Chapter Text
Nikki almost choked up, but she collected herself. There was a heaviness in the air, an electricity tracing lines over her heart. Nikki walked side-by-side with her dance partner, dressed to the nines. He was a boy—no, a young man who was nineteen like her—who had every intention of impressing his dance date. They called him “Marques Junior” often, or even just “Junior.” Nikki wasn’t opposed to the extra syllables, but there was a special connotation attached to simply calling him “Marques.”
The nervous dates were ascending the comically long set of concrete steps leading to the Florawish Ballroom. Nikki thought the path leading to the large double doors was at least as long as a football field, only with the added stress of concrete steps. Since Nikki had chosen pastel blue heels, these very steps had become her worst adversary of the night.
Two and a half weeks.
Two and a half weeks in a new world.
Two and a half weeks away from Earth, her home.
So much had been compressed into these days. In relatively little time, Nikki and her pal, Momo, had become temporary Florawish citizens. Nikki had even taken it upon herself to become a novice stylist. She needed to defeat the members of a stylist faction, known as the Ebony Scissors, in the hopes of retrieving a stolen artifact that would bring Momo and her back home.
Home was frequently on Nikki’s mind. Even as she tried to enjoy the crisp breeze under a starlit sky in the presence of a great friend, she couldn’t help but think about her grandmother. Ever since Nikki’s mom, Rose, had been institutionalized at St. Aubrey’s mental hospital, Nikki’s grandma had seen to it that the girl remained in her care. But before Nikki and Momo were accidentally spirited away to Miraland, Nikki and her grandmother had been in a rough spot.
Nikki had disappeared during the cold war of their disagreement, and she felt daily guilt that she had left on such bad terms. Nikki could only imagine how her grandmother was feeling. There was no doubt that Grammy was hurting, that she was lining her duvet with tears every night before she slept. Who would harvest Grammy’s vegetables in the backyard? Who would help her fix the laptop when it froze? Who would assist her in carrying the groceries from the car to the house?
It almost happened again. Nikki almost lost it. She couldn’t cry in front of Marques Junior. She could tell that this night had been front and center in his mind. And it was no secret that he harbored a crush on Nikki. As they’d continued to get to know each other, it was clear that Nikki’s feelings were starting to develop as well. Marques Junior would certainly be a shoulder to cry on, but Nikki didn’t want to subject him to that right now, nor base the relationship solely on his ability to comfort her.
The path the duo trekked was illuminated by lantern posts that attracted knitmoths. Nikki was half-tempted to use her bug net on them to gather some more materials, but now was not the time. As much as she loved to make clothes, she had to put her stylist ambitions to the side.
The building ahead was like a brick castle, complete with spires and wide windows. A banner was strung across the two tallest spires, advertising the monthly Florawish Ball in a font that was so fancy, it was nearly illegible. A few guests ahead of Nikki and Marques Junior were filing into the anteroom, where tickets and registration were administered. Marques vowed to pay for their tickets, and Nikki allowed it only after arguing with him playfully. But she vowed to pay the next time since she was making some good blings working with Timis.
Speaking of Timis, Nikki could already spot Timis and Momo at the top of the steps. They were, as expected, arguing over something that was most likely inane. They had arrived because Momo wanted to experience a ball. And as for Timis, she wanted to see Nikki and Marques Junior blossom into a brand-new, exclusive couple. In fact, Timis had been their matchmaker, for all intents and purposes.
In an act of begrudging kindness toward Momo, Timis had already agreed to pay for their tickets. But if they continued arguing, Nikki worried their deal was subject to change.
“I don’t know how to dance well,” said Marques Junior.
“That’s okay. Neither do I. Actually, it’s not so much that I’ve never danced. My mom taught me some moves back in the day. It’s just, well…”
Marques Junior peeled his eyes from the grandeur of the ballroom building and gazed at Nikki.
“I’ve never gone to a dance,” said Nikki. “I mean, I could have gone during my prom, but who would go to a prom without a date? I didn’t have one.”
“I don’t know what a ‘prom’ is exactly, but I’m sorry that happened to you. Look at it this way, at least you have a date tonight.”
Nikki smiled at Marques Junior. “I like your positivity,” she said.
“Really? I don’t always consider myself a positive person.”
“Me neither. But, I think we both try to see the bright side when we can. I find that it makes things better.”
“I guess you’re right.”
Nikki thought about her mother within the confines of St. Aubrey’s. She pictured her eating mushy slop out of a bowl in the cafeteria. Rose had become unpredictable and dangerous. She had to be sent away. But it wasn’t fair. Nikki had never met her father and didn’t know much about him. Rose had always been tight-lipped when it came to him. But Nikki had always treasured the care of her mother, even if her mother was far from perfect.
Even when Nikki recalled the inciting incident when Rose had taken a kitchen knife and—
“Well, look at these lovebirds!” exclaimed Timis, jumping up and down in excitement. If her Fairy wings had the ability to propel her upward for any length of time, she would have hovered in the air like Cupid. Regardless, in her excitement, her tiny wings were flapping. Nikki wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but it appeared that Momo and Timis were matching. Momo was wearing his yellow cloak and Timis was wearing a yellow dress with a matching scrunchie that fashioned her hair into a ponytail.
“You guys were kinda late,” said Momo. “Were you busy making out, or something?” It was one more quip in a series of recent teasing that had been launched by both Momo and Timis. Except, this time, Timis seemed miffed.
“Momo!” she exclaimed. “That is so inappropriate. Have some respect!”
Timis turned on her heel and gave Nikki a questioning glance.
“Marques and I had a lovely dinner,” said Nikki. “It turns out that Ray’s is super popular for a reason.”
“Yeah, Ray’s is pretty good,” said Timis. “My only complaint is that they don’t have appropriate seats for us short folk.”
“I’m pretty sure they have booster seats,” said Marques Junior.
“Those are for babies! What do you take me for, Junior?”
Everyone shared a chuckle as a few more patrons entered. From where they all stood, they heard the music from within. The current number was a lively instrumental composed of violins and woodwinds with a backtrack of soft percussion.
“So, I’ve never been to a ball before,” said Momo. “What should I expect?”
Timis placed a hand on Momo’s shoulder. “Not to worry, Momo. I’ll walk you through it. You can expect good music, subpar snacks, super strong libations—if you’re into that kinda thing—and at least one affair on the dance floor. If we’re lucky, we’ll witness a brawl between two fellas competing over the belle of the ball.”
Momo scratched his head. “Uh, why would two men compete over a bell? You can buy a bell at one of the shops, right?”
Timis shot Momo a perplexed look. “You have a really strange mind, buddy.”
“Should we go in?” suggested Marques Junior.
“Good idea, Junior!” agreed Timis. “The ballroom is about to reach capacity. We can’t miss our chance! C’mon, team, let’s go!”
***
Irving Stella was in charge of organizing ballroom proceedings. He was a jolly man who loved to dance and host parties. He dressed in a gray jacket with a red bow tie. His black shoes were polished and squeaky clean. Some called him the “Master of Ceremonies” or the “Minister of Merriment.” His figure was as big as his personality. When he entered a room, everyone heard him. Some said his booming laughter could be heard in faraway lands.
But Irving was now confused. In the administrative hall of the Florawish Ballroom building, illuminated under dim panel lights, he stood among three individuals. These three men had come out of nowhere and Irving had no idea who they were. They appeared young and almost just as confused as Irving.
“The masks for the masquerade?” said Irving, scratching his chin. “The masquerade ball isn’t for another two weeks.”
“Yeah, but we’re here to take inventory of the masks,” said one of the men.
Irving thought he recognized the young man. There was something about his face that rang several bells. Irving thought he should have known the guy.
“Inventory,” said Irving, repeating the word as if it were first stated in a foreign language. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Where can we find the masks?” asked another stranger.
“I don’t…”
“We were sent by Fanny,” said the man nearest Irving.
“But, she never mentioned anything about an inventory,” insisted Irving. “Maybe I should give her a call. By the way, who are you folks, anyway?”
“There’s Fanny,” said one of the guys, pointing towards the exit.
Irving turned his head toward the door instinctually, and that was the last thing he would remember about the night. An intense blunt force slammed into his skull, and he saw spots in his vision before it went black. The large man fell to the tile floor with an audible clump!
The men searched Irving’s unconscious body for a set of keys. They found the key ring and then proceeded to brute force their strategy.
“Let’s get those masks quickly!”
Irving lay there, just as knocked out as the guards in front of the back entrance, who had succumbed to the tranquilizing effects of a smoke grenade. The man who had struck Irving had been hiding his bat behind his back until he had to use it. Now that same weapon was lying next to Irving, a proverbial “smoking gun” in the heat of a scheme yet to see its conclusion.
***
Marques Junior and Nikki were dancing together, laughing, having a jolly ol’ time. Nikki’s pink dress that she’d crafted on her own made her look like a flower in the wind, or a petal dancing in the breeze. Even in her unwieldy heels, she was able to move gracefully. The music was lively and everyone appeared to be in great spirits.
Meanwhile, Momo and Timis were filling their plates with finger foods from a long table of goodies. Once satisfied, they populated a table at the kids’ section, for both of them were too short for the regular tables and their impossible stools.
“So, what do you think about all this?” asked Timis.
“It’s nice,” said Momo. “It’s better than I could have imagined, honestly.”
“Yeah, the ball is a big deal around here. Here, take some of this sauce. If you like barbecue, you’ll like the flavor this adds to your meat.” Timis gave Momo a tiny container of a sweet and spicy sauce. Momo thanked her and spread it over his food.
Timis sighed contentedly. “Isn’t it so nice to see Nikki and Junior dance together?”
“It is,” said Momo. “They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately.”
Timis nodded. “Yep. Makes sense. It’s young love.”
Momo nearly choked on his morsel. When he recovered, he asked, “Are they actually in love?”
Timis shrugged. “Too early to tell.”
“Then why did you say ‘love’ like that?”
Timis shrugged. “I mean, you never know. A lot of times, it starts out with a dance like this. Look at them now. See the way Marques Junior is loosening up? He’s actually a pretty shy kid—the Marques Junior that I know. Nikki is bringing him out of his shell. Do you notice anything different about Nikki?”
Momo had, in fact, seen something like a transformation. But he didn’t answer Timis with anything other than a slow nod. He popped a tiny sandwich into his mouth and chewed on it as he watched Nikki and Marques Junior dance. The music swelled to its climax and there was a brief reprieve as the band prepared their next number. Nikki and Marques Junior were laughing together about something.
“Hey, you’re not eating with a lot of vigor,” said Timis, eyes searching Momo’s. “What’s going on?”
Momo shrugged. “Maybe it’s a bad idea for them to get too close.”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Nikki and I are leaving this place as soon as we get the heart pendant back. That’s the plan.”
Timis raised an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. They’re young. And to hear it from Nikki, she hasn’t exactly had a great track record with boys. This is her first real glimpse into what it’s like to…maybe fall in love.”
“Yeah, but we’re leaving, Timis. We’re leaving Miraland someday soon.”
Timis pouted. “You in some type of rush or something?”
Momo’s answer was to put more food in his mouth.
“No, seriously, what’s going on?” prodded Timis. “You raved all week about this ball. You couldn’t stop talking about it. Now, you’re just sour for no good reason. Or, there probably is a good reason. What’s going on in that head of yours? Hmm?”
Timis leaned in closer, but Momo shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he said.
“Nope, it’s definitely something. And if you don’t talk about it, it will eat you alive. Trust me on that. One time, the manager of my shop had this terrible onion breath, and I finally had to say—”
“You know what? I’m going to dance!” Momo pushed his chair back and took off into the dance floor.
“Wait!” shouted Timis. “I never taught you my moves!”
***
The music had slowed considerably, allowing Nikki and Marques Junior to take a little break. They stood in the fringes of the dancing folks, watching them with smiles.
“What a night it’s been so far,” said Nikki.
“Was this ball everything I said it would be?”
“Absolutely. I’ve never been to anything like this. It’s been a while since I’ve had this much fun.”
“Same here.”
Nikki lowered her gaze to the floor. “Hey, uh, Marques?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve told you before, but…”
Marques Junior sighed. “I know, Nikki. You gave me fair warning. But, can we just let tonight be its own thing?”
Nikki’s smile was sad, but Marques reveled in it, anyway. “Yeah, but, does it bother you? Because, the thing is, I feel close to you. And I’m a little scared of that.”
“Me too,” said Marques Junior. “That one night…”
“I’m sorry,” said Nikki. “That kiss…”
“No! Please, don’t be sorry. I wanted it, too.”
Marques Junior took Nikki’s hand and he was so glad he’d done so. Her skin felt so cold. He could see Nikki loosen up her shoulders as she absorbed the warmth.
“I asked before if you had to leave,” said Marques Junior. “And I understand why. Your grandmother. Your mother. I’d never ask you to abandon your world. I know what happens when you get that heart pendant. And I’m thankful you trusted me enough to tell me. I know what’s going to happen and I still…”
“I know I won’t regret tonight,” said Nikki, squeezing her dance partner’s hand.
Marques Junior smiled. “Would you regret…a slow dance?”
The music had drifted even slower and the dance floor had become filled with duos gently moving in romantic orbits.
“I…I don’t really know how to do it well,” said Nikki. “My mom taught me some dances, but not really the slow ones.”
“That’s okay, just follow my lead,” said Marques.
Momo had been dancing by himself, but the slow dancing was not his speed. He’d been crawling through the crowds until he spotted Nikki and Marques Junior. They were in their own little corner, dancing in the relative darkness. They were no longer dancing just for fun, at least by Momo’s estimation. The way they spun so gently, the way their feet moved in synchronized rhythm. They were in tune with each other.
Momo’s arms hung limp by his sides.
Nikki didn’t see him there—she couldn’t have.
Momo walked away.
***
The three strangers, whose faces were now obscured behind ivory masquerade masks, split up in different directions. One of them had blended into the crowd. He wove his way past dancing couples under the moody lights that blanketed the entire dance floor. Waves of blues and vibrant reds painted the frowning mask. He had no intention of dancing. None whatsoever.
Another of the masked men was creeping behind the ballroom stage, walking down the dressing room hall. The maroon carpet silenced his footsteps, except for the occasional creaking sound from old planks below. Behind the happy mask, the man was concentrating, calculating for every possibility. His mark could not have been too far away.
In fact…there was a man with a large top hat who had just entered a dressing room. The long black hair, the handlebar mustache, the elaborate suit with golden buttons on the cuffs—it had to have been the ball’s host, Myer Riggs. Known for his bombastic demeanor and unceasing wit behind a mic, he announced every new development pertaining to the ball.
Riggs had made one mistake.
He didn’t lock the door behind him.
The third masked man was even further backstage in the dark recesses where only the technical staff dwelled. The hall’s floor was pure concrete, and every crevice appeared home to many a cobweb. This was the unfinished part of the ballroom building, the part that no mere mortal was meant to behold. The walls were lined with wooden framing and pink insulation.
He’d studied the blueprints of the building and knew what was around the corner. It was a tiny room with the building’s electrical panel on the wall. The panel contained nearly fifty switches, representing every place where electricity flowed. But the man whose mask looked like a surprised countenance frozen in ivory knew that the room would be occupied. Guarded, even.
The masked man doubled over. He began to cry out in pain. “Ah, it hurts!” he wailed. “Someone help! It hurts!”
A woman appeared from around the corner, dressed in a warm cashmere sweater and jeans. Any suspicions of foul play were cast aside as concern for the distressed masked man took over.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, instinctually drawing nearer.
When she was close enough, the masked man rose up to his full height, gripped the woman, turned her around, locked her in a chokehold, and injected her swiftly with a modified liquid inside a tiny syringe. The man released his grip and watched her struggle to get a hold of herself. She was becoming dizzy and seeing double. The hall appeared to melt and she felt like she was swimming instead of standing.
The masked man caught her before she cracked her skull. He gently allowed her to rest on the cold floor. If there was any sympathy for her, the mask certainly didn’t show it. He ran to the electricity room and studied the panel with its myriad switches. But there was a large lever to the side that was his primary concern.
Meanwhile, the man wearing the happy mask gently opened the door to Myer’s dressing room. The ballroom’s host had taken off his hat was trying to fix his hair as he stared at the mirror. By the time he registered that a masked man was in the room, it was too late. The masked man rushed to him and shoved him to the ground.
He then pinned Myer to the floor with the heel of his boot. Myer groaned, panic in his wide eyes.
“Where is the basket of tickets?” demanded the masked man.
“What? Why do you need those?”
“Tell me, or this gets worse for you.”
“In the wardrobe. I have them in the wardrobe.”
“Get them for me, and don’t try anything funny.”
The masked man released Myer and the terrified host made a dash toward the room’s wardrobe. He opened it and grabbed the weaved basket full of the patrons’ tickets. It was overflowing.
“Look, I can just give you the prize,” said Myer.
“It’s not for me. I’m looking for a certain name. And you’re going to help me.”
Myer dropped the basket to the floor and started to call for help. That’s when the masked man rushed over and subdued Myer. He placed one hand over Myer’s mouth and held him in a lock with his other hand, wrenching his arm behind his back.
“You’re going to listen to my every word, or you and your friends will pay,” threatened the masked man. “Do you understand me?”
Myer’s face was red, and he was nearly out of breath. He could only nod.
“Before we sift through tickets, I’ll need one other thing from you. I need a bag, a purse, a suitcase, some type of way to carry something. It can’t be anything outside this room, you hear? Think of something!”
The joy and festivities continued outside the stage without a hitch.
***
The events of that night would forever be carved in stone. The wheels of history were spinning with each new sin the masked men committed. And whether she was prepared or not, Nikki’s life was never going to be the same. Because whether or not she ever returned to Earth, her life would never be as it was before the Florawish Ball.
There would always be a delineating line, a before and after in her life.
After that night…
There would be no way back.