A man strutted onto the stage, his arms lifted high, a broad, self-assured grin on his lips. He was striking, dressed in black and blood-red, a crimson mask obscuring his eyes.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause.
The man lifted his hands, shushing them with an indulgent smirk. “Welcome, welcome, everyone! Most of you know me, but for those first-timers at my grand event, allow me to introduce myself.” He spread his arms wide. “I am Count Raul Costa.”
The crowd roared louder, many of them chanting, “Raul! Raul!”
He soaked in the adoration, bowing several times before lifting a handto silence them again. “As you know, only the best of the best are invited to this masquerade. I trust it has met your expectations… and satisfied your hunger.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Laughter rippled through the room.
“I’m still hungry!” a man called out.
More laughter.
Raul’s grin widened. “And you shall have time to slake your hunger, my friend. But first…” He spread his arms theatrically, pacing the stage like a master of ceremonies. “I have a show for you all. One that will stir your deepest desires.”
A woman let out a long, indulgent moan from somewhere in the crowd.
Raul chuckled. “Exactly.”
More laughter. More anticipation.
A dark, twisting sensation coiled in my stomach.
This was not going to be good.
“As you all know,” Raul bellowed, his voice ringing through the ballroom, “the society I belong to is dedicated to rooting out the threats to our world. The Timebounds and the Timebornes.”
Gooseflesh erupted across my skin. Sweat prickled at my forehead.
Shit.
Raul pumped his fist into the air. “We will destroy them! We will protect you!”
The audience erupted, a cacophony of cheers, whoops, and applause.
“Bring in the entertainment!” Raul shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.
Several fire dancers pranced onto the stage, twirling batons engulfed in flames, creating an ominous backdrop of flickering fire. The heat rippled through the air, warping the space behind them.
Then, two guards emerged, dragging a man and a woman between them.
Both captives had black bags covering their heads. Both were naked, their hands bound cruelly behind their backs.
Bile shot up the back of my throat.
Raul’s voice rang with amusement. “Remember, everyone—these two are actors! This is just a show demonstrating how we keep you safe.”
The guards yanked the captives forward and shoved them onto the stage.
The woman crumpled to her knees. The man staggered but barely managed to stay upright.
Raul reached down and ripped the bag from the woman’s head.
Her mask was askew, a rag stuffed into her mouth. But nothing could mask the sheer terror in her eyes.
“They’re not actors,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the flames.
