The Mask of New Paris ✓

XXIV. A Dubious Choice

We all remain seated as the figure approaches us. His swaying lantern causes us not to have a clear image of the man.

"Welcome to the Drysdale Plantation, cousin." His gruff voice says, breaking the eerie silence that had surrounded us during our short trip. Confusion spreads over us and everyone casts uncertain looks at each other. The man comes to a halt and looms over us, finally steadying his lantern.

"Don't look at me like a cow at a train, Annabelle. Didn't your parents learn you any good manners?" He sneers, kicking the skiff with his heavy boot. Gawking at the man, I finally make out details of his appearance. Although he's wearing a fitted suit, complete with vest and all, it's creased and mud lingers at the bottom of his trousers. A round belly is tucked safely away behind a double row of buttons. A round face with a neatly trimmed moustache balances on top of his shoulders, as if his neck is missing.

"Of course, you don't know who I am." He mutters, before he hides a cough behind his fist.

"Get out of the skiff so I can properly introduce myself." He says with another kick at the skiff. When it stops rocking, the five of us get out.

The man lets out a groan. "And you didn't exactly listen to the letter, did ya?" he says, his eyes lingering over every one of my friends' faces. "I see no reason to trust the people who abducted my sister and husband." I reply.

The man clacks his tongue. "Such unkind words said to your family, Annabelle. Granpa Rod would be disappointed in you." He laughs at my lack of comprehension. "You are my niece, little Annabelle. Which of course makes this all the jollier, don't ya think? A small family reunion before your life will change for good." His eyes turn a darker shade as he turns the lantern away and struts towards the mansion in front of us. We follow silently, the fog swirling around our feet and sending chills down our spine.

As we approach the estate, the door at the top of the staircase opens, revealing a beacon of light into the darkness that has set over the plantation. I try to look at Cilia, but she keeps her dark brown eyes focused on the building in front of us.

In the beacon of light, the shadow of a man appears. Something about his appearance breathes of power, even though his features are still hidden from us. He radiates confidence as we climb up the stairs underneath his torching stare. Finally, as the warmth of the inside, brushes against our cheeks, do we see his face.

The man looks at us with cold, calculated eyes, skimming over every one of us before his eyes finally land on me. Without saying a word, he turns around, allowing us to follow him.

When we enter the plantation, I can hear Cilia's gasp for air. We're standing at the bottom of a massive ebony staircase. A thick red carpet dulls our footsteps. With a sudden turn, the man stops a few feet away from the first step. His dark hair holds gray strands as it is neatly combed over. He towers over us, looming like a predator trying to pick his first course. His steal blue eyes focus on something behind us.

"Carmody." He simply says.

Before anyone of us can register what happens, a gun goes off and Griffin shouts out in pain. Cilia immediately rushes to his side, supporting him before he crashes onto the solid wooden floor. We all turn around in shock, watching as two figures appear from somewhere behind us. Cilia raises her head and audibly groans in anger.

Still pointing his gun at Griffin, Mr. Adler Drysdale approaches, Mrs. Winnie Drysdale silently following behind him like a ghost.

"Let this be a warning, Mrs. Whitacre. You do not follow the rules, I will find a way to make you." The anonymous man says, returning my attention back to him. I glance back at Griffin who holds his arm. Blood is staining his deep green vest, but the injury seems minor. I glare back at the man, trying to kill him with nothing but willpower. A sudden gasp, returns my attention to the scenery behind me.