Page 15 of A Stage Set for Villains
The voice startles me so badly, I jump and—too late—clutch Galen’s coat at the collar to cover my mark.
A figure, cloaked in black, emerges from the darkness. A blessing. Of all the things my shouting outside of the Playhouse could have summoned, I’ll take a stranger in the dark over a Player any day. My boldness forgotten, I scurry back like a mouse. “Who are you?”
He steps in the light, his face hidden behind a Comedy mask—popular among Playhouse fanatics. A horrific smile is carved into the bronze.
My heart starts to hammer.
“Did I see a stain there on your neck?” I don’t know the voice, but I know he’s much bigger than me. My hand creeps to my inner coat pocket where my father’s Eleutheraen dagger stays tucked away, just as a second figure appears behind the first. This one behind a Tragedy mask. I take in the overstated frown, my breaths coming quicker.
“What is a marked doing outside the Playhouse tonight?” Tragedy Mask asks.
I draw inward and keep my mouth shut.Who are they?Overzealous fans from the South, taking it upon themselves to patrol the casting call?
“Well, go on, then,” a third voice chimes in—feminine this time. I spin around, finding another Comedy mask, silver and scraped at the edges. That exaggerated smile sends a chill up my spine. “Tell us.”
My eyes fall to the blade in her hand.
Fuck.I’ve read about this. Revelers who target and slash through Eleutheraen marks to honor the Players. A story broke months back about Playhouse fanatics sacrificing some marked soul on a Dionysian altar.
What was Ithinking? Venturing out here at night on my own—
“Did you not hear me, girl?” she repeats.
My mouth opens, closes.I’m lost!I think frantically, but the words won’t form on my tongue. I can’t lie. “I—I’m…” My eyes flicker up to the Playhouse.
This isn’t how I’m supposed to die.
I recoil from the thought, unsure why my mind jumped to it so quickly.
“What, here to audition?” The first Comedy mask roars with laughter. “Well, girl. Has no one told you? A marked can’t audition.” He’s right. Eleutheraen marks are an insult to Players and their egos. The man takes a step forward, but I can’t back up anymore—not with the woman behind me. “Nasty consequences for that, actually.”
With no option left, I bolt, throwing myself forward. But my sly attempt to dive between them and into the nearest alley is intercepted when one grips my arm, nearly ripping the bone from its socket.
The pressure feels like a door slammed on my shoulder, crushing it. I yelp and thrash like a wet cat as they drag my body forward through the Playhouse gates.
“Come, we can do a little play,” one of them jeers. “You can be the lead.”
They’re taking me to the Players.
My knife. My knife is in my pocket. If I could just reach—
I flail, curling down and clamping my teeth over one of their hands as hard as I can.
A violent force collides with my side, the air punching out of my lungs as one of them shrieks, “The little animalbit me!” and drops me like a sack of potatoes.
Something is wrong,I realize, unable to breathe. I don’t even know who’s hit me. All I know is my lungs feel like they’re full of shattered glass.My ribs. They crushed my godsdamned ribs—
Then I hear it again. That voice—a song that flutters in the wind like a bird—slows the commotion to a standstill. To my shock, my attackers stop advancing on me, dropping their hands to their sides. I stare up in confusion as their bodies freeze.
The voice sings on, spellbinding and overwhelming. My eyes dart around, searching for its owner as I crawl away at the speedy pace of a sick turtle. The stone feels like sleet beneath my fingers.
When I peer up, I see three flashes of silver emerge. Blades.
They’re going to kill me.I claw frantically at the ground, dragging myself across the stone. My lungs feel like they’re caving into my chest as I scream for help, but no sound makes it out of my throat.
Strangely, the sting of their blades never comes.
In fact, when I dare a look, they’re all staring blankly at one another instead.
