A/N: Only one more chapter to go. After this one, I mean.
And then it's moving on to the next part Gabe n' Lizzy's story.
Woohoo!
Veilen Dank for all of the awesome reviews!
"This is the life, you see
The Devil tips his hat to me
I do it all because I'm evil
And I do it all for free
Your tears are all the pay I'll ever need"
-"When You're Evil", by Voltaire (freakin' amazing song, by the way)
The masquerade ball looked like something out of a dream—everywhere, the unmoving expressions of the masks stared over the laughing mouths of the party-goers. Silks and velvets and furs swirled around in dizzying circles; hair and wigs and headdresses spun. The orchestra played, seemingly nonstop, at the far corner of the room. The long, mahogany table along the wall seemed as if it would groan, for all the food and drink piled onto it.
Those who did not dance stood off to the side, their wineglasses held in gloved and ring-encrusted hands. The ladies fanned themselves elegantly with fans—they sweat beneath their masks, but, of course those would not be removed until the stroke of midnight. The men, without the benefits of fans, grin and bear it. For, after all, this is a party, a masquerade party—these aristocrats, dukes, comptes, lords, and ladies, would not let a trivial thing such as perspiration get in the way of a bit of All-Hallow's Eve celebration.
Bits and snips of gossip are can be heard over the orchestra: carefree conversations punctuated often by raucous laughter (helped along by the broad selection of wines on the food-table).
"…have you seen Natalie? Right there, she's with…"
"D'Arcy! Come over here, I want you to meet…"
"Helene! Such a lovely costume, dear!"
"Louis? Would you be a darling and go tell…"
"…Allie? No, chére, I haven't seen her."
Dressed in a rich crimson dress with golden accents, wearing a pale white mask over her eyes and the bridge of her nose, Mel shrugged a bare shoulder: "well, what can you do?", the shrug conveys. Her mother, dressed in a black and white gown, with a golden porcelain mask sculpted to the top three-quarters of her face, smiled sympathetically at her daughter, her hazel eyes line with black makeup.
"I'll be sure to tell her you were looking for her if I see her," she said, and turned around to face a person who had tapped her shoulder. "Bon soir, Patrice! Is that you under your mask, or your twin?"
Mel sighed and went off. It was a chore to walk on one side of the room, without being swept up by the dancing crowd of people. She could spot Jordan, dressed as the Joker from the playing cards, waltzing gamely with Kelly, who wore gauzy layers of different shades of green, with a mask that had cat-like eyeholes. She didn't see Keith—not at first. She soon spotted him dancing with a cousin of his, laughing.
That left Allie. She had promised to come, and to meet the group at ten o'clock. It was half past that hour, now, and Allie was nowhere to be seen…or her demon, Kal.
That day he carried her back—the day when she had "disappeared"—Mel had simply snapped—not irrationally, either. For God's sake, Allie had been drenched with blood! It wasn't a cut or graze, as Allie was prone to get every once in a while (hence, "Disaster Destra"). Her entire front was practically dripping blood.
And then there was that way he had been staring…he stared off into space for the entire time, from when Mel had first panicked, then shouted and swore. But, occasionally, his eyes (Mel had no way of knowing he was blind), would flick over to the bedroom door, where a maid had guided Allie out of the room to get her new clothes). That look…Mel had shrugged it off and finally stormed out of the room, telling herself she was just upset and not thinking or seeing things rationally. For instance, Kal—that arrogant, heartless, scum of a living creature—could not have stared after Allie with the same expression she had, on occasion, seen Keith wear when he watched Kelly leave the room…the expression of affection. Of course a thing like that Kal couldn't feel affection, or caring, or—God forbid—love. Could he?
A hand tapped her shoulder, startling her. She whirled around to meet a pale blue mask, and, below that, a pixie-ish grin.
Allie's hair had been piled up on her head, with a few strands let loose around her face. Her dress, a creation of sky-blue silk, had a small stain of wine on the waist of the bodice-like top, but other than that, was exactly the dress she had chosen, with her and Mel. The mask had yellow eyebrows painted on in an eternally surprised expression—this, added with her grin, drew a laugh out of Mel.
"I was wondering where you were!" Mel exclaimed, and hugged her (carefully, as not to muss either of their dresses or hair). "You're a bit late."
"Late?" Allie had a puzzled expression on her face. "We came at ten, just as you said! I've been looking all over for you and the group!"
"Ironically, I've been looking for you!" Mel laughed. "Oh, you said 'we'. Did Kal come, too?" She had to use some effort to keep her tone casual.
"No." If Mel noticed the slightest pause in Allie's response, she didn't show any sign of it.
"Really? Did you come with a different escort, then?"
Allie blushed bright pink—something that could easily be translated as bashfulness instead of being caught in a lie. "Actually, yes—that man over there, see?" She pointed to the food table, where a tall man was pouring himself a glass of Tokay. He wore a red fedora with an ostrich plume stuck into it. A heavy velvet cape of velvet crimson hung to his boot heels. He took a sip from the glass, and half-turned to them as he drank: his poet's shirt was white, and the brocade vest was the same red as his cape. His pants were black and pinstriped. A black porcelain mask covered his three corners of his face—it appeared to be smiling, with the eyeholes turned into half-moons and the cheeks rounded.
"And who may that be?" Mel asked. The stranger (or, so she thought), turned towards them as if hearing her, and raised a hand in salute. They waved back as he crossed the room, in easy strides.
Allie waited until he had reached them for the introductions. "Mel, I'd like you to meet Reymond Mort. Reymond, this is my friend, Mel."
"Reymond" bowed extravagantly, sweeping his plumed hat off his head. "My pleasure, Mademoiselle." He replaced the hat over his shoulder-length brown hair and hung a arm casually around Allie's shoulders, confirming her suspicions that he was her friend's beau. Something did cross her mind, for a second: his eyes. For a moment, the looked…well, she couldn't put her finger on it, for it had come in gone in a split-second.
Mel smiled warmly at Reymond. "As is mine," she answered, and curtsied. He smiled broadly (it was a nice smile—not arrogant and fang-filled and predatory like Kal's, she thought), and nodded politely.
"Now, if the hostess would excuse us," he said, addressing Allie, "I would very much like to steal a dance from you."
Mel grinned—already, she approved of Reymond Mort. "By all means. It was nice meeting you, M. Reymond."
He swept his hat off again and leaded her friend into back to the center of the dance floor.
Mel stood off to the side and watched them, trying to be horribly obvious about doing such. Allie's Reymond waltzed gracefully in spite of the heavy cloak—not once did he trip over said cloak. Or miss a step.
Well-manned, courteous, handsome, and a good dancer.
He's the perfect match for her.
"Allison Destra." "Reymond Mort" steered them around another dancing couple. "You, Princess, are the devil."
Allie grinned and glanced over her shoulder: Mel was watching them. "You mean I'm a genius."
"Of course," he drawled, sarcasm dripping from his magically-adjusted voice. "Kalendrakk Raee, do this. Kalendrakk Raee, do that. Kalendrakk Raee, act like a perfect French gentleman for the entire ball and allow me to put enough glamour on you to choke. Ah, I do adore this little game. When, may I ask, does this Kalendrakk Raee get to cuss and kill?"
"Maybe another time." Allie stared at his partially-concealed face, admiring her handiwork. One looking at the handsome, but perfectly normal face would never have recognized it to be Kal, under layers of illusion-magic, applied in layers like makeup. Mel certainly hadn't. "Why not just enjoy the evening, Reymond?"
"That name!" The song ended, and everyone applauded politely. The next song was even more upbeat than the former, bringing them into another dance. Kal eyed her through the mask. "Must we dance to this one, as well?"
"Yes. We're a couple, remember?"
"If only it were possible for me to forget." He swept his cape behind him dramatically and bowed. "If you please, then." As an after thought, he added "Gods, I detest this voice—when, exactly, is that little magic trick being dropped?"
"It all depends," she said cheerfully.
"On?"
"When I decide to." Allie swallowed, and heard her throat click. "On second thought, Reymond, I think I could use a drink. Come on." She grabbed his hand (gloved for that particular reason), and helped him though the crowd, back to the refreshment table. "Oh, you were saying something? Before the song ended?
"Yes. I was about to go into depths about how much I detest this name—how does one, I wonder, get 'Reymond' from 'Raee'?"
"In my defense." Allie replied, pouring herself a goblet of white wine, "they both sound alike. And, besides, why are you complaining so much after I went though all this trouble to get you in?" She caught sight of Jordan and Kelly, on the other side of the room, and waved cheerfully at them. Kal gazed off into the distance, where a person happened to be standing. From that woman's point of view, it appeared as if Kal were staring directly into her eyes. She colored and quickly turned around, making conversation with a random person.
"I have absolutely no idea."
Allie sighed, not unhappily—her mood was too good to be ruined by Kal's grumbling. "You and your sarcasm."
Kal rolled his eyes—that poor woman had unfortunately turned around, and again, it appeared as if Kal was looking at her, only this time rolling his eyes in a annoyed matter—and linked his arm through hers. "Now, Princess, me and my sarcasm will dance with you until the unmasking; I wonder if your weak human legs will be able to handle that."
She pretended to swoon and leaned all her weight on his arm. "But then, you, Reymond, my knight in shining armor, will get to carry me around until I recover."
"Ha. Ha."
Allie mimicked his sarcastic drawl. "Such a charming laugh."
"I've been working on it for years, can't you tell?"
"Shut up and dance.
The clock, hung strategically on the end wall of the room, ticked on steadily, unaware of the people that flocked around it and followed the minute hand as it neared the twelve. It was only a matter of seconds, now: the ballroom rang as everyone counted down in time with the second hand.
"Quatre…
"Trois…
"Deux…
"Un…"
A split second pause; they were only a little bit off.
The clock struck midnight, and the happy yells mixed with the chimes: "Unmask! Unmask!"
In the center of the crowd, Allie removed her own mask, still chanting "Unmask!" Caught up in the noise and the laughter, she missed the devilish grin that Kal wore on his face.
He unmasked; and, along with the porcelain mask, came the illusion magic. He threw the mask high into the air, threw back his head, and laughed. The screams, the not-so-happy screams as the guests noticed him, made him laugh harder. "Unmask!" He shouted in is own language at the top of his lungs, feeling half-crazy. A little more than half. And giddy—it hadn't been an easy trick to remove all that magic.
"Great party!" Kal yelled over the chaos. "Sorry to leave so soon!" He scooped up Allie and caught Kelly's scent through the others in the crowd. "Au revoir to you, Mlle. Kelly—give Mel my love, will you?"
"Kal--" Allie started.
He shrugged off the cape gratefully (it had been a nuisance the whole evening) and let his wings tear through his shirt. A moment later, Mel's parents were short a balcony door, and he was flying under the clouds.
"You were saying?"
"Was that really necessary?" She tried to sound exasperated, he noticed, but he knew she was grinning in spite of herself.
Kal shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe not. Either way, I don't think they'll forget that little party anytime soon." A familiar caw came from his left side. "Decided to come along, did you Simon?"
Stop mocking me, Death grumbled. I find it very degrading.
Allie elbowed Kal in the ribs. "Wait a minute. 'Decided to come along'? What, are we…"
He smiled. "I told you I was getting fed up with that manor." Before she could start up a good argument, he added "I was thinking we could spend a little while by the ocean."
Allie considered that for a moment. "Just a little while, right?"
"It all depends on what I decide."
"Very funny." She took the pins out of her hair and let it fall around her shoulders; the wind made her regret it when it picked it up and threw it back in her face. "Looks like I'll be stuck with you for a while, then."
"No, really?"
"Shut up," she replied cheerfully. "If you keep that annoying sarcasm, I'll have to order you to do something like braid your hair."
"Evil, evil girl."
Kal let the conversation drop and flew in the direction he had been going: the faint scent of salty water he had been following was a little stronger. After a while of silence, he'd thought she had fallen asleep: it certainly wouldn't have been the first time that happened.
"Kal? I think I should tell you something. You--"
"Don't."
She sat up, indignant at being interrupted. "You didn't even let me finish my sentence!"
"You're going to tell me that I really am a good man inside, I can feel emotions, and that my magic is weak because it's blocking those things, ain't you?" He grinned at the surprise he felt from her. "Forget it, Princess—I will. Because, if you want the truth…" Kal trailed off into silence, drawing out the suspense.
"What?" She snapped impatiently. "Tell me!"
"I'm evil in more ways than that," he finished simply. "You think that, with the infamous 'curse' removed, I would loose my bloodlust?" He tilted his head down at her and smiled. "You naïve little Princess."
Allie grumbled something intelligible and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Speak up, Princess."
Allie huffed and elbowed him in the ribs. "You'll come around. Kiiyen."
Kal shook his head, laughing. "We'll see about that. In the meantime--" He pressed his lips briefly over hers. "I'll forget that too, so don't mention it."
Allie scrubbed the blood off her lips. "Hey!"
"What are going to do about it?" he chided. "Kill me?"
"Here we go again," she sighed theatrically.
Death had dropped behind from pure shock of seeing Kalendrakk kiss Allie, and didn't bother to catch up—his poor old bird's heart needed time to recover—and watched as Kal conjured up a fog (passing over towns, this was a good idea).
The raven in the fog chuckled and said something to the girl, who responded in the same language. She definitely would not kill him now, even if she had intended to earlier.
In the last copy of the book, written by Xeth of the fallen Rehniika Yanzirii, the prophecy was changing.
END
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "That can't be it!"
But it was: all that remained in Raven in the Fog was the blank page separating it from the back cover.
"How did they end up in Paris? And what about--"
Gabriel laughed softly and closed the book. "I'm sure we'll find out soon enough, ange. They are attending our wedding, remember?"
She sighed and collapsed against his arm. "I think they ended it like that on purpose! I'll bet you that, back in Paris, they're laughing."
Gabriel laughed again and embraced her, but absently; his mind was on a certain part from the book.
Jason had first seen Allison in his seeing-orb, but Kal and Allie had written that it would have shown him Elizabeth second. Gabriel looked down at her face and wondered. Something about her I have no idea about. When those two arrive, I'll have to ask them about that…
"Gabriel? Are you alright?"
He realized he was staring at her. "Forgive me, ange—my mind just drifted off."
"It's getting a little late in the day," she admitted. That was an understatement: dusk was beginning to fall.
"Supper must be about ready—are you hungry?" Her stomach answered for her well enough that she turned bright pink.
"You?"
"Rhetorical question, ange, but I'll sit at the table with you anyways—you know that I can't bear to part with you for more than a few minutes."
She giggled and yanked on his arm, getting to her feet herself. "Come on then, before I end up eating the books!"
He had gotten used to walking slowly, so he managed to match her pace. Slow enough that he was able to get a clear look at his face in the polished wood doors of the library; he didn't recognize it, immediately.
It was a human's face.
His hand reached up to feel his face, and felt the human-animal hybrid of features that had become familiar to him over the years. What in the world…? Gabriel blinked once, hard, and looked back at the reflection. What he thought of as a monster looked back at him once more.
"Are you coming?" Elizabeth called from down the hall. He shook himself mentally and smiled naturally enough.
"Of course—I believe I'm in need of some coffee." To himself, he said Or some very, very strong wine. Something, anyways, to wake me up—I'm simply drowsy. From all the reading.
"Gabriel? Are you sure you're alright?" she asked carefully.
"Another rhetorical question—I'm standing next to an angel. Of course I'm alright."
Just your mind playing tricks on you.