And moved through it with shocking abruptness, onto her hands spilling through the backward roll in one swift snap, came back to her feet and was aware of the pale pearl glow covering her head to toe, reached out, breaking the space around her, pulling it back into a slow, graceful spin, and the light began to flare around her, glowing in her eyes, trailing from her fingers as they moved through the liquid air. David moved with her, watched her, transfixed, merging together, feeling the heat of the living Flame shine upon his face, feeling through her as the Flame ran across her skin, burned the air in her lungs like real fire, and then for some timeless period there was no awareness of self, no awareness of her, no awareness of him; only the motion of the Dance, of life itself made real, and David's features had grown gentle, serene; Denice could feel the peace which had come to rest within him as she came out of the last flowing motion, slowing, stopping, turning to face him through the blistering glare, quivering on the edge of the moment, and time stilled and the moment came and in that instant of calm certainty she brought the gun from the place where it rested cold against her forearm and whispered
I love you
and fired.
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The Last Dancer Page 65