The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige
Chapter 2
CHRISTY
“We’ll be back late tonight, Christy. Don’t wait up,” my aunt says a few days later as I sit at the kitchen table. She wraps her arms around me and presses a kiss to my cheek, her signature scent of Coco Chanel washing over me. “You look pretty, are you going out too?”
I shake my head, unravelling from her hold and avoiding eye contact with her, as I grab my empty dishes from the table and place them in the sink. I’m afraid if she looks too closely she’ll see the truth I’m trying to hide, that I won’t be here when they get home. “No, I was just experimenting with some new makeup. This foundation has better coverage. I’m actually planning on having an early night.”
“You should go out more often. Be social, make friends. A wonderful woman like you shouldn’t hide themself away.”
“I’m not hiding. I go to work,” I reply, plastering a smile on my face before turning back around to face her.
“That’s true, and whilst it’s wonderful you’ve found a great job at the hospice, that isn’t what I meant. You need to be around people your own age instead of us old timers and those poor people waiting to die.”
“I dance. I read. I’m happy, Sandy. Honestly.”
“You dance in the studio Frank built you at the bottom of the garden rather than go to the one in town where you could meet like-minded people. You live vicariously through those books you read. You spend your days with the sick and dying, forming relationships with people who have little time left in this world. You’re avoiding life.”
“No, I’m not. I’m happy, and I just haven’t found anyone I click with all that well.”
She frowns, worry creasing her brow. “You won’t find anyone to click with if you don’t actually socialise more. You need to get out there, Christy.”
“I do leave the house. I'm going to work every day.”
“Christy—”
She’s about to push the point further, but I shake my head. “Let’s not get into a discussion about this tonight. I want you to stop worrying about me. Whatever happens to me in the future is my concern. I love that you care, I really do, but things are different for me. You know that as well as I do...”
My voice trails off as I reel myself in. I’m not just talking about my birthmark and the scars on my back, I’m talking about my ability to see into the future. All day long I’ve been debating whether to say something to her, knowing that tonight is the night The Masks will come for me, and every time I come close I shut the thought down because I know, like Grim, she would somehow try to change the course of fate and put herself in danger.
“Okay, I’ll back off, but I do believe that there is someone out there for you, Christy. How could there not be?”
I give her a smile, hiding my feelings beneath the mask I wear daily. “Actually, I have it on good authority that Henry Cavill is going to be my future husband,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
My aunt claps her hands together, her face lighting up with glee. “Oh, really? How wonderful! Do I know him? I don’t recognise the name.”
“Oh my God. I was joking, Henry Cavill is a movie star.”
Sandy chuckles. “Don’t joke, you know I’m getting old and my poor heart can’t take it.”
“I’m sorry,” I reply, meaning it. I’m sorry for lying to her, for what’s about to happen and all the worry it will cause.
“Frank and I have been looking forward to this evening for such a long time,” she continues on, waving away my apology, oblivious to the internal war raging within me.
“You and Frank deserve a night out,” I say, feeling a rush of love for this woman who’s been like a mother to me ever since she took me in after the fire, nursing me back to health both physically and emotionally.
“Thank you, darling. Now, tell me the truth. Do you really think I look okay? It’s been a while since I’ve worn a dress this short. I could change.” She smooths her hands over her purple chiffon dress that floats gently around her knees.
“Seriously, you look beautiful. You’ll have all the men at Frank’s golf club wanting a dance with you.”
“Not a chance,” Uncle Frank says, stepping into the kitchen in his black suit and shiny black shoes. At sixty-five, he’s a handsome man with salt and pepper hair and bright blue eyes that twinkle with mischief. He winks at me, straightening his tie as he enters. “I’m not sharing Sandy with any-damn-one. She’s my lady.”
“Stop it, Frank. You’re making me blush,” my aunt replies, her cheeks pinking up as he strides over to her and pulls her in for a hug. They hold onto one another, their love warm and affectionate. Since I came to live with them I don’t think I’ve ever heard them argue, not once, and as I watch them hug, the ache in my heart grows with every passing second. By the time they pull apart, I’ve got my emotions under control enough to say goodbye.
“Have a wonderful time tonight,” I say, hugging Frank a little tighter than normal and planting a kiss on his smoothly shaven cheek.
“We will, Christy,” he replies, before stepping aside so Sandy can give me a hug too. I wrap my arms around her slim frame, breathing in her familiar scent and committing it to memory.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Sandy pulls back, her hands cupping my upper arms as she stares at me. “Christy, is everything okay?” she questions. “We don’t have to go tonight.”
I shake my head, refusing to crumble. “I’m absolutely fine, nothing that a Netflix binge and a bag of popcorn won’t fix…” My voice trails off as she stares at me, hesitating. “I’m on my period,” I lie, needing to give her something to explain my behaviour. Fortunately for us both, she believes me.
“Ah, I see. Then you’ll be wanting that extra special bar of chocolate that I keep for such occasions, yes?” she asks, lowering her voice conspiratorially.
Frank’s eyes light up. “Did you just say chocolate?”
“No, Frank. No, I didn’t.”
He narrows his eyes at her, then flicks his gaze to me. I just shrug, knowing all too well he has a chocolate addiction to rival all others. “Hmm…”
“Come on, old man. Let’s get going,” Sandy says, taking his hand and pulling him towards the back door, before stepping out into the night.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say, watching them leave, my words snatched by the breeze and dispersed before even reaching their ears.
* * *
The clockin my bedroom strikes midnight, and I can’t help but shake my head at the irony. This isn’t the start of a fairy tale, at least not the romantic ones Grim liked to read to me as a kid. Since she found out about me, she would call me at bedtime from her home in London and read me all her favourite fairy tales. I think, for her, they were a way to escape the environment she lived in. Those stories gave her respite and they helped our bond grow into something strong and unbreakable.
The thing is, whilst Grim’s very own fairy tale may have worked out in the end, I’m not so hopeful about mine. I don’t see love and happiness in my future, just darkness.
Just them.
Drawing my legs up, I wrap my arms around my shins, hugging myself. The skin on my back prickles uncomfortably.
They’re close.
Minutes tick by, time stretching on endlessly as I wait for The Masks to break into my home. I flinch at every sound, on edge. Waiting.
It’s agonising knowing your own fate. With every passing second, my courage wanes and my need to run from my future begins to take hold. Fight or flight is a natural instinct, and neither was an option I believed I had until right this second. I’ve always assumed that everyone’s future is written, and for some reason I just happen to be one of those people who’s able to read what no one else could. But what if I was given this ability so that I can change the course of my future? What if I’ve misunderstood my gift all this time?
I could still run.
I may only have a few minutes, but that might be all I need. I have a car. I can drive away from here. Spurned into action, I leap off my bed and pull on my trainers, momentarily rocked by a sudden wave of dizziness that almost brings me to my knees. Grabbing hold of my chest-of-drawers, I blink back the black spots dotting my vision and breathe in heavily through my nose. Weird. I’ve never suffered from fainting spells or anything like that before. Perhaps it’s the stress and sudden rush of adrenaline at my decision. Regardless, the second my dizzy spell passes I grab my mobile phone, car keys and wallet, and stuff them into the pocket of my hoodie, grateful that I chose to remain fully dressed. I didn’t even remove my makeup. Subconsciously or not, I didn’t want them to see me at my most vulnerable. Besides, there was no way I was going to be half naked when they took me.
With adrenaline pumping in my veins I pull open my bedroom door and step into the darkened hallway. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as I creep towards the kitchen and my car parked in the driveway beyond. I try to make as little noise as possible, already fearful that they’re in the house.
With every step I take towards escape, the skin on my back tightens, the painful memory of the night I nearly lost my life to the fire, returning. Ignoring the memory and the sense of foreboding, I focus on pushing open the door only to come to a complete standstill the second I step into the kitchen.
No. This isn’t happening.
I look at my aunt and uncle sitting at the table with abject terror. They can’t be here. They shouldn’t be here.
“What are you doing home?” I ask, the words tumbling out the moment my shock subsides.
“Interesting...” my aunt says, cocking her head to the side as she regards me with a cold, absent gaze.
“Interesting?” I question, my throat tightening. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” she answers, avoiding my question altogether.
There isn’t any warmth in her voice, and none of the love that usually emanates from her. Swallowing hard, I look from my aunt to my uncle sitting opposite. His attention is drawn towards the back door that’s flung open. He ignores me, completely oblivious to my presence. Outside rain lashes down, and a rumble of thunder cracks overhead, making me jump.
“Sandy…? Frank…?” My voice cracks, the skin on my back prickles. Something isn’t right. This feels wrong. Yet, despite every instinct telling me to turn around and run, my feet have a mind of their own and I step further into the kitchen.
“You’re not what I was expecting,” my aunt continues, her gaze trailing over me. She looks at me as though I’m a stranger, as though we haven’t spent the last fifteen years living together, that she hasn’t held me when I’ve cried, or made me laugh until my stomach hurt.
“Sandy, what’s going on…?”
She cocks her head to the side, scrutinising me in a way that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She doesn’t answer. Instead, a slow smile pulls up her lips, contorting her face, twisting it into something else, into someone else. Her brown eyes turn green. Her body stretches and pulls into someone much taller, broader, until she becomes...
A man in a black mask.
The Masks, they’re here.
My stomach bottoms out, sickness rolling through me. Stumbling, my eyes slam shut as I reach for the counter, but all I feel is air as I fall sideways. Gritting my teeth, I wait for the impact, my arms suddenly useless. Instead, I’m supported by the man whose eyes are green like crisp, frosted grass in winter.
Sharp, cold, unemotional.
He pushes against my shoulders, forcing me flat on my back as my surroundings morph, the kitchen cabinets melting just like the clock face in Salvador Dali’s painting, becoming a puddle of colour that turns murky, black. I blink back the fog, fighting the heaviness I feel in my limbs as a small white light floats above his head, helping me to see what truly is in front of me.
“You can’t escape us,” he says, his lips plump, surrounded by a dark stubble. The mask he wears covers the top half of his face, revealing his mouth and chin, giving me a glimpse of the man beneath. Drawing back, he moves away and my vision blurs, fading in and out.
“No!” I groan, understanding now that it wasn’t my aunt or uncle that I saw, but a mirage, something I’d conjured up between dream and reality to help me to cope with the trauma.
I’ve been drugged.
I was too late to run.
I’m already theirs.
“Yes,” the man counters, laughing now.
My uncle joins in with him. Only it isn’t my uncle’s face I see anymore but another black mask, two cool blue eyes staring back at me. “You’re here,” I say, trying and failing to move my body. I can barely lift my head, but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
“If by here you mean in your home, I can tell you that we are a long way from there now.”
“Please,” I beg, uncertain of what I’m begging for, but unable to help myself. All thoughts of accepting my fate are replaced with the stark reality of my situation. I knew this day would come, yet now that it’s here I can’t help but feel afraid.
“She’s becoming more lucid,” the man, who’s no longer my uncle, states. His voice is thick and syrupy like molasses. “You’re stronger than you seem.”
One minute he’s sitting over me, the next kneeling by my side. My heart beats in my throat as I read his intention. “Don’t,” I warn, knowing I’m nothing but a lamb ready to be offered up for slaughter.
His glacier eyes glitter dangerously. “Is that a challenge?”
“We’re almost there, Konrad. Give her another dose. It will tide her over until we’re home. Then you can indulge,” another voice, different from the other two, says. There’s a melodious note to his voice, and a foreign edge, making it difficult to place his accent. I can only hear him. He’s nearby, but not close enough for me to see.
“Stay away from me!” I grind out, panic sliding like acid through my veins. But the man I now know as Konrad ignores me, and reaches for something tucked inside his jacket pocket. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what he’s reaching for, and what he intends to do, again.
“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Zero,” he says, leaning closer.
Zero? He says that as though it’s my name. Maybe I misheard, maybe this is all part of the strange in-between place I’m in right now, my mind conjuring up realities to help me to cope with this living nightmare.
“You don’t like your new name? I thought it was apt,” he says, noting the confusion in my eyes and choosing to add insult to injury. He pulls his hand back from his pocket, deciding that he’d rather torture me with words than knock me out again.
“My name is Christy, my sister is Grim. Do you know who you’re fucking with?” I ask, pouring as much strength into my trembling voice as possible. I’ve never, not once, used my sister’s name to warn people off me. I’ve always fought my own battles, never claiming power from a family line, until now. With his hand cupping my cheek and the pad of his thumb brushing over my bottom lip, he slowly lowers his face towards mine.
“We know exactly who your sister is. Unfortunately for you, we also know how much you mean to her. She hid you well. Just not well enough.”
“She’ll kill you all,” I say, knowing it to be true, my heart breaking because of it. She has enough blood on her hands. Too much. She pretends like that doesn’t matter to her, but I know it does.
“She’ll die trying,” he counters, saying out loud what I’ve known all along. It’s why I never told her about my visions after that first time. I knew how Kate would react. What she’d try to do. What she’ll still try to do. The second she finds out I’m gone, she’ll drop everything to hunt these men down.
“No! Leave her out of this. I won’t fight you. I’ll do what you want.”
“It doesn’t matter whether you come willingly or not. You were always going to be ours the moment she ordered Beast to kill our father over that girl,” a detached voice, belonging to the third Mask I’ve yet to be introduced to, says.
“What girl? Why would Beast kill your father?” My questions tumble out of my mouth in a stream of badly strung-together sounds as I try to look behind me.
“The details aren’t important. What’s important is that from this moment on you will pay for your sister’s actions,” Konrad says, drawing my attention back to him.
“They will come for me…” I say.
“We’re not afraid of your sister or her lover. Let them come,” the Mask with the green eyes retorts with a smirk.
“W—we can work something out,” I say, trying a different approach.
“There will be no negotiations. You’re ours now. Get used to it,” Konrad retorts, swiping his tongue over his lower lip in a way that tells me exactly what being theirs means.
“I know that. I’ve known that for some time,” I mutter, managing to lift my arm a few inches, only for it to drop back down.
Konrad looks at me then back to green eyes. “Did you hear that, Leon?”
“It’s the drug. She was calling me Sandy a moment ago. Give her another dose. We’ve still got a couple of hours to go.”
“No!” I blurt out, knowing I’d rather be awake than asleep right now.
“But she’s entertaining…” Konrad muses, watching me closely.
Words fail to form, fear nips at my ability to remain calm. I need to remain calm. Pressing my palms against the floor, I feel cool metal. It grounds me somehow. The sensation anchors me in the moment, enabling me to focus on reality. I look past Konrad, focusing on the wall and ceiling behind and above him. I soon realise that it isn’t a wall, but more metal. My drugged-up brain tries to make sense of where I am, as slowly more sounds filter in. Familiar sounds.
We’re in a vehicle. Moving.
It’s a van, judging by the size, and it jerks suddenly, lifting my body off the floor an inch before slamming me back down. I vaguely wonder why I’m not screaming in pain, then I remember I’ve been drugged. I’m numb, and the phantom pain I live with every second of every day is not affecting me right now. Small mercies, I guess.
Leon bashes his fist against the wall. “Slow the fuck down, Jakub. The last thing we need is the police pulling us over.”
“Talk to me like that again, Brother, and I’ll make sure that you never get to unleash yourself on her,” he retorts.
Jakub.
So that’s his name, the one who’s driving.
“Do you hear me, Leon? Never,” Jakub repeats, his voice menacing in a way that makes my heart leap in fear and my throat constrict, not because of what he’s just said but because I realise that it’s his voice I recognise. The voice that I’ve always heard in my visions. Jakub is The Mask who always spoke to me. The other two remained mute, until now.
“Never?” Leon barks out a dismissive laugh, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze as he glances at me. Something I can’t untangle. Could it be regret for speaking out of turn or anger for being called out for it? I’m not sure, I’m too bound up in my own fear to care. Right now, I don’t want to know about how they fit together or the hierarchy of their twisted trio. My short term goal is to stay conscious.
Digging deep, I focus on my surroundings, concentrating on the here and now, refusing to fall back into that weird dream state where nothing is real and bad people are camouflaged by good people. The more lucid I become, the more I should be able to move my body. Forcing all fear out of my mind, I look at the two men as they talk in hushed words beside me. I grit my teeth, and with every passing second my motor functions return. With superhuman effort, I manage to lift my arm and grasp Konrad’s ankle, squeezing tight.
“What the fu—”
His head snaps back around as he looks at my hand clutching his ankle. Leaning over, he unhooks my fingers, plucking them free like petals from a flower. His penetrating blue eyes cut through my precarious bravery, and every second he holds my gaze I feel it waning.
“Don’t touch me. There are rules,” he warns, shifting his position so that he’s back to kneeling beside me once more.
“Rules?” I shake my head, my body spasming as sensation returns. My body doesn’t feel like my own, and I try desperately to regain control over it.
“Yes, rules that you will obey,” he continues.
“Never,” I snap.
Behind Konrad, Leon scoffs. “Your fight is admirable, but it won’t save you, it will only make this all the more delicious.”
His full, plump lips part, a slow smile dragging across his face. I watch him, unable to tear my eyes away. He seems feral somehow, like there’s an animal lurking just beneath the thin surface of his composure.
“Indeed, Brother,” Konrad agrees, cocking his head to the side.
He rests his hand against my stomach, watching me. I feel the warmth from his palm despite the lack of any kind of empathy in his gaze. Trapped in the sheer dominance of his actions, I remain mute, the word obey rattling around my mind like a pinball in an arcade game. Time slows as his hand lowers, his fingers brushing over my hip bone, edging towards the place touched by no man before him.
“No!” I shout, feeling a sudden rush of anger, of disbelief. This is what they have in mind for me. “Don’t!”
My kidnapper’s hand stills, his fingertip resting lightly against the seam of my jeans that runs between my legs. “Don’t?” He licks his bottom lip as he adds more pressure against my clit, a crooked smile growing across his face. I don’t need to see all his features to know he’s beautiful beneath that mask, externally at least.
“You have no right,” I add, forcing myself to sound strong when everything else feels weak. He rubs me slowly, gently, expertly. His touch should have me screaming with disgust, and yet I remain impassive, shocked into submission.
“I have every right to do whatever the hell I want to you, Zero, same as my brothers. I can touch you, taste you, fuck you, punish you. You. Are. Ours. You belong to The Masks.”
I flinch internally at every word, at the ferocity of his belief. The ownership.
I’m theirs. I belong to them. Something flares inside my chest. Something that makes no sense given the circumstances.
It shocks me.
Everything about this situation is wrong, and yet... Even though Konrad’s touch is unwanted, uninvited, something disquieting happens as he adds more pressure. My clit pulses. It comes alive. For the briefest of moments, pleasure teases my senses. The feeling is fleeting, short-lived, but it cuts deeper than I ever expected it could. It hurts. Enjoyment has no place in this situation. None.
“No!” I shout, more to myself and the feeling that his surprisingly gentle touch invokes. It forces more tears to the surface but I blink them away, rationalising that my reaction to his touch is an unwanted effect of the drug they’ve immobilised me with and nothing more.
“I’m not a fan of that word, Zero. It upsets me, and you really don’t want to see me upset.”
I swallow hard, my gaze flicking to Leon. Is he okay with this too? Can he truly allow this to happen?
“You’re seeking help from me?” he asks, amusement in his tone whilst shaking his head.
“You’re beyond help now. Take what we give, and you’ll survive. Fight it, and you’ll perish...” Konrad says, pressing his finger harder against my clit, adding pressure to the throb that’s building.
“Perishing sounds delicious. Fight us. Do it!” Leon goads.
His taunt slashes at the tantalizing pleasure my body refuses to ignore and hurtles me into despair. These men are kidnappers, monsters, deviants. Yet my body acts instinctively, confused by the drug, this new sensation, and being touched so intimately. Konrad increases the pressure all the while watching me, drinking in my reaction, my turmoil. Getting off on it.
Stop!
The command remains trapped in my head as I war with myself. Turning my face away, I refuse to look at him. He doesn’t stop. He continues to rub me over my jeans, another finger adding to the first, the seam of my jeans tight between my crotch. With his other hand he grasps my chin, forcing me to look at him. He’s trying to read me, trying to see into my thoughts, to peel back the layers. But I’m not so easily read. Years of hiding who I really am protects me from such intrusion.
“So beautiful. Your hair is like flaming torches,” he murmurs, eyes laced with lust. “Your eyes are unusual too. I’ve never seen it before. One is as blue as a meadow filled with cornflowers, the other rivalling the darkness of the dungeons beneath the castle we live in. I wonder, do they reflect who you are?”
I might have been mildly impressed with his almost poetic words had it not been for the description of his home. Dungeons and castles, flaming torches. It all sounds so... medieval. Panic rises, and as I blink back the terror, I notice my reflection in the widened pupils of his eyes. Fear is the first thing I see, followed by the mask I’m still wearing. At that moment something fundamental dawns on me. He can’t see my true face.
I never removed my makeup before I fell asleep. It remains intact, hiding the reality of who I am. Right now these men see the lie, and for the first time in my life that thought gives me strength, not abstract sadness. I can be someone else too. I can find strength beneath my own mask. I can be whoever I need to be to survive. So long as they never truly see who I am, they can never have power over me. I can be a force to be reckoned with, just like my sister.
“Get your motherfucking hands off of me!” I growl, funneling Kate’s spirit. No, funnelling Grim’s spirit. The sound is so feral that I don’t even recognise my own voice. Konrad raises a brow then grins widely, showing me perfectly straight, white teeth.
“I love your fight, Zero. Let’s see how long it will last, hmm?”
“Fuck you, arsehole!”
“She’s strong,” Leon says absently, a pique of interest in his voice.
My attention snaps to the green-eyed Mask as he assesses me like he might an animal, with vague interest and a desire to see what would happen if he poked me with something sharp. The frost in his gaze makes my teeth clack and my skin cover in goosebumps, but I remain determined.
“You have no idea,” I reply, kicking out, my anger overriding the heaviness in my limbs, enabling me to fight back, even if, ultimately, it’s useless to do so right now.
“Shh, this doesn’t have to be a struggle,” Konrad says, sliding his hand upwards and resting it against the centre of my chest, over the frantic beat of my heart. Leaning closer, he pins me to the van floor, his minty breath whispering against my lips. “Easy now.”
Although his words are soothing on the surface, they’re laced with a promise of darker things if I disobey. Words form on my tongue, angry, confused, rage-filled words that Grim would be proud of, but every single one dissolves the moment he jabs a needle into the side of my neck. The cool liquid enters my bloodstream in a rush, the effects immediate and debilitating.
I lose consciousness once more.