Bonfire Masquerade Read Online Free

with a beautiful and ornate black iron balcony curling around each floor. Inside it was all dark wood and slow-moving ceiling fans. The house would have felt like a modelhome from the 1800s, if it wasn’t for the bright modern paintings that filled the walls.
    â€œIs that a real Warhol?” George gasped, pointing at a tropically colored painting of Marilyn Monroe.
    â€œI’ll show you around the collection this evening, no worries,” replied Daniel with a twinkle in his eye.
    â€œI’m afraid, Carson,” he went on, “that I lost some of my best pieces in the fire. And now I’m having terrible trouble getting the warehouse rebuilt. You know I don’t believe in this stuff, but the workers say they think the site is haunted. Or cursed! I truly don’t know what I’m going to do.”
    Daniel paused and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief.
    â€œBut we can talk about all of this later. I’m giving a pre-Mardi Gras ball tonight in your honor, and I’m sure you need time to get ready. Yvette! Come and show the girls to their suite.”
    An elegantly dressed older woman with short, spiky hair poked her head over the railing of the master staircase. “Order me around like that again and I’ll frame your head and put it over the fireplace.” She smiled at us. “Pay no attention to my brother, girls. Grab your bags and come on up. I’ve heard so much about you three, it’s my pleasure to have you as our guests.”
    Yvette brought us to the top floor of the building. “Your suite awaits,” she said.
    She pointed to a door covered by a framed painting of a woman, which had been done in the style of an old-time comic strip.
    â€œI think that’s a for-real Lichtenstein,” whispered Bess, as I opened the door. Then we all gasped in surprise.
    The room behind the door couldn’t have been less in keeping with the rest of the house. It looked like a Japanese cartoon. Everything was plastic, curved, and bubblegum colored.
    Yvette laughed at the shock on our faces.
    â€œDaniel and I inherited this house from our parents, but we like to think we’ve made our own little mark on it. Good luck finding your beds, girls. The ball begins at eight. Just in case, I took the liberty of having a few things made in your sizes. They’re hanging in the closet.”
    Yvette shut the door behind us.
    â€œWhat did she mean, good luck finding the beds?” asked George. She pointed to three large square beds against one wall. “They’re right there.”
    I walked over and tapped on one of the beds. It was hard as a rock. Inset all along its side were thin drawers, like in a map case at a library. I pulled one open and found a purple silk evening gown that looked to be Bess’s size.
    â€œThese aren’t beds, they’re closets!”
    With a little more exploring, nothing turned out to be what it seemed. The flat-screen television hanging on one wall was really a fish tank filled with miniature octopuses, while the window on the wall across from it was really the television. The beds, however, remained resolutely hidden.
    I scanned the room, thinking. An idea came to me. I walked carefully across the room until something felt different beneath my feet.
    â€œHere they are!” The beds had been built flush with the floor, and the mattresses were customized to look just like the rug, but softer. You wouldn’t know they were there until you stepped on them.
    After a little more exploring, we got down to the serious work of getting ready for the evening. Thankfully, Bess was there to decode the many options and get us ready. She chose three of the simpler dresses from the many Yvette had assembled. Although each was a different color (blue for me, green for George, and purple for Bess), all three had the long, clean lines of an elegant evening gown. It was possibly the most grown-up outfit I’d ever worn.
    George