Gray's Domain: Purgatorium Series, Book Two (11 page)

A few seconds later, the snarl came again—this time louder and closer. She held her breath as twigs snapped and pebbles crushed together, indications that something was moving toward them. Then Giovanni slipped the flashlight from her shaking hand and switched it on, pointing it directly at…what?

The flashlight dropped at her feet and Giovanni took off running, leaving her alone with the thing. She followed Giovanni, screaming at the top of her lungs. The only thing she could think of to describe what she saw was, “Big Foot.”

As she stumbled along the stream after Giovanni, she assured herself that it was a person in a costume. A real creature of that magnitude couldn’t exist on this small of an island. Nevertheless, she ran, just in case.

Then the thing grabbed her arm, and she let out a rueful cry.
“God! God!”

“Daphne, it’s me,”
came a familiar voice.

She stopped, breathless, and turned toward the creature.

“Philip,” he said. “Come with me.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Daphne struggled to catch her breath. “Do you know if Bridget’s alright?”

“She’s fine. Not a scratch.” He walked her to a jeep parked behind some shrubs.

“What now?” she asked him, full of relief.

He climbed behind the wheel. “Did you have fun?”

“Oh, yeah!
It was a blast!” And that was no lie.

“Hortense wants him to wander around alone for a while, so he can find himself.”

She wondered how that would pan out for Giovanni. “So where are we headed?”

“Back to the resort.
You need your sleep. We have another big day ahead of us tomorrow. You especially.”

She jerked back her head.
“Why me especially?”

“It’s a surprise.”

The lights of the resort came into view. Philip dropped her off at her cabana. Inside, she found Brock waiting for her.

“What in the world happened to you?” he asked.

She smiled, wishing she could tell him all about it. “I, um, was just trying out different costumes for tomorrow’s ball. Do you likey?”

“Not at all.”

She wasn’t a very good actress. She was going to have to step up her game if she was really going to have her revenge.

Chapter Nine: Costume Ball Disaster

The next evening, after a relatively uneventful day, Daphne dressed alone in her room for the masquerade ball. She studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror and checked out the beautiful costume—a long white Victorian style dress, a white-blonde wig that fell in ringlets on her shoulders, and a wreath of pearls around her head. Pinned to the front of the bodice was a cream-colored piece of fabric in the shape of a scroll, and embroidered in swirly letters, was the last line from Lord Tennyson’s poem:

The web was woven curiously,

The charm is broken utterly,

Draw near and fear not,—this is I,

       The Lady of Shalott.

It had been Cam’s idea. Daphne had never even heard of The Lady of
Shalott until, after lunch, when they went to see the doctor’s collection, Cam had pulled the gown and accessories from the closet, reciting the entire ballad by memory. Her parents had been off in another dressing room, but Brock had been there with her to hear it. At the end of it, Brock, who had been tinkering with a Batman costume, clapped. Daphne remembered why she used to call her friend “Cam the Ham.”

Cam took a bow and then noticed the costume Brock had in his hands. “Please don’t tell me you’re wearing that
Batsuit.”

Brock held it up and studied it.
“Why not?”

“Everybody knows that the real DC
Batsuit utility belt had pockets,” Cam said.

Daphne giggled. That was her Cam: the nerd who knew everything about every fantasy universe ever created. She turned to Brock. “Shouldn’t you go as my Sir Lancelot, anyway?”

“The poem didn’t sound like much of a romance,” Brock scoffed. “The knight barely notices the lady, and she languishes in the bottom of a boat.”

“But you
gotta admit it’s a cool costume,” Cam said with his charming smile.

In the end, Daphne convinced Brock to go as Lancelot, even though he complained that the knight was just another tragic character who dies.

“Isn’t our reason for being here to learn to accept death and to appreciate life?” she had challenged, and that had been the end of it. She hadn’t admitted that her main reason for wanting to go as the Lady of Shalott was the beautiful wig.

Now she slipped on a pair of boots—the floor-length full skirt covered them anyway—and headed for Brock’s room.

On the way, she ran into Stan, whom she had to admit made a mighty fine Zorro, but she was still a little irked for his part in the cutting of her calf during the staged shark attack. He might be willing to cut himself for the sake of the therapy, but that didn’t mean he could do it to her, too. She hadn’t been able to ask him anything about it at Christy Ranch, but now she wanted him to know she hadn’t appreciated it.

“Any word on Giovanni?” she whispered.

“Not now.” He took her hand, and, in character, kissed it, before continuing in the opposite direction toward the main building, once more giving her no chance to complain about her injury.

Daphne also ran into Cam and Bridget, whom Daphne hugged, saying, “So glad you’re okay.” They were dressed as
Annikin and Padame—not the happiest of endings for those two, either. Behind them were Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum—Vince and Dave. They looked hilarious in their matching striped caps, large white collars, blue bowties, and red pants.

“We’ll see you there,” Vince said with a wave.

“Contrariwise!” Dave shouted. “She’ll see
us
there!”

Daphne shook her head as they moved on. She hadn’t even knocked when Brock opened the door.

“Wow,” he said, giving her a once over.

“Wow yourself.” He looked hotter than hot: her knight in shining armor.

Hand in hand, they made their way to the ballroom.

Daphne couldn’t believe the crowd awaiting them at the ball. Where had all these people come from? At least sixty, maybe seventy, most of whom she could not recognize (and it didn’t help that the lights were dimmed and everyone was in costume), walked around the food tables and bar. Two zombies mingled with a human-size apple, Picachu shared drinks with Wonder Woman, an alien made nice with three steampunk characters, and Mario flirted with Katniss Everdeen. None of the members of the younger crowd were there, which was strange, since Daphne had passed them on her way to Brock’s. She wondered what they were up to. A few couples—Thing One and Thing Two, Dracula and a vampiress, and a doctor and sexy nurse—danced on a small wooden dance floor near an empty stage where two large speakers sent big band music throughout the ball.  On the far end of the room near the back tables, Daphne spotted the mad hatter, A.K.A. Hortense Gray.

“Check out your parents,” Brock said of the cowboy and Indian speaking with the doctor.

“Oh my gosh.” Her father had merely worn a cowboy hat and boots—not much of a costume. But her mother had on a full Indian headdress, a fringed tan leather jacket, and tall matching boots. She looked young and…happy.

Before Daphne reached her parents, Zorro came up behind her and asked for a dance. She noticed the rest of the regulars were trickling in as well.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Stan asked Brock.

“No.
Of course not.”

Daphne was not much of a dancer. Plus, it was a slow song. How awkward. “I was just on my way to talk to my parents,” she said, trying to get out of it.

“One song.” Stan widened his eyes in an urgent way that alarmed Daphne.

“Well, alright.”

She followed him to the dance floor and stood there awkwardly as he took her in his arms, leaving just a few inches between them.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“My leg hurts.” That was a lie. It had already healed, as far as she was concerned.

“Sorry about that, kiddo.
Dr. Gray’s orders.” He twirled her under his arm.

“Do you always do what Dr. Gray says?”

“She has helped a lot of people.”

Daphne had nothing to say to that. She had to admit—not aloud but to herself—that she and her parents were a lot closer since the rock lice and the shark attack.

“I want you to know something,” Stan said.

Daphne lifted her eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s about to get intense.”

“Tonight?
Here?”

Stan nodded.

“But my dad.”

Stan squeezed and relaxed his grip on her hand, making her realize she was clenching his.

“This ball took a lot of planning,” Stan said. “Dr. Gray canceled yesterday’s exercises for him, but tonight’s are still on.”

“Great.” She hoped her father was up to whatever they had in store for them. “What’s the plan?”

Stan grinned. “You’ll soon find out.”

“Why can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t even know all the details.” He twirled her beneath his arm again. “But listen. No matter what happens. Do not break the illusion. That little cut in your leg in the water the other day was nothing, you understand?”

Daphne’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t sign up for any real pain.”

“Not you.”

The song ended, but as they walked from the dance floor, she said, “Not my parents. Not even Brock.”

“Don’t worry, Daph. It’s going to be great. You’ll see. You’ll be so grateful at the end of it. I promise.”

They reached Brock and her parents before she could ask more.

The first thing her mother said was a repeat from lunch earlier that day, “Did take your antibiotic?”

“Yes,” she lied. She had totally forgotten but didn’t want an earful.

“Nice costume,” her father said. “What’s the Lady of Shalott?”

Daphne explained the poem to him.

“I remember that one from school, now that you mention it,” her mother said.

“And who’s this Zorro fellow?” her dad asked.

Daphne re-introduced them. They had already met, but her father hadn’t remembered Stan.

“Then maybe you know the answer to my question,” her dad said to Stan. “Is that a cash bar?”

“No sir,” Stan replied. “You already paid for your drinks with Daphne’s tuition.”

“Oh, they’re included,” Joe said with a smile.

“Would you like me to get you something?” Stan offered.

“No, no, that’s okay. Thank you. I’ll get a drink in a minute.”

“Don’t wait too long,” Stan warned.

“Oh, they go fast, do they?” Joe asked.

“Something like that.” Stan winked at Daphne and turned away.

Daphne watched him stroll over to the food table until she could no longer see him among the others. Her heart rate had picked up at his last comment.
Don’t wait too long
. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen soon.

“Guess we’ll head over for a drink,” her father said.

“What was that all about?” Brock asked her once her parents had headed for the bar.

Daphne noticed Emma sitting alone in tears at a nearby table.

“I’ll be right back,” Daphne said. She left before giving Brock a chance to object.

Emma was dressed as Doctor Who. Her hair was tucked beneath a hat. She wore a brown tweed jacket and dark brown bowtie. She looked adorable, but black mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her brown eyes were red-rimmed.

Daphne sat down beside her and leaned close. “What’s wrong?”

“I want off this island, that’s what.” Emma was trembling.

“Has something happened?”

“Just the same old crap.”

“Can you talk about it?”

Emma glanced around the room, then lowered her voice and said, “Dr. Gray has got everyone in this place brainwashed, if you ask me.
Even her son.”

Daphne bent her brows with concern. She’d already suspected as much, but wasn’t it for a good cause? “What makes you say that?”

“She’s a controlling witch, that’s what. Greg and I just want to be together, but apparently I’m not good enough for him.” Emma’s voice broke on the last few words as sobs overwhelmed her.

Daphne patted her back. “Who cares what she thinks?”

Emma glared at her through her wet lashes. “Are you serious? Who doesn’t?”

“Do
you
?”