The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige
Chapter 25
CHRISTY
For two days I have lived side by side with the Numbers, rehearsing with them in the studio only returning to Thirteen’s room to sleep and eat.
I don’t see The Masks and the Numbers don’t speak of them either.
Begrudgingly, I have to admit that the show One has put together is spectacular. It isn’t just a series of routines, but an intricate marriage of gifted performances from each of the Numbers.
Aside from a few short appearances throughout the show, I have a solo dance routine right in the middle of the set to break up the acts performed on either side. One gave me carte blanche to choreograph my own routine, and a large part of me has found a huge sense of achievement in that, a freedom I’ve not felt before.
It’s a dangerous feeling, one I refuse to get used to.
I won’t lie, however. Over the past couple of days I’ve caught myself looking forward to performing in the show, then hating myself for it.
It feels like I’m giving up, that I’m giving in by taking part, by doing what The Masks have demanded. The only thing I’m holding on to is the fact that, unlike the other Numbers, I realise that’s part of the manipulation. I’m not a fool. The Masks, with the help of One, have coerced the Numbers into obedience by giving them what they desire most: freedom to express themselves doing what they love. It seems unutterably cruel, an illusion made up of smoke and mirrors. Though, I guess that’s the whole point.
Despite that knowledge, I’ve trained alongside the rest of the Numbers without complaint, playing my own game of obedience whilst I bide my time until the night of the show. This will be my chance to escape. The Numbers and The Masks will be too busy entertaining their clients to keep their eye on me. Thirteen is planning on keeping Twelve company for the evening, and the staff will be making sure everything is as it should be for the arrival of the guests.
It’s the perfect opportunity to run.
It might be my only opportunity, and I’ll be damned if I pass it up because I’m afraid I might fail. This brief moment of obedience, of achievement—however warped it may seem—won’t stop me, because unlike the rest of the Numbers, I have a family outside of these castle walls that love me, miss me, and I need to get back to them.
“Good work, Zero. I’m impressed,” One says as I finish up my routine, my thoughts whirring with plans of escape.
“Thank you,” I mutter, crouching down to untie the ribbon from around my ankles as sweat trickles down my spine and sticks my hair to my forehead. Her words are kind, but her tone isn’t. She’s as masked as Jakub, Leon and Konrad are. But I see through her to the woman underneath. It seems unfathomable somehow, that something so pure can come from a woman who trades in dreams and illusions just like The Masks. The bottom line is I don’t trust or respect One, even if the rest of the Numbers do.
“Are we done for today?” Ten asks, breaking the awkward silence between One and me as she stretches her arms above her head, her small tits bouncing as she moves from side-to-side. Her sisters are bare chested too as they change from one outfit to another. Of all the Numbers they’re the oddest. Talking in tandem, finishing off each other’s sentences. They’re like one person cloned, without any defining personality traits to separate one from the other. It’s bizarre.
But no more bizarre than the fact I’ve seen all of the Numbers in various stages of undress over the past couple of days, to the point where I no longer feel embarrassed looking at them naked. They’re comfortable in their skin in a way I wish I could be.
“Yes. We’re done. You’re free to leave. All of you,” she adds, when Three, Seven and Six linger, waiting for me. “I wish to speak with Zero alone.”
“Zero?” Six asks, tentatively, a question in her gaze.
“She’s fine!” One snaps, brooking no arguments. “Get changed, go to your rooms, eat, and get a good night’s sleep. We have one last rehearsal tomorrow in the theatre before Saturday’s performance.”
“Theatre?” I ask.
“You didn’t think we performed for our guests here, did you?”
“I suppose not,” I agree, wondering where the theatre is located in the castle and marvelling at the fact they even have one.
It takes a few minutes for all the Numbers to change and leave. Once they’re gone, One turns her attention back to me as I slide out of my pointes and stand, revelling in the feeling of wiggling my toes, easing the throb in my feet. I’ve not danced this much in years and the rigorous training and rehearsals over the past couple of days have taken their toll on my body, specifically my feet which are bruised from constantly dancing in pointes. My toenails are cracked and bleeding, and I have blisters covering my heels and almost every toe knuckle. But it’s a good kind of pain. The kind that comes from a sense of achievement, much like a carpenter might feel from the calluses on his hands when building a piece of furniture from scratch.
“It’s such a shame. You really could have fit in so well with us,” One says, her fingertips grazing against the strap of the satin pink dress she gave me to wear two days ago. This is the first time I’ve worn it and she didn’t bother to hide her surprise or her disgust when she saw my scars.
“You think I’m ugly,” I say, knowing it to be true.
One flicks a strand of long dark hair over her shoulder, her almond eyes assessing me. “What I think doesn’t matter. If Jakub wants you to perform in the show, then you’ll perform in the show.”
“Do you always do what he says?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head, turning my back to her as I pull up my dress and hang it up on the rail with the other costumes the Numbers will be wearing, quickly covering back up with a long, navy-blue, knee length dress Thirteen gave me to wear. I’ve not seen her all day. She’s been tending to Twelve’s wounds that have become a little infected according to Five, who alerted Thirteen to the fact this morning.
“Will there be anything else?” I ask.
One narrows her eyes at me, considering her answer. “I think, perhaps, we should find you something else to wear for the show,” she says, her dark eyes filled with a malevolence that has me taking a step away from her. “No one needs to see your scars. You understand that we have a certain standard to uphold.”
“Whatever you want,” I reply tightly, refusing to bite. “I didn’t want to wear this dress in the first place.”
“Agreed. She’s to put on something else,” a deep, familiar voice says. “Make sure she’s covered neck to toe. We don’t need the clients seeing her flaws.”
I stiffen at the roughness of Konrad’s voice and the guarded look on his face as he stares at me.
Fuck him. Maybe I should wear the dress after all, if only to piss him and his arsehole brothers off.
One’s eyes widen with shock before she schools her features and turns to face Konrad as he strides towards us both. He’s wearing a plain blue half-mask that both matches my dress and his sweater. Not that I give a damn. I couldn’t care less about what he chooses to wear or how handsome he looks with his hair slicked back off his face and his short scruff neatly trimmed. His good looks are just another disguise used to lull everyone into a false sense of security.
“Good afternoon, Konrad. Is there something you need?” she asks him, her accented voice dropping an octave or two. For all her sophistication, she’s not particularly subtle with her eagerness to seduce him. Looks like Twelve isn’t the only one who wants to be fucked by him.
“Other than you leaving… No.” He lets that hang in the air, unperturbed by how her cheeks flame red at his rebuff.
“You want me to leave?” she questions, caught between embarrassment and shock. Seems to me that she’s not used to being dismissed in such a manner.
“I have something I wish to discuss with Zero that doesn’t concern you,” he explains.
Her brows raise. “And what about Jakub? Does it concern him too?”
“One, you may be the matriarch of the Numbers, but you are not and never will be more than what we allow you to be. Don’t forget your place, and never question my intentions again. Understood?”
“Understood. I shall leave,” she replies with a tight smile, cutting her gaze to me momentarily.
Despite her clear dislike for me, I don’t want to be left alone with Konrad. “I’d rather you stay,” I say quickly.
Ignoring my plea, she folds her arms across her chest and says, “Zero is due a toilet break soon. It’s been a while since she last relieved herself.” And just like that she makes me a lesser human, reminding me that I’m no more than a pet.
“You have the key?” Konrad asks sharply, his eagerness to get hold of it obvious.
“No. Thirteen does.”
“Then I will ensure Zero is back in Thirteen’s care in good time to piss and shit,” he replies, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he jerks his chin towards the door. “Out.”
“Yes, of course,” she says tightly, throwing one last look my way before exiting the studio.
Konrad waits for the door to slam shut before he returns his attention back to me. His slow perusal has me stiffening with fear, my mouth drying. Swallowing hard, I straighten my spine and fix him with a heavy stare.
“What do you want?” I ask, stepping out of the corner of the room, instinct telling me that I shouldn’t allow him to trap me there. I can’t help but wince at the pain in my sore feet. I really need to soak and wrap them. Hopefully Thirteen will have some kind of ointment to help heal the blisters and cuts, or at least dull the pain. In fact, I’m counting on it.
“How are rehearsals going?” he asks, throwing me off balance with his question as he takes in my appearance. His nostrils flare when he sees the state of my feet. “One has certainly been working you hard.”
“She has,” I reply tightly. I’m not sure what I expected, but a polite conversation wasn’t it.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“I’m not sure what you want me to say.”
“Aren’t you enjoying being able to dance, being a part of something? It must be better than spending your time with the dying. What kind of job is that anyway?” he asks, tucking his hands in the pocket of his jeans.
The act is as casual as the clothes he’s wearing, but for some reason it makes me more nervous around him, not less. “A job I no longer have, thanks to you!” I snap. “And I would enjoy being able to dance more if I were back home with the family I love.”
“Hmm, back to that again.”
His tone of voice irks me. “Back to that again?” I repeat, shaking my head with incredulity. “You think that by giving me a few days of peace and the ability to dance that I would just roll over and do what you want. Unbelievable.”
He shrugs. “Well, you haven’t tried to run these past couple of days. Seems to me you’re settling in rather well, Zero.”
“Screw you,” I mutter, stepping around him and immediately gritting my jaw on the sudden feeling that I’m walking on broken glass. “This conversation is over.”
Until it isn’t.
I feel the rush of warm air moments before Konrad sweeps me off my feet and clutches me against his chest, his musky scent filling my nose. “I’m going to fix up your feet,” he says gruffly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest and into my body.
“I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself,” I snarl, trying to twist out of his hold, but he just grips me tighter, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh.
“Keep doing that, Zero, and see where it gets you,” he warns, lowering his mouth and brushing his lips gently against my forehead. There’s a sweetness to his kiss, despite the way he bruises my flesh. The two sensations fight for dominance, my body reeling from both the abuse and the affection. Neither are welcome.
“Put me down.”
“Believe it or not, I’m not in the mood for a fight.”
“I won’t fight you,” I insist, lying through my teeth. Jakub had promised he’d keep them away. He lied. Instinct tells me that if I don’t get away from Konrad then something bad is going to happen, something I might not recover from. He’s on edge, despite the smiles and the fakery.
“Why don’t I believe you, Zero?” he murmurs just as Leon enters the hall.
My heart stills in my chest as I take in his appearance.
It’s not his clothing, which is as casual as Konrad’s, but his mask that makes my breath hitch. It’s jet black, shaped into a demon’s face with teeth that drop over his top lip and silver-tipped horns that are pointy and sharp as a knife. His mask is terrifying, reflecting the monster that resides within him.
“NO!” I shout, bucking in Konrad’s arms as my heart drops the beat fear holds captive, rattling my ribcage with dread.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” Konrad grinds out, keeping me gripped in his arms despite me thrashing around like a fish out of water. “You’re ours.”
“Help!” I scream, calling for someone, anyone to intervene as Leon strides towards us both. “Please, help me!”
“Nobody’s coming, Nought. Thirteen is looking after Twelve, and Jakub is attending to business in town. For a couple of hours you're ours to play with,” Leon says, grasping my jaw roughly and pressing his body against my side, so that I’m sandwiched between the two powerful men.
My hands fly up as I push against both their chests, trying to shove them away, feeling claustrophobic, unable to breathe, frantic with fear. “You had an agreement,” I say, grasping for something, anything, to stop them from acting on their base needs.
“Which Jakub broke the second he put his cock into your willing mouth,” Leon sneers. “I heard that for a virgin you’re quite the whore.”
I drag in a breath and stop fighting, too surprised to do anything else but question him. “How did you know about that?” I whisper.
Konrad lowers his head, his gaze sharp, unyielding. “Jakub just told us about your little indiscretion. He gave us permission to even the score. He left you with us, Zero.”
“No!” I whisper.
“Yes! Now you’re ours for the taking.” Leon grins and places a rag over my mouth, a poisonous, caustic smell assailing my nostrils before darkness claims me.