Wild Keepers

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Evan raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. He simply opened the paper and read the article that Thad had indicated. When he had finished, he tossed it back on the coffee table and stared at the leader.

  “You think that what is happening in this ballet company has something to do with the Vilgath?” His eyebrows were still raised.

  “Possibly,” said Thad, frowning. “I’ve been hearing about how troubled it is for a while now. Apparently, it’s been having difficulties for the past year or so. Productions have had to be cancelled. Investors have pulled out. It’s been struggling, to say the least.”

  Evan nodded. “Sure, but that doesn’t mean the Vilgath are at work there. It might just be bad management.” He shrugged. “It happens.”

  “Yes, it does,” answered Thad. “But now, there’s been a murder. The director of the company, no less. And apparently there was a mysterious death there three months ago, as well.”

  Evan sighed. “Thad, I am hardly a guy who knows anything about ballet.”

  “Who does?” said Thad, smiling. “And it wouldn’t require you to have any knowledge of it, anyway. I was thinking that I could assign you to their security company. You would just be watching what is going on there.”

  Evan suppressed a sigh of annoyance. He had little choice but to do what Thad asked him, but this really wasn’t his thing. He usually worked on cases where he used his brain a little more. He was good with computers and could hack into any system that he wanted to. Being a security guard for a snotty ballet company sounded like hell on earth to him, to tell the truth.

  “What about Shay or Zach?” he asked. “They’ve both done security work before. They would be better suited to it.”

  Thad nodded. “True, but unfortunately they are both tied up with other cases. And I have a different one in mind for Noah, when he gets here.” He stared at Evan. “I know it’s not your usual cup of tea, brother, but a change of pace might be good for you. It can’t hurt, anyway.”

  Evan nodded reluctantly. “I suppose. Although the thought of watching a group of dancers all day sounds worse to me than pulling teeth.”

  Thad grinned. “It would be just the same as watching a factory or an office. You’re just looking for suspicious behaviour and stepping in if anything goes down, of course.” His grin widened. “And don’t forget the eye candy, brother. All those beautiful ballerinas. Think of that as the perk of the job.”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “Ballerinas? Aren’t they all upper-class girls with major chips on their shoulders? It’s hardly a strip joint, Thad.”

  Thad laughed. “You’re assuming a bit much,” he said. “Just because they dance ballet as opposed to working a pole doesn’t mean that they are all snobs, Evan.”

  Evan sighed. “Yeah, well, it’s a completely different world, isn’t it? Ballet is hardly for the masses. I think it’s a waste of time, myself. Give me basketball or a blockbuster movie for entertainment any day over that.”

  Thad stood up. “You will just be working security, that’s all. You don’t have to associate with any of the ballet company, unless you think it is in the interests of the case. The guys in the security company will all be pretty down-to-earth, I would imagine.”

  Evan nodded slowly. Thad had already made up his mind about it, so he had little choice. He would just have to grin and bear it; hopefully, it wouldn’t last too long. He didn’t really think anything that was happening in this ballet company was a result of the Vilgath anyway.

  He would probably be there for a few days and report back that there was no demon involvement, and he would move on. As always. He sighed, shutting his eyes for a moment. Every case was starting to blur into the next lately. He was distracted, not his usual self. And he knew why.

  The ticking time bomb that was always there beneath the surface. Counting down the last of his days on this earth. It was drawing closer, inexorably.

  Evan stared at Thad. He had never told any of his fellow wolf brothers about the curse. They hadn’t been around when his father served with the Wild Keepers, of course, and had never heard about it. And Evan intended to keep it that way. He didn’t think that he could live with the knowledge about what was about to happen reflected in the eyes of his brothers.

  No, it was better that they didn’t know. There was nothing that they could do to change it anyway. The curse was bigger than all of them, and even if they put him in a padded cell for the entire year, it would still happen. They couldn’t protect him from it. It would just make life harder, having to live with them knowing.

  Evan sighed and stared directly at Thad. “So, when do you want me to start?”

  ***

  Evan walked into the foyer of the old theatre. He had passed by this building a million times over the years, but he had never once set foot inside it. The home of the Covenester Ballet Company. He was scheduled to meet the head of the security company and start his case. He looked around; the room was empty. The man was obviously running late.

  He stared around, taking it in. It was very old; he would wager it was probably one of the first buildings ever built in this city. The ceilings were at least fifteen feet high. And the walls had cracks all through them.

  He looked up. A huge, gleaming chandelier dropped dramatically from an elaborate cornice rose. It was obviously old, too. It had probably been installed when the building had first been constructed.

  There were two large posters adorning one wall. One was an advertisement for an upcoming production, with a photograph of dancers on a stage. And the other was a close up of a man and a woman, both dressed in ballet costumes.

  Evan walked up to it. He studied it. The man was holding the woman, who was bent back in his arms, as if pulling away from him. His eyes flickered over the man, briefly, before coming to rest on the woman.

  She was dressed all in white, with a flowing, floaty dress. Her dark hair was pulled back, severely, into a tight bun at the back of her head. And her brown eyes were starting directly at the camera, as if challenging it.

  He felt a shiver run through him. She was beautiful, there was no denying it. But she also looked remote. Unattainable. Dressed like some kind of princess, pulling away from the man who sought her.

  He read the names underneath the photo. They were the principal dancers with this company, apparently. Nathaniel Moore and Maya Roberts.

  He was still studying it when a side door suddenly opened. He turned his head. A group of women were walking through, dressed in black leotards and pink tights.

  They all studiously ignored him as if they simply hadn’t seen him. They kept walking, through the foyer, and through another door.

  And that was when he saw her. The girl from the photo. Maya Roberts, principal dancer. She was the last to go through.

  She turned and stared back at him. Her eyes were large, the same velvet brown as in the photo.

  And they were also as cold. She blinked, as if she couldn’t make out who or what he was. She didn’t smile.

  And then she turned and walked through the door without another glance.

  Evan felt a frisson of anger shudder through him. She had stared at him as if he were something unsavoury she had just found on the bottom of her dainty foot.

  He knew he had been right about these types of people. His face hardened. The sooner he found this security guy and set to work, the sooner he could leave this place behind.

  And as far as he was concerned, that couldn’t come fast enough.

  Chapter Three

  Maya hurried to catch up with the other girls going through to the rehearsal room. She frowned. Her feet were starting to drag. It had been so hard coming back into this room, since that awful night. She hadn’t practised alone since then, and even with a group of other dancers in daylight, it was still hard.

  “Maya? Are you alright?” called Leonie, staring back.

  Maya forced a smile onto her face. “Yes, of course. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Leonie nodd
ed and kept going. Maya’s smile faded, as she stared at them entering the room.

  The truth was, she wasn’t alright. She was very, very far from being alright.

  Her parents had called her, that night, as soon as they had heard. Her mother had insisted that she come back to their place to stay, but Maya had resisted. She didn’t want to be in that huge, cold house, with her parents staring at her as if she were an insect in a jar. She could almost hear in her mind what they would say to her; the platitudes they would mouth, the show must go on and that she had to be a trooper.

  The same things they had been telling her all her life.

  She had spent three long hours being questioned by the police. Why had she been in the building alone? Why was she in that room? Her mouth had gone dry, and she had stared at them, fearfully. Were they going to accuse her of killing David Wagner?

  But eventually, they had let her go. She had taken a cab back home, to her share house, where the girls were waiting up for her. They had all embraced her, saying how sorry they were. She had cried, a little, but had been so exhausted from her ordeal that she had gone straight to bed.

  She had tried to get on with life, and go about her usual business. But it hadn’t been easy. She had not known David very well, or for very long, but she had liked him. He was the reason she was here; he had head hunted her from the East Coast. And he was the artistic director of the company. His death cast a pall of sadness and confusion over everyone, and in the first few days, it had been mayhem.

  How could the Covenester City Ballet go on after this? The whole company had been wide eyed and spooked, huddled in corners, whispering. It had been on the rocks for so long now, and this latest awful incident might just be the final straw. And they had all been interviewed. The police had crawled over the place for days.

  Nick, one of the assistant artistic directors, had been hastily told to take over for the time being. And Maya had heard that the board was planning to advertise for a new director. She hadn’t known whether to be relieved or dismayed. On the one hand, she wanted to keep going here: she had just moved, and she was finally prima ballerina. But on the other hand…. she didn’t want to stay here, at all.

  Not in the slightest. Her skin almost started to crawl when she walked into the building, and she was appalled to find that she was trembling, now.

  She could see the others warming up. She should walk in and start. And yet, her feet felt like they were rooted to the spot. She simply couldn’t will herself to do it.

  She could see Vera, the choreographer, looking around for her. She needed to do it. It was only a few steps, wasn’t it?

  Maya looked down at her hands. She was shaking.

  She was trying. But the truth was, every time she blinked, she would see David’s lifeless face with the blood trickling out of his mouth. He had been so pale, his skin had resembled marble. It was like he had been turned into a statue.

  She had never seen a dead person in her life.

  They were still waiting for the results of the autopsy as to what had killed him. But she knew. She had seen the stab wound on his side, when she had looked down. It had been gushing blood. Someone had deliberately put a knife into David Wagner, and then left him to bleed to death.

  Maya shuddered. A killer. A cold-blooded murderer was on the loose. And she knew who it was, but she couldn’t tell anybody. Let alone the police. Who would believe her?

  She had sometimes thought since then that perhaps she had imagined it. The figure floating on the ceiling, with the pale, greyish skin and the long hair wafting around it. Like it was suspended in water, or a dragonfly trapped in amber. How could it have been real? What was it?

  She had screamed so loud, and for so long, that by the time she had opened her eyes again and looked, it had been gone. There was simply nothing there. It had vanished into the air, and she had collapsed onto the ground.

  Had she dreamed it? Had she been so overcome by the sight of David’s dead body that she had conjured up a…monster floating on the ceiling?

  Because that was all that it could be, if it had actually been there. A monster. It certainly wasn’t human, and it wasn’t an animal.

  Maya felt sweat break out all over her, and her breath started to quicken. She didn’t want to be in this place. She wanted to run as far away from here as possible.

  “Maya!” Vera had walked to the doorway of the rehearsal room, frowning. “We are just about to begin. Are you ready?”

  Maya took a deep breath. “Yes,” she whispered. “I just felt a bit hot, that was all.”

  Vera nodded and walked back to the others.

  Maya took a step, forcing herself to walk into the room.

  The mirrors seemed to close in on her, as if she were walking into a house of mirrors at a carnival. She remembered again that feeling of being trapped in the costume room, as if she had stepped into some other world, a parallel universe where nothing was as it should be. Topsy-turvy, and wrong, somehow.

  It was all a nightmare.

  Suddenly, she remembered the man that had been waiting in the foyer. He had been staring at the poster of her and Nathaniel and she had turned back and looked at him. Who was he? He had seemed intense, as if he was surrounded by something. As if something was haunting him.

  He had been handsome, she remembered now. Very handsome, in fact. Tall, with brown hair, and dark blue eyes. Was he a detective? She had never seen him here before, and she thought she would have remembered him. But there had been so many people in and out of the building since David’s murder. Who knew? Maybe he was here to wash the windows.

  Maya took a deep breath. She had to get it together. She forced another smile onto her face and turned towards the barre.

  It was true what her parents had always told her. Sometimes, the show simply had to go on.

  ***

  Evan sat back in the rickety chair, staring at Jack, the head of the security firm, across the desk.

  He had waited another ten minutes before the man had rushed into the foyer, a harassed air about him. The man had held out his hand, staring at Evan levelly.

  “Evan Watts?” He had sighed. “Sorry I’m late. It’s been a madhouse here since the director was found dead.” He sighed again. “I’m Jack Morton, head of security.”

  “Not a problem,” Evan had replied, shaking the man’s hand. Then he had led him into a room, crammed with files.

  “So,” said Jack, now, running a hand through his hair. “Your references are excellent, Evan. How long have you been working in security?”

  “A couple of years,” replied Evan. It was true, in one way. Being a Wild Keeper was working in security on a whole other level.

  Jack took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you. You’ve come to us at a hard time. You’ve heard about the murder?”

  Evan nodded slowly. “I read about it in the papers,” he replied. “What happened?”

  Jack threw his hands up in the air. “Who the hell knows? It was a very strange affair. The electricity suddenly cut out, and then one of our guards heard a woman screaming. He could hardly see where to go.” Jack paused dramatically. “When he found her, she was in a room, next to the dead director. She was so shaken up she’d collapsed.”

  Evan frowned. “And the woman has been ruled out as a suspect in the murder?”

  Jack started laughing. “If you saw this woman, you’d know that she isn’t capable of murder,” he said. “She’s the star attraction, the latest recruit that they’ve got to try to turn around the fortunes of this dance company. You might have seen photos of her when you were in the foyer.”

  Evan stilled. “Maya Roberts? The principal dancer?”

  “That’s the one.” Jack winked. “She’s a beauty, but she’s like all these hoity-toity ballet dancers. Thinks she’s a bit good. She barely has a word for any of us, but then, why should she? She’s the star. They probably promised her half of their entire budget to get her to move here and throw in her lot with this sink
ing ship.”

  Evan frowned. “Why do you say she’s not capable of murder? Just because she’s a ballerina?”

  Jack sighed. “No, not just because of that. Although you’d be hard pressed to find a less-likely-looking murderer. No, the girl just doesn’t have it in her, in my opinion. And I’ve seen all sorts, believe me.” He spread his hands wide across the desk. “I could be wrong, of course. But the police have spoken to her, and she hasn’t been charged. No one has.”

  “So, the murderer is still at large then?” Evan was thinking quickly. “Do you think it is someone in the company?”

  “Not my job,” said Jack stoutly. “We just watch the building. The police are paid to figure that out.”

  There was a knock at the door, and a woman opened it, peering in.

  “Jack,” she said. She spoke with a thick Eastern European accent. “I need to speak to you, now.”

  Jack sighed, standing up. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Evan? You can wait in the other room, if you like. This is Vera Petrov, the company’s choreographer. Vera, this is Evan Watts, who has just joined our team.”

  The woman gazed at him and nodded quickly. Evan left the room, wondering what was so urgent. The woman had looked strained, to say the least.

  He sat down on a bench, staring around. This whole place was falling to rack and ruin. Everyone looked somehow haunted, as if too much was being demanded of them, and he could see the lack of money in the maintenance of the building. It looked like it was a few years off from falling down entirely if it wasn’t seriously renovated soon.

  He sat back, thinking of the lead dancer. Maya Roberts. She had been the one who had discovered the dead director. How must that have affected her? Yet she hadn’t looked anxious, or frightened, when he had seen her walking through the foyer. On the contrary; she had looked composed, almost aloof. He thought again of those brown velvet eyes, staring at him contemptuously.

  What was the term Jack had used, for the dancers? That’s right. Hoity-toity. And Miss Maya Roberts would be even more hoity-toity than all of them. She was the star dancer, after all.