“Oh my God!” I say, shaking Alex’s arm. “That was insane!”
“Very entertaining. Now come on.”
I want to stay and watch more of the circus performance, but Alex is leading me back onto the main walkway and then up a set of stairs. We exit onto another walkway, but this one isn’t empty. Harlequins are dotted about. Some are doing card tricks, others distributing champagne, and still others reading palms. The first one to approach us is wearing red and black checkers, and she grabs my hand.
The harlequin runs her gloved finger down the lines of my palm before looking back up at me.
“Your love line is long but broken. You will know grand passion and great heartache. Will you be able to put your line back together, little mother?” the harlequin says, her voice high and breathy.
I jerk my hand away, putting the other on my flat stomach, spooked.
“H-how did you––”
“There are no secrets at the masquerade,” the harlequin says ominously before disappearing into the crowd. I look at Alex for an explanation.
“Pay it no mind,” he tells me, but I can tell he’s a bit unsettled too. “Come on, let’s move on.”
Alex grabs me a glass of sparkling grape juice and himself a glass of champagne as we continue perusing the area. I notice some patrons gathering around the railing that looks over the dance floor, murmuring amongst themselves. Suddenly, an organ starts playing, the new melody echos around the palazzo, and the sound of a deep baritone voice emerges from downstairs doing guttural sounds like he’s chanting with words I can’t discern. I pull Alex in that direction, wanting to see what all the fuss is about. Once we reach the edge of the balcony, I grip the railing and look down. The orchestra has departed, as have all the dancers.
In their place is a man dressed in red with a solid gold Venetian mask that covers all of his face completely. He’s wearing a blood-red cloak with the hood cinched at his chin and black leather gloves, making sure that no single inch of skin or hair is visible. The cloak falls straight to the floor and pools there. He is an enigma, completely covered and unknowable.
He’s holding a chain, and on the end of the chain is a golden censer, decorated in complex filigree and spilling smoke that hangs over the floor like a fog. I can smell the incense that is making the smoke from here; it smells like night-blooming jasmine. He swings the censer back and forth, spreading the smoke in a slow circle.
The man isn’t alone, though. There are nine people spread around him in a circle, all of them wearing some form of a full-face mask. The masks are their only distinctive feature, because they also wear cinched black hoods that are attached to floor-length black cloaks. Since they are kneeling, the cloaks puddle around them on the floor, obscuring their shapes. The smoke curls around them, dissipating as it rises higher into the room.
While the nine people and the…uh…master of ceremonies are the only ones on the floor, a small crowd rings around the edges, all of them masked and watching silently. The man in red slowly paces around the circle of black cloaks figures, and as he stops in front of each one he draws a strange symbol in the air with his hands, the censer still billowing smoke. When he finishes the symbol, the person stands and sheds the cloak. It flutters to the ground, and the woman stands completely nude except for her mask and leather collar. The man in red seems to observe her nudity for a moment before moving on to the next. This process repeats until each woman is completely naked, and the red man moves back to the center of the floor. His cloak is so long that he seems to float instead of walk.
The man waves his free hand in the air, and all the women join hands. They begin to chant in a language I don’t recognize. It must be humiliating to stand there, naked, with everyone watching you intently. I shiver, glad that I’m not one of the women on the floor. I turn to Alex, who seems to watch the ceremony bored.
“What is this all about?”
“It’s an initiation ritual,” he explains, his voice low.
“For what?” I keep asking.
He heaves a sigh in displeasure at my usual curiosity, but proceeds, nevertheless. “To be a part of this fraternity.”
“Are they becoming members or just their toys?”
We look in each other’s eyes and I can see a smirk rising across his mouth. “For now, toys,” he answers back. “The more they show their allegiance to their masters, the higher they can rank.”
“Why would they accept that?”
He blows out a breath, considering my question for a moment. “I think it’s the idea of belonging to something or someone that lures them into it.”
I narrow my eyes at one of the women standing there. She’s the most tattooed and as I pay closer attention to her tattoos, my heart sinks to my knees, recognizing her.
“Alex,” I whisper, gripping his arm even more. “Emma is downstairs.” I can’t look any further at the ceremony, knowing my best friend is down there, participating in a degrading rite entirely naked. Holy shit! And when I thought being paraded in lingerie would be the worst thing that could happen tonight, somehow this managed to get worse. What on earth is Emma doing here? And who brought her here in the first place? Oh gosh! Was it Yara? After all, they have always been so close. But why would she participate in this initiation ritual and not just watch it from here? Does she want to be part of this thing? It breaks my heart seeing her naked with only a Venetian mask on and a choker collar. Why does she need to be part of this perversion? Is Yara who persuaded her to do it? Is she her master? Or is she gonna be handed to a stranger she knows nothing about for the night? Nothing makes sense to me, but the fact she is willing to go through this type of degrading act has rendered me totally speechless and sad. I heave a sigh laced with disappointment knowing my supposed bestie never disclosed her desire to be part of something like that. After all, she knows everything about me. There’s nothing I haven’t told her, and yet, it seems like it isn’t mutual. My heart is bleeding at the realization that my best friend might have a double life I know nothing about.
“You want to leave?” Alex asks quietly.
But I know perfectly well that’s exactly what he wants, so I take a deep breath and say, “Just let me know when it’s over.”
To my surprise, I feel his hand giving mine a quick squeeze. And this gesture, although so simple and fast, means the whole world to me.
I keep hearing the sound of a bong and curiosity taking the best of me, I give a quick look downstairs and see an initiated leaving the dance floor and walking back to her, um, master? Members are standing tall surrounding the dance floor, all wearing full Venetian masks so it’s hard to know if Yara is among them. The sound of the bong hits the palazzo again, and a new woman leaves the dance floor and goes to meet with someone in the crowd. What a weird ritual… At each new bong, a new woman leaves the dance floor and goes to be with someone amid the crowd.
“Where are they going now?” I ask Alex as I see Emma going away with someone.
“To fuck,” he says bluntly. “They’re beginning their new role as toys for the more senior members.” I swallow the lump in my throat, but I still feel sick to my core at his explanation. “The members they left with will own them tonight and to a certain extent afterwards.”