Page 13 of Stealing Infinity (Stolen Beauty)

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“This is what Arcana is really about.” Braxton ushers me inside a massive room that makes me think of the Palace of Versailles…if it had been decorated by Salvador Dalí.

The dance floor is crowded with couples, all of them swaying to the song sung by a torch singer wearing a long beaded gown and a mask with golden antlers.

The walls display a collection of oddities. Everything from antique clocks with hands that spin backward, to gold framed portraits where all the subjects, women included, sport curlicue mustaches. And just above, perched along the top like a crown, is a long row of taxidermy hunting trophies—each head dripping with tiaras, elaborate wigs, and piles of glimmering jewelry.

“Not to worry,” Braxton says when he catches me looking. “They’re fakes. No animals were harmed for the sake of aesthetics.”

All around us, people are laughing, dancing, while waiters wander with drink trays expertly balanced on their palms, the boys in slinky black dresses, the girls in tuxedos.

It’s exactly the right amount of strange. A visual feast for the eyes. And a million times better than school. It’s probably the coolest place Elodie has ever taken me. It’s too bad she isn’t here enjoying it, too.

I survey the sea of masks, wondering if Elodie is somewhere among them, as Braxton waves over a beautiful boy in a black strapless gown, plucks the last two drinks from his tray, and hands one to me. The glass is cut crystal, its contents a pale shimmering green.

“It’s called The Green Fairy.” Braxton clinks his rim against mine. “To new beginnings,” he says, his voice rising over the noise.

I watch him drain his glass, but I don’t drink from mine. I mean, he’s cute. And, at least on the surface anyway, he’s harmless enough. But I’m not about to toss back some weird drink I don’t recognize.

“Why do they call it that—The Green Fairy?” I ask, swirling the contents and watching the sparkling liquid swirl up and down the sides.

“Aren’t you going to try it?” Braxton motions toward my glass.

I shake my head, about to offer it to him, when the singer switches to a familiar song—the same one Elodie and I sang on our way to the mall. The rain had paused, so she cranked up the volume and lowered the car’s top. As I tilted my face to the sky, I imagined we were riding the wind to some distant horizon. The memory leaves me so floaty and light, I tip onto my toes, about to take flight.

“You okay?” Braxton asks, but the words are muffled, like he’s drifted a thousand miles away.

All around me, the music grows louder, causing my ears to buzz, my breath to grow quicker, as my vision tunnels in and out of focus, while the bodies on the dance floor slither and blur.

Braxton leans toward me with a look of concern. “Natasha,” he says. “You all right?”

I want to ask him why the whole room is shimmering and swirling. And how is it possible the animal heads are all laughing, as the oil painted faces tumble out of their frames. But I can’t put a voice to any of that. All I can do is watch in horror as the collection of clocks melt and drip down the walls.

From somewhere far away I hear a voice say,What the hell did you give me?

It’s a moment before I realize it’s mine.

“I didn’t give you anything.” Braxton motions toward my glass. It’s still full. But my fingers are shaking so badly, the tumbler crashes to the floor.

“Looks like Elodie was right about you,” Braxton says, but I have no idea what the words actually mean.

The song has slipped deep into my brain, and now everything is distorted, including me.

Braxton’s masked face looms before me. And despite the ground giving way beneath my feet, despite the ceiling and walls curling toward me, I still manage to gasp, “What the hell is happening?”

Last thing I remember, before I black out, is the feel of Braxton’s arms breaking my fall.

“Oh darling,” he says. “I’m afraid you’re about to find out.”