Dark Masquerade

The night was unseasonably warm for February. Though Adrienne had not yet danced, her face behind the mask was finely misted with perspiration and beads of sweat were also running between her breasts. Eighteenth Century attire, just as Angelique had specified in the invitation. Adrienne sighed, fanning herself with the intricate, detailed fan that had come with her rented costume. She dearly loved her eccentric friend, but for the love of God, could Angelique not have picked a cooler night for festivities requiring such heavy garments?

Hoping to catch a breeze off the Mississippi River, a glass of Merlot in hand, Adrienne found her way to the veranda, lit only with candles placed strategically along its length. Tonight was the last day of Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday and in all honesty, Adrienne sought to escape both the heat and the drunken revelry inside. Fortunately, it appeared she had found temporary solitude. She was thankful for a moment to catch her breath and cool off in the breeze.

Looking out on Laurel Street, Adrienne sipped her wine and wondered if Angelique’s close friend, Jean-Luc, would make an appearance this evening. Ever since she’d met the Frenchman and seen him about town, she’d found him mysterious and intriguing despite what little she knew about him. He was broodingly handsome, but Adrienne wasn’t usually attracted to his type. Still, there was something about him that drew her in. She smiled. Perhaps it was his eyes for they were the most intensely blue eyes she’d ever seen- nearly ice like.

Unexpectedly, the hairs on Adrienne’s neck rose, and she realized she was not alone. She turned and glanced along the semi-dark veranda, spying no one but still sure she was being watched. Suddenly, a lone, tall figure emerged from the shadows. Had the man been there all along?

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” a thick, French accent drifted across the night air. Like her, the stranger wore a mask, but Adrienne would know his voice anywhere: Jean-Luc. As he approached, Adrienne watched the semblance of a smile form on his lips. What did he find so amusing?

She returned his smile. “You just caught me off guard, Jean-Luc - I thought I was alone.” Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? She took a large swallow of wine. “I was just enjoying the breeze.” While also enjoying a break from the drunken crowd inside, she mentally added.

Jean-Luc casually draw nearer, standing only a few steps away along the wrought iron fencing that ran the length of the veranda. “Me, as well,” he said. “But alas, I fear I also desired to escape so many unfortunate, drunken souls,” he gestured toward the crowded room.

Adrienne nodded her agreement while aware Jean-Luc’s presence seemed to fill the entire space. Moreover, had the man just read her mind? That would be impossible though. A room of drunken souls was an easy observation to make on this night of celebratory endeavors, was it not?

Adrienne observed that Jean-Luc had also chosen to wear the requested eighteenth century attire, but his costume had surely cost a small fortune it was so believable in nature. Nervously, she tugged at the skirt of her own dress, self-conscious that what she wore was not nearly as authentic.

“You look divine,” Jean-Luc commented, his voice melodic. “As though you’ve stepped off the pages of a French novel.”

With his comment, she made a mental note that it was twice now he’d appeared to read her thoughts. The thought was crazy. Was the wine perhaps wreaking havoc with her perceptive abilities?

Adrienne laughed. “You cannot be serious. At least not while you look as though you’ve just leapt from the pages of an Anne Rice novel!” She gave him the once over before continuing. “Monsieur Lestat, I presume? You are every inch the French nobleman in that costume, Jean-Luc.”

A glimmer of surprise and then amusement flickered in the blue eyes. His brow lifted. “I assure you I do not jest. You are charmingly French. As for me, I am only wearing a piece of dusty fabric I pulled from my attic.”

Though still nervous, the wine was helping ease Adrienne’s tension. Still, a blush crept across her cheeks at Jean-Luc’s words.

A loud group dressed as witches, their costumes and masks wickedly elaborate, crossed the street in front of the veranda, momentarily distracting them. Adrienne watched as the group looked toward the veranda, whispering amongst themselves and pointing at Jean-Luc before quickly running away to disappear in the shadows. Adrienne was completely confused. Why did they run away? There was nothing unusual about Jean-Luc. Perplexed, she turned to him. Jean-Luc shrugged and smiled. She saw that, though minimal, he had drawn even closer. He held a glass of what looked to be Merlot, and this close, it was easy to see the drink briefly stained his lips as he drank of it.

Adrienne nervously fanned her face. Despite the heat in the evening and the heavy garment, a shiver ran through her. She looked up to find Jean-Luc watching her as though he knew her deepest, darkest secrets. What was happening? What exactly was so different about this man? Why had those people run away as if in fear? True, Jean-Luc's allure was nearly unearthly, unreal, but he didn't frighten her. Maybe he made her nervous, but no, she did not find him frightening.

Adrienne lifted her glass and drained it of its content as Jean-Luc, the man who had emerged from the shadows, stood close and watched every move she made. Should she be alarmed? Surely not. After all, this man was one of Angelique’s closest friends.

“Shall I get you another glass of wine??” Jean-Luc asked and lightly touched her arm. His touch, though cool, moved through Adrienne like electricity. She couldn't help but wonder if he felt it, too.

“No, I’m fine,” she lied. The last thing she needed at the moment was more wine. She felt drugged though she’d only had two glasses of wine, and she was already having enough difficulty reading this man. His nearness was akin to a beacon of light, summoning her toward something unknown, yet utterly alluring.

“Perhaps it would be cooler if we removed our masks,” Adrienne said, abruptly reaching her hand to the back of Jean-Luc’s head and untying his mask and not waiting for a response. He didn’t halt her and the mask came undone, falling into his hands before it hit the ground. For some unfathomable reason, Adrienne had wanted to see his face – his brutally handsome face. Yes, without the mask, it was much better - she felt better.

With no hesitation, Jean-Luc reached over and also removed Adrienne’s mask, holding both easily in one hand. “Is that better, mon cher?” he asked.

“Yes,” Adrienne replied though her voice sounded small and unsteady to her own ears.

Jean-Luc studied Adrienne with uninterrupted intensity, his eyes so dark in the dim light, they appeared to be pools of black. Why in heavens name did he look at her so? She was already acutely aware of his nearness. What was worse was that she knew Jean-Luc knew exactly how she felt, which only served to unnerve her all the more. Maybe she did need that glass of wine. But first……

Impulsively, Adrienne reached up and lightly touched Jean-Luc’s temple. His skin, like his touch, was decidedly cool despite the heat of the night and the heavy costume. How the bloody hell did he manage to stay so calm, cool, and collected while she felt so nervous, warm, and unsure? And why did she feel as if there was more behind his façade? As though there was yet another mask to be removed?

Mentally chiding herself for reading too much fantasy fiction and thinking such outlandish thoughts, Adrienne started to remove her hand. Before she could do so, Jean-Luc lifted his own and encircled her wrist, stopping her.

“Precisely how curious are you, mon cher? Are you ready for the ultime, sombre fantaisie that may well be your undoing?” he asked, his voice deep and serious as he watched her closely.

Adrienne felt the strength in his grasp, but she had no desire to pull away. Instead, she felt strangely compelled to draw even closer to the man in front of her though they already stood chest to chest. Desire flooded to encompass her. She was suddenly desperate to embrace the ultimate and dark fantasy to which he referred.

Impulsively, Adrienne extended her hand into the thick, dark ways of his hair and pulled, hoping to move Jean-Luc even closer. Instead, as she did so, his handsome visage fell like paper from Jean-Luc’s face and hung limply from her fingertips. In surprise – and fear – Adrienne stumbled backwards, the second mask falling unnoticed to the ground.

Jean-Luc’s eyes turned black as midnight. Without his masks, he was the epitome of the character Adrienne had jokingly referred to only a short while ago. He was a vampire every bit as real and enticing as Lestat, and he was devastatingly wonderful to behold.

The full moon moved behind the clouds and a cool breeze engulfed the veranda. Standing illuminated by only a few remaining lit candles, Adrienne thought Jean-Luc to be the most splendid, beautiful creature she'd ever seen. Without hesitation, she moved toward him, much like a moth to the flame, fully accepting what truths his darkness would reveal before the dawn's light.