FictionPress: Category: Romance/Supernatural: Title: The Masquerade Game

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It was a moment unprecedented in the history of all things, uniquely novel in that the very idea of it was resisted and rejected by every fibre of Heaven, Earth and Hell. Such a meeting of opposites, such a forced union of complete antonyms, seemed to defy the laws that governed all three states of being. Surely this was someone’s idea of a joke, some demon’s twisted notion of a humorous prank?

Evidently not, Angelica thought ruefully as she and her fellows stepped through the golden double doors, the delicate heels of their shoes clicking softly on the white marble floor. I guess they were serious, after all.

“Well,” Lucifer murmured to himself as he and his kin stepped onto the opposite end of the marble floor, their own heels making no sound at all, “this will certainly be interesting.”

When the Powers That Be had proposed an assembly in which the representatives of both Heaven and Hell could meet in a formal and civilised setting, a masquerade ball was possibly the single thing that neither angels nor demons had had in mind.

It was not that the angels and demons were blatantly antagonistic; angels, by nature, were not antagonistic, and demons, by nature, were never, ever blatant about it. It was more, to recycle an already over-used term, that they were two sides of the same coin, Heaven and Hell existing on opposite side of limbo—by another name, Earth.

The ceiling of the ballroom stretching deep into oblivion, made stars clearly visible through its inky depths, and the heavens, though not necessarily Heaven itself, seemed very close to the white marble floor, which was polished and shining the light provided by obscure constellations and a very thin crescent moon, as well as the golden lamps hanging in sconces along the walls.

The swooping arches and wide, open spaces of the room suggested that the architects had been of Heaven origin. Out of the corner of his eye Lucifer saw a couple of his fellow demons laughing derisively, though silently, and making pronounced retching motions. One icy look from him, coupled with the notion they already had of his extensive power, silenced them.

If the architecture of the room would have seemed extraordinary to mortal eyes, then no word existing could have been used to accurately describe its occupants. Entering through the eastern doors, the angels sparkled in barely suppressed glory, their charisma and beauty barely concealed by their costumes. All were dressed in shades of black and red ranging from vermillion to scarlet to auburn and back again. Their wings, folded discreetly back, still shone under the spell that had been supposed to render them dull, and their skin still glowed under the blood-red and black masks that concealed their identities for the purpose of the masquerade.

Angelica’s blue eyes took in the ballroom, and the orchestra that waited at one end of the hall, every muscle motionless, poised to begin the music. They, she knew, were neither human, nor angel, nor demon, but what they actually were was something she doubted anyone could fathom, as they were completely silent and every bit as disguised as the angels and demons.

Turning her gaze away from the silently abiding orchestra, her eyes came to rest on the demons, standing in a motionless group on the other side of the room. The exact and ironic opposite of the angels, the demons were dressed in shimmering white, cream and gold cloth, and tawdry facsimiles of wings hung lifelessly but not unrealistically from their shoulder blades. Looking at the slightly ruffled, dusty-looking feathers, Angelica concealed a smile. Hair had been arranged to cover the small black horns that were nevertheless there. The demons, too, had covered part or all of their faces with decorative, glittering masks, for the purpose of the masquerade, and the game that the Powers That Be had proposed for the evening.

Angelica, reminding herself that not only was she an essential part of that game, she was a senior-ranking angel, and had to set the example, effectively ending the long moment of politely awkward silence that had followed the entrance of both groups into the ballroom. Turning her head slightly, she opened her mouth to ask the orchestra to begin, but before she could speak something at the corner of her vision caught her eye, and she turned back to the group of demons, her blue eyes narrowing.

One of the demons, standing at the forefront of the group, was looking at her, his head cocked in a way that made his dark hair fall slightly to one side. His eyes, behind his glittering white-and-gold mask, were impenetrably, expressively black, and as she stared at him one corner of his mouth curled slowly upward in an inquiring, evocative smile.

Feeling herself flush slightly, glad that her mask hid the colour on her pale skin, she turned hastily back to the orchestra, and nodded curtly at the conductor.

Lucifer brushed a strand of black hair out of his face with one long-fingered hand, smiling again as he watched the blue-eyed angel.

Music began to play, soft, sensual, beautiful, and what most mortals would have described unearthly. Both angels and demons moved to find partners, but Angelica hung back, wary of the fact that any unconsidered actions might betray her identity to the demons, and that was something she did not care to do, considering the fact that in the game proposed by the Powers That Be, the prize to be had if a demon guessed correctly which of the angels was Angelica herself, was a kiss.

Granted, she thought, watching as her kin found partners among the demons, some more easily and more amicably than others, the same goes for the any of the angels, if they guess the identity of the demon Lucifer. “Though I do wonder why that particular prize would be considered worth winning in the first place,” she said softly to herself.

Her answer came as she caught a few words of the conversation between two passing angels. “Guess whichever demon is the most handsome,” one advised the other. “They say that for a demon Lucifer’s reputed to be quite attractive.”

As the two angels moved away to find partners, Angelica allowed herself a sigh. For the representatives of good and purity, she sometimes wondered how her companions could be so superficial.

“Do you have a partner?” a voice behind her asked. Angelica turned to find the black-eyed demon standing behind her. She hadn’t seen him move, but then again, that was par for the course with both angels and demons.

She took the chance to look him over now that he wasn’t a hall-length away. He was lithely built, like a cat that somehow woke up in the wrong body, and moved with a silent grace that was the betterment of her own slightly-contrived elegance. She had to concentrate on making her movements refined, while he moved with an easy fluidity that seemed almost unconscious. Close up, her was taller than her by almost… well, by a lot. She took a step back in order to look at him without craning her neck. “Not as of yet,” she said slowly.

“Neither do I,” he said, “and I’m sure your grace would be an asset on the dance floor. Would you care to be my partner for the first dance?”

Angelica looked sharply at him. He’d just made a remark on the exact subject she’d been considering barely a moment before. She hadn’t known of demons having the ability to read thoughts, and if he had just guessed her mind then it would not be difficult at all for him to learn her name, and win a kiss.

Glancing around the ballroom, she suffered the realisation that all other possible partners had been taken, and was forced, on pain of seeming incredibly, terribly rude, to say quietly, “Yes.”

He smiled again, that secret, suggestive smile, and took her warm hand in his own cool one, leading her to the space on the dance floor that had been left empty by their peers.

The music made a subtle crescendo and the dance began. Angel and demon alike knew the steps, and they moved, some gracefully, some not quite as gracefully, across the polished marble floor, the stone reflecting the glitter and shine above.

“So,” the demon said, his voice quiet next to Angelica’s ear, “I have a slight favour to ask, I suppose.”

A favour for a demon? she thought. Risky, at best. At worst…

“What is it?” she asked warily.

He must have heard the edge careful deliberation added to her voice, because he laughed softly as he drew back to look at her face. “Nothing drastic, I assure you,” he said. “If you would be so kind as to tell me your name…?”

That was his favour? Angelica had to laugh. “Even I’m not that naïve,” she warned him as they spun across the dance floor. “All of us promised each other that we wouldn’t admit our names, to keep… Angelica’s identity a secret.” It felt odd to refer to herself in the third person.

The demon shrugged lightly. “It was worth a try, I guess. After all, we made a similar oath.” Neither of them needed to ask what the other meant by we. The answer, had it not been obvious already, was clearly communicated by the politely frustrated faces of both angels and demons appearing as they glided in unison over the ballroom floor.

“So,” he said, and was silent.

“Yes?” she prompted. He was quiet. “What is it?” she asked again.

They stepped away from each other for a moment, each moving around another dancer in the endless, intricately repeating patterns of the dance, and when he returned he was smiling in silent amusement. Angelica realised she’d been lead on to make a fool of herself, a slight and socially-accepted sort of fool, but a fool nonetheless. “Did you have anything to say?” she asked icily.

“Actually, yes,” he said. “Do you have any guesses? As to Lucifer’s identity, I mean.”

She hadn’t been thinking about it. Glancing out over the swirling dancers, both angels and demons, she was forced to admit, rather than lie about it, that she didn’t. “Do you have any guess for Angelica?” she asked.

It was his turn to look at the other dancers, his dark eyes considering, but his gaze had returned to her before he finally answered, “A few.”

A few steps and twirling twists and turns later, Angelica spoke, her voice dry, slightly cynical and altogether un-angelic. “Were we actually supposed to get anything accomplished tonight?” she asked, glancing at her companions, who had begun to get into the spirit of things, and had completely forgotten with whom they were dancing.

“We were,” he allowed, smiling, “but I don’t think we’re really going to… Do you?”

“No,” she sighed. “I guess not.”

“So,” he said, and she wondered briefly if he was going to make a fool of her again, “do you intend to keep your guard up all evening, or do you actually—Heaven forbid, and pardon the terminology—think you’ll have some fun?”

She had to smile at his wording, and the half-laughing expression in his dark eyes. “I intend to keep my guard up,” she said, “because if I didn’t, who would?”

Seeming to consider, he spun away from her again, and when he returned, leaned forward to murmur in her ear: “Touché.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“But about that fun…” he continued.

“Yes?”

“Are you going to let loose, or be a prude and end up a wallflower for the rest of the evening?”

She raised an eyebrow at his terminology, but said, “Prudes and wallflowers aside, I think I am going to have some fun tonight.”

“You know,” he said conversationally, “when a demon speaks of fun, it usually means—”

“I really don’t want to know,” Angelica interrupted. He laughed.

The evening progressed, and the stars that peered through the ceiling overhead gradually shifted position, Orion setting to the west, Cassiopeia passing overhead, Delphinus passing almost unnoticed among the larger, brighter constellations.

All of sudden, almost too soon it seemed, the music came to a halt, the dance came to a stumbling stop, and angels and demons looked toward the platform on which the orchestra sat. One of the masked attendants, still giving no clue as to whether he was angel, demon or mortal, stepped forward. “The evening draws to a close,” he said redundantly, seeming to speak from a precise mental script, his voice deadpan and completely emotionless. “And the time has come to draw the results of the game.”

The game, Angelica thought sullenly, and the kiss. I wish I hadn’t been chosen to be the prize.

As angels and demons began to approach the dais, the black-eyed demon released her hand, removing his other from her waist, and Angelica suddenly realised what she hadn’t before. How completely aware she had been, she marvelled to herself, of the places they’d touched and how close they’d been at times while dancing, and how strangely vacant her hand suddenly felt without his cool fingers enclosing it.

Clasping her hands together, she followed him and joined the group around the platform. Both angels and demons were murmuring among themselves, and Angelica began to wonder just how reluctant her comrades actually were to receive a kiss from a demon.

“First,” the attendant said tonelessly, “the demon Lucifer. Guesses, please.”

A handful of angels timidly raised their hands. The attendant pointed to them in turn, and all made their guesses, most pointing shyly to their dancing partner. All guesses were pronounced incorrect. Angelica, as the other prize, wasn’t allowed to guess, and kept silent even when some demons nearby urged her to speak, laughing that she’d make a fine kisser for Lucifer. She found herself again grateful that her mask hid the colour tinting her cheeks.

Finally all those willing or able to guess had done so, and no more hands were raised. The attendant, quirking an eyebrow in a reasonable, if somewhat tawdry, facsimile of surprise, continued, “Onward, then. Any guesses for the identity of the angel Angelica?”

Angelica found her hands trembling despite the fact that they were clasped tightly together, glanced around and finally saw the black-eyed demon at the edge of the crowd, leaning gracefully against one of the marble pillars.

Again, a handful of demons raised their hands in the air. Evidently the denizens of Hell had been paying more attention to angels besides their dancing partners, because very few of the guesses matched up with the angels Angelica had seen them dancing with.

Her heart beating irritatingly fast, she clasped her hands yet tighter together and kept her eyes away from the other demons, instead carefully studying the attendant running the game. Every now and then, as a particularly worrisome guess was made (an angel with a similar name, or one close to her in the crowd), her blue eyes would flicker towards the black-eyed demon leaning casually against the pillar, as though for reassurance, though of what she couldn’t guess. His face remained impassive, a quietly amused smile tugging now and again at the corner of his mouth as his dark eyes travelled from demon to demon as each made their guess. Only once did he change position, when a particularly bold demon raised his hand, his eyes passing between the attendant on the platform and Angelica, whose heart was beating so fast that it took all her effort to remain outwardly calm. As the attendant pointed to the demon, and he opened his mouth to speak, at the edge of her vision she saw the black-eyed demon straighten abruptly, his suddenly sharp gaze fixed on the spotlighted demon.

However, at the last moment, the demon changed his mind, and pointed to another angel. Angelica breathed a sigh of relief, and the black-eyed demon settled himself back against the pillar, the expression of amusement returning rapidly to his face.

The sea of upraised hands, which had resembled nothing so much as an early-sprouting demon garden, thinned slowly, as the demons became more and more unwilling to make a foolish guess, and Angelica, miraculously, had not been discovered.

Finally no more hands were raised, and the demons were left looking sheepishly and incredulously at each other, a few murmuring of the possibility of foul play. They would, Angelica thought, relieved that she hadn’t been guesses.

“Are there no more guesses?” the attendant asked, sounding somewhat disappointed—but only somewhat.

“Only one,” said a voice, and Angelica’s senses snapped to sudden attention as the black-eyed demon straightened again from his position and stepped forward. The other demons made way for him, some smirking in anticipation, others seeming to wonder if there were any angels left to guess.

He approached the dais, his graceful steps stopping at an ambivalent position, from which he could have guessed anyone in the room. He was a few feet from the platform, a few feet from Angelica. Turning his back on the former, he closed the space between himself and the latter, bowing elegantly over an astonished Angelica’s hand.

“I believe your line is, ‘touché’,” he murmured, his breath tickling her skin as he glanced up at her, dark eyes revealing quiet laughter. “Angelica.”

The room held its breath as all eyes turned towards the attendant. Angelica, dizzy with the realisation game was at an end, and she had lost, barely heard the man/demon/angel say, “Correct.”

The demons erupted into laughter and cheers, while the angels breathed a simultaneous sigh of defeat.

The black-eyed demon straightened, but didn’t release Angelica’s hand. He was smiling that same rhetorically-inquisitive, evocative smile as he said, “I believe I’m owed a kiss.”

Furious and humiliated beyond words, the only thought Angelica could force from her rapidly-overheating brain cells was, Whose idea was this game in the first place?

Aloud, she decided that she would be eternally grateful for her blush-concealing mask, and agreed quietly. “Yes.”

She closed her eyes.

He cupped her face in one long-fingered hand, and leaned forward slowly, brushing his lips gently against hers. She stiffened to keep from starting in surprise at the softness with which he kissed, the warm, light pressure of his lips. In another moment it was over, and when she opened her eyes the demon had disappeared in a group of laughing, loudly-congratulatory comrades.

The evening was, abruptly, over. The angels and demons filtered towards their respective doors, the angels east, the demons west. Angelica was the last to move from where she’d been standing beside the platform, remaining motionless for a long while even after the orchestra had cleared away. Only when the black-eyed demon was just stepping through the western doors did she call, “Wait.”

He stopped, one foot paused above the threshold. “Yes?”

She strode towards him, not bothering to glide. He noticed this and smiled. Her heels clicking on the marble floor, she forgot whichever clever thing she’d been going to say in the moments it took her to reach him, and when he asked, “Yes?” again, she was forced to come up with something new.

“I think,” she said, slowly, distracted momentarily by the way he was smiling at her, “that—despite the game… you owe me something.”

“For the kiss?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And what, exactly, do I owe you?” he inquired.

She considered, realising dimly that they were the only ones left in the hall. “…Your name would do,” she said finally.

“That’s easy enough,” he said, smiling. “It’s Lucifer.”

She opened her mouth, and closed it again. “Of course,” she said faintly.

“Of course,” he agreed amiably.

“Well,” she said quietly, glancing from the western door, to the farther eastern one, “I think we probably both have business to attend to.”

“Probably,” he agreed again. She was silent, and, after a moment, he spoke again. “You remember,” he said, “how you asked me if we were supposed to get anything accomplished tonight?”

“Yes,” she said warily.

“Well,” he said, glancing contemplatively at the ballroom, “I think we were.” He looked back at her and winked, the slight motion of his head causing the mask to cast a brief shadow over his eyes. “And I think we did.”

Before Angelica could reply, he stepped through the open doorway and disappeared, leaving the angel standing alone in the ballroom, the remembrance of the kiss still lingering on her lips.