Dark Awakenings (Danse Macabre Book 2)

by Christina Quinn

  My goal was to avoid the crowd in front of the Westley and sneak in the stage door. But the moment I reached the lobby it sunk in that such a thing was an utter impossibility. There was a literal wall of paparazzi flanking the red carpet. The flash from the cameras made it look like the bright crimson runner was lined with twinkling lights.

  “Your Limo is out front, Miss Darling.” The doorman’s voice made me jump out of my skin.

  “Limo?” Gee, you sure sound smart today.

  “Yes, the Gentleman who arrived earlier to deliver the package told me to make certain the car service sent a limo for you at ten after nine. Judging by what they sent, I’d feel remiss if I didn’t ask what made you so important.”

  “Nothing, I’m not important. Did… what did this gentleman look like?”

  “Like six Benjamin Franklins asking me not to describe him as anything more than a friend.”

  I just stared at the doorman for a handful of breaths. With everything going on with Sun Cross and Gregory I wasn’t entirely sure the limo was safe. Everyone goes on and on about how smart you are but I often doubt it. You are being watched by surveillance. Do you really think they’d let you get murdered or kidnapped in such an obvious fashion? Miss Manners had a point. Still I continued to eye the doorman until I left the lobby. Waiting out front was a black Mercedes Benz stretch limo. It was so shiny and new I almost didn’t think it was for me, it seemed such a waste to ride a limo to get across the street. But admittedly there was no other way to get to the Westley tonight.

  Inside of the limo was a bottle of pink champagne in a bucket with a small card that said ‘Drink Me’ in front of it. Since I wasn’t entirely looking forward to some of the conversations I’d have to have during the evening, drinking seemed like a good idea. So I sipped the champagne and stared out of the window as we literally drove around the block and got into a line with ten other stretch limos. My phone buzzed.

  [Ur coming right?!!!!!] Leslie texted me.

  [In the line of limos now.] I responded.

  [u hear bout Niki?]

  [I heard he has to cut ties with me, whatever that means.]

  [Thisll B fun]

  [Fun?]

  [Ill w8 4 u @ statue]

  Rolling my eyes I tucked my phone away and finished the glass of champagne. From the window I could see Vlad and Elizabeta exit their limo, they looked in a word; perfect. Vlad wore all black, his mask covered most of his face, and had long back horns that gave him a sinister silhouette. Elizabeta was a peacock beside him… literally. Her titian hair was loose about her shoulders in soft waves, her brilliant blue dress clung to her dynamic curves and fanned out behind her in a skirt of peacock feathers. They held hands the entire time they walked up the carpet and I noticed Elizabeta now had a huge diamond on her ring finger. Were they engaged? Probably, this is the first time Vlad has been awake since there has been prying media. Of course they’re going to make a big deal of being together. Poor Wyatt, he seemed to have really liked her.

  The Limo stopped and the driver got out and opened the door for me and I froze. Remember no one cares about you. For once, Miss Manners was wrong. The second I stepped onto the plush red carpet I was blinded by the bright flashes from the photographers. Some of them called my name… why did they know my name.

  “Autumn! Look over here! Is it true?” My brows furrowed as the pictures continued and I stood frozen on the spot. Smile, and try not to look so confused. I forced the best smile I could muster across my lips and started down the red carpet towards the doors. Slower, don’t let them see that you’re running from them.

  By the time I reached the door the desire to turn around and go home was almost strong enough to outweigh the fact that I didn’t want to run the media gauntlet again. Inside I showed my little invitation to the big burly guy at the door and stepped into the atrium. Elizabeta turned around almost immediately and flashed me a smile.

  “Oh, look Vlad, it’s Autumn.” There was something about her voice that seemed far from pleased. The words were pleasantries but the tone was a hair from displeasure, her careful mask slipping. What did I do? Probably the abandoning Nikolai thing. You’re supposedly smart, you shouldn’t need to think so long on these things.

  “Oh, a pleasure as always, Autumn.” Vlad turned around and smiled at me, those lips curled into a warm smile and judging by his tone he might have actually meant it. “You make a lovely Queen of Hearts.” I blinked at him, and then remembered the mask. Hearts and roses… Queen of Hearts. I guess I’m going to have to write that dissertation for you too.

  “Thank you. You make a very intimidating dragon, and Elizabeta you are simply enchanting.” I beamed at both of them trying to keep the fear from my voice. Still her cornflower blue eyes danced over my frame and she turned from me without another glance or word. The snub was obvious.

  “You shouldn’t have abandoned Nikolai. She’s taken him in but she can’t undo the damage. So here we are, two people who have broken those we love down with past actions we never thought would do any harm.” Vlad’s lips twitched into a smile. “Enjoy your evening.” He left my side and returned to Elizabeta’s, they looked so perfect together as she leaned against him.

  My eyes travelled the line of the crowd and settled on that statue. It’s just a statue. Even as Miss Manners’ assertion lingered my lips pursed into a frown as I made my way through the crowd to the base of the sculpture. Leslie was there waiting for me in her Swanilda costume. The vibrant pink tutu sparkled with every shifting motion. Her hair was twisted up into a bun and adorned with tiny pink roses. She didn’t wear a mask, but she had thick stage makeup covering her face, making her look more doll than a human.

  “Oh my god, you look gorgeous! Your waist is so tiny!” Leslie cooed as I approached.

  “You look perfect. But why are you in your costume?”

  “Nikolai and I are dancing in an hour. Tristan didn’t want us to dance at the beginning because he wanted to show off the new costumes. It’s adorable, but… you can tell it was designed with Colette in mind. Swanilda is usually pink, but not this pink. Oh! Did you see the article?” My brows knit.

  “What article?”

  “You remember Charlotte, right? Pale, blonde, stupid, disposable? Shittiest ballerina to get accepted to any company ever. Her lines are just so fucking bad…she makes you look like a fucking Assulta. Well she opened her stupid fucking attention whoring mouth and blabbed about Aleksi to any magazine, blogger or paper that would pay her for the interview. I’ve said the words ‘no comment’ so many times in the last two weeks that…it's starting to sound like Russian…” Leslie kept talking but I didn’t hear her. It was like someone turned the volume up on all of the background noise. “…apparently writing a memoir or something called The Danseur’s Slave, or some shit. She’s also claiming that she’s pregnant with Aleksi’s child and…he gave you to Nikolai when he found the love of his life which is her of course. They ran a big piece about it in the New York fucking-Times. Elizabeta’s been trying to have her lawyers kill it, but they haven’t had any luck.” My stomach lurched. That explains the paparazzi suddenly knowing who you are. My cheeks started to burn and my eyes grew dry. Don’t cry, think about all of the time you spent on your makeup. Fanning my eyes with my hand I drew a few ragged breaths. Don’t cry.

  “I…”

  “That was my response. I say sue her for liable, and slander.” I couldn’t bring myself to do anything but nod. Leslie didn’t get it, she danced with an all Vampire Ballet Company and I… was trying to get my Ph.D. That piece of paper I was seeking would mean essentially nothing now. There was still a stigma attached to people who associated with vampires. More than that was the very real threat of The Sun Cross and the fact that she just put a massive target on me. I could refute the sexual activities but it was more than that. “Are you going to the celebration after?”

  “No, I’m just going to head home and work on my dissertation some more.” My fingers traced the gems at my
throat, I suddenly felt like I was being strangled by the collar of jewels.

  “You should come, you’re one of like six people on Colette’s approved visitor list. And one of the only people on that list who would be willing to see her.”

  “How is she?”

  “She’s getting better. She knows Nikolai isn’t Aleksi now… but she keeps insisting to see Aleksi. I go down there twice a week and every time I get to be the one to tell her. Honestly, I’m pretty sure it's just denial, and not her being a few grapes short of a fruit salad. Aleksi was more or less what she lived for and now he’s gone.”

  “I guess I’ll go. But…I’m not getting deliriously drunk. I’ll visit Colette, but I’m going to stay very far away from the celebration. I remember enough of the last one to know that I am not interested in being there after the vampires are allowed to feed… or even before.”

  The night continued eventlessly. Colette and Nikolai danced a small part of Coppelia to show off the new costumes and to debut the new partnership. Everyone was a buzz after with Nikolai’s portrayal of a very jaded Franz opposite Leslie’s jealous, yet effervescent Swanilda. Either he was brilliant for capturing the essence of the character or it demonstrated that he had changed very little from the angry twenty three year old who left one of the best Ballet Companies in the world for seemingly no reason. Then the inevitable comparisons started. He might have looked like Aleksi, but to many he didn’t dance like Aleksi.

  Having successfully avoided both Evan and Garrett for the entirety of the evening I called the car service from the parking garage to take me to Crimson Hill. While waiting I did the worst thing possible—I read the article. In a world tantalized and intrigued by the dynamics of the submissive/dominant relationship, the article was pure gold. Everything Aleksi liked was dragged out into the open and thrown into very unflattering light. Charlotte painted the picture of a cold, control freak who forced himself on his partners more often than not. I was portrayed as an obsessed stalker who wouldn’t leave Aleksi alone. I couldn’t finish the article, I wanted to throw my phone. A lady wouldn’t throw her phone. What does a lady do when they’re slandered and have their past sexual proclivities aired out like dirty laundry. They get even…tastefully. Tasteful revenge? Was there even such a thing?

  It was a little after midnight when I arrived at Crimson Hill, and rain poured from the sky as thunder rolled in the clouds. This meant that the party was moved inside, the halls were filled with laughter and raunchy little murmurs and growls. Again the sprawling complex seemed to be bursting at the seams with vampires who looked me over like I was a cut of Kobe beef with legs. I passed Charlotte in the hall, crawling collared on all fours behind that same dark haired vampire from before. I glared but said nothing.

  The shadows pressed in and swirled around me as I made my way through those winding halls, my mind meandered as I descended into the depths of the building, leaving the finery, music and debauchery behind. My heels echoed behind me as I made my way into that facility where they kept all of the naughty vampires. The guards on duty nodded to me but said nothing as I walked passed them and into the bright white hall beyond the heavy metal doors.

  The rooms were empty now, except for Colette who sat in a suite which had been decorated just for her. The walls were covered in soft pastels, and in the corner was a barre. Glancing into the room it didn’t look like a cell. No, that room looked like some form of dollhouse almost, and with Colette seated in a pale seafoam green chair in her powder pink sundress it almost didn’t seem real. She was a doll in a world created just for her. The only thing missing was her male counterpart, someone tall, pale, fair haired and equally clad in pale blue. In her hands she clutched her slim white phone. She was watching something on the screen, something that made her smile thoughtfully.

  The guard outside of the door said something into his wrist that I didn’t quite catch as I opened that heavy white door. It was unlocked from the outside for whatever reason, but the moment that door clicked shut it buzzed and something inside snapped into place. Colette only glanced up for a moment and smiled before returning her attention back to the little screen. The room seemed so much lighter than the rest of Crimson Hill, the shadows here were just shadows unlike the rest of the sprawling manor.

  “Father let me download a copy of our Giselle from last year. I think I’ve watched it seven hundred times in the last two weeks. No one dances Albrecht in act two like Aleksi. He makes us all seem like amateurs.” She sighed out happily. “We’re doing it in December I think, and I’m fairly certain Leslie’s ready to dance my Giselle. I helped her relearn my Swanilda, and she can do almost everything I can. She just lacks speed, but speed always comes with time. I think if I had a year with you, I could make you good enough for most companies.”

  “With nine years ballet experience?” I raised a brow and Colette lowered the phone and grinned at me.

  “Some people are principals by 18. It's not unheard of. Niki was nineteen when he was promoted. Some people are naturals, they just show up and dance beautifully after a few years with little more than a guiding hand. And some people have to work very hard, and they dance no less beautifully, it just takes them longer to get there. Some people don’t see Principal until they’re thirty or ever. I was elevated into the corps at 14 principal by 16 and made Etoile at 19—the youngest ever. I had less experience with ballet when I danced on stage for the first time than you have now. Evan was the opposite, and because of that in life he was more technically deft than most in Du Nuit. Between you and me, when he was alive he was better than Tristan is now. Most eight year old girls don’t have perfect turn outs, and most women don’t pick ballet up after fourteen years like it’s as natural to them as breathing.” She sighed happily and looked around. “I’m sick of being cooped up in here. It’s what, June now?”

  “Almost July…” I trailed off and watched as she looked at her hands.

  “Autumn, I’m not crazy. Admittedly when I bound Niki to me… I kind of jumped head first into the deep end of the crazy pool. I did a few things I’m not exactly proud of, but you can’t undo the past. But Aleksi isn’t dead. I would know it if he were dead, Autumn. At first I thought he was. I was so convinced. It wasn’t until my sanity returned to me completely that I realized I was wrong.”

  “Colet—”

  “Autumn! Not you too! I know you’ve seen or felt it. There are things walking the halls here, I’ve seen two of them. A walking shadow, a rolling mist. It’s not Vlad, Autumn. I saw the shadow while he was in here with me. We were watching the Diable Amoureux performance and… I saw a figure move. And I’ve seen mists thick and black rolling through the halls at night, and I’ve felt just so much anger in the shadows.” She’s still not all there. I leaned against the wall and sighed. Maybe I was going crazy too? I don’t think that you want the voice in your head that you’ve named to answer that for you. “It might be wishful thinking, but I refuse to give up hope. If I rot in here, I rot.” She shrugged. “Have you seen Tristan’s Coppelia? He might be a mediocre danseur but he can choreograph with the best of them.”

  “I saw part of it at the Gala. Nikolai and Leslie partner well but…I think Nikolai’s Franz is a little too distant for most. But the new Costume for Swanilda is breathtaking, everyone could tell it was designed for you and not Leslie. It was very you.”

  “That’s because I picked out the fabric and the colors.” She beamed with joy, those electric blue eyes lit up like she could already see herself dancing in it. “So why aren’t you jumping at the chance to join Evan and Garrett’s project?”

  Shortly after the interrogation over my lack of aspirations for a career in dance I walked up to my room and collapsed on the bed thoroughly exhausted. It was five in the morning when Colette had finished with me, I had been up for a total of twenty-four hours and my body was not up to the challenge of staying awake any longer.

  No sooner than I had closed my eyes did I spy that shadow standing over me, but there wa
s something about it this time, something that made my stomach lurch. I pulled the covers over my head and shut my eyes tight but I could still feel that unfriendly shadow. Dread seeped into my very soul as I curled up into a tiny ball. The bed creaked and moved like someone had leaned on it. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, all I could do was curl up and hope that shadow went away. Instead the opposite happened, something started tugging at the blankets, trying to pull them away from me. When whatever it was won, the blanket was tugged from my hands and sucked away into darkness.

  Opening my eyes there was nothing there, the room was so dark with those heavy shadows I could barely see two inches in front of my face. So, I did what anyone would do in that situation. I screamed and ran in the direction of the door. I tried the knob only to find it wouldn’t budge. Tears streamed down my face as an icy breeze swept through the room.

  Thud. Thud. Thud. Someone banged on the door from the other side, muffled shouts barely made it through as the wind howled around me and that tangible darkness started clawing at me. I had never before been so consumed by terror in my entire life. Whatever was in that darkness wanted me hurt and it wasn’t taking no for an answer. What felt like claws slashed down my leg and I shrieked. The pounding from the other side of the door grew as I moved to cover my bleeding leg. Even though I couldn’t see, I could feel the fabric of my dress ripping and tearing to tatters from those phantom talons. Thud. Thud. Crack. The door behind me slammed into my back as it opened. Hands clamored to pull me backward and shut the door.

  Looking around I found an unexpected face. It wasn’t one of my friends who had saved me, it was a vaguely familiar woman in a rich royal blue cocktail dress. Her golden hair was pulled on top of her head in a messy bun that had a tiny blue bird made of feathers perched in it. Kneeling on the floor beside her was a man about my age in tiny blue shorts and matching mask. Over his hip bones were two tattoos of bluebirds with rich green wings and beaks pointing towards the origin of the bulging flesh between his thighs. Swallowing I cast my gaze at the floor and tried to catch my breath.