Gargoyles Fan Fiction ❯ Of The Night ❯ Masquerade ( Chapter 10 )

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Of The Night

Ten

She never really got over their last argument, her and Brooklyn.

Lydia waited impatiently for Fox to appear. The older woman had gone to retrieve a dress she’d ordered specifically for her. It was Halloween, the day of the party. Her hair was styled, her face was painted, and she was wearing a pair of white tights and pristine heels. Two-inch heels, she figured, glancing at them again.

She had enough grace and control to keep on them all night -- so long as she remained focused. The most uncoordinated coordinated person in the world, she thought ironically. When she focused, she could do amazing things -- like free running across a dozen buildings without stumbling. But once she stopped focusing, she was as good as best friends with the floor.

Perfection through necessity. That was what gave her enough balance to sprint across a three-inch wide beam without wobbling. Years of practice, out of a need to evade. Her pursuers never followed after her when she pulled stunts like that.

So, all things considered, she should be alright for the rest of the night. She glanced into the mirror she was standing before, frowning. Fox had told her, in so many words, that the dress wasn’t compatible with even a strapless bra. That meant it had to be backless, and, most likely, halter-topped. It was the only conclusion she could come to. There she stood, bare-chested before a mirror, when the door opened.

It wasn’t Fox, it was Elisa. She glanced away when she noticed the topless Lydia, but she was carrying a box. A delivery. Rectangular and flat, it was clearly meant to hold some kind of garment.

“Fox asked me to deliver this to you,” she explained, coming closer without resting her eyes anywhere inappropriate.

“My dress?” Lydia asked without any real curiosity.

“Mm-hmm.” She handed it over.

Lydia looked the elder woman up and down. She was dressed like a devil, in a tight red dress that fanned out at the hips, split down the front to reveal her legs and stilettos. She wore a thin red mask, little red horns that clipped into her hair, held back in a ponytail. She carried a red trident and, when she turned, had a tiny pair of red bat wings clipped to the straps of her dress. They almost flapped as she moved.

“You look devilish,” Lydia joked.

Elisa grinned. “Now let’s get you in that dress. Fox suggested you might need help.”

“Alrighty.” Lydia opened it, and, at first, was confused. It looked like the dress was nothing but layers of thin satin, bursting out of the box once it’d been opened. For one wild moment, she thought she was going to be wearing a tutu, remembering how she mentioned once that she’d watched ballerinas.

Then she pulled it out. Held up, she found the neck, which fit with her idea of a backless halter-dress. She couldn’t quite envision how it would look yet, so she put it on. Elisa hooked the neck closed, then the low back. Now that they could see it clearly. . .

“Wow,” Elisa breathed. “You look adorable, and gorgeous.”

Lydia had to tilt her head at the visage. Now she understood why Fox had insisted on turning her short-at-the-back, long-at-the-front hair into a series of tight curls. Altogether, she looked like a slightly-older Shirley Temple with black hair instead of red.

The dress fit tightly to her top, fanning out worse than Elisa’s dress, starting just below her breasts. It became yards of delicate fabric, falling only inches down her thighs but more than making up for the lack of length with width. She twisted and turned in the mirror, watching with an odd fascination as it moved, slow and graceful.

“Whoa,” she said. She spread her arms wide and spun in a slow circle, watching. Her back was bare, as she’d known, but somehow seeing it felt like indecent exposure.

When she glanced over at Elisa, the taller beauty had a pitying look.

“What?” Lydia wondered.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you.”

Lydia narrowed her eyes, suspicious. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“Because you’re too cute.” Elisa cupped her cheek. “You’re going to stun everyone.”

Lydia pouted. “Does that mean I have to thank Fox for all her hard work?”

Elisa laughed. “Yes, I imagine that’s a good idea. Now come on. The guests have already started arriving.” She offered her arm. But she’d only taken a step before she sighed. “Now I feel like a real devil, escorting an angel to her doom.”

“A ballroom full of gargoyles? Yeah, sounds kinda hellish.” She tossed Elisa a smirk.

“No smirking,” Elisa chided. “Angels don’t smirk. Soft smiles -- there we go,” she approved as Lydia did as commanded. “Like I said, too cute. Should I give you a gun? You might need it.”

“I think I’ll be safe with six gargoyles in the room with me. Or -- is Hudson coming? I just realized no one said anything about him.”

“No, he’s not one for festivities. Bronx is sticking with him, though, so he’s not alone.”

“Those two are inseparable,” Lydia laughed. They were descending the stairs, heading for the elevators, because this was the quickest way.

“Aren’t you worried about tripping? I’ve never seen you in heels before.”

“No. And I should be asking you that. Stilettos? Like you need to be taller?”

Elisa laughed. “It fit the costume.” She glanced down as she walked, twisting her mouth at the stilettos, held on with dozens of straps, each one so thin they threatened to break with each step. “It was annoying trying to get my feet in them without a map,” she added, thoughtful.

Lydia giggled. “I can see that being a problem.”

The elevator ride was short, just five levels down, and then they were walking through the threshold. Eyes and heads turned when they entered, and Lydia picked out Goliath immediately. She counted heads as she wove through the crowd with Elisa, estimating that twenty humans were here. She couldn’t see any other gargoyles -- yet.

Not surprisingly, Elisa went straight to Goliath and curtsied. Lydia followed suit, and Goliath bowed. It wasn’t until then that she noticed she couldn’t see his wings. He was wearing a black tux, the jacket open to show the white undershirt.

“Where. . ?” she wondered, pointing.

He made a sound of discomfort. “Puck called it a glamour spell. He’s made our wings invisible.”

“Our? So everyone else is here? Besides Hudson, I mean.”

“They’re around.”

“How are you wearing a shirt and jacket with your wings still there?”

“The backs are open. Part of the glamour is that he made it look like they aren’t.”

“Lydia!” a familiar voice cooed.

She turned to see Angela approaching, and did a double-take. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress, accented with slashes down both sides, showing white fabric underneath, almost down to the floor, thing straps barely hanging onto her shoulders. Her hair was up in a controlled pile atop her head, except for two strands which hung down in slight waves to rest on her chest. Her tail was barely visible under the dress. And she wore a white mask, befitting the masquerade theme, which contrasted heavily and made her eyes that much more noticeable.

Broadway was with her, wearing a tux over his bulging waistline. He looked much less grandeur, but crossed the floor with almost as much grace. His tux was the same as Goliath’s, except that his jacket was a dark blue.

“Angela,” she said with a measure of awe. “Wow. You look more stunning than a human could be.”

“I told her that,” Broadway agreed.

“Of course you would think so,” Angela said to him, but it was more a tease than a disagreement. “And you,” she said as she looked Lydia over.

“Adorable, right?” Elisa asked.

Angela nodded. “The cutest human I’ve ever seen.”

“Someone’s gonna try to kidnap her, I’ll bet my paycheck on it.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Lydia muttered, hiding her face in her hands as her cheeks burned.

“Where’s your mask?” she heard Fox ask.

She glanced up, confused. “Was there one in the box?”

Fox was unhappy. “Yes, there was.”

She looked halfway like a jester, wearing a dress that left one arm covered, one not, the tight knee-length skirt showing fishnets underneath. It was sectioned in large diamonds, no more than six on the front, half white, half a blue that matched her tattoo. And her mask covering the right side of her face, plain white with a mimicked fox tattoo on it.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Well, it’s too late now. You’re going to be the only human guest without a mask.” She sighed.

Lydia smirked. “As if you’re really put off by a missing mask. I suppose I should just say it -- thanks for the dress. And everything else, for that matter.”

The visible half of Fox’s face smiled. “You’re welcome. And thank you for not complaining this time.”

“Give me a while to work up to it,” Lydia retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Work up to what?

That voice she’d recognize anywhere, and she glanced over her shoulder to see Brooklyn reaching them. Lex was behind him, standing erect. They were both in tuxes as well, and she noticed the theme now: Brooklyn’s jacket was a dark burgundy, Lex’s a forest green. Fox had undoubtedly chosen to keep the jackets’ colors near the gargoyles’ skin tones.

“Heya, guys,” she greeted.

Brooklyn stopped short, and a change came over his eyes. “Lydia?” he wondered aloud.

She gave a strangled laugh. “Didn’t recognize me?” she guessed.

“Not from the back. Wow, you look different,” he appraised.

She rolled her eyes again. “Just say it. Everyone else has.”

“You look really cute,” Lex said, and she grinned at him.

“And you look quite dashing. That color works on you.”

He laughed.

“Quit it, Lex,” she heard Brooklyn mutter, clearly trying to keep it inaudible to humans.

She pretended not to hear, glancing around. “Shouldn’t there be a refreshment table somewhere?”

Fox led her there while the others talked briefly and then split. She surveyed a ten-foot by four-foot buffet of sorts. Nothing here was meant to be a meal, but the selection of tiny, tooth-picked meats, cheeses, and vegetables as good as equaled one. There were also three separate punch bowls and a row of champagne. Various kinds of chips, rolls, and crackers were spread in between circles of shrimp. Everything was labeled, as well.

“Wow,” she said with a small amount of wonder. “I’ve never actually seen a buffet table like this before.”

“Not even at a school dance?”

Lydia raised a brow at her. “Who are you talking to, again? I never went to any dances -- or any social gathering whatsoever. Never been invited,” she explained as Fox’s one eye narrowed in confusion.

Fox glanced away then, eye caught by someone else, and smiled. “There’s my husband. You can handle yourself, can’t you?”

“Given the right incentive, yes.”

Fox chuckled as she walked away.

She spent a while surveying the foods before her attention was caught by a stranger. They fell into conversation, and she never noticed the piercing gaze following her movements, keeping an eye on her.