
“…May I come in? I would only like to talk.” he says frankly.
I shake back to reality and open the door half way but with confidence. What I saw didn’t worry me too much, but it was definitely and odd sight. The person before me looked like a ghost. His skin was pale as the moon, body somewhat tall and lanky, blood red Iris and a heavy stench of blood radiated off of him. He grins and shows protruding fangs in such an uncomfortable way, I almost pulled the trigger out of sheer reaction. Even if Sam were to say he’s trustworthy, I couldn’t bring myself to let my guard down.
“Really? You couldn’t go five minutes without killing somebody? Take that face off, I’ve seen enough of those blood suckers for tonight.” I glance back to see her standing two feet behind me with her arms folder, carrying a scowling face. She didn’t acknowledge my confusion at all and continued to stare passed me.
“Oh, sorry. I sometimes forget how unpleasant it is to be around these people.” He slowly reaches up and grips his face in such an unfamiliar fashion, that it looked as though his skin was made of some loose leather. As he pulls it down, his body twist and contorts in a wildly manner. His skin turned from a ghostly white to an amber brown seamlessly. A dark blazer with complimentary slacks morphed flawlessly around his body. The tie he wore unfolded and shot forward from around his neck. It launched through the gap of the door and landed gracefully on the dinner table, all while changing into a red rabbit. Something that bizarre would certainly grab my attention, but I refocused my gaze to the man in my doorway. His face, or lack there-of, shot chills down my spine. It looked as though someone grafted a shiny red plastic mask within his skin. His demeanor was stern, yet poised.
“So, you’re Donovan, and you live…here” he says while casually walking past me. His movement showed no sign of aggression or disrespect. In actuality, he seemed to move with a sense of curiosity more than anything.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
“I already answer your question,” he responded but not looking at me. “My name is masquerade. I’ve been meaning to meet you for quite some time now.”
Sam intervenes quickly. “Why? Why are you here? Any sign of you showing your plastic face will always have problems coming afterwards.” She looks earnestly towards the rabbit on the table. “Or a red herring….”.
“I’m hosting my annual masquerade ball, and would love for you both to come. I know its been a while since my last one. Everyone important will be there to reconcile or began new business ventures.”
“…Who specifically though? You’re not just here to give out invitation…” she says scowling, arms still folded.
“Yes Samantha…I’m also devising a plan.” He walks slowly away and takes a seat in an arm chair nearby. “Mr. Plague will be there as well, and I have a plan.”
“Which is…?”
“I want to kill Mr. Plague.”
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