Play of Shadows

00.7 Danse Macabre

The violins swelled, songs of revelry cresting like bubbles bursting in a glass of champagne.

Ann did not truly understand the sheer size of the ballroom until she attempted to cross it, at a run, through a shifting crush of perfumed bodies. The smart thing to do would be to circle around the dance floor where the crowds were thinner, but there was no time for a detour. More horror was certain to follow and there was no telling if they would be able to find each other again once the show really got underway.

Tarah was not sitting idle. She had managed to escape the immediate orbit of her doomed companion when Ann caught sight of her again, but could not shake off the man entirely. He followed her step by step as she dodged around swaying couples. Burnt flesh and fabric scattered in his wake yet the smile under his half-mask remained unchanged. Their dance had not ended yet, Ann realized.

The room brightened. Shadows shifted along the walls, stretching for an instant as one of the grand chandeliers hanging over the room swung in its cradle. The candles in its arch flared. Ann chased the motion by instinct, in time to see the chandelier thunder down onto the unsuspecting crowd below. The brass frame cleaved through flesh and bone with sickening ease. Blood splattered in an uneven halo, staining the stone floor.

Gentle men and women skittered around the pile of mangled flesh. They peered down at the wreckage, their eyes glinting behind their masks. Gentle titters joined the soft thrum of the violins.

Ann ground her teeth over a horrified scream. She took a step forward, then another, muscles aching with tension. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly but she could not allow herself to falter.

Tarah had been chased to the very back of the hall. When Ann reached her at last, she found the poor woman in tears as she and her persistent companion circled and circled each other, neither willing to give in to the other's pleas. The burning man was a charred down to bone. Only the mask he wore remained untouched by the fire that ate away at his body. The stench of melting flesh had Tarah gagging through her plaintive sobs.

There were couples dancing nearby. When Ann attempted to pass them, they blocked her way firmly, their smiles dipping into pointed snarls. Ann was forced to stop a pace away and shout for Tarah's attention.

Tarah greeted her arrival with a broken exclamation and an attempt to rush through the man-made barricade between them. She did not get far before the burning man got in her way, and was forced back again.

"You can't pass through them," Ann told her, then asked again, "How many dances?"

"T-this is the third one, b-but it's not done," Tarah replied.

"Finish the dance," Ann told her.

Tarah looked at her in shock. "What? That man – he is on fire!" she exclaimed, and even pointed at the burning corpse, as if Ann could have possibly missed him.

"You have to finish the dance. There's no time for another one, it's almost two," Ann told her. "We might not be able to leave if you don't finish your task!"

They might not be able to leave even if she succeeded. Ann opted to leave that particular possibility unsaid.

Tarah sucked in a rattling breath, visibly trying to steady herself. "Okay. But, um, how am I supposed to...?" She looked the – dying? Dead? – man over, trying to find a safe place to touch. Most of his body was fully engulfed in flickering flames.

"Let him hold you. Make sure you can slip out of your dress after, and fast," Ann advised.

Tarah's lips flattened. She nodded once, then reached back to unbutton her monstrosity of a dress. It fastened along the back, all the way down to the dip of her spine.