There is a spattering of applause. For the second time the stagehands set about opening the iron maiden to release the willing victim, caught like a fly in a venus flytrap.

They open the door and lift her out. She died beautifully, everyone agrees.

——

I was having such a great time with Maise I forgot that we shared a house with a bunch of petty pricks, until I came home one evening to find a note pushed under my door. Written in block capitals, with no signature, were these words:

"WHAT YOU ARE DOING IS EVIL."

"That's worrying," said Maise when I showed it to her. "OK, we could have been more discreet when we were talking down in the kitchen, but how would they know what we're doing behind closed doors?"

"Does this affect us going to the Masquerade?" I asked nervously.

"It might, if there's someone snooping around that might follow us."

That was devastating to hear. Just as it was all going so well, meeting the love of my life and finding out about the club of my dreams only to have it fucked up by some zealot.

"Don't panic, though," said Maise. "We don't know enough yet to do anything, we'll wait and see if it carries on."

The next note duly arrived the next day:

"POWER TOOLS ARE NOT PLEASURE TOYS FOR GIRLS."

"I guess we made too much noise with the jigsaw," said Maise. "Or you did."

"No regrets there, it was incredible," I answered. "Also, whoever's writing these is a sexist prick."

"That narrows it down," said Maise sarcastically.

The third note pissed me off big time. Fucking Robert.

"HOPE YOU WASHED THOSE CARROTS, DYKE."

I gathered up the three notes and stormed down the stairs to his room. I banged on the door until he came and opened it in his boxers.

"Hi Lexie. What can I do for you?" he said like someone who wasn't answering the door almost naked.

"I just came to give you your shitty bigotted notes back," I snapped, throwing them in his face. "If you've got a problem with me, keep it to yourself, you dick."

"I didn't write these," he protested.

"Seriously? Carrots? You think I don't remember?"

Robert smirked.

"Look, that was funny, but I honestly don't care what you did with those carrots. Everyone knows you and Maise are fucking and that dildo you had running the other night made a bloody racket."

I realised later that he was talking about the jigsaw. I actually laughed at that.

"But hey, you do you," he went on. "You looked pretty hot in that uniform. You should dress as a girl more often."

"Fuck you, Robert."

"Tell Maise I said 'hi!'"

When I told Maise she burst out laughing.

"You never told me about running into Robert on the stairs. It actually is pretty funny. Two carrots and a schoolgirl outfit, he must have thought it was a wind-up. He says he didn't write the notes?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe him?"

"I don't know. He's still our only suspect right now."

"At least we know it's nothing to do with our deathplays," said Maisie.

"How so?"

"What we're dealing with here is your common or garden woman-hating homophobe. And no, I don't think it's Robert, it's not his style."

"He thinks we shoved all that stuff up our fannies!"

"Whatever. Do you want to tell him what we were actually doing?"

"So now what do we do?" I asked.

"As we were I reckon, just keep the noise down," said Maise. "It's harassment and a hate crime, but we're both stronger than these dickheads. To take your mind off it, have you had any thoughts about your avatar?"

Cool, the Masquerade was back on. I perked up.

"It might be a bit obvious, but what if we went with actual Viennese masquerade as a theme?"

"It is a special occasion, so why not," said Maise. "Are you going as a guy or a girl?"

"Haven't decided yet. I'll have to think about that."

The next day was another humdrum day of data entry on autopilot while my mind went off to 18th century Vienna, or at least my vaguely-informed understanding of it. It was weird to be actively considering wearing a dress – a month ago you couldn't have forced me into a frock at gunpoint and I still considered myself a tomboy, but in both the deathplays I'd done with Maise I'd gone girlie. Eventually I decided not to overthink it, just look out for outfit possibilities and take it from there.

I was snapped out of my daydreaming by a flash of deja vu. I looked properly at the claim form currently on the screen and realised the address was my own. Something else was familiar as well, though I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

The claimant was a Richard Conner. I didn't recognise the name, but then I didn't know the names of a lot of the people in our house. I barely saw them, they kept themselves to themselves. Then I realised what it was. I retrieved the abusive notes from my bag and compared them with the block lettering on the form.

It matched exactly. Every line, shape and curve. I had found our abusive note writer.

I texted Maise on the way back. Asking around we discovered Richard Conner's room was just down the hall from Robert's. I could have confronted him like I did Robert, but I had a better idea. I took out the card about the carrots, amended it with a reply of my own and slid it under the door. The note now read:

"HOPE YOU WASHED THOSE CARROTS, DYKE.

DON'T KNOCK IT TILL YOU'VE TRIED IT, RICHARD.

WHEN YOU'RE READY TO GIVE IT A GO, WRITE ME ANOTHER NOTE AND I WILL SHOVE IT SO FAR UP YOUR ARSE THERE'LL BE AN EPISODE OF CASUALTY MADE ABOUT YOU."

There were no more notes after that.

—–

On Saturday morning Maise was waiting for me in the kitchen when I went down for breakfast.

"Have your breakfast and get ready as quick as you can," she said, after we'd kissed. "I'm taking you to see a friend of mine."

An hour later were in Maise's car, heading out towards the outskirts.

"Where are going?" I asked.

"You'll see," smiled Maise.

The scenery changed a lot as we left the packed in social housing of the city for leafy suburbs, open parks and more spread out buildings. The low winter sun cast a warm glow over everything. It occurred to me this was the first time Maise and I had been out as a couple.

Eventually we pulled into what looked like a fairly well off residential area, all white houses and bungalows set back in long front gardens. Maise's little car navigated the network of streets until we came to a small row of shops.

There was a newsagent, a cycle shop, a florist and a dressmaker.

"We're here", she said.

We got out and went into the dressmaker's shop. It was light and airy inside, with framed photos of couples in exquisite formal wear around the walls. There were mannequins set up in the window dressed in expensive looking suits and dresses, with a single rack of colourful silky frocks next to a folding mirror. The main feature of the room was a plush sofa and armchair set around a glass coffee table scattered with fashion magazines. There was a large case of flowers on the counter which sparkled in the sunlight through the window, casting pretty shadows on the wall behind.

Maise pressed the bell on the counter and we sat down together on the sofa.

Soon a kindly looking woman came out to see us.

"Maise!" she cooed. "So nice to see you! And this must be Lexie! Welcome, I've heard a lot about you, dear."

"I'd like you to meet Debs," said Maise. "She's the one that made my tuxedos, amongst other clothes. And now she's going to make outfits for us both to wear next weekend. My treat."

"Next weekend?" I asked.

"I got the call from the Mortal Masquerade. They're ready for you."

I squeed with excitement and gave Maise a big hug, then saw Debs sat beaming at us.

"Um, should we be..."

"It's OK, dear," said Debs. "I'm a spirit too. I'm so happy for you, you must be so excited!"

"Have you thought any more about the kind of avatar you want?"

I told her about the Viennese theme and my to-and-froing over a masculine or feminine look. She nodded.

"I have a few thoughts about that. The first is that we're actually creating two avatars here and I'd love to dress the two of you as a pair. Especially as you'll both be getting killed together."

My heart skipped a beat. I looked over at Maise, who laughed mischievously.

"Oh, didn't I mention that? Because I'm your sponsor, my avatar has to die in the same way yours does. Whatever fate they have planned for you, I have to face it too."

"No, you didn't mention that, but it's awesome."

Debs grinned.

"Anyway, because of that, I want to dress you in similar outfits. Lexie, I know you prefer trousers and you'd make a very dashing 18th century gent, but you should save that avatar for when you'll get more time to grow into the character. Also, I do have some gorgeous Venetian ballgowns."

"Fine," I sighed. "I'll say yes to the dress."

Debs took us to the back rooms to take measurements and sketch out mask designs. We tried on a variety of gowns until settling on the ones that Debs would adapt to our sizes. When we left everything was in place to bring to life the doomed duo of Anna and Sofia, scheduled to die in one week's time.