Masque of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin

can make her stay. He can kill her if he wants, but I don’t think he will.”
    “He wouldn’t … you’re sure he won’t…” I can’t say the word kill. “He won’t hurt her?” I move closer, listening to the cadence of his voice, trying to be sure of his identity before I make my guess. “You’re the guy with the syringe.”
    “Yes.” He might be sticking out his hand for me to shake, but I can’t see well enough to be sure.
    “Blond eyebrows.” I try to remember everything I know about him. He’s a year or two older than April, eighteen or nineteen.
    He laughs again, but when he speaks, his voice is completely serious.
    “April said we could trust you, so I’m going to.” He takes another drag from his cigarette, leaving me with an impression of long, aristocratic fingers. “Would you like to sit down?”
    I put my hand forward until I can feel the wall and then, awkwardly, sit.
    “Those soldiers downstairs. Are they connected with you, somehow?”
    He coughs twice. “They didn’t bother you? I needed a place to house them, and several floors of this building are abandoned. It seemed a good enough solution.”
    “They were wearing Prince Prospero’s uniform.”
    “For now.”
    “Why do you need soldiers?” I ask.
    “Rebellion,” he says. “April and I are planning a rebellion.”
    His voice has changed from slightly bored to low and intense. Without meaning to, I lean toward him, too shocked to make even the slightest sound. This is treason.
    In this city, people who commit treason are put to death. But he has soldiers.
    “A rebellion?” I ask finally. “April is part of this?” How can April be part of a rebellion? She has trouble deciding what dress to wear.
    “She has to be a part of it. This rebellion is who we are.” He makes a sudden movement, and even in the dark I can tell he’s agitated. “April and I hid behind a curtain and watched the worthy Prince Prospero slash our father’s throat—”
    I gasp.
    I can’t help it. I actually put my hand up to my own throat. Because I know … the gush of warm blood… I force the memory away.
    “He murdered our father. He claimed lawless citizens broke into the mayor’s office. I was a boy then, and my father wanted peace, so I didn’t fight. I waited. And now we’re going to destroy the prince. I’m going to save the city.”
    I try to see his expression, but it’s too dark. Odd that he chose this place for our meeting.
    “But other forces have begun to move in the city, and we can’t afford to let anyone else take control. We have to act soon. I asked April to bring you to meet me so I could see for myself how fearless you are.”
    I nearly fall off the stone wall. Did April tell him that? He is wrong. I have so much fear. And since last night I’ve become more interested in the future. I’m not the person Elliott thinks I am.
    “We couldn’t find you at the club,” I say.
    “I was detained.”
    “And you didn’t tell me who you were. You left me passed out behind a curtain.”
    “I did not. I left to speak to … a friend. And you made it home, while my sister did not.”
    “I’m not sure either of us was meant to make it home. There was a boy who gave us drinks....”
    “What did he look like? I’ll find him.” Something about the way he says this, with complete confidence, speaks to me. He’s so different from my father, who is quiet and always afraid.
    I describe the boy as best I can.
    “Probably working for our uncle,” Elliott says. “But if he hurt April, I’ll kill him. So … here we are in this dark, forbidding garden. Will you help me, Araby Worth? I need someone like you. Willing to take risks.”
    I stare into the darkness. He can’t see my expression, but I try to keep my face impassive anyway.
    “I don’t think I can help you.”
    “I can give you drugs,” he says. “Good ones.”
    I want to laugh. Yesterday I wanted drugs. Yesterday I needed … my hands are trembling. Maybe I