Jamie found it easy enough to spot the police and security guards in the crowd, their bodies alert, eyes scanning the people before them. Some had no masks, their earpieces marking them out in an obvious fashion, but there were others who wore plain black masks and tuxedos in an attempt to blend in.
A couple spun past as the music sped up. The man wore an eagle mask, its body between his eyes and up onto his forehead, its wings stretching up to meet above his head like a prayer. A woman wore a ragged blue dress, ripped off one shoulder and stained with blood. Her mask looked as if it had been carved from her skin, wet and dripping. In any other setting, Jamie would be rushing to her aid, but the woman's dark smile as she turned heads made it clear she was dressed to win one of the costume prizes for the night.
Jamie understood this craving to be both seen and disguised. It was how she felt at tango, a separate being from her daytime self when she could let the wild side out and not be restrained by society. Masks are used to de-individuate, so the person behind is lost and they can behave as they might want to in a world with no consequences. There were masks that revealed and there were masks that concealed, and as the night darkened and wine flowed, it became evident why some chose concealment. As the alcohol loosened inhibitions, the dark corners became havens for couples locked together in momentary escape.
Jamie had arranged to meet Blake under the trapeze artist, so she made her way through the crowd. It parted for a moment and she saw him, looking up at the performers. His suit was understated, a perfect tailored fit showing off broad shoulders and wide chest. His mask was black leather and it looked soft enough to touch. He turned, sensing her presence. His stunning blue eyes met hers, framed by the leather mask, and Jamie couldn't help but go to him.
"You look lovely," Blake said softly, bending to her ear so she could hear above the band. Jamie beamed, twirling her skirts a little.
"Glad you like it," she said. "You don't look bad yourself."
"Shame it's not actually a date then." Blake smiled and Jamie blushed a little, staring out into the crowd, avoiding his gaze. "How do you want to manage tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.
"There are plenty of security guards here for any obvious trouble," Jamie said. "But I want us to focus more on potential victims. I'm sure the man will be here tonight. How could he stay away?"
Two women walked past, their low-backed dresses framing their tattoos – one a stylized tree growing out from her spine, and the other of bright fish splashing in a pool of blue.
"Any skin fetishist is going to get off tonight, that's for sure," Blake said. "So we just walk around and keep an eye out?"
"I guess so," Jamie said. "I don't even know what we're looking for." Her voice trailed off as she gazed into the throng, the myriad colors and textures creating ever-shifting patterns in the great hall, a moving work of art.
They walked together around the edges of the crowd as the band wound up its final song of the set. The bass made Jamie's heart thump in time and she could see that Blake longed to get out there and dance. Part of her wanted to forget the case and let loose together, darkness and music and collective energy freeing them from daylight responsibilities. Neither of them had any reason to hold back from each other, did they?
Applause erupted as the band finished up and the lead singer left the stage. Then the lights dimmed and a young black woman walked out, her silver dress sparkling as she moved. She took hold of the microphone and began to sing, her voice rich and powerful as she told of rivers running deep and forsaken love. Couples merged together as her accompaniment joined in, the song lifting the emotion of the crowd.
Blake turned and leaned down, his breath against Jamie's ear. She shivered at the sensation.
"Will you dance with me?" he whispered, his gloved hand taking hers, moving so close that all she had to do was take one tiny step and she would be pressed against him. Jamie's heart thumped in her chest. He smelled of pine needles and spice and all she wanted was to be in his arms.
A moment's hesitation and then she took that tiny step.
She wrapped her arms around his strong back, her cheek against his chest as he held her. One of his gloved hands cradled the back of her head against him, the other stroked her lower back slightly above her buttocks. The song intensified and they swayed together. Jamie pressed her full length against him and she heard him catch his breath.
She looked up and met his eyes. They were dark and intense, filled with a stark need that matched her own. Jamie tilted her head slightly, lifting her mouth to his as he leaned down to kiss her.
Chapter 19
A flicker in her peripheral vision made Jamie stop and pull away.
Through a crack in the crowd she saw a man in an ivory plague doctor's mask on the opposite side of the room. The long beak had been filled with herbs when the sixteenth-century doctors had treated the plagues, but the nightmarish figures reeked of death. The man wore a long black cloak that billowed behind as he stalked through the crowd. Jamie thought she recognized something of his walk, but she couldn't quite grasp who she was reminded of.
The moment was broken and Blake turned to see what she was looking at. Jamie felt the loss of his touch but pleasure would have to wait.
"There," she said, nudging Blake to look across the room, but the man had slipped away in the crowd.
"I don't see anything," Blake said. "What was it?"
"A man in a plague doctor's mask," Jamie said.
Blake's jaw tightened as he scanned the crowd.
"Let's go in opposite directions around the perimeter," Jamie said. "See if we can spot him again."
Blake looked down at her, his face in shadow but his concern evident. He stroked her cheek with one gloved finger. "Don't challenge him, Jamie. Please. Get one of the security guards if you find him first."
"Don't worry," she said. "We don't even know if it's him. It is a masked ball, after all, and the plague doctor is a commonly used mask."
"I'll meet you back here then," Blake said, turning and slipping back into the crowd, his posture resolute.
Jamie began to walk slowly in the opposite direction, scanning the crowd.
***
The mask was heavy but the freedom of anonymity was worth the pain. Dale Cameron stalked around the perimeter of the ball, his eyes flicking over the skin of those dancing close by. There was plenty to tempt him tonight.
In the whirl of the dance, he saw the glazed eyes and wide smiles of intoxication. In the corners of the hall, couples were already indulging in the pleasures of the flesh and on their skin, the marks of the tattooist's trade. But he couldn't stop to admire the body art of the deviants right now. He had other plans for this masquerade. He looked at his watch. It was almost time.
He had been down earlier to inspect the security procedures as part of his day-job role and had brought the bag in then. No one would think to question a Detective Superintendent, after all. Now it was under his cloak and all he had to do was position it, then leave.
***