The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige

Chapter 6

CHRISTY

As soon as I think it’s safe to do so, I ignore Konrad’s demand for me to wash, step out of the bathroom and walk hesitantly into the bedroom. My bare feet pass from the cool stone of the bathroom onto warm floorboards that creak and groan as I walk into the centre of the room.

On the opposite side of the space, light spills in through a huge arched window, the glass divided up into small square panes by lead strips. Through it, I can see a vast forest, the dark, evergreen canopy a thick blanket that stretches on for miles and miles. Beyond the forest are mountains with snow capped peaks, the horizon pitted with heavy grey clouds. It might only be early autumn but I have a feeling that snow falls heavily and often here. Konrad was right, Even if I were able to escape the castle, and find my way through the forest, it would be all too easy to perish in the highlands beyond. My heart sinks. No wonder he felt so at ease leaving me here alone. The whole landscape is a prison.

Blowing out a shaky breath, I allow my gaze to drift around the room. The walls are painted cream and are framed with intricate gold cornicing, giving it an opulent feel. In the centre of the room is a large four-poster bed made of a light-coloured wood, maybe oak or maple. Dark gold, damask curtains hang from the posts and are pulled back to reveal a cream bedspread with matching pillows. A beige throw edged with golden thread is folded across the bottom of the bed, and there’s a plain, white cotton nightdress and matching robe lain across the top of it. I eye the clothing Konrad has left for me to wear, and snort. There isn’t a chance in hell I’m putting that on. I’d rather pay the price of disobedience than wear an outfit that makes me feel that vulnerable.

Striding past the offending items, I walk towards the vanity table situated to the left of the imposing bed. It has an ornate gold mirror sitting on top of it and an antique hairbrush and comb set resting on the surface. My fingers absently run over the handle of the brush, it looks and feels like elephant ivory, though my knowledge is limited to books, not actual expertise, so I can’t be certain. Regardless, my heart spikes with sadness imagining what such a creature must have suffered in order for man to benefit from something so beautiful.

Isn’t that always the way? Aren’t things of beauty always coveted? The ivory of an elephant, the pelt of a tiger, the fur of a fox. Some are more expensive than others, but all have value. Is it the rarity of such things that make them so alluring or the fact that they are simply beautiful? The skin on my back prickles with knowing, my thoughts close to a truth I’m yet to fully understand. What had Nala mentioned in the dungeons? Something about the Numbers being more. She had referred to herself as staff, but the Numbers were something else. I know nothing of The Masks, what I do know is that they’ve kidnapped me. Isn’t it possible they’ve done the same to others? Are the Numbers victims of kidnap? How many are there? Is their purpose to entertain The Masks too? Are they their slaves, trapped in sexual servitude?

Drawing my hand back from the handle of the brush, I force those thoughts away and focus on the task at hand, too overwhelmed with the knowledge that I may be right. What I need right now is a pen and some paper. A quick glance around the room tells me neither item is obviously available, that doesn’t stop me from looking though. I open the drawer to the vanity unit, finding it empty, then move quickly on to the chest-of-drawers situated beneath the window. Each drawer is filled with the same white cotton dress that has been laid out on the bed, and nothing else. No underwear, no socks, no jumpers or t-shirts, jeans or trousers.

My heart sinks, and my throat squeezes but I refuse to let fear creep back in. Moving on to the bedside cabinet, I pull open the drawer and am relieved to find a leatherbound copy of the Bible, not because I’m religious and will find peace in the pages, but because I can use it to write upon.

“Now I just need a pen,” I mumble, snatching up the bible and pulling the drawer open further.

Nothing.

Feeling frustrated, I scan the room one last time then remember the jacket Konrad left behind in the bathroom. Half of me hopes to find my lock of hair and his knife tucked inside one of the pockets, but of course he’s taken those with him. I do, however, find a fountain pen.

I practically scream in joy. It feels like a victory, however small.

Clutching both items in my hand, I settle myself on the stool tucked beneath the vanity table and write down everything I observed on my walk to these quarters with Konrad and what I’ve gleaned from Nala and her Grandfather. A huge part of me feels guilt at defacing such a sacred item, but for the next five minutes, I do exactly that. I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that I don’t notice someone entering the room until it’s too late.

“Why aren’t you changed?” a familiar voice asks, shocking me out of my concentration.

I jump, looking over my shoulder as Nala steps into the room from a door that seems to have magically appeared out of the stretch of wall opposite. She’s holding a tray, on it is a silver dome covering what I presume is a plate of food. Next to it is a pot of tea and a cup and saucer. Sliding the fountain pen between the pages of the Bible, I carefully close it then cross my chest, hoping that she buys the lie.

“Praying,” I reply, tucking the Bible into the drawer of the vanity unit and turning to face her.

“You’ll be praying to the Lord Almighty for mercy when Konrad finds out you’ve not followed his orders,” she scoffs with a shake of her head and roll of her eyes.

“Is that for me?” I ask, ignoring her sarcasm as she settles the tray on top of the chest-of-drawers. She seems different, less sympathetic than when we first met.

“You’re supposed to be washed and changed into those clothes,” she says, pointing to the cotton dress laid out across the bed. “They’ll be here within the hour. You don’t want to disappoint them… And, yes, this is for you.”

“What will happen if I disappoint them?” I can’t help but ask.

She bites on her lip, sighing. “You’ll end up like the others.”

“Others?”

“Yes, the other Numbers. Better to be owned by The Masks than loaned out to the men and women who come here.”

“What do you mean, loaned out—”

“I mean it’s not all bad,” she interrupts quickly. “The show is great, magnificent actually. The Numbers are truly gifted. It’s just the other stuff...” her voice trails off and her cheeks tinge pink.

“What show? What is this place exactly? Who comes here? What other stuff?”

Squaring her shoulders, she shakes her head and strides across the room towards me. “I’ve said too much.”

“You’ve barely said anything. Please, Nala, tell me what’s happening here.”

She shakes her head, her small hands wringing in front of her. “They will tell you everything so long as you behave. You will behave, won’t you?”

“By behave, do you mean allow them to keep me prisoner? You think I should let them hurt me?”

“I mean, being what they need.”

“What they need?” I question, reminded of what Konrad had threatened. What they appear to need is someone to torture, to command, to hunt, to be their sex slave. They want me to obey. “You can’t be serious?”

“Just be what they need and everything will be okay. I promise.”

My fingers curl into my hands and I shake my head. “You’re young, so maybe you don’t understand how things work, but I will never willingly give them what they want. It isn’t right! You must see that.”

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes hardening. “Come on. You must bathe. Change,” she urges, reaching for my hand and pulling me to my feet. “You need to prepare yourself for Leon and Jakub. Make a good impression.”

“I’ve already met Konrad, and I don’t like him,” I snap, forcing away the feeling of sympathy I’d felt for him and concentrating on his true ugliness instead. “Why should I bother to make a good impression on the other two?”

“Konrad is the kindest of the three,” she murmurs, looking up at me from beneath thick eyelashes. “He cares for the Numbers. They adore him.”

“He’s the kindest,” I say with disbelief.

“Yes.” Squeezing my hand, Nala pulls me back into the bathroom. “Better him that you met first than Leon or Jakub. If you’d given them this much sass they’d have made you pay for it.”

“Fantastic,” I mutter, yanking my hand out of her hold and refusing to follow her further into the bathroom. “If Konrad’s the kindest, there really is no hope for me.”

“You must wash. It will be worse if you don’t. Please. If not for you, then for me.”

“For you? What difference would me washing or putting on that cotton nightdress make to you?”

“I am to be your personal maid. If you don’t do it, it reflects badly on me. I don’t want to upset them.”

“Because they will punish you?” I ask, feeling simultaneously guilty for putting her at risk and angry at how cruel these men are.

“No, because I will disappoint them. This is my home. This is my grandfather’s home. We don’t want to lose our jobs. I like living here.”

“Lose your jobs?” I ask incredulously. “Before you said that they would kill you if they found out you brought me food and water. They don’t sound like men anyone should be working for, let alone living under the same roof. Or were you lying?”

“I wasn’t lying. They would kill us both, and I wouldn’t blame them. There are rules and I broke one of them today by helping you. I won’t do that again.” She reaches for the zipper of my hoodie, her fingers shaking as she slides it downwards. “I’m sorry.” Tears well in her eyes and I instantly feel guilt, remorse at pushing her. She’s just a child after all.

“I can do it,” I retort with a sigh, gently pushing her hands away and pulling off my hoodie.

She nods, turning back to the water and dipping her hand beneath the surface. “It’s lukewarm. I’ll add some more hot water.”

“No!” I snap, then blow out a breath when she gives me a startled look. “I mean, it’s fine.”

“Then let me take your things,” she says, holding her hands out to me.

“I’d prefer to bathe alone.”

“I have to make sure you’re clean,” she adds, her eyes telling me what her words do not. If she doesn’t, she’ll be punished.

“Okay,” I say, slowly stripping off my clothes until I’m standing before her naked. I’ve never been naked in front of anyone, and I feel heat rising up my chest and neck as I hand her my clothes. Nala, sensing my embarrassment, averts her eyes, and turns her back on me so that I can climb into the bath and lower myself under the milky water. The scent wraps around me as I disturb the water, and I momentarily breathe in a deep lungful. It smells so good.

“I will make sure these are washed—” I hear her gasp, and I know she’s looking at my ravaged back and the horrific scars left by the burns I endured as a child. “Your back…”

“I was burnt in a fire when I was eight. I nearly died.”

“Did it hurt very badly?” she asks as I lay back. The coolness of the water, a welcome relief despite the situation I’m in.

“It did, yes.”

“Was anyone else hurt?”

“My mother. She died.”

“I’m sorry…” Her voice trails off as she frowns. “You’ve suffered before… I wonder if they know.”

“If The Masks know? Would it make a difference if they did?”

She doesn’t answer, instead she passes me a facecloth. “For your face... I can wash your hair if you’d like. It feels so much better if someone else does it, don’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’ve always managed to clean myself.”

Her cheeks redden. “Of course you have. Sorry. My grandfather has told me that I must be willing to do everything I can to make your stay here comfortable. He’s trusting me with your care.”

“Comfortable? We both know that isn’t how it’s going to be for me, despite this moment of reprieve. Can you tell me what’s going to happen, Nala? Who are the Numbers? Are they prisoners like me?”

She shakes her head. “It isn’t my place to say. I can’t tell you. But if there’s anything else that you need, I’ll do my best to ensure you get it, provided it doesn’t break any rules, of course.”

“How about a helicopter out of here?”

“I meant like your favourite food, or drink, maybe a book? We have a huge library in the eastern wing of the castle...”

“What about a mobile phone, a computer?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“If I wrote a letter home promising not to tell where I am, would you send it for me?”

“This is your home.”

I don’t bother to argue. Instead, I dip the washcloth into the milky water. She expects me to wash, and will wait until I’ve cleaned every inch of skin as she’s been ordered to do, which means that I can’t avoid cleaning my face. My heart sinks. So much for keeping my mask in place. “There is one thing I need…” I say, taking a chance, and hoping she’ll keep to her promise.

“What is it?”

“I need some foundation for my skin.”

She frowns. “You wish to cover the scars on your back…?”

“No. There isn’t enough foundation in the world to help with those scars. I wish to cover up this,” I say, placing the washcloth over my face and scrubbing at the thick makeup before revealing what I’ve managed to hide so far.

Her eyes widen, and her mouth pops open in shock. “Oh…” Her voice trails off as she struggles to find the right words to say.

“I’m not as perfect as Konrad thinks, and I’m not sure he’d be all that kind to me if he saw what I truly looked like. I’m far from beautiful, as you can see. I don’t even want to know how the others would react, but I’m guessing it wouldn’t be all that positive.”

“No, perhaps not,” Nala admits. “I just don’t know if…”

“What?” I ask, cutting her off. “Would helping me with this go against their rules?”

“Not exactly. It’s just…” She sighs, frowning.

“Maybe bombarding them with all my flaws all at once wouldn’t be wise. Better to let them become accustomed to me bit by bit?” I suggest, hating every word coming out of my mouth but needing to persuade her to help me. I need to cover up my birthmark if I’m to remain strong. I need to become someone else if I’m to survive this place and these men.

“Okay,” she nods. “Six has a similar complexion to you. Give me a couple of minutes. I’ll go fetch some foundation from her room. I’ll be back.”

“Six?”

Nala nods. “Yes. She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

“You mean I’m going to meet her?”

“This is your home now, and the Numbers will be sharing it with you. Of course you’ll get to meet them,” Nala explains.

“Them? How many are there?”

“Twelve.”

“Twelve…? So I’m one of them now…”

“No. You’re Zero. You’re here in The Masks’ quarters. You’re different.” With that she squeezes my arm and rushes from the room, leaving me pondering why, if I’m so different, have I been named after a number as well.