Wine and Sweet Words

         The masquerade vibrated with the racing pulses of the crowd. Vera’s heart beat to the same rhythm, but for a different reason. She was going to be famous. The first reporter to infiltrate the most secluded society unknown to the common populace…at least until now. Vera was going to reveal their secrets to the world-as long as she wasn’t discovered. “Getting caught isn’t an option,” her boss spit the words at her, handing over the month’s advance she’d spent for the rental gown and jeweled mask. For the night, Vera matched the wealthy aristocrats in their gaudy costumes and outrageously priced perfume.
         Vera kept her head down, avoiding conversation, and hurried towards the banquet table of hors d’oeuvres. She slipped behind the sparkling champagne fountain, hoping her odd behavior went unnoticed. The recorder in her purse was switched on and working smoothly; the mic in her hair sensitive to every utterance. Soon, the Master of the Masquerade-as whispers told-would step up to the stage for a highly anticipated announcement. Every word of it taped for Vera to unveil in her first special report, promised to earn her the seat in front of the camera, captivating the world.
         “The shy ones are always behind the fountain. Why is that?” Warm breath tickled her ear, and a spasm shot through her hands, shutting Vera’s purse for her. A large hand gripped her wrist.
         Had he seen inside her bag?
         “Dance with me.” A masked man in a jester’s suit, complete with hat and jingling bells, pulled her out into the center of the marble floor. She sought a quick excuse.
         “I don’t dance. Sorry.” Vera pushed away, but the man pulled her back. She fell against him, becoming momentarily distracted by his firm chest. His muscles were quite defined underneath his silly getup. Shaking the naughty thoughts out of her mind, she turned again. “I’m sorry.”
         He stepped in front of her.
         “The purpose of the masks is to keep our identities hidden from one another. But,” he lifted his mask just enough for Vera to see how handsome he was. “I’m presenting myself to you, begging for just one dance. Please, do me the honor.” She rolled her eyes. A charming prince inviting her to dance at the ball-how cliche.
         She couldn’t resist.
         “Just once.” A quick dance couldn’t hurt, right? It might be a while before she danced with another multi-billionaire. Vera failed to stifle a giggle and the jester flashed his pearly smile, dipping her low enough for hair to brush the floor. She silently thanked mom for forcing her into ballroom dance classes after dad died.
         Vera watched lights shimmering through the crystal chandeliers above their heads as the jester swept her round and round. The mesmeric swaying transported her to a dream world similar to fairy tales she read when little. A green spark ignited in her. Did these people have any cares? Did they struggle through life the way her family did? After tonight, she’d be a world-renown journalist, but doubted she could ever achieve this lifestyle. The green spark grew into a burning flame. Sometimes, life wasn’t fair. She worked years delivering coffee, covering the filler news, to finally be assigned field work. Early morning research binges lead her to this celebration tonight.
         This was her hard work and nobody else’s.
         “Amazing, isn’t it?” Vera tripped over her own foot at the jester’s question. Had he read her mind? Laughing, he stopped her fall by grabbing her waist. He lifted her on top of his feet like she were weightless, pressed her close, and continued to dance.
         “Excuse me?” It was difficult for her to think straight against him, with lips so close.
         “It’s amazing how far science and the human spirit can take us. Isn’t it?” His lips curled into a grin. Vera studied the slivers of color in the marble, hiding the confusion on her face. Best to play it safe and be vague.
         “I agree.”
         “What do you think about the discovered side effects?”
         She needed to get away before he asked any more detailed questions. Despite all her research, she couldn’t find the purpose of these secluded gatherings, nor what was happening tonight. “I think I’d like a glass of champagne.” Stepping off his feet, Vera rushed away before he could stop her.
         The mass of masks parading around her made direction confusing, and the vast size of the ballroom didn’t help either. Vera was drowning in a sea of lace, silk, and dyes. A gleaming golden dragon wagged his forked tongue at her, drawing a yelp from her breathless lungs. The man chuckled contemptuously at her surprise, shaking his head to make the dragon flick its tongue at her again. She shoved past him and found the bright scarlet of a window drape fluttering beyond the crowd. Vera lifted her skirts and ran like it was a rope tossed out to save her.
         When she reached the drapes she discovered, not a window, but a grand balcony where the wind carried in a familiar and soothing scent. Vera took a deep breath of the exhaust smoke and burnt rubber smell of the city streets she loved. Down below, the red, yellow, and orange lights of traffic crawled by. Her people were busy ants, constantly looking for ways to make more money, to find opportunities that would take them where she was now. Suddenly, she wished to be down there with them, away from this dream-like palace. The feeling overwhelmed her, blurring Vera’s vision so that all the city lights melted together.
         “I thought I might find you out here.” She recognized that smooth, confident talk. It was the jester. Vera blinked her eyes to clear the moisture and fixed her brightest on-camera smile. The jester leaned against the railing with the air of every other cocky guy she’d ever met. His distractions were troublesome and annoying.
         Vera looked at her toes, feigning shyness. If she could play this bashful card well enough, then hopefully he wouldn’t expect her to carry the conversation. Better yet, maybe he’d get bored and find some other unlucky woman to pick up.
         He didn’t seem put off by her silence, instead coming closer. “That was a stupid question I asked earlier-about the side effects. You wouldn’t be here if you were worried about them.” He shrugged.
         Since he expected her to know the details of these side effects, it would raise suspicion if she asked about them. Oh, how Vera wished she could ask.
         Never mind that. She’d know soon enough.
         Her best chance was to change the subject, appealing to his apparent vanity by turning the focus on him. The jester was likely always the center of attention at every party.
         “How did you find me?” She pretended to blush, putting a hand over her mouth.
         “Easy. I followed the delicious scent of your rose shampoo,” he put his nose to her hair, then to her neck, “and the sweet scent of your vanilla body soap.” He groaned theatrically. “You smell delicious.”
         How could her body not respond to those whispers against skin, the meaning behind soft words? His ocean eyes met hers, and this time, the flushed cheeks were real. The blood had gathered to her face, giving her a head rush. Maybe it was the altitude of the high rise getting to her. That ridiculous thought almost drew a laugh.
Suddenly that was the furthest thing from her mind, as the jester moved in closer for a kiss, his lips parting slightly. This couldn’t be happening. Vera wasn’t being seduced by a masked clown, at an exclusive gathering of the wealthiest recluses in the world, with a hidden recorder running in her handbag.
         A gong struck inside, sending vibrations through them. Vera thanked whoever sounded it. Her legs were shaky before the jester’s lips had even reached hers.
He straightened, snapping his fingers. “Time really isn’t on my side tonight.” He gripped her arm, “I guess you’re coming with me,” and pulled her along.
         Inside, everyone was gathering together in front of the stage. The gong alerted the time for the Master of the Masquerade’s speech. Vera’s adrenaline coursed through her veins. The excitement in the room hummed visibly. As the jester passed through, the monstrous masks bowed, parting. He lead Vera all the way to the front of the stage. This wasn’t good. She didn’t want to be seen by anyone at the ball, let alone everyone. What happened to her fly-on-the-wall plan? This sweet-talking playboy ruined it…and might’ve even blown her disguise.
         He didn’t stop when they reached the stage. To her horror, he hopped onto it and lifted her up too-as much as she resisted him-and there she was, an undercover reporter standing before the entire Society of The Mask. Dumbfounded didn’t begin to explain the state Vera was in.
         There was no way she could play this off. Her career was over.
         As the jester took hold of the microphone setup, a sharp realization hit her. This whole time she’d been unknowingly fending off the affections of Master of the Masquerade. Vera felt faint.
         “Welcome brothers and sisters,” he turned and winked at her. “Tonight is the night you’ve all been waiting for. Generations has passed us by and still we’ve been unable to find the answer to humanity’s greatest dilemma…until recently. As you know, test trials have been carried out and side effects determined.” He paused for effect. “But we are successful!”
         The crowd roared applause as one. A few masks were thrown into the air. Vera prayed her recorder was catching everything, then grinned to herself. Of course it was-she had the V.I.P. Seat.
         The Master waited for the cheering to subside. “Now for our special toast. Waiters-deliver the trays of wine. Make sure no one is left out.”
         Vera’s palms were chilled with sweat by the time the last tray made its way to the stage. The jester personally handed over her crystal glass. It was red wine, surely expensive, with a complex aroma tickling her nose.
         “A toast!” The Master of the Masquerade held his glass in salute. The others followed suit, including Vera.
         “To Immortality!!” He downed the glass.
         “TO IMMORTALITY!!!” The masked creatures repeated, drinking theirs.
         Vera repeated this line, not really hearing the words she spoke, and drank the wine down without pausing. She was trying to form her getaway before it was too late. The tape was interesting enough to keep her job. She could gather more information later. What mattered now was getting out before the Master of the Masquerade learned her identity. He wouldn’t leave her alone. Vera would pretend to freshen up and sneak out.
         All thoughts were interrupted by burning in her throat. It stung more than a dry wine should. The aftertaste more bitter than she expected as well. The burning spread to her stomach, like she’d swallowed fire ants. Vera looked out over the crowd with wide eyes; they too were in pain. Some fell, gasping.
         “Take comfort. Being the first test subject, I know what you’re feeling right now, and it won’t last long.”
         What did she drink!?
         “You’ll feel the beating of your heart slow as the elixir makes its way through your entire body. It’s attaching to every single cell, every single nerve, to completely reshape them.”
         The jester turned to Vera, “Amazing, isn’t it?” 
         Her scream was strangled. Flame enveloped every fiber of her body. Everything slowed and a heavy weight crushed her chest. He wasn’t lying-her heart struggled with every pump. The other masks’ cries bounced off the marble floor and carved ceilings, echoing terror like the pits of hell. Acid ate her eyes. She couldn’t take anymore.
         The ballroom went black.
         When she opened her eyes the jester leaned over her grinning.
         “Welcome to your Afterlife, Vera."

2,000 words