Page 43 of The Debutantes
“Chillier out here, isn’t it?” The Rougarou claps the raven on the back. “Be a gentleman. Lend her your coat, huh?”
The raven doesn’t move, and the Rougarou chuckles, acrid smoke billowing from beneath his mask.
“Here.” He shrugs off his jacket. “You must be freezing.”
He holds it out, his eyes slithering down my dress, and all I want is to take the thing and throw it over myself just so he can’t see me. But I can’t bring myself to touch it. I have a feeling this is the kind of man whose kindness always comes with strings attached.
Suddenly, I wish I hadn’t left Piper and Vivian.
“Come on, I don’t bite.” The Rougarou brings the jacket closer, and I start to take it, just to silence him. As soon as I brush the fabric, he lunges forward, snapping his teeth. I flinch, and he laughs, slinging the jacket back over his shoulder. “No, don’t worry. We’re all gentlemen here.”
There’s something familiar in his voice, I think, but a little off, like he’s putting on a performance. It’s too hard to tell through the muffling of the mask, and too dark to find anything I recognize in the eyes behind it.
A glass shatters somewhere behind us, and I jump.
“Skittish, isn’t she?” the Rougarou asks.
“Lay off,” the raven mutters gruffly. He glances at me. “She’s too young.”
“You think?” The Rougarou tilts his head like he’s assessing me. “You know, I think you might be right. You look young enough to be in school, don’t you?” He laughs. “No, they don’t take kindly to that. Against the rules, even here. How old are you. Sixteen? Seventeen?” He looks at his friend. “The other one was seventeen, wasn’t she?”
Everything else blurs out of focus except the lighter still clutched in the Rougarou’s hand and the beating of my own heart in my ears.“The other one.”Those three words laced with so much meaning, twisting into memories.
The flick of Margot’s lighter. The look on her face that night.
April, please.
“Margot,” I force out. “Is that who you’re talking about?”
The Rougarou rears back slightly, like her name has a physical force. “Well, shit.”
The raven turns to me, and even with the mask, I don’t miss the warning in his eyes. “You need to leave. Now.”
I don’t hesitate. I stumble back through the shuttered doors, my ankle rolling as I slip in my heels. The pain makes me wince, but I keep moving, back into the noise and the music, as far from the masked men as I can get. I run until I almost collide with a wall of blue chiffon.
“Where the hell did you go?” Piper snaps.
“You can’t disappear like that,” Vivian whispers.
“I…” My voice won’t come out. Suddenly, this dress feels as tight as my debutante ball gown, threatening to collapse my lungs.
And then I see him.
“April?” Vivian’s eyes search mine. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, and Piper and Vivian turn to follow my stare.
There, on the other side of the room, is a man dressed like one of the Les Masques Jesters. His face is hidden by the hat and plastic mask, its lips painted into a permanent red grin, and he’s looking straight at us, like he knows exactly who we are.
Like he’s been waiting.
15PIPER
JANUARY 1, 1:30A.M.
My first instinct is to laugh. Because ofcourse—it’s like we’re in a bad horror movie, the masked bad guy showing up on cue, and for once, I don’t even have my pepper spray.
And then he’s moving toward us.
