Chomp

The guests started swarming around the property at six o’clock.

It was hard to believethis whole thing was government-organized, but there we all were; about a thousand people wearing ridiculous clothes and masks, waiting on other people to show up.

As I greeted them in the main entryway, I realized how dressed-down my wedding dress seemed to be. While I was thankful no one actually showed up in a chicken costume, I was more than irked that their masks were still reflective of strange animals with elongated features.

“They match with the décor,” Darius had overruled when we discussed which ones we were buying.

I supposed they did, but then again, the décor wasn’t much to look at. The hall was nice enough—it was an old country club back in the days, with every surface covered in ivory—but everything was far too black and white. Curtains, table covers, centrepieces, and pretty much everyone’s clothes.

The masks were just one more black and white element lost throughout the scenery.

“Thanks for coming,” I murmured for what felt like the millionth time, shaking the hand of a man I didn’t know. At least, I thought it was a man. The elephant mask he wore covered most of his face, save for part of his cheeks.

“Congratulations,” he said politely, confirming my suspicions. I smiled and nodded, waiting for him to move on like all the rest. His partner didn’t even bother to shake my hand, but merely walked past me into the great room.

I glanced over at Darius, wondering if this was what he had in mind when he organized this whole thing. His lips were pulled into his usual coquettish smile as he chatted with a small group of women who had swarmed around him mere feet away from me.

The looks in their eyes were clear; as a tall and well-built man, Darius often got those kinds of looks, even from strangers as he walked down the street. And admittedly, the suit he had elected to wear was slim fitting, flattering his soldierly body quite nicely.

I picked the meter-long train of my dress up before trudging over and poking him gently to get his attention. “Hey, I’m just going to…”

“—many have you killed, anyway?” a brunette with a bejeweled lioness mask asked, cocktail in hand. She had leaned forward into Darius just enough so that her cleavage spilled over the top of her dress.

He chuckled softly as I rolled my eyes.

They didn’t seem to know that, of the two of us, my kill number was far higher; come to think of it, they probably wouldn’t have believed it anyway.

“Never mind. I need air,” I declared abrasively, storming past the girls; I made sure to bump the one holding the cocktail. I didn’t even wait to see the expression on her face when her white bouffant was ruined.

The sun had since gone down, making the air crisp against my bare arms and legs; the lace covering them didn’t do shit. I hobbled haphazardly down the outdoor stone steps on heels higher than I was used to, making my way to the benches that lined the property. It was barely past eight now, but there were already people making out in any dark corners they could find.

My stilettoes clacked angrily against the interlock, sending fractured echoes throughout the courtyard. This whole day was going to shit, and the most important part hadn’t even happened yet.

I collapsed onto a bench bitterly.

Maybe all I needed was a breather. After all, this wasn’t just a wedding; it was a business meeting, and every bit of it had a purpose. Not that I was allowed to know what the purpose was—as Darius had made perfectly clear.

The air chilled me, making me wish I had brought some sort of shawl. I pulled my legs up toward my chest and wrapped my arms around them as best I could. This wasn’t what I had in mind—not even remotely close. I could get over the fact that the Organization had demanded it of us. It wasn’t unheard of, of course, but that certainly didn’t give my fiancé any right to flirt with guests attending. If anything, he—

I spotted movement from the corner of my eye. The guests should have all cleared out from the yard into the country club, but there seemed to be a straggler. My heart nearly stopped beating when I realized what—who, rather—it was.

He wore a sharp, fitting, black tux that would have looked good on anyone else but him, and the fact that he had a dusty rose tie that matched my dress boiled my blood. He hung about the entrance, inspecting the special locking mechanism we had.

“Oi, Fuckface!” I screeched across the courtyard. Jumping to my feet, I wrestled an armful of dress-train and kicked my stilettos off my feet. “Showing your ugly face again?!”

The creature with the plague-mask face turned his head and stared at me as I ran toward the entrance, leaving my shoes in the grass by the bench. I reached him rather quickly, my heart pounding and the blood in my veins filled with hatred.

“You disgusting excuse for a—” I snared, raising my fists.

“S-Sorry?”

Was that a British accent…?

I blinked, taking in the man once more. It was a mask. Like everyone else, whoever this was was simply wearing a mask. While it was a little unnerving that he had chosen that particular design, the strap that fixed it to his face made it clear that it was, indeed, a mask.

“Oh god,” I mumbled, lowering my arms. Maybe he didn’t notice? “I am… I’m very sorry, sir. I must have confused you for someone else.”

He stared at me for a long time before adjusting his tie and clearing his throat. “Not to worry,” he replied, looking me up and down. “I imagine it’s been quite a stressful day for you. Ah, Theodore, by the way.”

His voice held something familiar to it, but I simply couldn’t place it; I didn’t know anyone with that type of accent personally, but it was possible he worked in some other department in the Organization.

“You have no idea,” I murmured, shrugging. “You heading in?”

Theodore nodded. “Well, I certainly was,” he replied. “But I’m afraid I haven’t been taught how to use these new locks.”

Odd for someone from the Organization, but not unheard of.

He tugged at the bottom of the mask and pulled it upward, revealing his face. I was taken aback slightly; while I knew tone had no age, his face far out-aged what his voice came across as. His cheeks were plump and rouged, and he had a red toothbrush moustache that covered thin lips.

He looked at me, then raised an eyebrow. “Was it something I said, Miss?”

“No,” I answered, a little too quickly. I looked over at the box that covered the handle on the door. Its display said ‘ready.’ “It’s just a regular blood sampler. You hold your finger on the pad there—” I pointed to it, making sure he saw, “—and a little needle will come out and sample it. Keeps the pests from getting in, you know.”

Theodore stared at the device, his gold eyes transfixed to it. “Very modern,” he commented, nodding. “Back home, they don’t have these yet. Though I imagine it’s only a matter of time.”

I smiled weakly. “Hopefully.”

We stood there for a few moments in silence. He made no move toward the door, and the hair on my arms seemed more prominent with each passing second.

“Well?” I asked, feeling my blood go cold. How stupid could I have been to not strap a knife to me? We held one another’s gaze for a moment.

Then, Theodore nodded slowly before placing his hand on the device. There was a brief sound of metal rubbing against metal, and he let out a soft, surprised, ‘Oh!’ The lock device took a few seconds to process before displaying a green checkmark and chirping the approval sound.

I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until I exhaled heavily. The man smiled awkwardly, revealing crooked teeth.

“Did I scare you?” he asked, chuckling awkwardly.

“Maybe. Door should be unlocked now, though.”

He nodded and pushed against the glass door. It gave way easily, and he pulled his mask back down onto his face before slipping into the crowd in the open corridor. He didn’t seem like much of a threat, but I had learned—rather recently, more so—that looks could be deceiving.

I scanned the crowd. Most of the faces I saw were of complete strangers, though some I knew at an acquaintance level from the Organization. Admittedly, I was never known for having many friends, and certainly not any family, so it wasn’t a shock. But as I observed the cliques of people laughing, talking, and drinking, I couldn’t help but notice an absence of my favourite baker.

It was an odd sensation, not one I could explain.

I had certainly put Adrian on the list for invitations, though he hadn’t RSVP’d. As organized as he was, it was out of character for him to not have at least replied—even if it was a no.

A cold realization crept into my mind.

“What the hell happened to your shoes?” came a hiss. I looked over my shoulder to see Darius leaning into me, a scowl on his face.

It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. I glanced down, and sure enough, I was sans stilettos. “Uhh… It’s a long story.”

“I think I can manage it. Your feet are filthy,” he commented. He gently tugged the skirt of my dress so that the hem hid my dirty feet from view. “You were only gone for twenty minutes. How long could the story possibly be?”

“You’d be surprised...”

“Well you can explain it later. Priest’s ready to go.” Darius reached a hand out for me to take. When I paused, he raised his eyebrows. “Should I tell him to wait?”

“No.”

The ceremony flew by in a blur, and I barely remembered saying, ’I do.’ Yet I found myself before a feast at a long wedding party table made of people I hardly knew, wearing a ring, and being referred to as Mrs. Norouzi.

‘Congratulations on becoming Mrs. Norouzi’.

‘It’s been a long time coming!’

‘You two are going to be so happy together!’

I was thankful when the music came on after dinner; it distracted the crowd enough for me to slip away, unnoticed, with a glass of champagne. Dodging through the many sweating, dancing bodies, I made my way out to one of the patios that were open to the banquet hall. The air was frigid now, but it felt better than the extreme heat inside.

Swirling my drink in my glass, I sat atop the thick, concrete, balcony railing that enclosed the space. I must have only been gone a few minutes before Darius came out to join me.

“You seem a bit off today,” he pointed out, about to take a sip of his own champagne. I waited for him to continue the thought, but he didn’t.

“Did you… mail all the invitations I gave you?” I asked, looking down at my bare feet. Of all the things I could have said, that was the first that came to mind; I blamed the alcohol.

Darius’ eyebrow twitched slightly, and he didn’t answer right away. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

Of course he did.

I shifted uncomfortably; how could that thought even cross my mind? He was my fiancé—no, my husband, I reminded myself—what reason could he have had to withhold any? None, that’s what.

“I—nothing, no reason,” I replied quickly, feeling the full extent of my stupidity starting to sink in. “I’ll be inside soon if you want to go ahead. I just needed some air; it’s pretty hot in there.”

Whether or not Darius believed me, I couldn’t tell. He merely nodded curtly before turning on his heel. “Alright. I have some business to take care of for the Organization, so it’s better that you entertain for a little bit. Best to let the party cover up things, hmm?”

“Sure.”

I watched as he finished the rest of his glass and walked forward to toss it to one of the many servers that were walking around with trays. He shook a few people’s’ hands as he passed, his perfect smile never falling from his face as he thanked everyone for their well-wishes.

There were countless people there, dancing, talking, laughing. I glanced over a few of the people that Darius stopped to talk to, as well as those he didn’t. No one seemed to catch my eye right away.

Not until I spotted Theodore, anyway.

I cursed myself for the brief feeling of missing a step; his mask was probably the only reason my eyes even rested on him. It was creepy on its own—shiny, black and leather, let alone used for diseases hundreds of years ago—but I knew it wasn’t just how it looked that put me off. He had pulled it up, as many people had, no doubt to better see the party. I watched him slink in between the crowd like a cat, lithe movements that seemed uncharacteristic for someone as clumsy-sounding as he. His surreptitious gait sent a shiver down my spine, reminding me strongly of the Plague Mask vampire.

It took me a moment to realize that Theodore wasn’t stopping to speak to anyone, nor was he dancing with anyone. Despite the low light, his movement seemed almost unmistakeable; a cat stalking prey.

I got to my feet slowly.

He trailed Darius by a few feet, very careful to remain hidden behind a few people. No doubt, my husband’s sensory skills were muted by the amount of people around him, but from my vantage point, it was obvious.

Theodore’s gaze was set on him, and I could feel my heart thudding in my chest.

He couldn’t be. He got through the scanner, and he didn’t use fake blood—I saw him.

I strode toward them. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was armed, but Darius still definitely needed to know about this shady character. I kept my eyes trained on Theodore’s features; his large cheeks, toothbrush moustache, and his—

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Slowly, those features changed. The moustache disappeared completely, receding into his upper lip as if I was watching a video in reverse-slow-motion. His skin tone seemed to change, transitioning from its rouged colour through a gradient to a chocolate brown, his cheeks losing their fat and forming into thin, high ones.

Before any more changes were made, Theodore put his mask back down onto his face. I felt my heart jump into my throat as I realized what I was witnessing.

Theodore was able to get past the scanner because he knew it needed human blood. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered to him if he could physically like that.

Like Toulouse, he was a variant.

He was Plague Mask.