you want it darker | michael langdon

chapter ten; danse macabre.

October 31st.

Day of the Halloween masquerade ball.

Her 18th birthday...

And possibly her last day on this earth.

Primrose stepped out of the elevator and into the main hall, which had been made over into a spectacular ballroom. Incredible gothic chandeliers hung from the ceiling, tall candelabras stood in each corner, illuminating the mask-clad faces of the elite in a warm glow. From the ceiling to the floor there hung red velvet curtains to drink or gossip behind (knowing these people, Prim thought, they might also be used for more salacious matters).

Primrose adjusted her mask and smoothed down the skirt of her elegant ballgown; she had decided to forgo her signature color of light blue and instead she was draped in a fine, blood red satin (it only occurred to her after getting dressed that she was adorned in Michael's favorite color).

Lost in her thoughts, Primrose jumped slightly as the band finished tuning and marched straight into the first song, a song she recognized as Danse Macabre, penned by Camille Saint-Saëns. The striking opening notes of the violin reverberated around the spacious hall, and immediately the floor was flooded with dancing couples.

She scanned the room for a familiar face and plucked a chalice of wine from the silver serving tray of a passing waiter. She sighed and swirled the red liquid around the glass, the aroma was sweet but with a hint of spice.

"May I have this dance?" Julien extended his hand out to Primrose, bashfully.

In keeping with the masquerade theme, Julien had come dressed as a nineteenth-century sea captain. He looked exceedingly debonair in his beige breeches and royal blue blazer, bedecked with antique-looking navy medals and matching golden epaulets. He completed his look with a white half-mask that only covered one side of his face.

Primrose tipped her head back and drank from her cup deeply for courage, and was about to accept Julien's offer until a firm hand grasped her arm and pulled her away.

"Terribly sorry, but I believe this dance is mine."

Prim didn't even need to turn around to know who's voice was demanding her participation in the waltz. Knowing there was no use in fighting him, Primrose mouthed a quiet 'sorry' to Julien, and allowed Michael to lead her to the center of the floor.

Michael placed his hand on the small of her back, pushing her closer towards him as they danced. Though she knew him to be a man of many talents, it did surprise her to find that he was, in fact, a very capable dancer. They caught the attention of the other guests as they waltzed and swayed gracefully to the music, everyone whispering and wondering who was this handsome, masked stranger that was dancing with the beautiful and equally mysterious Primrose Langdon. She closed her eyes and wished that they could be the charming, enviable couple that they appeared to be.

She wished that this was merely a dance between two lovers, and not the beginning of a very painful evening.

"I-i'm not sure I want to do this." She whispered into his ear.

"What? Dance?" He looked off into the distance over her shoulder, feigning obliviousness.

Primrose scoffed. "Don't play dumb, you know what I mean."

Michael sighed deeply; they had been over this. "We have no choice. We have to do this or we'll die."

The music gained pace, and the constant twirling was playing havoc with the butterflies in her stomach.

"Maybe it's time to die..."

Primrose gasped as his grip on her instantly tightened.

"Don't even say that. I refuse to lose you again."

She bristled at his sharp tone and tried to control the rising sea of conflicting emotions within her.

She loved Michael, and she did not want to die; of these two things, she was certain.

She was not certain, however, that these were justifiable motives for murder.

"Look around you," Michael said quietly, lest anyone else listen into their private conversation. "Everyone here is going to die. Every single one. And it won't be peaceful, or kind. It won't be when they're old and ready for death. It'll be imminent and painful."

"But it's still murder!" She whispered, angrily.

"It's survival." He retorted.

"Needless, violent desecration of innocent flesh... it's barbaric."

He merely shrugged. "Survival often is."

He spun her around in time to the music with a precise, deft velocity. "Besides... only one offering must be innocent."

Michael looked around the room, his gaze upon the guests who were flirting with wild abandon, chortling over rich food and wine, sneering at anyone they deemed lesser than themselves.

"You have quite the task ahead, finding someone who fits that description." He darkly chuckled.

The song was at its climax now, the shrill, swirling crescendo of the violins ringing in her ears, almost drowning out their conversation.

"What you're asking of me... it goes against my very nature... I fear it may kill me."

"That is the entire point. We have to surrender who we are to my father in order to cross between worlds. This is the price. This is the point of no return." He hissed.

When the song finally ended, she was thankful for a reason to break apart from him and get some air. He let her go with very little resistance and accepted Juliet's offer to dance.

He looked down his nose at her derisively as she giggled childishly, batted her eyes and flirtatiously stroked the arm of his velvet dinner jacket.

While Juliet was overstepping her boundaries as a friend by openly fawning over her friend's tutor and object of desire, it was the least of Primrose's worries.

She turned on her heels and exited the main ballroom into one of the adjourning private rooms; she needed space and somewhere to clear her head.

She had opened the door no more than an inch when a voice inside alerted her to the presence of others in the room.

Initially, she was going to simply turn away and find an unoccupied space, that was until she caught a snippet of the conversation.

"You are the most useless of all my kids, you know that?"

"I'm sorry, Dad."

Primrose gasped; she knew that voice...