Masquerade
Eleven
When Delilah wakes she’s on the couch, a blanket draped lazily across her. The last thing she remembers is seeing the vial full of the potion she’ll need before she passed out, the sun having crested the sky. Then she remembers Jameson, hurries from her father’s large estate. Beside the front gate is an empty hole, no doubt the spot he had slept in earlier.
She searches the area desperately, ears perked and eyes focused. No matter how many trees she climbs and rocks she upturns, she can’t find him. “Delilah? Your father wishes to continue your studying now.”
“Not now, I have to find Jameson.”
The butler approaches quietly, his white gloved hand firm on her shoulder. “Upstairs now, Delilah. I’ll send out some staff to look for him.”
“Tell them…” she pauses, racks her brain for the right words. “Tell them to tell him that I need to see him before I leave.”
“As you wish.” The butler murmurs and she hurries inside to her father.
He’s seated behind his desk like yesterday, a concentrated look creasing his brow. Yellowed fingernails are steepled against his red lips, and his eyes merely flicker to her when she enters and shuts the heavy door firmly behind her.
“You’ve made the news again,” he murmurs.
Delilah hurries behind him, scrolls through the font on the computer screen. “They’ve put up wanted posters for me now? What did I do?”
She backs away as her father turns to study her, his eyes criticizing and judgmental. “I don’t know Delilah, what did you do?”
The tone of his voice sets her on edge and before she knows it shes backing away, turning the gold door handle. Outside a nasty looking gremlin snarls at her. “What’s going on?” she demands, backing from the approaching beast.
“We took care of your friend, Jameson was it?”
The man behind the large desk morphs before her green eyes, his bones cracking and breaking, reforming until the devil himself is grinning that sharp toothed smile. Delilah grimaces, her hands curling into useless fists at her sides.
“So is my father even alive still? Or have you been pretending to be him these past few days?”
The devil cackles, a horrible sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Of course he’s still alive. It was him who taught you those things yesterday.” Delilah’s shoulders sag, relief coursing through her. “Of course when I discovered you two found each other I had to intervene. It’s in the contract, you know.”
The gremlin jabs her with something sharp, his fingernail most likely, and Delilah moves reluctantly towards the desk. The devil grasps her forearms tightly, his eyes staring hard into her own. A question is on her lips when a loud roaring noise erupts inside the room. Knick knacks rattle and crash to the floor, books fly open. The computer falls to the floor, the screen smashing into thousands of tiny pieces.
“What are you doing?” she shouts over the deafening noise, but the devil is murmuring something now. It’s a deep chant, his lips never pausing until the noise is dead.
“I’m erasing your memory Delilah. Everything you’ve done, everything you planned to do, you will not remember. You won’t remember being reunited with your father and you won’t remember the late Jameson Benedict.”
“You killed him?” she whispers, her mouth falling open.
“Doesn’t matter sweet Delilah, you won’t remember him. You won’t remember being a vampire and you won’t remember the underworld. I’m giving you your life back. Say goodbye to the modern world, Delilah.”
Before she can protest another loud sound erupts and soon the room is spinning, browns and reds and yellows mixing together; a giant pool of warm toned colors. She has a quick flash of Jameson’s face before everything blacks out, before a sharp silence overcomes all else.
-
England 1798
When Delilah awakes her mother is parting the large curtains in her bedroom, letting in a soft stream of sunlight. Outside birds chirp happily and men shout greetings to one another. Stretching like a lazy cat, she eases from beneath her heavy duvet to greet her mother with soft kisses and smiling lips.
“Morning mother,”
“You must be so excited darling, your ball is tonight.” Her mother exclaims, clapping her hands gaily.
“That it is! Oh, how does the ballroom look?” Delilah questions, concerned.
The last time she saw the large room it was terribly empty, no beautiful lights or streamers, no tables with classy cloth coverings. There wasn’t even a stage for somebody to sing on. Her mother murmurs reassurances that the room is beautiful and Betty, her youngest sister, carries in a tray of breakfast.
“Happy birthday Delilah!” Betty exclaims, setting the tray down to hug her.
They embrace tightly, Delilah basking in the presence of her young sibling. The hug feels like a goodbye, and she isn’t quite sure why. Something ominous lay on the horizon. She tries to shake the foreboding feeling off as she picks at her breakfast. While munching the toast slowly and sipping the orange juice quietly, Ramona comes with her beautiful ball gown and drapes it across her bed.
“Such a beautiful gown, no?” Ramona asks. “One moment ma’am, I’ll have your mask delivered soon as it’s constructed. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Delilah has no time to reply, the maid scurries from the room quick as she entered. Discarding the half-eaten food, she wanders to the gown and holds it against herself in front of the gold gilded mirror. It’s long and strapless, the deepest color of red with white accents. When her bedroom door opens she turns, gown still clasped to her frame.
Ramona gasps, the mask in her hand nearly falling from her hand. Delilah discards the dress, grabbing the mask with eagerness. It’s the darkest shade of black, with diamonds outlining it. Silver sparkles are splattered across it, just enough to make it shine in any light.
“Oh, miss Delilah. There’s a man for you downstairs.” Ramona says, her cheeks flaming up a rosy red.
Delilah quirks a brow and sets the mask gently atop the dress before gathering her robe tightly around her. She passes many workers on her way to the foyer, all wishing her well and a merry birthday. When her feet fall upon the tiled floor the man turns to face her.
He’s dressed in sophisticated attire, a black suit coat and pants. The white shirt beneath contrasts nicely with his tan, and his dark hair falls across his forehead. It barely misses covering his icy blue eyes.
“You must be sweet Delilah,” he murmurs, and a sly smile lifts the corners of his pink lips. “My name is Jameson, it’s a pleasure.”
Something inside Delilah’s heart flutters, but she chalks up to lust. There’s plenty of attractive men wandering her estate every day, conversing with her, taking strolls with her. But none are as handsome as the man before her, the man who seems familiar for some reason.
“Have we met before?” she inquires, cinching her robe tighter.
“I don’t believe we have. Perhaps we passed each other at a ball before? Speaking of balls,” he clears his throat and reaches a hand towards her. Startled she hesitantly places her dainty hand in his open palm, a small smile lifting her lips. “May I escort you to your party tonight Miss Reynolds?”
“Well this is a surprise. Did my father set you up to this?” her laugh is loud and boisterous.
Jameson smiles slyly, an eyebrow quirking into his hairline. “No,” he says, sarcasm lacing his words. “Not at all.”
Delilah giggles and forces a solemn look on her face when her older brother wanders by, eyeing the pair. Once he’s passed Jameson kisses her hand and bids her adieu. When the heavy front door is shut tight again, Ramona scuttles from somewhere behind her.
“Such a handsome man, yes?”
“Definitely,” Delilah murmurs, her mind wandering.
“What did he want?” Ramona asks
She gives the woman a sharp look, her thin brows arched in sharp points. “That’s none of your business Ramona,” the maid casts her eyes downward, obviously uncomfortable and regretful of her words. “But if you must know, he’s escorting me to my ball tonight.”
Betty wanders by, catching the tail end of the sentence. Her little eyes light up and a grin spreads across her lips. “Who’s taking you to your ball?”
“Father sent a man named Jameson here today. He’s quite handsome.”
The three of them whisper about the mystery man, cheeks aflame and smiles spread wide. They manage to break off when the clock strikes three and Delilah hurries to get dressed.
-
Ramona assists her into the ball gown, tightening the corset until Delilah can just barely breathe. Her breasts push up and into each other with an uncomfortable tightness but the main assures her she looks magnificent. When the corset is laced and the dress folds are settled in appropriate position, her mother comes in and does her hair. They decide on a simple updo with ringlets of hair brushing her cheeks.
The last thing to get placed is her beautiful mask, and once the silk strings are tied snugly beneath her bun she wanders in front of the mirror. It’s nothing she had expected; the end result is breathtaking and foreign. She doesn’t look like herself and she’s not quite sure she likes it.
“You look stunning Delilah. Now let’s get you downstairs, the first guests are about to arrive.”
Delilah precedes her mother down the marble steps, holding her skirts up with one hand while bracing herself with another on the railing. Downstairs her father is speaking to man in a tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back and a bright white mask covering most of his face; his chin and lips are the only things left uncovered apart from his beautiful, sparkling blue eyes.
“Delilah you look beautiful!” her father boasts.
She blushes beneath her mask and kisses her father lightly on the cheeks. “Thank you papa. Why aren’t you dressed in your tuxedo?”
“Ah, I’ll be arriving to your party fashionably late my dear. I have some business to attend to first.”
She hugs him tight and watches as he goes, only turning from the window when the carriage is out of sight. Then finally she lay her eyes fully on Jameson, her heart beating beneath her tight corset. The feeling of familiarity overcomes her once more as they stare each other down, but it fades when the first handful of guests burst through the open doorway.
-
They lose each other in the crowd then, a sea of bodies camouflaging each other. When the party is in full swing and people are dancing modestly while others sit and talk, Jameson seeks her out and asks her to dance. It’s a slow song so she loops her arms around his neck and they dance quietly for a moment.
“I’ve never done this before you know,” she murmurs against his neck.
“You’ve never done what?”
“Dance with a man who has never courted me before.”
His laugh shakes her body and she can’t help but grin as well, even if he can’t see it. “Do you want me to court you?”
She thinks about it for a while, waiting until the song is done and they’re stepping away from each other before he answers. Her green eyes sparkle and pink lips glimmer beneath the fairy lights. “I wouldn’t oppose to it.”
“Perhaps we should do this right then,” he whispers and she watches with dismay as he disappears into the crowd.
She searches the area desperately, ears perked and eyes focused. No matter how many trees she climbs and rocks she upturns, she can’t find him. “Delilah? Your father wishes to continue your studying now.”
“Not now, I have to find Jameson.”
The butler approaches quietly, his white gloved hand firm on her shoulder. “Upstairs now, Delilah. I’ll send out some staff to look for him.”
“Tell them…” she pauses, racks her brain for the right words. “Tell them to tell him that I need to see him before I leave.”
“As you wish.” The butler murmurs and she hurries inside to her father.
He’s seated behind his desk like yesterday, a concentrated look creasing his brow. Yellowed fingernails are steepled against his red lips, and his eyes merely flicker to her when she enters and shuts the heavy door firmly behind her.
“You’ve made the news again,” he murmurs.
Delilah hurries behind him, scrolls through the font on the computer screen. “They’ve put up wanted posters for me now? What did I do?”
She backs away as her father turns to study her, his eyes criticizing and judgmental. “I don’t know Delilah, what did you do?”
The tone of his voice sets her on edge and before she knows it shes backing away, turning the gold door handle. Outside a nasty looking gremlin snarls at her. “What’s going on?” she demands, backing from the approaching beast.
“We took care of your friend, Jameson was it?”
The man behind the large desk morphs before her green eyes, his bones cracking and breaking, reforming until the devil himself is grinning that sharp toothed smile. Delilah grimaces, her hands curling into useless fists at her sides.
“So is my father even alive still? Or have you been pretending to be him these past few days?”
The devil cackles, a horrible sound like nails on a chalkboard. “Of course he’s still alive. It was him who taught you those things yesterday.” Delilah’s shoulders sag, relief coursing through her. “Of course when I discovered you two found each other I had to intervene. It’s in the contract, you know.”
The gremlin jabs her with something sharp, his fingernail most likely, and Delilah moves reluctantly towards the desk. The devil grasps her forearms tightly, his eyes staring hard into her own. A question is on her lips when a loud roaring noise erupts inside the room. Knick knacks rattle and crash to the floor, books fly open. The computer falls to the floor, the screen smashing into thousands of tiny pieces.
“What are you doing?” she shouts over the deafening noise, but the devil is murmuring something now. It’s a deep chant, his lips never pausing until the noise is dead.
“I’m erasing your memory Delilah. Everything you’ve done, everything you planned to do, you will not remember. You won’t remember being reunited with your father and you won’t remember the late Jameson Benedict.”
“You killed him?” she whispers, her mouth falling open.
“Doesn’t matter sweet Delilah, you won’t remember him. You won’t remember being a vampire and you won’t remember the underworld. I’m giving you your life back. Say goodbye to the modern world, Delilah.”
Before she can protest another loud sound erupts and soon the room is spinning, browns and reds and yellows mixing together; a giant pool of warm toned colors. She has a quick flash of Jameson’s face before everything blacks out, before a sharp silence overcomes all else.
-
England 1798
When Delilah awakes her mother is parting the large curtains in her bedroom, letting in a soft stream of sunlight. Outside birds chirp happily and men shout greetings to one another. Stretching like a lazy cat, she eases from beneath her heavy duvet to greet her mother with soft kisses and smiling lips.
“Morning mother,”
“You must be so excited darling, your ball is tonight.” Her mother exclaims, clapping her hands gaily.
“That it is! Oh, how does the ballroom look?” Delilah questions, concerned.
The last time she saw the large room it was terribly empty, no beautiful lights or streamers, no tables with classy cloth coverings. There wasn’t even a stage for somebody to sing on. Her mother murmurs reassurances that the room is beautiful and Betty, her youngest sister, carries in a tray of breakfast.
“Happy birthday Delilah!” Betty exclaims, setting the tray down to hug her.
They embrace tightly, Delilah basking in the presence of her young sibling. The hug feels like a goodbye, and she isn’t quite sure why. Something ominous lay on the horizon. She tries to shake the foreboding feeling off as she picks at her breakfast. While munching the toast slowly and sipping the orange juice quietly, Ramona comes with her beautiful ball gown and drapes it across her bed.
“Such a beautiful gown, no?” Ramona asks. “One moment ma’am, I’ll have your mask delivered soon as it’s constructed. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Delilah has no time to reply, the maid scurries from the room quick as she entered. Discarding the half-eaten food, she wanders to the gown and holds it against herself in front of the gold gilded mirror. It’s long and strapless, the deepest color of red with white accents. When her bedroom door opens she turns, gown still clasped to her frame.
Ramona gasps, the mask in her hand nearly falling from her hand. Delilah discards the dress, grabbing the mask with eagerness. It’s the darkest shade of black, with diamonds outlining it. Silver sparkles are splattered across it, just enough to make it shine in any light.
“Oh, miss Delilah. There’s a man for you downstairs.” Ramona says, her cheeks flaming up a rosy red.
Delilah quirks a brow and sets the mask gently atop the dress before gathering her robe tightly around her. She passes many workers on her way to the foyer, all wishing her well and a merry birthday. When her feet fall upon the tiled floor the man turns to face her.
He’s dressed in sophisticated attire, a black suit coat and pants. The white shirt beneath contrasts nicely with his tan, and his dark hair falls across his forehead. It barely misses covering his icy blue eyes.
“You must be sweet Delilah,” he murmurs, and a sly smile lifts the corners of his pink lips. “My name is Jameson, it’s a pleasure.”
Something inside Delilah’s heart flutters, but she chalks up to lust. There’s plenty of attractive men wandering her estate every day, conversing with her, taking strolls with her. But none are as handsome as the man before her, the man who seems familiar for some reason.
“Have we met before?” she inquires, cinching her robe tighter.
“I don’t believe we have. Perhaps we passed each other at a ball before? Speaking of balls,” he clears his throat and reaches a hand towards her. Startled she hesitantly places her dainty hand in his open palm, a small smile lifting her lips. “May I escort you to your party tonight Miss Reynolds?”
“Well this is a surprise. Did my father set you up to this?” her laugh is loud and boisterous.
Jameson smiles slyly, an eyebrow quirking into his hairline. “No,” he says, sarcasm lacing his words. “Not at all.”
Delilah giggles and forces a solemn look on her face when her older brother wanders by, eyeing the pair. Once he’s passed Jameson kisses her hand and bids her adieu. When the heavy front door is shut tight again, Ramona scuttles from somewhere behind her.
“Such a handsome man, yes?”
“Definitely,” Delilah murmurs, her mind wandering.
“What did he want?” Ramona asks
She gives the woman a sharp look, her thin brows arched in sharp points. “That’s none of your business Ramona,” the maid casts her eyes downward, obviously uncomfortable and regretful of her words. “But if you must know, he’s escorting me to my ball tonight.”
Betty wanders by, catching the tail end of the sentence. Her little eyes light up and a grin spreads across her lips. “Who’s taking you to your ball?”
“Father sent a man named Jameson here today. He’s quite handsome.”
The three of them whisper about the mystery man, cheeks aflame and smiles spread wide. They manage to break off when the clock strikes three and Delilah hurries to get dressed.
-
Ramona assists her into the ball gown, tightening the corset until Delilah can just barely breathe. Her breasts push up and into each other with an uncomfortable tightness but the main assures her she looks magnificent. When the corset is laced and the dress folds are settled in appropriate position, her mother comes in and does her hair. They decide on a simple updo with ringlets of hair brushing her cheeks.
The last thing to get placed is her beautiful mask, and once the silk strings are tied snugly beneath her bun she wanders in front of the mirror. It’s nothing she had expected; the end result is breathtaking and foreign. She doesn’t look like herself and she’s not quite sure she likes it.
“You look stunning Delilah. Now let’s get you downstairs, the first guests are about to arrive.”
Delilah precedes her mother down the marble steps, holding her skirts up with one hand while bracing herself with another on the railing. Downstairs her father is speaking to man in a tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back and a bright white mask covering most of his face; his chin and lips are the only things left uncovered apart from his beautiful, sparkling blue eyes.
“Delilah you look beautiful!” her father boasts.
She blushes beneath her mask and kisses her father lightly on the cheeks. “Thank you papa. Why aren’t you dressed in your tuxedo?”
“Ah, I’ll be arriving to your party fashionably late my dear. I have some business to attend to first.”
She hugs him tight and watches as he goes, only turning from the window when the carriage is out of sight. Then finally she lay her eyes fully on Jameson, her heart beating beneath her tight corset. The feeling of familiarity overcomes her once more as they stare each other down, but it fades when the first handful of guests burst through the open doorway.
-
They lose each other in the crowd then, a sea of bodies camouflaging each other. When the party is in full swing and people are dancing modestly while others sit and talk, Jameson seeks her out and asks her to dance. It’s a slow song so she loops her arms around his neck and they dance quietly for a moment.
“I’ve never done this before you know,” she murmurs against his neck.
“You’ve never done what?”
“Dance with a man who has never courted me before.”
His laugh shakes her body and she can’t help but grin as well, even if he can’t see it. “Do you want me to court you?”
She thinks about it for a while, waiting until the song is done and they’re stepping away from each other before he answers. Her green eyes sparkle and pink lips glimmer beneath the fairy lights. “I wouldn’t oppose to it.”
“Perhaps we should do this right then,” he whispers and she watches with dismay as he disappears into the crowd.
♠ ♠ ♠
23,507 words