A Dance with Darkness

by Jenna Wolfhart

  Bree’s eyes cut sideways, and her jaw flinched. “You sure you don’t want to take your anxiety meds? I feel like maybe it’s a bad idea not to follow the doctor’s instructions.”

  “You think I’m making it up.” I took a step away from her, shaking my head. “You think I’m going crazy, even if you like to pretend you think otherwise.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy, Norah, but I think you aren’t quite yourself.” She gestured at the four guys who were still looking our way, watching our exchange with a strange detached curiosity on their faces. “You think they have glowing skin. Pretend for a minute that you weren’t the one saying that. Don’t you hear how strange that sounds?”

  I blew out a hot breath and tried not to give into the flicker of pain I felt deep in my gut at her words. Yes, I knew it sounded crazy. And yes, I’d be skeptical if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. And yes, maybe there was something very wrong with me. Normal people didn’t go around thinking people had glowing skin. But I didn’t feel crazy. This felt right. It felt real.

  Though maybe no one ever really feels crazy, even if they are.

  “Look, I have to talk to them, even if you think all of this is in my head.” I shrugged and blinked back the tears that were beginning to well in my eyes. “Hell, maybe I am imagining everything. But if I talk to them, maybe I can at least find out the truth. Don’t bother coming along.”

  I strode away from her, knowing full well that she was staring after me with a conflicted expression of hurt and worry flickering across her pixie features. I’d told her not to come along, so she wouldn’t. Bree was like that. She always did whatever she could to keep the peace.

  As I made my way across the warehouse, the four guys turned to each other before casting one last furtive glance my way. The one with bright glowing skin opened the door, and they filed out of the bar quicker than I could reach them. With a frustrated sigh, I upped my pace, desperate to speak to them before I lost them to the nighttime city streets.

  When I pushed open the door, a blast of hot summer air rushed into my face, bringing with it the cloying stench of rotting trash, exhaust fumes, and baking asphalt. The city could turn into a heat trap at the height of summer, even at night, when temperatures tiptoed into the mid-90’s at times.

  There were a few clusters of smokers camped outside the gray club, lazily discussing the most recent superhero film they’d seen in the theatre. They didn’t even glance my way when I burst through the doors and whirled this way and that to spot the strange four guys with the weird skin that apparently no one but me could see.

  There they were, halfway down the one-way street, walking in the direction of Delancey Street. I rushed after them, picking up my pace to catch up with them. They walked side-by-side, their arms relaxed by their sides. One of their backs stiffened—the one who had followed me into the bathroom. He glanced over his shoulder and caught my eye. In an instant, he’d turned toward the others, and soon they were walking at a speed that was impossible to fathom. They didn’t look as though they were running, but they were certainly moving faster than any normal person could.

  They reached the corner within seconds and disappeared to the left. I kept following, though I knew it was no use. When I reached the corner myself, they were nowhere to be seen. They’d disappeared somewhere in the depths of the Manhattan streets, and I knew without a doubt that there was no way in hell I would find them. Not unless they wanted me to.

  I shoved open my bedroom window with the tips of my fingers as I perched on the fire escape outside of our third-floor apartment. The chipped wooden frame shuddered at hurricane-level decibels.

  I paused and sucked hot air into my nostrils. Closed my eyes and counted to ten. If the noise filtered out of my room, down the hall and into the ears of my sleeping parents, Mom would barrel right through the locked door, her intricately-painted nails clutching the fabric of her nightgown into a silky flower of panic. And then that panic would bubble into anger. And then pool into disappointment and distrust. Just like always.

  Next time you sneak out, she’d told me last weekend, you’re grounded for a month.

  Even though I was eighteen-years-old, and even though I’d graduated from high school last month, Mom kept a tight grip on what I could and couldn’t do. And if I got grounded for a month, I wouldn’t be able to attend any auditions, my only chance at getting out of my rut of a life. And moving out of this hellhole of an apartment.

  But despite the window’s avalanche of noise, not a single whisper of movement stirred inside the apartment. I threw my legs over the window frame hauled myself over the ledge behind it. After I closed the window, I padded over to my bedside table in boots that squished into the carpet, reaching for the neon blue lamp. And when I flipped the switch, several sights smacked me in the face all at once. Open drawers. Open laptop on my desk. Scribbled sheet of notebook paper on my pillow.

  The paper held only three simple, non-threatening words. Well, non-threatening in most situations, anyway. But those three words on this particular night. On that particular sheet of paper. In that familiar loopy scrawl. Well, it was enough to make my stomach sink through the floorboards to join the rats that lived there despite the number of times the landlord had bombed them with poisonous fumes.

  Living room. - Mom

  Brilliant. For a split second, I considered ignoring the note and crawling under my whisper-thin sheets before Mom could realize I’d slithered back home, but deep down I knew it would be way worse if I did. She’d get my stepdad involved. And if she told him about it, my punishment would be far, far worse than a simple grounding.

  I shivered at the thought of what he might do.

  With a heavy sigh, I kicked off my boots and cracked open my bedroom door. It was silent and still in the apartment, like the calm before a storm. From down the hallway, I could hear the distant sound of snoring, a sound that set my frazzles nerves at ease. Mom might be awake and waiting for me in the living room, but Dan clearly wasn’t.

  I didn’t have to be afraid.

  My doctor had taught me a few coping mechanisms when it came to panic, though they really only helped when I wasn’t already, you know, panicking. Still, they slowed my rapid heartbeat at times like this, when I dreaded walking from my bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths in through my nose and out through barely parted lips, repeating it until the veins in my neck didn’t feel as though they were throbbing against my skin.

  I left the safety of my bedroom and tiptoed across the hallway to find Mom waiting for me on the sofa. She glanced up from her book, her long legs curled underneath a scratchy woollen blanket. Even in the dead heat of summer, she always had to have a blanket. Her black as night hair hung in natural waves around her bony shoulders, and her silver-rimmed glasses perched on the tip of her pencil-thin nose. Everything about her screamed librarian, maybe because she was one.

  “Norah.” She frowned and eyed me over the rim of her glasses before closing her book. She patted the empty spot on the brown leather couch. I bet she’d been waiting all night to make that exact move. “Come sit.”

  “I know what you’re going to say.” I held my ground and curled my toes against the hardwood floor. If she was going to take away the most important thing to me—my auditions, my dancing—then I needed to hear those harsh words standing up. Otherwise, they might knock me flat on my ass.

  “I said, come sit.”

  My feet tried to grow roots, but it was no use. I made my way over to the couch while the AC buzzed like a thousand angry insects. Mom’s dark brown eyes followed my every movement as I sunk into the soft leather and twisted my legs underneath me.

  “By the stamp on your hand, I assume you went out to some club.”

  “I did.”

  “Did you have a nice time?” she asked.

  I blinked at the words. They were a total 180 on her usual rapid-fire accusations and red-faced puffs. She must have found my empty r
oom hours ago, and all the anger boiled off while she waited on this couch, like a whistling kettle left on the stove too long.

  “Yes,” I said slowly. “Bree took me out dancing to celebrate my birthday. Since, you know, you and Dan didn’t care enough to want to do anything.”

  She winced and glanced away. “You know how your step-father is.”

  “Yes. I do.” And you should leave him. Tonight, if possible. Please, Mom. Get away from him.

  She let out a heavy sigh and shook her head, shoulders slumped forward in defeat. I hated that I’d been the one to cause her to look so weary, but I had to remember that it wasn’t actually me. Not really. It was Dan, and the way he tried to run this household with an iron fist. And that was more literal than I wanted to admit.

  “You know I need to ground you, Norah,” she finally said, eyes still locked on the hardwood floor. “You snuck out. You didn’t tell me where you were going. If Dan knew, he’d...”

  She trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Truth was, she probably didn’t know exactly how far he’d go, and I didn’t either. I didn’t usually disobey like this, and he flew off the handle if I was even five minutes late for dinner. There was no telling how he’d react if he knew I’d been out at a club all night long.

  “Mom, you know I need to go to my auditions, and—”

  She held up a hand and shook her head. “Two weeks. No auditions, but you can do your shifts at work.”

  “But Mom, I—”

  “It’s final,” she said as she reached out to caress my cheek with her thumb. “Let’s just keep what you did between us, though, okay? If your step-father found out...Norah, I worry it might be the thing that finally makes him snap.”

  “Then leave him,” I said, pleading with my eyes. “Don’t stay with a man who would react that way.”

  But she wouldn’t. If she hadn’t left him yet, she never would.

  Chapter Three

  Working at the theatre’s ticket office had become a strange kind of exit from reality for me. There, my life was not the disappointing mess it normally was. My mom wasn’t guarding my every movement, and my step-dad wasn’t lurking menacingly nearby. None of the kids I’d gone to high school with ever came to see a show. It was an off-off-broadway place located on a small quiet side street with a name that no one ever heard of unless they were deep within the theatre community.

  It was my haven.

  “Four tickets to see Belles and Brawls,” a deep lyrical voice rumbled from the other side of the glass. My eyes locked on the hand that slid four twenty-dollar bills across the counter. I sucked in a deep breath. The skin was luminescent, faintly shining underneath the fluorescent lighting in the ticket booth. With it came the otherworldly scent of frost and mint.

  I looked up, heart hammering hard against my ribcage. The four guys from the night before were standing quietly before me, and the one who had followed me into the bathroom was right in the front. They were each looking at me with an intensity that took my breath away, though their bodies reflected none of the tension. Their arms were slung into their cloaks; their stances were relaxed. It was as if they wanted the world to see one thing, and me another.

  “You,” I whispered, standing from the wooden stool where I usually perched the entirety of my four-hour shift. “Are you following me? Why did you ask me about my ears? Why did you tell me not to take my pills?”

  A pause. “Four tickets please.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the owner of the theatre—and my boss—staring my way. She’d always been kind to me, and she’d given me this job even though I’d had zero experience in a theatre, or any job experience at all. Still, she was tough. She wanted attendees to be greeted with a smile and a chirpy hello, as I’d been told one too many times. Some days, I found it hard to be friendly. Some days, I just wanted to curl up and hide from the world.

  She’d given me a lot of breaks, but I knew if I wasn’t careful, she could easily lose her patience with me.

  So, with a faux-smile pasted on my face, I tapped the ticket number into the computer and took the guy’s money. I still didn’t know his name, despite the fact he’d brushed his fingers against my skin. Despite the fact it felt as though I knew him, in some weird way.

  When I slid the tickets across the counter, I held on for just a moment longer. Our gazes locked, and I dropped my voice to a hush. “Please just tell me something. I feel like I’m losing my mind, but I know there’s more to it than that. And I can see it in your eyes. You know.”

  “Norah,” came the sweet, smooth voice of my boss, Andrea. “Is everything okay here?”

  I loosed a breath and released my death grip on the tickets, turning to Andrea with a smile. “Everything’s fine. I just, ah…”

  “We just had some questions about the show,” the guy in front spoke up. “Thanks for your help, Norah.”

  They turned to go, taking with them any hope I had of getting answers anytime soon. The show was starting in ten minutes, and I’d most definitely lose my job if I interrupted it to demand some answers from four of the attendees.

  Why were they here? There was no way in hell it could be a coincidence. And, if it wasn’t, why pretend to watch the show? They wouldn’t talk to me. They wouldn’t give me anything but strange intense looks. What did they want? Were they just here to…to watch me?

  I shuddered. It was the only thing that made sense. I had four stalkers. With glowing skin and piercing eyes, two important features that I might very well be imagining.

  I would have to talk to them after the show. My shift would be over, and I would no longer be obligated to smile and nod. It was going to be a long two hours.

  When the show was over, I stood on the sidewalk outside of the theatre waiting for the strangers I should probably be more afraid of than curious about. The New York summer air was stifling, and the sun had only begun to dip behind the buildings in the west. I was still wearing my black pants and black t-shirt, along with my name tag for the ticket booth, which only amplified the heat. It made me dread going home.

  Before my step-dad had moved in, Mom and I had a boxy air conditioning unit in every room, including the bathroom, which meant that we normally had five of them blasting all through the summer. But when my step-dad had moved in, he wouldn’t hear of it, pointing out the astronomical utility bill. So, he’d downsized us to only two units. One for the living room and one for their bedroom.

  I’d been stuck with just a fan.

  Just another one of my step-dad’s micro aggressions toward me, his own special way of demonstrating just how much he wanted me out of that apartment and out of his hair.

  Something crashed in the alley on the right side of the theatre, and my mind was jerked away from my troubled thoughts of home. A heavy thump followed, and then a screech. I frowned and shifted sideways to peer down the side of the building, but it was drowning in shadows. The cast usually exited the theatre through the door at the end of the alley, and the crew would cluster together there for smoke breaks. But they would always flick on the light to chase away the darkness.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Silence answered. With a sigh, I shook my head. Maybe I was imagining things. Again.

  But just as I shifted away from the alley, another crash exploded in the silence. Heart hammering, I glanced around. There was no one else around on this side street. No other business lined the skinny sidewalks. All the doors were shut tight, leading up into apartments that were buzzing from the echo of air conditioning units chugging along in the stifling heat.

  A soft whisper drifted to me. “Help.”

  My heart squeezed tight, and I took a step closer to the alley. My boots brushed up against broken glass, likely from someone who had stumbled in here after a long night drinking in the city. The darkness that cloaked the alley seemed to pulse, and I swallowed hard. This seemed like a terrible idea. No one should go into dark alleys alone...But what if one of the cast members was hur
t? What if someone had gone out to have a smoke, forgot to turn on the light, and had fallen after stumbling around in the dark?

  “Hello?” I asked in a soft voice. “It’s Norah. Are you okay?”

  From within the depths of the alley, a hulking shadowy form rose from the ground. My heart pulsed, throbbing painfully in my chest. Eyes widening, I shook my head and stepped back. The…whatever it was, it had eyes the color of blood and teeth that were razor sharp. It looked kind of like a wolf with long mangy hair curling off its bulky frame, but it was much, much bigger than any normal wolf. It stood three times taller than me, and its muscular body was twice as wide.

  It was a monster. One that had begun to let out a low rumble of a growl, a sound that made every hair on my arms stand on end.

  Suddenly, the night was no longer stifling. It was no longer hot. Chills had consumed my skin, making my entire body shake.

  “Norah, help,” a strangled voice came from somewhere near the creature.

  My heart shook in my chest, and I tore my gaze away from the wolf to stare at a small huddled shape on the ground by its massive feet. All the feeling rushed from my head as I tried to make sense of what I saw. Lars, one of the sound technicians, with his large, bellowing laugh and hipster beard, stared across the dim space. His cheeks and arms had been gouged, and blood rushed from the gaping wounds. And one of his hands was missing.

  I couldn’t breathe, and the stars that dotted my eyes made it next to impossible to see. Wildly, I glanced around the alley, desperate to find some kind of weapon that might work against this creature. A shovel. A two-by-four. A large concrete block that I could throw in its direction.

  But there was nothing in the alley other than a few discarded cigarette butts and some styrofoam takeaway boxes from the Chinese place around the corner.

  “Norah,” Lars said in a gasp. “What is it? What attacked me?”