Dance of the Red Death (Masque of the Red Death) by Bethany Griffin Read Free Book Online

being pulled back and forth between his two friends is more noble than what has happened to me. I’ve kissed both of them, after all.
    “April is my best friend. My priority is getting her to my father. Not flirting. Or romance. That sort of thing can wait.”
    April is pretending she can’t hear us, but I see the start of a tiny smile. She enjoys being the center of attention, even when it’s because she’s dying. My fear is cold and leaden in my stomach. Dying doesn’t seem real to her yet; the sores are little more than a nuisance. In a few weeks, it will be much, much worse. Maybe even sooner. We do not have time to stop at Prospero’s palace.
    “Do you believe the rumors?” I ask. “The ones that say Father had some sort of cure? That he threw it away the night Finn died?”
    “Partly. But I know he would never throw something so precious away. If he had a cure, he would have kept it. He would still have it.”
    Our eyes meet, and I feel a flutter of hope. Just because Father didn’t write about it doesn’t mean he never created it.
    Kent considers me, still grasping April’s hand. “In my experience, the only way to survive in this world is to find something to live for. For me, it was my inventions. For my father, it was perfecting these lenses that give me vision. For Elliott, it is power. Will hasn’t found that something yet, but I think he’s close.”
    “And what do you think it is?” My voice is harsher than it should be, given that last night I was so close to forgiving him.
    “Helping people. Helping the weak.”
    I was weak. But I’m not anymore.
    A splash from the swamp reminds us that we are all in danger. Kent turns to April. “The ship is almost ready to take off. I’ll need a few moments. . . .” I leave them alone and go to find Elliott.
    He’s at the prow of the ship, close to the wheel, watching the swamp, gun in hand. This is my last opportunity to convince him that there’s a chance for April and that she’s more important than the way he looks when he returns.
    Elliott knows what I’m going to say.
    “What if there’s nothing left?” he asks. “I’ve spent my life planning to save the city. What if there is nothing to save?”
    I step forward, so that there is no space between us. His gun rests on the rail of the ship, but I’m touching his other side.
    “What if you run away because you fear there is nothing left, and you discover later that people were waiting for you?”
    He pulls away, balancing the musket with one hand and running the other through his already-mussed hair.
    “The city is waiting,” I push on. “You’ll give them hope.”
    “That won’t save them from the Red Death or from Malcontent.”
    “We’ll find a way. Father didn’t stand up to Prospero, but he knows things. . . .” If I’m going to throw my lot in with Elliott, if I’m going to convince him that we can save the city together, it’s time to stop keeping secrets. I hold out the journal to him. “He wanted you to have this, remember? He didn’t know that I had already taken it. I’ve read most of it, and he has insights about the Red Death.” I take a deep breath and then plunge on. “He says the key is the water supply. In addition to the masks, we need clean water.”
    I can see Elliott’s brain working. “The poorer parts of the city have almost no clean water. Their wells are tainted with rising water from the swamp. But if we could evacuate the poor areas, there is plenty of room in the upper city. . . . Do you really think that I can give them hope?”
    He searches my face, and I resist the urge to look away from the intensity of it. He’s nearly convinced.
    “Elliott, you have to see this through.”
    “I never meant not to. Prospero, I had a plan for. And you were helping me with the masks. I had spies and soldiers. Even Malcontent I could handle, but the Red Death . . .”
    “I know,” I say softly. “But April needs my father, and we haven’t got much