He grabbed her thrashing, wriggling body and held it down, constricting her into the closest semblance of stillness that he could. He narrowed his focus down to the feeling of hot, flushed, sweaty, pliant flesh underneath him. He begins to cum, releasing a steady stream into the confines of her pussy. He gushed and she screamed, and she broke free of his grip, clawing him and biting him, swearing and snarling and convulsing. This went on until he was spent and then he pushed her away, standing and stretching.
He did not feel satisfied. His anger was still there. He dressed in silence. She watches him, still naked on the floor. She stroked his bare ankles and giggled when he kicked her away.
“That was fun,” she said. “When are you going to be ready for another round?”
Richard said nothing.
“Is your wife at the party?”
He looked at her.
“I can see the mark of the ring on your finger.” She shook her head. “I don’t mind. She should join us.”
He went to the door.
“You’re leaving?” she said, sitting up.
“Yes,” said Richard.
“Where are you going?”
“Away,” he said.
“What about me?” she said.
“What about you?”
She sat on the floor, covering herself with the shredded remains of her costume. “Of course you’re leaving,” she said. “Dido’s lover always leaves. And she stays. And then she…she…”
But Richard was already gone. He crept back down the hall, closing the door to the Yellow Room behind him. What does Dido do, he thought, when her lover leaves? It didn’t matter. He needed something else now, but he wasn’t sure what.
Richard passed the little bedroom again, and again stuck his head inside. The wounded soldier was still there. The blood was now overflowing onto the carpet. Richard thought the man must be dead, but when he came closer he saw that the soldier was taking shallow breaths, and every now and then he blinked.
“Doctor,” he said, with much effort. “Get me…a doctor.”
Richard looked him over. “I can if you want,” he said. “But it looks too late to me.”
The man groaned. “That fucking bitch. I can’t believe she did it.”
“Who?”
“This crazy bitch in a vampire costume,” said the soldier. “She actually bit me! Oh Christ, it hurts!”
Richard saw something gleam on the bedspread. He found two pointed metal objects, covered in blood.
“You see?” said the soldier. “She broke her fucking fake fangs off on me. Can you believe that? What kind of a fucking psycho—?” He coughed up blood, drowning whatever he said next.
“Looks like she got you pretty good,” said Richard. “I don’t think you’ve got much longer.”
“Should have stayed away,” said the soldier. “Shouldn’t even have come in. I don’t even know how I got here…”
Richard counted to himself. After two minutes passed without the man taking a breath, he leaned in close to the body. The bite mark had a ragged edge. The entire room smelled of raw flesh. Richard’s stomach growled. Before he knew what he was doing, he climbed up onto the bed, leaning over the dead man. He licked his lips and slid his tongue over his teeth, wondering if they were sharp enough to tear the meat.
As he reached out, he knocked his mask askew. As soon as he did, he jerked his hand away. The smell of blood became sour, and he felt dazed. What’s going on, he thought; what am I doing?
A hand readjusted his mask for him. Once it was on straight, he felt normal again. He saw the Red Death at the bedside.
“Thanks,” said Richard, smoothing the mask over his face again.
“My pleasure,” said the Red Death. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“You bet,” he said. “Sorry about this mess.”
“It wasn‘t your fault,” said the Red Death. “The vampire costume always causes problems. Although I see you’ve stained your pelt.”
The Red Death waved a hand and Richard’s costume and mask became spotless again.
“There,” said the Red Death. “By the way, I thought I should let you know that your wife is looking for you.”
Richard’s ears perked up. “Miranda?”
“Yes. She asked me where you were. She‘s over in the east wing right now. I can take you to her, if you like?”
Richard climbed off the bed. “I‘ll find her on my own,” he said.
“As you wish. This is your party, after all. Enjoy yourself however you see fit. I want you to do whatever pleases you tonight.”
But Richard wasn’t listening. He sniffed the air, searching for her scent. He licked his lips again. Ah, he thought, the thrill of the hunt.
As he went along, the Red Death followed him, too. He knew it was there, but was not afraid. It was a comfort knowing that death stayed behind him, and would be there when he found Miranda.
***
Miranda and Carmilla left the Green Room. Sounds of moaning and bodies pressing against each other followed. They went a ways down the hall, stopping amid a cluster of jack-o-lanterns and then bursting into giggles.
“Well,” said Carmilla, “that obviously wasn’t the right way. Although, it could be right, with the right company…”
Miranda blushed. “Do you have any idea where we are?”
“Not a one.”
Miranda looked around. “You know, I swear I’ve been through the Green Room already, but it was downstairs.”
“Maybe there’s more than one,” said Carmilla.
“No, it was the same room,” said Miranda. “I recognized it. But it wasn’t in the same place. Does that make sense?”
“Nope,” said Carmilla. Her veil moved a little when she talked. “I think it was probably just a different room entirely and that you’re mixed up. I can’t believe you were looking at the room at all. There was SO much else to look at.”
They laughed again. Despite their joking, Miranda did not feel cheerful. She was sure that it really had been the same room, and she was also sure that they were now going back the way they came but that nothing was the same. The music from the Green Room followed them, and she had to stop herself from walking in time with it. Her mask felt tight and restrictive.
“Maybe we shouldn’t leave,” said Carmilla. “I’m having a good time. When we find your husband, we should go back.”
“What?”
“Well, not to that room,” said Carmilla. “But one of them.”
Miranda shuddered. “I don’t like this house, or this party. And I don’t like that man, the Red Death.”
“He is strange,” said Carmilla. “But did you hear his voice? To die for!”
Miranda said nothing. The hallway seemed to go on and on forever. Rows and rows of grinning, candlelit faces greeted them. They were quite lost by now, although she wondered what that even meant when you weren’t sure where you’d started in the first place. Miranda and Carmilla stood at the intersection of two hallways, looking each way.
“Just how big is this house anyway?” said Miranda.
Carmilla flopped down on a fainting couch in a nearby culvert. “Maybe we should have left a trail of breadcrumbs?”
“Wouldn’t have helped,” said Miranda, sitting next to her. “There are too many people in squirrel and pigeon costumes running around.”
She raised her mask up to wipe the sweat off her forehead. Carmilla clucked her tongue.
“Not supposed to do that,” she said. “Masks on at all times. Rules are rules.”
“What are they going to do, kick us out?” said Miranda. “I’d thank them if they did. At least then we’d know where the front door was.”