Once everyone is done donning robes, Peregrine grabs a mask—an elaborate white one with gold swirls and black feathers—and pulls it on. Everyone quickly follows suit, so I take a deep breath, pick up a gold mask with long white and green feathers, pull it over my face, and watch as Caleb puts on a black mask trimmed in gold.
Peregrine makes a grunting sound, then she emerges from the closet and strikes the triangle again. Everyone instantly lines up and follows her down the stairs and toward the front door of the mansion. I fall into line, just in front of Caleb, and when I feel his hand on my hips through the cool silk of my robe, I have to remind myself that it’s not really him, that he’s not really there. Still, his touch sears me.
The front door opens ahead of us, and as it does, the sounds of the outside world pour in. The street is still overflowing with drunken revelers, and many of them turn to stare as we move out of the house and into the crowd.
“I told you this is the place with the sluts in robes,” I hear a rough-looking bearded guy in a stained T-shirt slur to his friend. “I call the hot black chick with the crazy hair.”
“I’ll take the blonde,” his friend growls back.
I watch in horror as the two men move toward Peregrine and Chloe and begin trying to talk to them. When Peregrine and Chloe don’t respond and instead just continue swaying their way down the street, the rougher-looking one who’d called dibs on Peregrine reaches for her, his hand roughly grazing her breasts. She doesn’t react at all. They’re not really in there, I tell myself. They don’t know this is happening. But then Caleb comes out of nowhere and barrels into the guy groping Peregrine.
“What the f—?” the guy growls, turning to Caleb. But Caleb is flailing wildly now and catches the bearded guy square in the jaw with his elbow. An instant later, his knee connects with the other guy’s crotch, sending him sprawling and wincing in pain.
“Dude, he’s just as effed up as they are,” says the guy on the ground, clutching his crotch protectively and rolling away from Caleb. “Maybe he’s their boyfriend or something.”
Caleb sways unsteadily away from the men, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was herding an oblivious Peregrine and Chloe in the other direction.
“Caleb?” I call out, suddenly sure that he’s faking it too. But then he goes back to writhing strangely, and my heart sinks.
The group stays loosely together as we turn left, heading toward the bigger crowd on Bourbon. One by one, members of our group begin drifting off, and I resist the urge to try to protect them from the crowd. I remind myself that they’ve all come here willingly. I cringe as strangers reach out from the crowd to grope me, and I cinch my belt tighter.
The closer we get to Bourbon Street, the wilder the crowd is. I’m losing sight of more of the members of our group, and I feel a sense of panic setting in. The only Dolls in my eyesight are Pascal and Margaux, and both of them are up ahead, getting swallowed in the sea of people.
“Wait!” I cry out before clamping a hand over my mouth. I’m supposed to look possessed. I take a deep breath, heart thudding, and continue to play along, although I dance through the crowd more quickly now, trying to catch up to the others.
I feel a pair of hands grab my waist, and as I try to wriggle away, the grip grows tighter. I feel a lump of fear in my throat as I pull harder and the hands begin pulling me back.
“Let me go!” I cry, dropping the possessed act. When I feel myself being dragged forcefully away from the street, I begin to scream.
All around me, people are too caught up in their own drinking, partying, singing, and making out to notice me. I grab a man’s hand as I’m dragged past, but he merely shakes me off. “Help!” I scream, clutching at a group of guys with bloodshot eyes, who are swaying on their feet as they discuss what to do next. The only one I make contact with brushes away the spot I’d grabbed like he’s swatting a fly. I cry out once more, struggling against the person behind me, who’s dressed all in black. He’s pulling me toward a darkened alley.
“Just come quietly,” he says suddenly in my ear. “I have a knife, Eveny, and I have no problem using it on anyone who tries to save you.”
“Who are you?” I struggle to turn around in the shadows and see his face, the top half of which is totally covered with an elaborate silver mask. Just then, we pass beneath a streetlight and I gasp. His mouth is completely covered in crimson stains, just like the single one that showed up on Arelia’s cheek. But how? I haven’t kissed anyone on the lips tonight.