Page 21 of When Night Falls

I turn to my right, seeing a man wearing a black glitter mask covering his whole face, sitting in the center of the wrap-around seat and sipping a dark red liquid drink in a small crystal class.

“Hello,” I say back politely but eager to continue my journey onward.

“Care to sit?” he asks before I can fully walk away, and I take a sip of my own drink while attempting to examine his eyes.

They look dark behind the mask, leaving me hopeless to the idea of being able to read him—one negative side effect of the hidden identity. Though his posture is proper enough, his black suit and white tie look crisp and expensive. Not that those things would ever matter to me much, but it doesn’t seem as if he’s inviting me into his space with ill intent, rather only for company.

I don’t say anything as I slide into the booth, keeping a few feet between us. He keeps his head straight, looking down at the dance floor below us, which we can see almost clearly from here. You can see everyone dancing and talking, hips grinding and girls throwing their heads back in laughter.

“So, do you come here often?” I ask and immediately regret it. “Wait, that didn’t come out the way I thought it would.” I try to defend myself for using a corny pickup line to attempt small talk.Gosh, I need to socialize more.

“I only meant, do you go to this party often? Considering this isn’t the first time this party has been thrown I assume.” I shut my mouth and pull my glass to my lips, savoring the coconut flavor as I mentally berate myself for my forced attempt at a conversation.

I can’t even look at the man next to me as he responds. “Not the first time. And yes, I do come here often.” His tone is low and laced with what sounds like anger as he speaks in short to me. Like he’s angry with the world . . . pretty much just like me.

I turn to examine him, feeling his eyes watching me through the holes of his face mask. I can see that slight glint of dark blue radiating from one of them, the other seems to be a mix with a lighter color I can't make out.

“You wouldn’t happen to know who runs this place do you? I mean, I don’t really understand why I got invited in the first place and I’d like to perhaps meet the person who extended the honor." I'm trying to sound moreeloquentthan I actually hold myself, only to match his powerful presence. "Do you know where I might find him or her?” I know I sound a little too eager, but he seems like he knows people; I’m betting he can lead me in the right direction.

I don’t belong here. Or maybe I do. I can’t tell what my brain thinks at this point. All I know is that out of my own control and for whatever reason that may be, I am here, and I want to know why.

“You have a lot to learn. But I can tell that you have it in you. In fact, Lucynda, you’re perfect.” His answer is nothing but shadows of confusion chasing my questions away to surface even more questions. And though his response seems to be one of confident compliments, it sounds as if his anger is projected toward me as the last two words leave his mouth.

He slides out of the booth and stands to leave, drinking the last drop of his drink before setting the glass down on the table. I notice one of his hands is gloved in a black silk and I curiously stare at it wondering why. But I panic when I see that he’s about to leave.

“Wait, no!” I holler, trying to be heard over the blare of the music. I stand from the table in a hurry. “What the hell does any of that mean? Why are you and everyone here being so cryptic? How does everyone know my name?” I spit my questions out as if they're lava. I know I told myself I'd have a worry-free night, but I only find myself needing answers more than I need air.

I suddenly get annoyed at the masks shadowing our faces because as fun as it is to remain hidden, I can’t read his expression and he can’t see the desperation in mine.

I hear a subtle chuckle come from him and I pout like a damn child as I plant my fists on my hips.

The tall man in front of me takes a few steps to saunter over to where I stand. His gloved hand reaches for my chin and tilts it up to him.

“This party is all for you. Learn your role. He’s watching you and I know he wouldn’t be too happy with your decision to fraternize with me. Besides, this is only just the beginning, so you better learn to enjoy it." He lowers his face to cozy up next to my ear. "Now stop playing the lost puppy and start accepting your fate.” He clicks his tongue as he turns away, noticing how his power comes from more than just the way he looks, and a hauntingly familiar feeling washes over me.

He sticks his gloved hand in his pocket as he looks beyond me. I follow his movement and see that he’s staring at a dark hallway around the corner of the balcony railing. When I turn back, he’s already walking away.

“Wait!” I chase after him, not caring that other people can see me acting a little haste. When I reach him a few feet away, I grip his upper arm with my hand to stop him. “At least tell me your name,” I request, if only to be made whole on the fact that he knows mine.

“Travois,” he states without turning to look at me. "Don't ever lay your hand on me again," he adds before yanking himself free of my grip and proceeds to leave.

His anger confuses me and honestly, makes me feel kind of small. Something I don’t love reliving.

I notice the group in the booth next to us have their eyes set on me, probably curious to the interaction but I just wave at them and return to fetch my drink off the table where I left it.

I slam the rest of the contents, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. I look back down to the dance floor, hoping to seeTravois escaping into the crowd, but he’s already gone, almost like he was never there.

Something pulls my attention away. My head turns to look back at the hallway Travois seemed to be leading me toward. I can make out the sound of a faint moan from the distance and I take a deep breath before heading over to see what lurks in the darkness.

Travois saidhewas watching me. Does that mean what I think it does? Couldhebe the one who invited me here? Or maybe Travois is the shadow stalker and he's only playing tricks on me to make me think it's not him, not wanting to have been caught so soon. But Travois doesn'tfeelfamiliar to me in that sense, so I shake the thought as I greet the end of the dark hallway with my heels.

I find my way down the tunnel, cautious to be too loud. The music fades out behind me as I reach a red curtain hanging from the ceiling of the threshold, so I push my way through it.

Behind the curtain is a larger hallway but this one is actually occupied by a handful of other people standing around and looking into what seems to be windows on either side of the narrow, dark hall. No one is talking, silence fills the air as they leisurely move from one window to the other, peering in as the subtle light shines out onto their masks.

Curious as to what’s in the rooms, I walk toward the first one on my left. There’s one other person watching this room beside me, and I don’t know if etiquette is to introduce myself or not, but I think better of it as I turn my attention to the room beyond the glass.

It’s dimly lit with amber-mood lighting, and I don’t see them at first, the couple making out against the dark wall toward the back of the room. But I let out a subtle gasp and step back, shocked to see the interaction. They’re fully clothed, but theyare one hundred percent about to change that in a matter of seconds.