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

time. You already have the plans for making masks. This is the last piece. You don’t need guns.”
    “If we go back to the city, you’ll be with me?”
    A part of me wants to refuse. But if he needs me, how can I say no? The city needs him.
    “Yes. The scientist’s daughter on your arm. That’s what you wanted.”
    His lips twist. It is what he wanted, but now that status is gone. My father has been named the greatest villain of all time.
    “No, just you,” he begins. “I want—” I tense at the urgency in his tone, but before he can finish his sentence, there is a high-pitched scream. A child’s scream, from the direction of the swamp.
    “Stay here,” he says, and takes off, jumping easily from the airship to the slate roof of the manor house. Kent runs past me into the cabin, then bursts from the door carrying two muskets and follows Elliott. I try to run after Kent, but moving that quickly hurts more than I expected.
    By the time I reach them, Will’s there too, holding Henry, and Kent is kneeling beside Elise at the edge of a decorative stone parapet. She’s pointing out over what was once a lawn, but now is just tree roots and muck.
    The sun comes out from behind low, hazy clouds, and Elliott’s fair hair gleams in the sudden brightness.
    Beyond the parapet is a moldering staircase that was once inside the house, but is now exposed completely to the elements. The stairway turns twice, and the carved wooden banister is mostly intact.
    “There’s people,” Henry says. He holds the binoculars out to Kent.
    “Did you give him my binoculars?” Elliott asks.
    “They’re coming this way.” Elise’s voice is mesmerized, like she is looking at something both terrible and wondrous.
    As if I am being pulled into Elise’s imagination, I hear the splashing of someone running through the water. I follow the line of her shaking arm. A girl in a dress that used to be white appears through the vegetation, pulling someone behind her, barely paying attention to where she is putting her feet. The rank water is as high as her calves.
    A shot cracks from the undergrowth. Elise screams again, covering her mouth with both hands. The girl in the swamp turns her head toward the sound but doesn’t stop. She can’t.
    Will hands Henry to me, and I crouch down behind the rail of the parapet, pulling Elise with me. Thankfully, the railings are thick and ornate and haven’t succumbed yet to the decay of the rest of the house. And we’re four stories up. The shooter will have to get closer to pose any danger to the children.
    “This way,” Elliott calls to the girl, dropping to the stairwell and bounding down the stairs. April has gotten to us now too. I’m aware of her behind me, even as I watch the girl’s desperate race through the marsh.
    Elliott stops at the place where the stairway disappears into the water. The girl stares at him with wild, terrified eyes. He reaches out his hand.
    But she stumbles, unable to catch herself because she won’t let go of her companion. The hair on the back of my neck rises. If the gunman wants to kill her, this would be the time to shoot. Elliott is moving, stepping into the muck, grabbing her. He takes the boy’s arm, but then pulls back.
    The boy’s face lifts upward. I gasp.
    Red lines run down from his eyes and stain his mask. The slight girl pulls at him, urging him to stand.
    Everything goes silent. The frogs, the crickets. I’m holding my breath.
    The man out there must be our former prisoner. The Hunter. He didn’t kill us before, but now he’s tracking these new arrivals. Stalking them like prey.
    Elliott, his boots sinking into the muck, puts two fingers to the boy’s throat. But the boy is dead. The Red Death takes its victims quickly.
    “Let go,” he tells the girl. “Take cover behind the banister.” She won’t release the boy’s hand. In the long silence that follows, soft splashes sound below. Peering over the banister, I see the dark-green backs of