“Nothing more than a puppet on a string.”
The Devil laughed at her and loosed his grip. “Come now, my dear Kay. It’s not as bad as all that. You may think this is some kind of hell, but think again of all that you have forsaken and all that you now enjoy. We have no hunger, no real thirst. Our day-to-day anxieties vanish. There is no need for heartbreak or sadness or tears. We do not tire or grow older than the age we were made. No hate, no jealousy, no crime if we so choose. All we are asked to do is what we love. To perform. To make people laugh or cry or feel the heart’s tug in the dark for an hour or two. We are immortal, eternal, and loved as long as there is an audience for our few antics.”
For the first time since her arrival, Kay wanted to slap someone in the face. “And what if we do not want to be puppets anymore?”
Time slowed, and she spun on her toes to take in the spectacle all around her. The comedy of the damned, oblivious to her exasperation, continued. She heard Olya’s deep laughter as a dissident bellowed, “Catch me if you can.” Puck tiptoed around the four lovers sleeping it off, squeezing nectar onto their drowsy eyes. Good old Nix was entertaining the children from the shoe with another from his bag of tricks. A ghost she had not seen before hovered at the staircase. Such a life was filled with novelty and fun, loud as a carnival, happy as a circus, but she could not reconcile her desires. She searched the crowd for No?, the Devil watching every move.
“She has always been a little crazy, our No?,” the Devil said. “Touched since the day she arrived. Never heard her not going on about how she cannot stand one more moment, but I ask you, who is better in a show? Don’t let the madness rub off on you. Enjoy the party, and don’t waste your time with sadness. It’s a long, cold, dark winter ahead, baby, and we don’t want you to be so blue. A little sin will do you good.”
“Get thee behind me,” she said and walked away from the Devil. She fought her way to No?, stuck alone in a corner, idly playing with the straw on her head.
“Men,” Kay said. “I had such high hopes for the Original, but he turned out to be no better than the rest of them, all talk and no action. And to think I used to adore him, back in the toy shop window in Québec. I remember passing by the Quatre Mains on my way to rehearsals each day, and there he was in all his antique glory. A wooden man trapped in a jar. My husband was jealous of him, can you imagine, but I never coveted a thing so much in all my life. He seemed alive, and I was such a fool for him.”
“Love makes such happy delusions.”
“The old man offered no way out, I’m afraid. I asked for you.”
No? sighed. “I would give anything to feel that way again.”
Kay rested her hand on No?’s shoulder. “We could try the front door. Sneak away from the party, nobody will notice, and try our luck. Just because they say it is impossible doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”
“But what about the Queen and Mr. Firkin? They’re still down below.”
“If they are in the stalls, they will not notice. And if they are guarding the door, we could always slip by the Worm in the sheepcote through the cellar door.”
With a nod of her head, No? gestured at a figure over Kay’s shoulder. “Don’t look now, but I think you have a secret admirer.”
“Never mind all that—”
“He’s staring a hole through me. I have not seen him before, have you? What’s that strange puppet supposed to be, a ghost?”
Feigning nonchalance, Kay snuck a peek at the creature. He was the poorest excuse for a ghost that she had ever seen. Little more than a sheet and an oversized lumpy head. Slathered in mismatched ovals of black ink, his eyes appeared to have been painted by a child, and the mouth was but a slapdash brushstroke in the same dark ink. Holding it all together was a thick rope wound around the neck. Kay looked back to No? and laughed. “You see the type who’s interested in me.”
“Shall we run away?” No? asked. “Before he says boo and tries to scare us? Where has this darling fellow been all night?”
Kay looked at him again, astonished to find him shaking as if he were afraid of her. The Ghost lurched forward awkwardly, unsteady on his feet, and then he looked right and left to make sure nobody was watching him. With a more measured pace, he seemed to float toward them, but halfway across, the woman in the leopard skin tunic, one of the maenads, stepped into his path.
She sniffed the air and held her spear across her chest. “I’ve not noticed you before, ghoul. Are you one of the Quatre Mains puppets?”
The Ghost nodded.
“And you are after that girl over there? The one who loved the Original?”