I don’t actually like champagne per se, but I want the slightly heady feeling I know the bubbles will bring. I don’t plan on getting drunk. I know what that will do to me. But tonight, I need just this little bit.

All around me, men and women float about the rooms of The Society’s main house in the center of the French Quarter talking, laughing, drinking. Some wear elaborate masks, others simple ones. The women’s gowns are beautiful, each one more so than the last. I see them looking at me, too, both the men and the women. Do they know who I am?

I touch the back of my neck with my left hand, his ring heavy on my finger. Those are the only things that would give me away. The tattoo and his ring.

I glance at my hand. It’s not as recognizable as his. Not like the monstrosity some of the men around me wear. The Sovereign Sons and the rings bearing their crests, their link to IVI. Like a status symbol of the elite. It’s disgusting.

At least Santiago’s isn’t horrendous like some I see tonight. Like the one I remember Holton wearing during my exam. I scan the room, remembering my brother’s request. Remembering if I get him information, he’ll bring Evangeline to see me. But when I do finally find him, recognizing him through his half mask, I realize I couldn’t tell my brother what he wants to know anyway because I can’t see the other man’s face, and even if I did, I probably wouldn’t recognize him.

Still, I walk closer, keeping my head down as if I were just making my way across the room. When I get near the two men, I look at Holton’s companion’s hand and take in his ring. He moves his hand quickly, though, so all I can make out is what looks like two hammers, which can’t be right. I’ll need to figure out a way to ask Santiago tonight.

Slipping behind cover in a corner, I watch my husband. He’s still talking to the same man. They’re thick as thieves, and I wonder what they could be discussing. The masks they wear are among those that hide the most. Santiago, I understand. He doesn’t like people looking at him. I wonder what the other man has to hide.

When Santiago raises his head to look in my direction, I quickly turn to walk away. I don’t think he can see me here through all these people, but maybe I’m wrong. I can see him clearly enough, after all.