they were wearing heads of some sort. Elaborate papier-mâché contraptions that sat on their shoulders, exactly how Liam had described the masks for the Masquerade Ball, adorned with bits of real fur and feathers and skin.
I felt my lungs fill with cold air and relief. If these people had the school’s masks, they weren’t crazy killers. They were associated with Theden like I thought, which meant that I was okay. Feeling my pulse slow, I watched the figures move around the stage, as if performing some odd, silent dance. Then I heard a voice. It sounded female, but I couldn’t be sure because it was distorted like the hooded figure’s had been. It was coming through speakers behind and above me, and it reverberated off the walls.
“All these at thy command,” the voice declared. “To come and play before thee.” In choreographed unison, the figures with the animal masks all sunk to their knees as two more figures emerged. Their masks were human—one male, the other female—and resembled ancient Greek sculptures, with sharp features and blank eyes. I leaned forward to get a better look as another voice spoke, this one deeper and more eerie than the last.
“All is not theirs, it seems!” a voice boomed as the gong struck a third time and yet another figure emerged. It had the same black robe as the others, but its mask was twice as large and about five times as ominous. It was the head of a giant serpent, with layers of scales that looked arrestingly real. “Envious commands, invented with design to keep them low.” Were these words from a play? The way the serpent delivered them, I thought they might be.
As the serpent figure made its way to a platform at the center of the stage, the male and female figures bowed their unmoving faces in reverence. When he reached the platform, he spread his arms wide, his robe flaring out like a dragon’s wings. “Welcome,” he said, looking up at us now. “We are glad you have come.” I wondered whether the voice actually belonged to the person in the serpent’s mask or if we were simply meant to believe that it was. As the voice spoke, the serpent revolved slowly, like a ballerina in an old music box. Behind him, his mask rose into a reptilian hood, like a cobra preparing to strike, and stretched down the wearer’s back like the horny tail of a dragon, fanning out behind him at the floor. Even at this distance I could see how intricate the design was, layers and layers of textured papier-mâché with gold leaf outlining each pointy scale.
“There are some who received tonight’s invitation but were too afraid, or blind, to accept it. You who have come felt drawn—perhaps without knowing why, or how—to join us. The Greeks called this instinct nous . Intuition. Few have it. Your presence here suggests that you do.” I squirmed in my seat. It wasn’t intuition that brought me here; it was the Doubt. My eyes, now fully adjusted to the flickering dim light, quickly scanned the circle, counting the figures seated on the steps. There were fourteen. Envy flickered inside my chest. They were drawn here by instinct while I’d been chided by a figment in my head.
“Now there is another choice to be made,” the serpent said out of the silence. “You have accepted the invitation to know more, and while the full truth must remain obscured for a while longer, we can tell you this: You are being evaluated for membership into a sacred alliance of gifted minds. The next few weeks are a test.”
My heart was beating wildly again, out of excitement now instead of fear. The masks, the torches, the archaic speech. This wasn’t freaking Junior Beta. This was a legit secret society.
The serpent paused again as the figures on the stage rose to their feet. The two humans flanked the reptile while the other animals began to climb the arena’s steps. The figure in the lion mask was directly below me, his painted mesh eyes tilted up toward mine.
“The time has come to
I felt my lungs fill with cold air and relief. If these people had the school’s masks, they weren’t crazy killers. They were associated with Theden like I thought, which meant that I was okay. Feeling my pulse slow, I watched the figures move around the stage, as if performing some odd, silent dance. Then I heard a voice. It sounded female, but I couldn’t be sure because it was distorted like the hooded figure’s had been. It was coming through speakers behind and above me, and it reverberated off the walls.
“All these at thy command,” the voice declared. “To come and play before thee.” In choreographed unison, the figures with the animal masks all sunk to their knees as two more figures emerged. Their masks were human—one male, the other female—and resembled ancient Greek sculptures, with sharp features and blank eyes. I leaned forward to get a better look as another voice spoke, this one deeper and more eerie than the last.
“All is not theirs, it seems!” a voice boomed as the gong struck a third time and yet another figure emerged. It had the same black robe as the others, but its mask was twice as large and about five times as ominous. It was the head of a giant serpent, with layers of scales that looked arrestingly real. “Envious commands, invented with design to keep them low.” Were these words from a play? The way the serpent delivered them, I thought they might be.
As the serpent figure made its way to a platform at the center of the stage, the male and female figures bowed their unmoving faces in reverence. When he reached the platform, he spread his arms wide, his robe flaring out like a dragon’s wings. “Welcome,” he said, looking up at us now. “We are glad you have come.” I wondered whether the voice actually belonged to the person in the serpent’s mask or if we were simply meant to believe that it was. As the voice spoke, the serpent revolved slowly, like a ballerina in an old music box. Behind him, his mask rose into a reptilian hood, like a cobra preparing to strike, and stretched down the wearer’s back like the horny tail of a dragon, fanning out behind him at the floor. Even at this distance I could see how intricate the design was, layers and layers of textured papier-mâché with gold leaf outlining each pointy scale.
“There are some who received tonight’s invitation but were too afraid, or blind, to accept it. You who have come felt drawn—perhaps without knowing why, or how—to join us. The Greeks called this instinct nous . Intuition. Few have it. Your presence here suggests that you do.” I squirmed in my seat. It wasn’t intuition that brought me here; it was the Doubt. My eyes, now fully adjusted to the flickering dim light, quickly scanned the circle, counting the figures seated on the steps. There were fourteen. Envy flickered inside my chest. They were drawn here by instinct while I’d been chided by a figment in my head.
“Now there is another choice to be made,” the serpent said out of the silence. “You have accepted the invitation to know more, and while the full truth must remain obscured for a while longer, we can tell you this: You are being evaluated for membership into a sacred alliance of gifted minds. The next few weeks are a test.”
My heart was beating wildly again, out of excitement now instead of fear. The masks, the torches, the archaic speech. This wasn’t freaking Junior Beta. This was a legit secret society.
The serpent paused again as the figures on the stage rose to their feet. The two humans flanked the reptile while the other animals began to climb the arena’s steps. The figure in the lion mask was directly below me, his painted mesh eyes tilted up toward mine.
“The time has come to
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