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  “He means baby goats,” explains Maya. “Right?”

  Benjamin silently chuckles. “Indeed.”

  The pale youth turns and departs back towards the rear exit. The group supposes they should follow.

  Jenna lingers behind to aid Eric. “Are you okay?”

  Trying to look tough, Eric can’t help but wince as he speaks. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  She places a hand on his shoulder. His hand wraps around hers, and they both relish the shared warmth.

  “Maybe we should go?” Jenna quietly offers.

  “Go?” yells Benjamin angrily. He is over a dozen feet away from Jenna when he spins angrily on his heels and storms back to her. “Why would you leave now?”

  “I-- I don’t know,” stammers the frightened girl.

  “To be with this miscreant?” Eric flinches at the accusation. “But you have no idea what wonders await you inside.”

  “She can be a loser if she wants,” says Chloe.

  Maya and Jenna stare into each other’s eyes. Jenna knows if she is to have any ally here, it is Maya.

  But Maya’s eyes are hard and unsympathetic. She adds a terse jerk of the head towards Benjamin and the party beyond to assist the telepathy.

  “No,” says Jenna in soft surrender. “I’ll stay.”

  “Excellent,” says Benjamin. “You will not regret the experience that awaits.”

  He loops his fingers through Jenna’s, and escorts her back through the house.

  She turns to see Eric following with a lost and hurt gaze. She realizes that she might look the same too. The sorry sight makes her want to hug him tightly.

  Their mysterious host reaches the old brass handles of the exiting doors. “Welcome and enjoy.”

  He casts the doors open.

  “This definitely, 100% does not suck at all,” confirms Chloe.

  “Holy shit,” agrees Ace.

  The doors open into a vast plaza swarming with people. The noise is completely unleashed now. The bustling din of the crowd’s conversation tickles the hairs on Jenna’s neck. The pulsing dance music makes her body involuntarily bounce.

  Some large trees dot the periphery, and a small cluster to the rear indicates the presence of a yard. The architecture and landscaping is simple and straightforward, yet barely visible behind the teeming masses of partiers.

  People are everywhere. The majority are huddled in closed circles of conversation. Some people wander aimlessly between the packs.

  Some partygoers even hang out of the second-story windows which border the square outdoors area.

  “I guess they didn’t get the memo,” mutters Maya to Jenna while staring at the people above.

  Besides the difference in size between this party and the last, Jenna immediately notices another odd difference. While the previous one at the apartment was filled with colorful and silly costumes - many of which were quite pathetic - this gathering is mostly composed of dark and gaudy outfits. The majority of the people in attendance are dressed in similar attire as Benjamin’s: antiquated suits which resemble bygone European royalty. While the guests wear a variety of gray, red, black and purple clothing, they all share similar white masks which block their entire face in a blank covering except for two dark eyeholes.

  But not everyone is a suited male. A few women scattered throughout the crowd wear intricate gowns with billowing bustles, also in the same dark and bold hues as the men. What their outfits lack in vivid color, they make up for with complex patterns, trim and lace.

  “Check out Marie Antionette, bro,” remarks Ace. “I’d tap that.”

  There are only a few comical outfits within the party’s ranks: a green dinosaur, a circus clown, a pair of nurses. Jenna privately groans when she sees another fairy with the same discount-store wings and skirt as hers. In Jenna’s opinion, the other girl wears the costume much better than she does.

  Then Jenna gasps, even covering her mouth at the shock.

  A few of the attendees are even naked, yet calmly socializing with the others. There are both male and female nudes who attend to others with long leashes hang from their necks. “Oh, my gosh,” blushes Jenna.

  “Looks like you aren’t the queen of the sluts,” remarks Maya to Chloe.

  Chloe turns to Benjamin, “What the hell are--?”

  But he has left, so she quits her question.

  In his place arrives a blanched young waitress. She is completely naked except for her silver bouffant wig and white, expressionless mask. In her palm is a platter of the purple drinks.

  “Thanks, babe,” says Ace, who then scoops up a pair of drinks. “How you doing?”

  The others grab some too, though Jenna notices Eric is also reluctant to receive the foul elixir.

  “Samhain!” exclaims Chloe, who then pounds the drink.

  As Maya takes a swig, Jenna whispers over to her, “Doesn’t this stuff taste kinda funny?”

  “All alcohol takes like shit to me,” replies Maya. Her expression stiffens as she braces for another drink.

  “Do you like it?” Jenna asks Eric.

  Eric’s face is squished in disgust as he says, “Oh, yeah. It’s pretty good.”

  Jenna inspects the dubious drink further. Though her hand is motionless, the surface of the liquor ripples softly.

  “Drink,” says a woman’s voice.

  Jenna is puzzled by the speaker. “Please.” It is the waitress, her soft voice muted by her mask. “Drink.”

  “Okay,” says Jenna.

  She pinches her nose and takes another swig. Though the texture is even thicker than before, the flavor does not sting as much.

  “Yo, let’s go find the bar for the girls,” says Ace to Eric. Despite Eric’s protesting gaze back at Jenna, he is ushered off into the crowd. “Shit this sophisticated don’t fuck with no keg. I bet they only swig primo top shelf.”

  “See you later,” waves Chloe. “Losers.”

  “What do we do?” asks Jenna.

  Chloe and Maya laugh. “Nothing,” says Maya.

  “When you look as good as we do,” says Chloe, “the party comes to you.”

  With another adjustment to her outfit, Chloe begins strolling into the crowd. Maya follows behind, and Jenna brings up the rear.

  As they proceed through the crowd, Jenna looks closer at one of the circles of people she passes. They are lined up tightly, shoulder to shoulder, so that she cannot see through their ranks.

  Upon a closer review, they do not seem to even be moving. Some drift drearily back and forth like grass in a light breeze. But their limbs and heads are not animated at all for such a festive party.

  Jenna looks around and sees that may be the case for all of the people here. Everyone in the dark formal wear is standing silently still.

  Upon the walls of the surrounding house, a flashing strobe casts wild, dancing silhouettes. But Jenna cannot find the source of the movement.

  And she hears voices chattering, yet no one seems to be talking. Even with these masks blocking their faces, their heads do not bob and move like they are engaged in conversation. Their chins are all shut in place.

  Jenna thinks she might be in a field of inanimate mannequins.

  She grows bold and goes to touch one of them as she passes. Her fingers squish into flesh, and she recoils her hand in embarrassment and terror immediately.

  But the stranger has no reaction to her rudeness.

  Still fearful, Jenna hurries to catch up to her friends as they shove through the throng of guests.

  But the forest of people becomes thicker with every step. Jenna thinks she catches a glimpse of Chloe’s cop hat had through the heads and shoulders of the taller crowd.

  “Chloe, wait!” shouts Jenna.

  But then she vanishes into the teeming mass of revelers.

  * * *

  “Here we go, bro,” announces Ace. “Check that baller out.”

  Ace points to a man sitting high aloft the crowd. He is perched on a tall dark chair, flanked by bu
rning torches at each corner of his seat. He is dressed in a bright white robe, where a large hood conceals the top part of his face in shadow. Attached to his head are three smooth horns, two from the side and the third from his forehead.

  “The Master,” says Eric in soft awe.

  The Master rests above the crowd to oversee the party, like a king or a lifeguard. He does not move, and Eric thinks he perhaps might even be a prop.

  “More like the Masterbater,” scoffs Ace.

  Then he shoves past some other guests and hollers, “Yo, Master!”

  Eric pounces on him from behind. “What are you doing?” he hisses.

  Despite the address, the Master remains motionless. The rest of the crowd has not reacted to the outburst either.

  “Chill out, bro. I got this,” assures Ace.

  Eric does not believe his friend. “That was one of the rules. You can’t look that guy in the eye.”

  “He doesn’t even have eyes, man,” explains the woozy disco hippie. Eric recoils at the hot tank oh his friend’s breath.

  Ace can see his pal is frightened. So he grips Eric by both shoulders to address him earnestly face to face. “Look, man, don’t you get it? This whole thing’s a big joke. And the ‘rules’ are just, like, a challenge, to see if anyone’s got the guts to party hard. Like how the upstairs is the VIP? ‘Don’t go up there or else!’” Ace starts laughing at the absurdity of these laws. “You never know what awesome things can happen at a party until you’re hooked up with host. Trust me.”

  The diminutive priest does not believe. “This is a bad idea,” he cautions again.

  Ace does not care. “Yo, bro! Down here!” He waves both arms high to be sure he is noticed.

  The Master’s head slowly turns toward the loud, gesturing boy. The figure’s white gloves remain planted on the throne’s armrests, but the chin and horns swivel to the source of the distraction.

  Eric shies away as the Master stares squarely at Ace. If the Master’s eyes can see out the lip of the hood, nobody else can see those eyes in return.

  “What’s up, player?” shouts the bold boy, still struggling to get to the base of the Master’s seat through the crowd.

  As Ace advances closer, he notices a large fountain to the Master’s side. It is a wide, stone bowl filled flat to the brim. It is possibly some kind of Jacuzzi or pool, though nobody is enjoying it at the moment.

  “Phat party, but where the drinks at? We can’t find the bar. I know you got the hook-up around here.”

  The Master raises his right arm and points a finger directly at the annoying oaf. Then his lips curl back to reveal a row of rotten gray teeth. He snarls in a low, guttural pattern of syllables that is some unknown language.

  Ace becomes concerned. “Dude, I was just playing. It’s cool.”

  The boy is grabbed suddenly at the shoulder on both sides. He jumps from the ambush, but is powerless to move.

  Then he notices who has him: a pair of nude women. Each has long flowing hair - one’s is black, the other’s silver - and their faces are covered in the same blank white masks that the other attendees wear.

  “Hey, yo!” Ace is in happy disbelief. “What’s up?”

  The Master swipes his hand up and off to the side, hissing some more angry and undecipherable words at the women.

  They turn to lead Ace off through the crowd back into the house. The people all shuffle out of the way to create a clear path for the trio. The women’s steps are perfectly synchronized with each other.

  “You rule, brother!” Ace turns to shout the joyous words over his shoulder. “Best! Party! Ever!”

  Eric hesitantly follows behind to watch Ace be led back inside the house. Through the window, he can see the three ascend a staircase together.

  “I love your guys’ costumes,” gushes Ace.

  * * *

  Jenna has not seen her friends in quite some time. She continues to shift anxiously through the crowd, yet cannot find them anywhere.

  She fights towards the source of the music, but keeps running into more walls of people with their backs turned to her. She is sure she is going in circles now.

  She begins to panic. Though she is outside, a claustrophobia begins to overtake her. The world seems to be shrinking, and she grows smaller with it.

  “Drink,” says a voice.

  She turns around to see a nude waiter with a platter of drinks presented to her.

  His absurd lack of modesty makes her smile. The pressure begins to vent.

  “Thanks.” She gratefully takes a glass.

  “Drink,” says the man again. It is not a question.

  “Okay,” Jenna says in a chipper tone.

  But she keeps the drink clutched to her chest, hoping the odd servant will leave. She tries to ignore him by studying the mysterious purple liquid.

  The waiter remains planted in place. “Please,” he intones calmly, “drink.”

  After briefly contemplating some sort of act of disobedience, she dutifully hoists the drink and swallows.

  The liquid is now tasteless, neither good nor bad. But it pours like a thick, chunky sludge down her throat.

  She gags on the final drops, inspecting the glass to be sure it’s the same drink she’s had all night. The tiny beads of dark purple liquor seem identical to the beverages before.

  She places the glass back on the waiter’s silver tray, and he silently vanishes back into the crowd.

  Jenna can now feel the alcohol buzzing throughout her. From the hive of bees in her brain down to the turbulent stew in her stomach, the disorientation staggers her footing for a moment, but she remains upright.

  As her vision grows murkier, her fear begins to fade. Her mind becomes less afraid of the odd gathering, but now turns on the offensive to indignation and anger at this odd gathering.

  Feeling ignored and humiliated, she boldly stumbles over to the nearest circle and taps a gentleman on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she asks, impressed by the softness of his clothing.

  But he does not reply.

  She grabs him by the shoulder and shakes him. “Hello? Excuse me?”

  Still no response.

  So she tries the man standing next to him, screaming into his ear. “I said excuse me!”

  When they continue to ignore her, she becomes more upset. “Screw this,” she mutters.

  Hiking up her skirt to better crouch down, she elbows her way past their hips into their circle.

  Within the ring of silent people is a small clearing of dry dirt. Upon the perimeter is an even row of white-masked spectators, all silently staring at the heart of the enclosure.

  The flashing lights and darkness at first obscure whatever it is everyone is looking at. But then her drunken vision adjusts and focuses, and she begins to discern the gruesome details.

  At the center of the space is a swirling mass of dirty flesh. She sees a human foot and arm, but also some animal paws and long tails. This thing’s flesh is wet with either mud or blood, possibly both. She cannot tell if she is staring at one body or several.

  From the bizarre object comes grunts and whimpers, soft noises that seem impossibly loud given the deafening dance music and busy chatter still buzzing around her.

  “Oh, my God,” Jenna softly gasps.

  At her words, the thing stops moving. Its pieces then fall apart.

  She can see now that the strange creature was really three animals: a girl, a dog and a bird. All three turn to face her. The trio is stripped nude, where the dog is completely hairless. The bird - perhaps a large pheasant? - is bereft of any feathers. The girl wears no clothes either. Only small patches of white flesh peak through the blackened cloaks of filth and fluid now covering their bodies.

  The girl kneels and is crouched on the ground. Her arms cover her bruised and dirty body. On her back is a ragged pair of wings that are tattered and torn. Perhaps they were once designed to make the wearer resemble a magical pixie.

  Now that the components are apart, Jenna cannot
fathom what they were doing together. Perhaps they were wrestling or eating? Or possibly something worse.

  The two beasts become angry at the intrusion. The large dog snarls, its black eyes filled with hate. Its lips part to reveal wet fangs.

  The bird hisses fiercely as its thin neck cranes in the air. Its bare wings spread wide, causing the appendages to appear more akin to the raised legs of a skin-covered crustacean than any earthly fowl.

  The girl sternly says, “Go.” Despite the dark splotches masking her face, her bright eyes are alert and intense.

  Stunned at the sight, Jenna looks about her for any solace. She finds that all the white masks are now watching her. They have not moved otherwise from their organized circle, yet their faces are now all clearly pointed at her.

  The attention is overwhelming, but she is paralyzed with fear and doubt.

  Suddenly, the dog barks, and the bird caws. Both of the loud and wild cries awake Jenna from her trance. She realizes that the pair of animals is charging directly towards her with astounding speed.

  Jenna fights blindly backwards into the crowd of people. She stumbles back onto her rear and rams her body through the human ranks with all her strength.

  She successfully escapes the ring, landing with a hard thud on the ground beyond the group.

  The two people through whom she just shoved remain motionless, oblivious to her disruptive commotion. But through their legs, Jenna can see the pair of deranged beasts angrily watching her.

  As she shuffles farther away from the monstrosities, the animals soon lose interest. The dog and the bird slowly retreat from view.

  As she rises to her feet, she notices her hands still trembling. Looking about her, nobody pays her any heed. The partygoers all remain arranged in their perfectly frozen circles.

  A pair of arms grabs her.

  Before she can scream in terror, she is wheeled about to see it is Eric. He looks distraught and is covered in sweat.

  She squeals with glee as she locks her arms around him. He begins choking from the throttling hold.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” she gushes. “We’ve gotta get outta here, right now!” Her happy laughter dissolves into sobbing. “Please, right now!”