The venue put Danny in mind of Vlad's first mansion. He had to crane his head back to see the tops of the towers, even though he stood on the outer edge of a huge garden. But as he examined it more closely, that impression faded. Taken together with the gardens, the structure had a more fairy-tale feel to it. Pinprick lights, cheerful music, and almost intoxicating perfume filled the air. Pale, night-blooming flowers glowed like moons. Warm light and friendly chatter spilled from wide open doors and windows. Shadowy figures moved silently along the garden paths.
No, this was its own space, unlike anywhere else.
Danny took a deep breath and moved forward. He couldn't help but fidget with his mask. It didn't cover his whole face, like last year, which was a fact for which he was grateful. The snacks had looked really good last year, and he hadn't been able to eat any of them. He also hadn't been able to talk very well, but that was fine. He hadn't really wanted to talk or participate or anything.
This mask arched smoothly over most of his forehead and swooped down over his cheekbones. It reached back almost to his ears, where it was tied by ribbons. He pulled the end of one forward, to look at it better. It was black and silky, with silver stitching. He let it go, and it brushed gently against his ear.
He stepped across the threshold into a vaulted ballroom. It was lit in hazy, dreamlike golds, and the floor was tiled in ivory and cream-colored stone. The sides of the room were lined in tables of refreshments, and beyond those, open doors leading into smaller, more private spaces. A split, two-sided staircase that curved to the left and right as it descended from a higher level took up the front of the room, and in front of that was a stage full of masked musicians. Some of them had their instruments built into their masks, and Danny shuddered at how uncomfortable that must be. Still, they didn't seem to be unhappy.
The room was, of course, full of ghosts in various forms of evening wear. Some outfits were modern, like Danny's seemed to be. Others were selected from centuries ago. Others still, Danny couldn't place in time. They could have been from the future, for all he knew. But they were all united in a feeling of elegance.
He followed a small group of ghosts to where they were congregating in front of a bank of mirrors. He wasn't the only one who wanted to know what he looked like tonight.
But when it was his turn to step in front of a mirror, it didn't reflect him. He tilted his head, confused, and checked to make sure he wasn't invisible. He wasn't. "Why…?" he asked, softly.
"It's because you're wearing a mirror mask," said the ghost next to him, a ghost with a crescent-shaped mask with points that descended past the corners of her jaw. It mirrored her hair. She was examining the bustle on her dress, which was black with green fire embroidery.
"A what?"
"A mirror mask. Your mask is silver, like a mirror. It has some decorative scrollwork. Ice themed, by the look of it." She regarded Danny, looking him up and down. "Ice core? Or is your heart just that cold?"
"Um," said Danny, not eager to give away identifying information, even if the magic here would keep anyone from ever connecting it to him.
He was saved from deeper involvement in a social situation he wasn't prepared for by the distinctive, staticky bumpf bumpf of a tapped microphone. He and the other ghosts turned to the stage.
Near the edge, in front of the musicians, floated a ghost whose body was completely obscured by a Venitian-style costume and delicately painted porcelain full face mask.
"Hello hello," said the ghost in a voice that couldn't be assigned neatly to either gender. "I bid you all welcome to the Midnight Masquerade, the yearly convocation of all those who, dead, undying, or never born at all, still find a need or desire to conceal themselves. This is a celebration for spies, for liars, for the persecuted, for the shy, for all those who hide, in the dark or otherwise. This is a place where, masked, we can be true." The ghost paused. "You may call me the Masked Celebrant - but aren't we all, tonight?" There was a titter of laughter. "For our new siblings in shadow, I would say do not be afraid, but I know you will not heed words alone. Instead, be reassured by our actions. As usual, our party lasts from midnight to midnight." They gestured at the ceiling, and Danny saw that there was a large, four-sided clock suspended from it, with all the faces stopped at midnight. "No time at all. That is to say, all the time there is. As long as we need. As long as you need." It sketched out an exaggerated bow. "But now that we are all here, it is time for our icebreaker. We may only know each other for a moment at midnight, but in that moment, we should all be good friends."
Some ghosts shifted uncomfortably at that announcement, others, eagerly. The last 'icebreaker' had been a guessing game where every other sentence had to be a lie. Danny hadn't done well with that one, and he didn't expect to do well with this one.
The thing about the Midnight Masquerade was that, while it was fun and Danny didn't mind coming, the invitation wasn't the only part that was a bit… coercive. There were things attendees couldn't opt out of, and they weren't all fair.
"This year, we'll be starting things off with eye-opening! Some of you here hide so well you hide even from yourself! So, until you open your eyes, they'll be closed. Feeling left out? Don't worry, those of you who see yourselves clearly will be randomly assigned to someone who doesn't. The first three groups to open their eyes will get a special prize! And… we start… now."
Danny's mask shifted, which wasn't something he thought it could do while he was still at the party. He raised a hand to hold it still, except it kept moving. Or… no. The mask was moving, but not because it had somehow come loose. It was closing its eyes.
He considered wedging in a finger, but that would probably result in that finger getting sliced off, and he didn't want to deal with that. His field of vision got smaller and smaller until the false lids pressed together with a click. He brushed his fingers against them, feeling the texture of sculpted eyelashes.
(He'd be experiencing less frozen panic if he had a better idea of what he'd have to do to undo this.)
"Of course, you can opt out… or give up… but then your new friends would have to spend the whole masquerade blindfolded! That wouldn't be any fun. Or maybe it would be! It's up to you. Have fun~!"
Well. That was.
Great.
What did he do now?
Something brushed against the back of his neck and he jumped up into the air, startled. He immediately decided this was a bad idea. Without the ground under his feet, he had very little idea where he was in space at all.
"Apologies," said a deep voice. "I was checking to see if there was a switch."
"A switch?" said a higher-pitched voice. "Why would there be a switch? He isn't a robot."
"You never know. They make them better every year."
"Can you really not tell the difference between a ghost and a robot?"
"Sometimes," said the first voice, crossly, "there's a switch."
"I understand your confusion," said a smoother voice. The woman he'd been talking to before, maybe? "These mirror masks… There are a few different reasons for them, but most of the time, it's the people with no personality. People who just feel… distant. Robotic. Metallic, as it were."
"I don't think that's a real thing," said the high-pitched voice.
"It isn't," said a masculine, but more neutral voice. "While the masks are symbolic, to some degree, without knowing a great deal more about the person in question, it is impossible to tell in what way. Do you need assistance getting down?"
"No," said Danny, defensively. "I just– How far away is the floor from me?"
He immediately got half a dozen different answers. Some of them were in units he'd never even heard of.
"That's really unhelpful," observed Danny.
"It's okay, sweetie," said one of the ghosts near him. "Getting help doesn't mean you're incapable, just that you're less capable."
"You're about twice as far from the floor as you are tall," said the calm voice. He spoke rhythmically, evenly.
Danny supposed he didn't have to trust any of them, but falling wouldn't do him any damage, and he was becoming increasingly unnerved by the lack of something solid to touch. He lowered himself carefully, and found the floor right where the calm voice had said it was.
"Okay," he said. "Thanks. So… what are we supposed to do, here? I, um. I didn't really get the speech." Rather, he'd been distracted by being blinded without warning immediately after the speech.
"Really? You missed something so simple? Were you paying attention at all?
Danny bristled.
"I believe that the goal is for you to have some realization about yourself that you have been putting off or denying," said the calm, even voice.
"I don't think I have anything like that, though…" He'd embraced being a half ghost ages ago. He knew he'd died. He knew he had… Obsessions. Or at least, had obsessive behavior. He knew he wasn't completely human. What else was there for him to be in denial about?
"Perhaps," suggested the deep, slow voice, who had thought that he was a robot, "it has something to do with why such a young child is here among us in the first place."
"I'm not a child," snapped Danny. "I'm eighteen."
"Before or after you died, dear?" said the woman from the mirrors, whom Danny was rather starting to dislike. "If it's after, well, I'm afraid you'll never be eighteen, and if after… You really have to work on maturing, don't you?"
"It doesn't matter how old I look, eighteen is how old I am." And he was going to grow, eventually. The portal had stunted his growth. That's what his parents had said. It hadn't stopped it. And so what if he had a baby face? Lots of people did, all the way through college.
Although, he probably wouldn't get to go to college. All things considered.
Someone pinched his cheek and he pulled away. "That does sound like denial!" one of the ghosts crowed. "But it shouldn't be too hard to get you to admit it, hm? You're such a cute little guy. What's so bad about staying a cute little guy?"
All sorts of things, actually. But he wasn't going to share them here.
"I think that's enough. He doesn't want to be touched."
"But his little baby cheeks are so pinchable."
"That is not my concern."
"Ah, we have our first winner," called the Masked Celebrant. "You guys really do like finding secrets, don't you?"
"I think that's our concern," said the high-pitched voice. "We aren't going to get a prize if this keeps up."
"Is it too hard for you to help out by at least admitting to what we already figured out?"
"There's nothing to admit!" protested Danny. "It has to be something else." Although what else it could be was beyond him.
"Oh, no need to get so defensive. I've been there myself! Dying, being stuck in one place, all my friends and family moving on without you… It's painful, isn't it?"
Danny wanted to step away, but he wasn't sure what was behind him.
"Eighteen, you said? That's about the time children move away, isn't it? Is it too hard for you to think about your friends moving away from you physically as well as in, well, every other way?"
That wasn't– Danny was– Sam and Tucker might've– But–
"If I may, I have some skill with determining ages," said the calm voice. "If you allow me, I can measure yours, as well as how long it's been since your death."
"You can do that?" asked Danny, happy for the distraction.
"But if the number is smaller than you think it should be, please consider what the lady here has said, even if she has said it in an appalling manner."
"Aaaaaand we have our second winner!" called the Masked Celebrant.
"Hurry!" said the high-pitched voice. "Do it already!"
"I will have to touch you," said the calm voice, kindly.
"Okay," said Danny. "Go ahead."
Gloved fingers brushed against his shoulders. Only then did Danny realize that, as a half ghost, he might not exactly read normally to whatever power this ghost was using.
"You're fourteen," said the ghost. "You died… just over four years ago."
"Oh," said Danny, his shoulders slumping. He could– The reading might still be wrong, but–
But it would make sense, if the portal, if his death, had done more than just stunt him. If it had frozen him. Stopped his life, even if it hadn't ended it. He hugged himself.
"I guess… I guess so," he said. "Those four years, they really don't count?"
"Not to your age, I'm afraid," said the calm voice.
That was– No. He was still here, still living, but– It should count. In a fair world, it would count. He'd be growing up, with everyone else. He'd be going off to college. He'd be exploring new things in the human world, not just the Ghost Zone.
But that wasn't the way it was, was it?
Danny forced himself to nod. "Okay," he said. "I guess that's… probably the reason, then. That and… I really am… I know my friends are going to move on. I do know it. I just don't want to think about it. Is that so bad?"
The eyes on the mask opened, and Danny saw…
One ghost.
"Where did everyone else go?" asked Danny.
"The third winner was announced while you were thinking. The others left." It was the ghost with the calm voice, at least.
Danny let his eyes flick over him. He was wearing something many-layered and medieval in shades of purple and lavender, and his mask was a half-face mask like Danny's, but his mask was crazed with hairline cracks outlined in brass. His skin was blue, and his hair was long and white, braided over his shoulder.
"They left?" echoed Danny, offended.
The ghost hummed. "The one did not want to, but I had grown tired of listening to her, and insisted."
"Me too," admitted Danny.
"An acquaintance and I were setting up a card game before the Masked Celebrant commenced the ceremonies, so to speak. Would you be interested in joining us?"
Danny looked around the ballroom. The snack tables were still there, but he somehow didn't feel as hungry as before. "Sure," he said, after a moment. "I… don't really have anything better to do."
"Excellent. Tell me, have you ever played transformations?"
