Dance of the Red Death (Masque of the Red Death) (22 page)

The swamp is like the sea, huge and undulating, making the manor house look tiny.“We’ll take the ship down and tie her to the chimneys again,” Kent says. And he and Will do so, quickly, anchoring it to the roof like they did before.

As we approach the hole in the roof, a crocodile splashes below, but I ignore it. We have more to fear from Malcontent’s fanatics than from hungry predators.

“Wait here,” Kent tells Mother and the children. “Stay in the interior cabin.” He’s holding two lanterns and a gun for each of us. He hands one of each to me, along with the keys.

Once again I find myself clasping Will’s hand. Kent pushes the first door open. The room is filled from floor to ceiling with clockwork. I’ve never seen so many gears, so many different types of metal; it covers every bit of the wall.

Each door on the north side of the house hides a similarly amazing array of fitted cogs. Kent opens all of them and examines the machines.

“Amazing,” he says. “Simply amazing. But something is missing.” He goes back down the corridor, taking a paper from his pocket and studying it.

“The controls must be on the floor below.”

“Isn’t that floor flooded?” Will asks.

“Only partially. I’ll start the fire on this level to produce the necessary steam. You two go below and find two levers that look like this.” He shows Will a diagram. “Make sure they are in this position. Then insert the keys.” He looks to be sure I still have the key ring. “Turn them at the same time.”

Muskets fire from outside the house.

But we can’t stop or turn back now. We have to set this thing in motion.

The floor below is more than partially flooded. Will and I stop at a gently sloping grand staircase that twists and turns and disappears into the dirty water below. I hold up my lantern, only to see it reflected by dozens of glowing disks.

Crocodile eyes.

“Be careful,” Will says quietly. “They may lay their eggs inside, which would make them especially aggressive.”

We hear more shooting outside the house, and then a soft splash. One of the reptiles swims very slowly toward the staircase.

“The levers are over there,” Will says, pointing. I tear my eyes away from the rippling water below.

The room was once dominated by the gracious staircase we are standing on. It’s a tall room, and even with the water covering the floor, the ceiling is high. A metal beam stretches from about midway up the staircase to a decorative balcony across the room, where the levers and a great wheel are. It must be the remains of the scaffolding used by the scientists who built this device. The rest has fallen into the water below.

“We’ll have to climb across and turn it on,” Will says. “The scientists who built this thing must have had a platform suspended below the beam, but it’s long gone.”

I look at the beam and then, slowly, to the water below.

“We’ll scoot across,” Will says. “It won’t be so hard.”

But he’s only saying that to make me feel better. It’s going to be terrible. The light of one lantern is not enough in this place.

I hold tight to the lantern, and my palm is sweaty. A crocodile has climbed two steps up the grand staircase. I reach for my gun.

“Wait,” Will says. “We don’t want to disturb the rest of them.”

“I want to shoot them all,” I say.

“You could go upstairs and help Kent,” Will suggests. “Give me a turn to play hero?”

I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

He kisses me quickly and then lifts me up onto the beam. I set the lantern before me and hesitate for a moment. It’s too close to the ceiling to stand, and almost too narrow for crawling. We’ll have to slide.

Halfway across the beam, the pistol that Kent gave Will falls out of his pocket and splashes into the water below.

The crocodiles dive after it from every direction, and the water churns. The splashing and gurgling are bad enough, but in the half light of the lantern I can also see the gleam of their teeth, the glow of their eyes.

I freeze, gripping the metal beam with all my might. Will wraps both arms around me. I feel his heart beating, and I borrow courage from him.

“Will?” Kent is standing at the top of the stairs, holding his lantern high. “The fire is going strong. Those levers must be pulled
now
.”

The light of his lantern wavers, casting shadows, and I’m not sure at first that the shape I see is real. Until it’s lunging toward Kent.

“Behind you!” I cry, but he must have sensed the movement. He throws himself to the side. The assailant raises something and brings it down, crashing, over Kent’s head. At the sounds of the scuffle, the big crocodile lounging at the bottom of the stairway raises its head.

For a moment Kent seems to be getting the upper hand, but the attacker is pounding him over and over. It’s Malcontent. He isn’t wearing his dark robes, but the hulking shape and nearly graceful movements give him away.

“I’ll pull the levers,” I say. “Take the gun. Help him.”

Kent pushes the reverend back, and his red scarf falls to the water, where a crocodile bites into it, shaking it back and forth in the water.

Will takes the gun as the big crocodile noses up the steps. I tear my eyes away from all of it. I have my job. I’ll let them do theirs. I scramble to the end of the beam.

I hear a gunshot, and the crocodiles below me are moving. Afraid? Or angry? I lean toward the levers from the edge of the beam, as far as I can without falling into the water.

I grasp the first one and pull it up. The second is stuck, but I yank hard and it finally moves. I shove the keys in and use both hands to turn them. The great wheel begins to turn with a loud grinding sound, and the water ripples.

Craning to look over my shoulder, I see Will, nearly across the beam, holding the gun in front of him. The other two figures have disappeared, but the crocodiles seem very interested in the area they vacated. Will must have shot someone.

The water below us is rising, and with it the crocodiles that couldn’t clamber onto the stairway before. I scoot quickly to where Will is waiting. Several crocodiles are just a few steps under where we’ll have to step off.

“You go first,” he says. “If they snap at you, I’ll shoot.”

“Then how will you get past them?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

The water is rising too quickly.

“Jump off and run! Now, Araby! You have to trust me.” And I do, so I leap.

My feet hit marble, and I jump over a snapping crocodile to a higher step, finding my footing and turning to see that Will is trapped. If he does the same thing I did, the big crocodile will tear into him.

I scream for help, even though I don’t know right now if Kent is alive. Will still has our lantern, and with the churning of the water wheel, I’m unable to tell if anything is approaching me, if my screams are drawing more predators.

Suddenly Elliott is beside me, lighting a match. He rips something from the top of a vial with his teeth, lights it, and tosses it into the water.

Fire blazes across the surface. The creatures in the water dive away.

“It won’t last long,” Elliott says. “We don’t want to burn down the entire structure.” As I pull away from him, Will joins us, and we limp down the corridor, away from the rising water and the crocodiles.

Through the open doors on the next floor, we see the clockwork parts turning. Great wooden wheels move the water. Smaller ones control its flow, sending it through huge barrels.

Kent is alive. He’s wearing his goggles and kneeling in the corner of the room. We all rush to him.

“Where are you hurt?” Elliott asks over and over.

“I think a rib or two are broken,” he says. “And one of the crocodiles took a nip at my leg. It’s lucky that Will took that shot.”

His eyes slide over, and we all turn to see Malcontent sprawled on the floor. He’s holding a blood-soaked pillowcase to his shoulder. He’s bloodied and only half conscious. He opens his eyes as Elliott stares down at him.

“We’re going to take you back to the city,” Elliott says. “And you will answer for your crimes.”

“I’d expect no less from you,” Malcontent says, his inexplicable hatred for Elliott burning in his eyes. “But just try to leave this house alive.”

Elliott raises his eyebrows but doesn’t respond. Will walks over and ties up Malcontent, giving the wound a cursory glance. Then the rest of us turn to look at the machinery.

“Does this thing really work?” I ask Kent. “Can we cleanse the water? Can we save the city from the plague?”

“I don’t know. The men who built it didn’t even know. Prospero killed them before they could test it. It’s tragic to build something so magnificent and never even discover if it worked.”

Elliott lights a cigarette. “Almost as tragic as taking over a city and then having it pulled out from under you with an election.” His face is impassive, but he says the word “election” like it is a curse.

Kent looks up. His face is badly bruised where Malcontent hit him.

“How did you get here so quickly?”

“You mean just in time? I didn’t come to tarnish your attempt at heroism.” It would be hard to miss Elliott’s sarcasm. “But I didn’t want to miss out on any fun.”

With the machine running, we collect ourselves and limp back to the roof. When we emerge, there is an eerie silence, broken only by the splashing of the water and the grinding of machinery.

We take two steps, and then a gunshot rings out. “The Hunter,” I breathe. Of course Malcontent would bring his most deadly soldier.

Elliott looks at his father, who smiles from his place in Will’s grasp. “The Hunter never misses.”

“He did once,” Elliott murmurs. And he walks across the roof as if there is no danger.

“No!” I scream. But Elliott no longer cares what I say. He scans the swamp with one hand shading his eyes. Another shot rings out. I gasp, but Elliott is still standing.

A boy stands waist-deep in the water of the swamp, holding a gun.

“Is that Thom?” I ask.

Will nods.

Thom points to a man who floats facedown. “Please send someone to fetch the body, and me, before the crocodiles come,” Thom requests politely. “I hope you’ll accept this as my apology for letting him go the last time we were all here.”

Luckily the crocodiles are wary, avoiding the churning water around the house. Elliott’s men hoist Thom into their boat.

He climbs up the side of the house where the interior stairway was once exposed, easily scaling the sections that Kent tried to make impassable with his ax.

“Thank you,” Elliott says. “You’ve done a great service—”

“I did it for Will,” the boy says. “He saved my life. Took the blame for me. And for Miss April, because she was kind to me.”

“Fair enough,” Elliott says, ignoring the fact that
he
was the one who posed a threat to Thom.

Below us, windows shatter and crocodiles swarm out of the lower levels of the house. The manor seems likely to fall to ruin, destroyed by the machine within. We are falling to ruin as well—gashed, tattered, burned. Will wraps his arms around me.

Elliott looks over at us. “I’ll be a good leader, Araby. Better than the others.”

“A benevolent one?” I ask.

“Doubtful,” Elliott says. “One who gets things done.”

“I hope so.” Kent heads to the ship. “Would you like to go back to the city in style?”

For a moment Elliott seems ready to take us up on it, but he shakes his head. “I’ll stay with my men. We’ll need to organize patrols. Clear out the bodies of the dead crocodiles before they block the water wheel. And I’m going back to the palace for April. I won’t leave her body in that place.”

“We can take him,” I gesture to Malcontent.

“Oh, I think he’ll stay with me,” Elliott says. He prods his father with his boot. “The reverend will answer for his crimes. As will your father.”

Will goes with Kent toward the airship, but I’m unable to walk away from Elliott yet. I want to scream at him. I want to hurt him. More than I already have. He’s going to punish me for what I’ve done to him. I can see it in the tilt of his head, the coldness of his eyes.

“Let’s not forget that we still need each other,” I say.

He slumps against the chimney, and though he kicks at his father again, the movement is desultory. I turn away and climb the steps onto the deck of the airship.

Kent lifts off, and it seems that everyone needs Will. First he’s being attacked and kissed and hugged by Elise and Henry. Then he’s applying salve to the slash across Kent’s face.

“A physician is a respectable profession, with some training,” my mother says to no one in particular as she watches Will patch everyone up. The seams of Will’s shirt come apart a little more as he dabs at Kent’s forehead.

“Araby.” Mina’s eyes are huge. “I . . . think there are more tattoos.”

So much for respectability.

My mother seems ready to say something else, but my attention is on Will. The way he moves. The way he scans the deck, making sure Henry and Elise are safe. The way it feels when his eyes catch mine and his attention is focused completely, for a few moments at least, on me.