A Masquerade of Muertos (Wisteria Tearoom Mysteries Book 5) (21 page)

Dale slowly placed a sugar skull beside the mantel clock. Attracted by his movement, Gabriel turned. “Is the clock’s time correct?” he asked.

“I set it this morning,” I said.

“Good. From here, I will show the revelers through to the tavern. Ellen, this door should be closed just before midnight. Can you see to it?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“Very good. And you will also welcome the revelers as they arrive at the front door. Only from nine until ten; the door should be locked at ten. ”

“What if people are late?” Margo asked.

“They’ve been told. Ten o’clock, the doors are locked.”

“The party starts at nine,” Kris added. “An hour should be plenty of time for everyone to get here.”

“Those who do not must take their chances outside,” Gabriel said. I could hear the smile in his voice, and knew he was thinking of the Red Death. If he ever gave up painting, he would make a brilliant actor. So completely focused.

He led the way through the dining parlor and back to the hall. “Now it is time for us all to take our places. Please remain in your chambers until the last arrivals come through. Ellen, if you would pass through the chambers after you have locked the door at ten, that will be the signal that the guardians may move about freely.”

I nodded, adding this to my mental list of duties. Greet guests, show them to Hyacinth (no more than four at a time, I thought), lock the door at ten, go through the chambers and let their guardians know the door was locked.

“Hall lights out, please,” Gabriel said.

“I’ll turn them out after the food is all in place,” I said, as Julio scurried out of the gift shop and back toward the kitchen.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. And thank you, all of you, for making this fantasy a reality,” Gabriel added, his voice full of warmth. “This night is one we will never forget.”

They dispersed, heading to their chambers, and Julio came up the hall with a tray of deviled eggs. Holding out my hands, I met him between the parlor doorways.

“Which alcove?”

Julio set the tray in my hands with a grateful look. “Lily.”

I carried the eggs there while Julio went back for another tray. Gwyneth had put on her silver-white half mask and was stepping back and forth in the alcove, deciding where to stand.

“That drape would make a nice background for you.” I nodded toward a piece of jacquarded satin that softened the southwest corner.

“Good idea,” she said, stepping in front of it, and thus out of the way of people entering the chamber. The food stand was in the southeast corner, out of the traffic pattern.

“Do you need anything?” I asked. “A glass of water?”

“Oh, thank you! That would be great.”

I nodded. “Be right back.”

Feeling it was only fair, I offered water to Roberto, Kris, and Gabriel as well, but they all declined. Kris, ever practical, pointed out that she was only a few steps from the dining parlor, where all the drinks were.

In the hall, I passed Julio with another tray of savories on my way to the kitchen, and again coming back with Gwyneth’s water. Ramon plinked softly on his guitar, giving the tuning a final check. I offered water to the three in the south side of the house, then relieved Julio of another tray, this one filled with cheese tartlets. The smell made my mouth water.

“Iris,” he said.

The food stand was by the northwest corner, and Kris stood next to it in front of the window, which was covered by a particularly luscious swath of brocade. She had donned her mask.

“You look splendid,” I told her as I set the tartlets on the stand.

“Thanks.” She smiled. “Here we go.”

“Have fun,” I said, giving her shoulder a squeeze before I went out to take my place by the front door. The bells that normally hung on the handle and warned the tearoom staff whenever someone entered had been removed at Gabriel’s request, and were stashed in the gift shop. The lights above and beside the door had been covered with black cloth, leaving the hall in darkness except for the two candles beside Ramon.

Julio came out of the main parlor and joined me. “OK, all the food is out. Let me know when anything runs low.”

“Right. Thanks, Julio.”

He gave me an airy salute and headed down the hall. Ramon struck up a melody on the guitar. A moment later the front doorbell rang, and I opened it to three pale-faced women in black. I couldn’t decide if they reminded me more of vampires, the three Fates, or perhaps the witches from
Macbeth
. I showed them to Hyacinth, where Cherie took them in charge as I returned to the door.

Those first three were the exception; most of the guests I welcomed over the next hour were masked. A few wore face paint instead. I recognized a familiar face—or chin—here and there, and one young man I knew by his gorgeous, waist-length hair. His costume was a splendid Georgian coat, but the mask of leaves made me think of him as a woodland spirit.

There were many amazing costumes. Most of them were black, but there were splashes of color, predominantly red and purple. Some were beautiful, some horrific, and all but a few must have taken many hours of work.

Gradually the house filled with guests, voices, and laughter. Candlelight flickered with the constant movement, and grotesque shadows danced against the walls and draperies. Ramon’s music gradually got louder; he must have been nudging his amp. It got more energetic, too. A few people began to dance in the hall by the front door, where there was just enough room.

As I showed a pair of black-winged, corseted, vampire-toothed fairies to Hyacinth, the clock began chiming the top of the hour. Ramon continued playing through the melody, but stopped when the hour began to toll. The abrupt shift caught everyone’s attention; conversations died as everyone stood still, perhaps silently counting the ten strikes, as I did.

As the last stroke faded away I felt a little prickle of dread, no doubt in response to how well Poe’s Masque had been brought to life. Gabriel must be delighted.

The guitar broke the spell, gently easing back into the music. People began to talk and move. I turned to lock the front door, first opening it slightly to check whether any last minute arrivals were approaching. I saw no one; the street was lined with cars, and a sharp breeze had kicked up, blowing leaves around in the gutter. I shut the door and locked it, then went to Hyacinth.

“You’re free,” I told Cherie.

“Thank the gods!” she hurried out to the hall.

I paused to build up the fire, took note of the mostly-empty tray of stuffed mushrooms, then went around into Violet, where I found Dale chatting with one of the vampire fairies. I made eye contact with him but didn’t interrupt. He nodded, and continued talking while I added wood to the fire.

Moving on to Dahlia, I found Margo frowning as she plucked at an edge of her veil in the light of the green lamps. “You’re free to go,” I told her.

“Thanks,” she said, and walked out. I glanced at the food; a little less than half gone.

Crossing the hall, I saw Margo heading for the dining parlor. In Jonquil, Roberto, wearing a half mask of orange and gold that emphasized his goatee and a matching plumed velvet hat, was talking with the long-haired wood spirit. I smiled at him, glanced at the food, then continued into Lily.

Gwyneth stood sparkling in the center of a cluster of men. She turned to me, exclaiming, “Are we locked in?”

“Yes,” I said. “You’re free to move now.”

“Oh, good! I want a drink so bad!”

“Let me bring you one,” said a tall man cloaked in black with a demon-faced mask. “Absinthe?”

Gwyneth unleashed a tinkling laugh. “No, no! Champagne.”

Roberto came into the room and stepped right past the demon, the orange ostrich plume of his hat brushing in the demon’s face as he offered Gwyneth his arm. She took it, smiling with glee, and they walked out.

The tray that had held the eggs was completely empty. I picked it up and followed Gwyneth’s disappointed admirers out. In the crossroads at the center of the parlor they all turned right, heading for the hall, while I passed into Iris.

The woodland spirit was here now, chatting with Kris and a couple of others, one of whom reminded me strongly of Maleficent. Kris looked up as I came in. She had a wine glass in her hand; someone must have brought her a drink.

“We’re clear?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

She continued her conversation. A few of the tartlets remained on the tray. I snagged one and popped it in my mouth as I passed by, then propped the empty egg tray on the wood rack while I built up the fire.

One other person was in Rose with Gabriel: a slender woman in an outfit that reminded me of Marie Antoinette, except her hair was black. I nodded to Gabriel and went to check the food. There were still quite a few of the salmon mousse puffs, which surprised me. Normally they went fast whenever we served them at an event. I picked one up and sniffed it, to make sure it smelled all right.

“They’re fine,” Gabriel said. “People just aren’t hanging around in here very long.”

I turned to look at him. He’d sounded amused.

“Your re-creation is too good,” I said, gesturing toward the crimson lamps. “I hope you haven’t been lonely.” Since I’d touched the salmon puff, I popped it into my mouth, a little defiantly.

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, you’re here to release me, right? No, I haven’t been lonely, though people’s reactions are interesting. I didn’t expect that part of the story to be enacted. Normally these guys
like
dark rooms.”

The inclination to avoid the black chamber was understandable. Just standing there for a few minutes made me feel a little oppressed.

“Maybe it’s the red lights,” I said.

He tilted his head, which created an odd illusion of his mask smiling. “Maybe. Or maybe the story is in everyone’s head.”

“That’s what you want, right?” I said brightly. “I need to let Julio know the status of the food,” I added, stepping toward the dining parlor.

“Lead on,” Gabriel said with a grand gesture.

The “tavern” was full of people chatting and drinking. Great inroads had been made on a large platter of
pan de muerto
on the sideboard. I slipped through the crowd and crossed the hall, heading for the kitchen. Julio was just taking a fresh tray of tartlets out of the oven.

“Great timing,” I said. “Iris is almost out of those. And Lily’s completely out of eggs. I brought this back.”

He took the tray from me, and I reported on the status of the rest of the food, then headed toward the restroom. Two women were waiting, and Cherie emerged as I got there.

“Much better,” she said with a smile. “Now I need a drink.”

Absinthe, no doubt. Deciding to go upstairs rather than wait in line, I followed her out. Ramon was putting his guitar on its stand as I reached the stairs.

“Break time?” I asked.

He nodded. “The smell of all that food is making me hungry.”

“Me too. Julio will save us.”

He grinned and headed for the kitchen. Leaving the chatter of the party behind as I went upstairs, I felt relieved. There was tension downstairs; maybe normal for the group, or maybe part of the plan for the evening, but it affected me. I took my time freshening up, and then took a moment to stand by the front window and look out at the street, the view that had been carefully shut out downstairs.

Still windy. Tree branches, mostly bare now, waved and danced in the night air, creating flickering shadows in the light of the streetlights. My tall votive candles burned steadily on the low table that had become my private
ofrenda
. I looked at each of the skulls in turn, silently wishing peace to the people they represented.

Distant music broke into my reverie; Ramon had started playing again. With a small pang of regret I turned toward the stairs. The party was probably all right for now, but I still felt I ought to keep an eye on things, especially the food.

That thought reminded me that I was hungry. I went down to the kitchen, where Julio (who had an uncanny knack for reading my mind about such things) handed me a plate of the savories.

“You missed dinner. I can heat up some soup if you want it.”

“No, this will be fine. Did Ramon eat?”

“Yeah. You’re the only one who hasn’t.”

I stuffed a mushroom into my face. “Mmm. Thank you, Julio!”

He smiled. “There’s
pan
in the oven, and one more tray of mushrooms to bake. After that I might go home.”

“Go now, if you want to. You’ve been here since the crack of dawn.”

He shook his head. “I’ll finish this. You’ve been up almost as long.”

Knowing I couldn’t win that argument, I slid onto a seat at the break table. Dee glanced up, eyes glinting in the depths of her hood.

“Did you get something to eat?” I asked her.

“I had a bite before I changed.”

I nodded and ate a tartlet. Gorgonzola and caramelized onions. I allowed myself a small sigh of pleasure.

“How’s it going out there?” Dee asked, putting down her phone.

“Fine so far. You should see the costumes!”

“I watched from the pantry earlier, until it started getting crowded.”

“You’re very patient.”

She shrugged. “I have a good book. And the reaction will be worth the wait!”

“Gabriel did an amazing job,” I said, nodding. “This whole thing really is Poe’s story brought to life.”

A gust of wind slapped at the windows, making everyone look up. Even Mick paused in washing glasses, despite his earbuds.

“Has Captain Dusenberry done anything interesting?” Dee asked.

“I doubt anyone would notice if he did,” I said.

The clock, muffled by our distance from the house speakers, chimed. Dee tilted her head, listening.

“Is that the quarter hour?” She reached for her phone.

“Half hour.”

“How can you tell?”

“The melody is slightly different each time. The top of the hour is the whole phrase, and the other quarters are parts of it.”

Dee chuckled. “You know the most amazing things.”

“Well, I grew up with that clock. I think my father taught me about the chimes.”

My plate was empty. I stood and picked it up. “Do you want some cider?”