On the other hand, if they hadn’t killed her immediately, that meant that she was alive somewhere. They had abducted her and were intending to keep her alive. Evan frowned. If they wanted her alive, it was for only one purpose.
To change her into one of them. Just as they had already attempted but failed.
“Could you go faster?” he implored to the cab driver, his voice sharp.
The cab driver raised his eyebrows in the rearview mirror. “Hey, buddy, in case you haven’t noticed, we are in the middle of a traffic jam. Unless you want me to change this cab into a plane and fly, we’re stuck here for the duration.”
Evan cursed, running a hand through his hair. He should have hotwired a motorbike or something. He regretted, not for the first time, Thad’s insistence that they not have vehicles of their own. He understood in theory why; they had to keep the warehouse secret, and vehicles parked there would alert anyone that it wasn’t abandoned as it appeared to be. Also, they could be followed. Sometimes, if needed, they rented cars to get to their cases, and especially if they needed one to look a certain part. But Evan hadn’t bothered this time; the theatre hadn’t been that far from the warehouse.
He made a quick decision. He looked at the meter, then extracted a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket, passing it to the startled driver. Then he climbed out of the cab, weaving in and out of the traffic to get to the pavement.
He would have to draw on his extra abilities and run. Just like he had the night he had found Maya, distressed and pleading for his help. It was something he didn’t normally do, in crowded city streets, as it could draw attention. But he had no choice, now.
He had to find her, before it was too late.
***
He crouched down behind the bushes at the front of the house. Sweat was running down his back, and had almost soaked through his sweater. He had gotten here in record time.
The house loomed large in the darkness; there weren’t any lights on, not even an outside one to illuminate the front door. No one appeared to be home. He narrowed his eyes, gazing at it.
Well, they shouldn’t be here, should they? All the women who lived here were part of the production of Giselle. They were supposed to be onstage still, dancing. Which, of course, made the disappearance of Maya even more bewildering. How had they managed to restrain her so quickly, then spirit her out of that theatre, while still managing to act normally and perform?
His heart sank. He knew that she probably wasn’t here. He had rushed here on instinct, but now that he thought about it, it made no sense why they would take here. They would know that it would be the first place he would look.
He took a deep breath, still trying to regulate his breathing after the sprint. Well, he was here now. He would quickly break-in and search, even though he had little hope she would be here.
And then he would return to the theatre, corner every one of those demons and find out where she was.
It wasn’t difficult to get in. He found a back window that yielded easily, and he jumped stealthily into the dark house, trying to ascertain the layout. He had only been here twice, and one of those times he had been entirely in Maya’s bedroom. He blinked back sudden tears at the thought of those sweet moments. It seemed like a thousand years ago, now, that he had held her in his arms.
His hands balled into sudden fists. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t let anything happen to her. He would gladly give up his own life a million times over to save hers.
He crept through the dark house, opening every door, and searching every room. He opened wardrobe doors, and rifled through drawers. Frustration surged through him like electricity, almost threatening to overwhelm him.
She wasn’t here. That was obvious. And what was worse, it seemed that all the occupants of this house hadn’t been here for a while.
There were tell-tale signs. Most of their clothes were gone. There wasn’t any food in the fridge, or kitchen cupboards. The trash had been emptied. It looked like the house of people who had gone on vacation for a while.
They had abandoned this house, for the moment anyway.
He slammed his fist into a wall. He should have known that they wouldn’t stay here, let alone take Maya back here. They had probably moved to the location where they were now holding her sometime last week. He should have swooped on them before they had a chance to move, killing the lot of them. If he had have done so, none of this would be happening.
He shouldn’t have let Maya persuade him that he couldn’t because of that stupid production. But she had pleaded with him, tears in her eyes, that the show had to go on. That she had to protect her professional reputation and make the show a success.
She had sacrificed herself for a ballet show. A ballet show that had been ruined now, anyway. He could almost admire the way that Leonie had accomplished it. It had been a masterstroke. She had managed to abduct Maya and ruin the production in one fell swoop. Because the dancer that had replaced Maya on that stage had been deliberately dancing badly. He doubted very much that the woman had even been her understudy. They had probably gotten rid of her, too, and put one of their own demons on that stage.
Ruining Maya’s reputation and the show. Because the audience believed that it was Maya up there, dancing. A woman who had danced brilliantly in Act One, but couldn’t sustain it for Act Two. And even if it came out that it hadn’t been Maya, the result would be the same. The world would then believe that Maya Roberts couldn’t handle the pressure of the show and had bolted.
Maya had risked it all for nothing. Leonie had won, on all counts.
He should have told her that it wasn’t worth it. And even if she still hadn’t listened to him, he should have bundled her up and spirited her out of the city. He should have done his goddamn job, the way he would have done it if he hadn’t been emotionally involved with her. It had clouded his judgment, and he would never forgive himself. Never.
He let himself out the back door, closing it behind him. He was wasting time, again. Self-recrimination wasn’t going to save her.
***
Maya opened her eyes, slowly. She could hear footsteps approaching.
“How are you feeling, Maya?” It was Leonie. The woman sat down on the floor beside her, leaning against the wall. She was still dressed in her costume as Myrtha, the Queen of the Wilis. The queen of a group of vengeful female spirits, intent on destroying all mankind because they had been left broken-hearted.
Maya gasped. The story was almost exactly like Leonie and the others. Leonie was their leader, whipping them up into a frenzy. Preying on their heartbreak or their disappointment. Persuading them that revenge was the answer, and that all men must pay for that.
How she had not seen the similarities before was amazing.
“How did you persuade Freddie to stage Giselle?” Maya suddenly asked.
Leonie was not expecting the question. She frowned, searching for an answer.
“It’s obvious, now that I think about it,” said Maya, dryly, trying not to show her fear. “Your grand masterplan, to ruin the CBC and get to me, during opening night. It had to be Giselle, didn’t it? The story matches you and your group of crazed lunatics to a tee. You would have seen it as symbolic.”
Leonie smiled slowly. “Yes and no,” she replied. “I didn’t persuade Freddie to stage it—that was just coincidence, believe it or not. But I must admit that as soon as I hatched the plan to take you on opening night, the irony of it was delicious. The Wilis take Giselle and make her one of their own, just as we have taken you to make you one of us.”
Maya blinked rapidly. “Except that the Wilis don’t win,” she said, glaring at Leonie. “They try to convert Giselle, but her heart is stronger. She forgives Albrecht for what he did to her. And her love makes them disappear forever.”
Leonie laughed. “It’s only a ballet, Maya. Just a story. It has elements that I like, and others that I don’t.” She paused, her voice hard. “Love never wins, Maya. Surely you must
realise that by now, considering where you are.”
Maya was trembling, but she tilted her chin higher, glaring at the woman. “No. I don’t believe that. You tried to tear Evan and I apart, but it didn’t work. And he will find me, and then he will put a stop to your madness, once and for all.”
Leonie smiled, almost gently. “Oh, Maya. You have such a soft heart. It’s almost touching. But I am afraid that your lover isn’t going to rescue you, not this time.” Her smile widened. “He’s dead, Maya. We killed him while we abducted you. You didn’t think that we would leave that stray end dangling, did you?”
Maya gasped. Her face paled, and she shook her head vigorously. “No! I don’t believe you. You are lying, just like you always do. He’s alive, and he will find me!”
Leonie got up, sighing. “Believe what you want, Maya. But if you expect Evan to come charging in here on his white stallion, think again. You aren’t a princess, and this isn’t a fairy tale.” She paused, staring at Maya. “But you can become a warrior. A woman of power. A woman who can live forever.”
Maya stared at her. “I should have known,” she whispered, her voice full of hate. “You still want to turn me into one of you. A psychotic killer. A disgusting monster that feeds off other people’s misery. Tell me, Leonie, do you even remember what it was like to be human?”
Leonie’s eyes narrowed. “Being human is overrated. Think about it, Maya. Think very carefully. Because if you decide that you won’t join our group, then I am afraid that it is all over for you.”
She walked out of the room, banging the door behind her.
Maya squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She was in a nightmare, a never-ending nightmare. And the worst of it was, she had walked into it with her eyes wide open.
She had sacrificed herself to ensure the success of a ballet show. She may as well have placed herself on the altar and presented Leonie with the dagger to finish the job.
Chapter Nineteen
Evan rushed back into the theatre, staring around with dismay.
It was chaos. The show had ended, and the dancers looked as confused and bewildered as he had been an hour ago. Freddie was tearing his hair out, questioning them all as to Maya’s whereabouts. Vera looked like she needed a stiff drink and a good lie down. He approached the fringes of the group, trying to ascertain what would be the best way to figure out this mess, and find Maya.
“Where is she?” Freddie was screeching, staring around at them all. “Our prima ballerina just disappears in the middle of an opening night performance, and not one of you can tell me where she is!”
“I didn’t know a thing,” said Nathaniel, the other principal dancer. “When I came on the stage for the second act, I was expecting Maya. Then I realised it was Isabel!”
“Isabel?” Freddie’s eyebrows were almost reaching his hairline. “But Isabel isn’t Maya’s understudy! Genevieve is.” He craned his neck around the group. “Where on earth is Genevieve?”
The group all looked around, but the understudy was nowhere to be found.
Freddie looked apoplectic. Evan was afraid the director was about to have a stroke.
“Isabel?” he called out, his voice menacing.
Again, the group looked around, but there was no Isabel there, either.
Evan studied the group, carefully. He should have known. All of Leonie’s group of Vilgath demons were gone, including her. They had obviously disappeared as soon as the show was over, slithering away to wherever they were now hiding. Which would be the same place that Maya was, as well.
If he found them, he would find Maya.
“Can someone please tell me what is going on!” roared Freddie. “This is a shambles. My principal dancer disappears halfway through the show, and a dancer who wasn’t trained in the role takes her place, with no one’s knowledge or approval. And she’s also missing!”
Everyone looked as dumbfounded as he was. It was obvious that none of the dancers had seen the switch, or seen Maya being taken out of the theatre. Or if they had, they weren’t speaking.
Evan studied them again. Had any of them been complicit in this or seen something? Had they been threatened by Leonie, or one of the other girls in her group, from saying anything?
He would have to question them all, one by one. And that would take time. Time that he simply didn’t have. And it mightn’t yield anything, anyway. The dancers might all be truly ignorant of what happened, and time was ticking for Maya.
Suddenly, he saw one of the stagehands listening in on the group conversation. Evan had noticed him before but only briefly. It struck him now as odd that the man was standing there, listening in. He hadn’t been asked to; for now, Freddie was just addressing the dancers. And none of the other stagehands or anyone else who had worked on the production were there.
Evan stilled, watching him. The man looked grim faced. Then he turned and walked away from the group and out through the back door quickly. No one even turned to watch him leave. Evan was sure that with all the drama, they hadn’t even noticed that he was there.
Evan followed him. The man was just ahead, forging forward as if he was being pursued by something. He was hunched over, his hands in his jacket pockets. His whole posture, and the way he was moving, told Evan that he was afraid. Very afraid.
Evan watched him gaze around, fearfully, as he opened another door, disappearing inside. Evan knew that the door led to where the lights for the theatre were kept. He paused, then followed quickly. He put his hand on the door handle.
It wouldn’t budge. The man must have locked it behind him after he entered.
Evan took his pocket knife out and quickly inserted the blade. After a few minutes, he felt satisfaction as the handle suddenly clicked open. Success.
It was dark in here, with a narrow winding staircase to the section of the theatre that held the stage lights. He ran up them, quickly, entering another room.
He blinked, trying to see. It appeared as if no one was in here, but he knew differently. He crept forward, every sense on high alert.
Suddenly, a book came crashing down on his head. He swore, ducking it, as the man tried to escape down the stairwell. Evan lunged forward, grabbing the man by the scruff of his neck, and reefing him back into the room. The man landed with a huge thud on the floor a short distance away.
Evan was upon him in an instant, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him up so that the man was inches away from him.
“What’s going on?” he hissed into the man’s face. “Why did you try to clobber me with a book?”
The man’s eyes darted furtively around. “Please,” he whispered. “Don’t hurt me. I just want to be left alone, that’s all.”
Evan’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you want to be left alone so badly you’d hurt someone?”
The man didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Evan with fearful eyes.
“Answer me!” Evan shook him, hard. “What’s your name?”
“Billy,” the man whispered. “Billy Jenkins. I work backstage, on the lights, mostly.”
“Well, Billy Jenkins,” said Evan slowly. “You’d better tell me what’s going on. And don’t tell me nothing. You saw something tonight, didn’t you? Something to do with Maya’s disappearance. That’s why you are so scared.”
The man gulped. “Please, I don’t want any part in it! You don’t understand.” He lowered his voice. “They said they would kill me if I said anything, and I believe them.”
Evan let him go. “No one is going to kill you, Billy,” he said firmly. “I promise you. Tell me who threatened you.”
“The tall girl,” he whispered. “With the blonde hair. Her name is Leonie.”
Evan lowered his voice. “Billy, you are involved in this, whether you like it or not.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened to Maya.”
Billy took a deep, shuddering breath. “She made me do it,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “She told me to give Maya the drink as soon as she came off stage, after t
he first act. I didn’t know then what was in it, or that Maya would suddenly pass out.”
Evan felt the colour drain from his face. “Go on.”
“I had to catch her,” he said, his eyes on the ground. “Leonie made me carry her away. She’d already planned the way—down through back corridors. Places where no one would see.”
Evan’s eyes widened. “Billy, where did you take her?”
The man opened his mouth to speak when suddenly he lurched forward, onto Evan. Evan caught him, appalled. He looked down at him, already trying to shake him awake, when he noticed the single trickle of blood oozing out of the side of his mouth.
Billy Jenkin’s eyes were wide open but unseeing. He was dead.
Evan stared down at the man, not understanding. That was when he saw the single bullet wound in the man’s side. The killer must have used a silencer.
He knew, instinctively, that he would be next. As soon as the thought slid into his brain, he pulled the man’s body up, using it as a shield. The second bullet would have hit him straight in the heart. Instead, it landed with a sickening thud into the dead man’s back.
Evan continued using him as a shield as he staggered toward the stairwell. Another bullet whizzed past his ear, barely missing him. As soon as he got to the stairwell, he flung himself down, and sprinted out of the theatre.
He ran as fast as he could, then leapt behind some trash cans in an alleyway, trying to catch his breath and get his bearings.
There weren’t any pursuing footsteps. He must have outrun the killer, at least for now. But he knew they would be searching for him.
His breath felt ragged, and his heart was thudding so badly he thought it was about to leap out of his chest. So, they hadn’t left the theatre. They had been watching Billy Jenkins from the shadows. And him, most likely. They had probably thought that they could kill two birds with one stone.
Evan cursed underneath his breath. He had been so close. Billy Jenkins had just been about to reveal Maya’s whereabouts.
Evan leaned against the fence, at the back of the trash cans, trying to think what to do next.
Wild Keepers Page 46