Eternal Winter

Golden Opportunities: Part V

Now drawn away from the seat Sammy had left me at, I threw one last, desperate glance to find Julian and Sammy, but they were not there to receive my silent plea, and I was left to dance the next song, and the next, and the next, passing from one person to the next. I forced myself to play along into uncomfortably seated hands and idle, meaningless small talk. No closer was I to the Dark Master. No closer was I to my partners. I had not yet seen them, and had since travelled far from my seat Sammy left me in, when I silently grasped the next hand held out to me. My eyes wearily looked up at my next partner—an older looking gentleman who had light crinkles shadowed in the corners of his questioning eyes and with the beginnings of graying in his thick beard and at the roots of his neat-enough hair.

"I thank you for this dance, then, miss," he stated with a short nod as we stepped out onto the dance floor.

His hand rested very lightly on my hip, barely touching—just as Julian had. A gentleman soldier, I thought to myself. Thankful for the reprieve from the not-so-gentlemanly boys I had danced with up until that point, I danced with him in silence. He did not initiate conversation and he did not seem expectant for me to do so. He merely nodded to the other passing dance couples, exchanging a word with no more than a handful. When the song ended, we parted and nodded. Instead of stepping away, thought, he offered me an elbow. "May I assist in leading you to a chair for a much-needed reprieve, miss?"

I nodded mutely and accepted his offered arm, even as I felt my brow furrow.

As we parted through the crowds, he kept his voice low, "Forgive me for my confusion at your presence, but, nonetheless, I am relieved to see you are well."

"Sir?" I was unsure what he referred to. Perhaps he thought me to be someone else?

He looked down at me, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "I am surprised as you are, surely, we all...we all thought you dead, dear."

Realization dawned on me and my fingers itched at my side. "Do you...know me?"

My hand flew up to my mask, but no sooner than I had touched it, did a hand suddenly grasp mine. Rough and calloused, and familiar. Julian slid in next to me taking my other hand in his as well. A crooked grin spread on his face as he interrupted the conversation. "Sorry, friend, I'm afraid I must steal her back for myself."

He led me away, twirling us back into the copse of people dancing to the beginning of a new song. His fiery eyes immediately turned on me. He whispered through gritted teeth, "What in all that is great, did you think you were doing?"

So sudden was his arrival, and so sudden the departure, that my brain was still letting the pieces click into place. "He knew who I was!" I hissed back.

"By all the Arts..." he mumbled under his breath. "That is exactly what we are trying to avoid."

"But this is also how we're supposed to find your friend?" I snapped. "We can't even tell one person from the next, half the time. I hope you have a back-up plan."

"Of course I do," he retorted immediately. The desperate glance away said otherwise.

"Care to share?" I prodded, feeling the anger and discomfort beginning to swell. "Because if I have to dance with one more man who feels so inclined to also dance with his hands over me, I'm going to scream. And then, I'm going to stab him."

"With what knife?" Julian mocked with a cocked eyebrow.

I met his eye steadily. "Do you truly want me to show you?"

He coughed and quickly looked away. "No, you're right. It doesn't matter anyway."

I rolled my eyes. My gaze wandered over his shoulder. He continued to ramble on, I only half listened. My attention was caught on one woman, stationary at the head of the room. She drank intermittently from a flute of champagne in one hand and appeared to give minute gestures with her other, but was otherwise still, controlled. Imposing. Yet, nothing about her appearance screamed wealth and power as the other guests: she was dressed in a simpler, floor length gown that was all black with hints of gold interwoven into the fabric and her hair hung loosely down to the small of her back as flowing auburn waves.

Her face flashed into view—and a sharp wedge was driven into my skull. Flashes, blinding, disorganized, choppy—one after another after another in a sick play of still, grotesque images. Light directly shining down, harsher, colder, than the sun. In my eyes. A white room, enormous and full and blazing—shifting in and out of focus. A metal tray with sharp instruments. A metal bed with leather straps. A metal grate with red and water swirling, swirling, swirling. It was the softest touch as hair tickles my face being brushed away by cracked, chapped hands and a face framed by flowing auburn hair with bright, red, red lips that split into a proud grin. It was a voice grating—grating—on my ears in a loving, gentle voice, "Last one, okay, sweetheart?"

There was no escape even when the play ended. I gasped for breath and went nearly limp in Julian's arms. He called my name, distant and muddled and drowned out by the clack, clack, clack of heels on concrete and the tinging, ringing of metal on metal. My vision blurred out of focus—out of focus except for her. I stalked forward. Forward. Towards her.

Hands fell on me, hard, firm, rough, pulling my back. Arms wrapped around my waist, holding me in place as I walked forward ever still. Eyes, eyes, and more eyes fell on me. Eyes that burned into me. Dark eyes that finally met mine and told me Keep going. Don't stop. Make her pay.

Make. Her. Pay!

Then, eyes closer. Pleading. Desperate. Worried. Warm. Small hands that held my face steady. Small hands that shook even as they held me still. Slowly, I covered his hands with mine and closed my eyes.

I nodded. "Okay, Sammy," I whispered, audible only to myself. "Okay."

"I'll wait."

He released me after another moments hesitation and everything suddenly roared to life around me. My vision snapped back into focus and all I could see were shadows and flurries of clothes flying in a chaotic stampede. When I glanced back one more time, the woman was already out of sight.

"What's going on?" I asked, stepping up beside Julian, who stood stock still at my side against the current of people.

He brought Sammy up between us and began to led us out. "Well, after your little explosive show that blew out all the light fixtures, someone was kind enough to give us a different distraction."

"What was it?" I asked, moving steadily alongside them.

"That," he said with a gesture out to the dance floor.

I followed his finger and nearly stopped in my tracks, only pushed on by the momentum of the people running into me from behind. It was screams instead of apologies from Theodore Hughes as he shoved passed, snot streaked on his face. For, instead of seated in their alcoves along the walls of the entry hall, the statues towered amongst the frantic guests, dancing for themselves on the vacated dance floor with long, stretched shadows illuminated by nothing by the light of the First Moon.

In the emptying room, a rumbling cackle could finally be heard from behind us. We whirled around and stood across from the graying haired man, who stood erect with a wide grin on his face and hands fluidly moving about in a looping pattern. A pattern not unlike a dancing sequence.

"You—" I began, but the man cut me off with a flourishing motion.

"I beg your pardon, miss, but it is not you—" He reached up and pulled off his mask, revealing a cheekier grin. "Jakob Lotus, at your service. I believe you were looking for me."

End of Chapter Five