Read Online Masque of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin - Free Book Online Page B

says.
    Elliott nods. “Malcontent.” The way he says the word makes it sound more like a name than a mood. Mother and Father seem unaware, but the courier looks up sharply.
    Father rests his hands against the windowsill and gazes out. “They will regret this when the next wave of illness hits,” he says. He wipes his brow furiously, leaving a residue of ink on his forehead, and puts the handkerchief back into his pocket. “They’ve destroyed the very thing that gave them hope.”
    This room is stiflingly hot.
    Elliott is staring at Father. Father speaks of the possibility of new diseases, of our vulnerability, often enough that I’m used to it.
    “Many people still have masks,” Mother says.
    But not little Henry. And not the courier’s daughter.
    Father clears his throat. “Perhaps I will go tomorrow and offer my assistance. One more person might speed up the process. I gave them the knowledge—”
    “You helped, sir. No one can question that. But you didn’t give them the knowledge,” Elliott says.
    Mother and Father turn to stare at Elliott, the prince’s nephew. Elliott isn’t intimidated by their anger.
    “You gave the knowledge to my uncle, and he kept it,” he says.
    “If you don’t require anything else, I’ll go back to my post.” The courier is nervous. As he leaves, he picks up a rose that dropped from Elliott’s bouquet and hands it to me. “Thank you,” he whispers. “My daughter … it was kind of you to try.”
    We are silent as he hurries across the tile floor and back to his chair in the hallway.
    “You could still help the people, sir,” Elliott says. “You could pass the plans along to me. I would find a way to share them.”
    “You know I can’t do that,” Father says sharply. “And you know why.”
    I look back and forth between them. The papers scratch my arm. I’m preparing to do what Father won’t. And I know it’s wrong.
    “I do what I can,” Father says. “Your inventor friends can attest to that.”
    Elliott nods. Father turns away as if he does not want to acknowledge Elliott’s understanding. His voice is bitter. “There isn’t anything we can really do, ever. Not when people destroy…” Father’s shoulders slump forward. He stumbles into his laboratory. The door doesn’t slam. Doors in the Akkadian Towers never do.
    “We should go,” Elliott says to me, smiling sadly. “None of us can do anything to save humanity this evening.” His hand, gently squeezing my wrist, says otherwise.
    I offer the rose I am holding to Mother. She’s already placed the others in a vase. I want to say something to her. “Good-bye,” or “It will be all right,” or maybe even “I love you,” but she’s intent on the flowers.
    Elliott leans close to her as we take the three steps to the door. “It was good to see you again, Catherine,” he says in a soft voice.
    Mother’s eyes flit from me to Elliott and back to me. She shakes her head, like she’s saying it isn’t good to see him again, but she can’t mean that. She’s flustered. Obviously they have met before.
    “Your parents disapprove of me,” Elliott says as we walk down the hall. I try to think of something nice to say, but he doesn’t give me a chance. “I’m used to it. Parents often disapprove of me.”
    I could ask him if he calls on many girls. But then he might think I care. So instead I ask, “Are your men still downstairs?”
    “For a few more days. I’ll leave a few to look after you and my mother. And April, when she returns.”
    We’ve reached the locked door that leads to the roof. I used to go up these stairs every day, before April came. She thought she was protecting me by having the heavy silver lock placed on the door.
    Elliott unlocks the door and gives me a little bow, indicating that I should proceed.
    “Why the flowers?” I ask over my shoulder.
    “I had to have some reason to visit you.”
    “To give me roses?”
    “Because I am passionately in love with you,” he