Dead Girl Dancing dg-2

by Linda Joy Singleton

  I’d sent the DD Team after the wrong person.

  Not Warren.

  Dyce.

  Small things suddenly made sense — like how I’d felt dizzy whenever Dyce touched me. It wasn’t lust, but a reaction to his dark energy. The tingly feeling had nothing to do with hormones or drugged tea; just being close to him made me weak, probably more than ordinary girls because I wasn’t that different from him.

  A temporary soul in someone else’s body.

  Did he know? How could he not know? When I met him, I must have been carrying the glowing energy Grammy told me about.

  I thought about this but decided no, for whatever reason, he really didn’t know. This wasn’t about me being a Temp Lifer. Dyce’s revenge was personal for Sharayah. He’d waited months to get her alone and vulnerable. He’d admitted to studying her interest in poetry, even her taste in food. But why was he so obsessed with her?

  I thought about what I knew about Dark Lifers. They were non-living souls who’d gone on Temp Life missions — but instead of returning to the other side, they hid in unsuspecting bodies. They could borrow a body for a full moon’s cycle unless an injury forced them out sooner. Then they had only minutes to find a new body or they’d glow like a neon sign flashing Hey, DD Team! Come and get me! Most Dark Lifers were newly deceased, inexperienced and hiding out because they were afraid. They usually made mistakes that led to their quick capture.

  Seasoned Dark Lifers, though, had decades, even centuries of experience and continued to elude the DD Team. They were cunning and dangerous. Their forceful touch could drain victims of their energy and leave them empty.

  Dyce was definitely not a newbie. I should have guessed he wasn’t a regular guy from his formal way of speaking and how he quoted famous dead people. For all I knew, he could be one of those famous dead people. His name probably wasn’t even Dyce; that was just the body he currently inhabited. Did Dark Lifers use their own names or assume the role of their victims? Doing some quick math, I guessed that he would have been in three different bodies since Sharayah struggled with Gabe. He could have been posing as a college student, a professor or even one of the girls living in Sharayah’s dorm. Ooh. Gross.

  But kidnapping me was extreme to avenge a friend — unless Dyce was more than a friend to Gabe. And that’s when I finally realized what was going on here.

  Dyce wasn’t just a friend of Gabe’s.

  Dyce was Gabe.

  * * *

  The bad news: I was trapped with a Dark Lifer who thought I’d left him for dead and would most likely toss me into the ocean for shark food once we were far out at sea.

  The good news: None.

  I was doomed.

  But despite having no ideas for escape, I had too much stubborn determination to give up. There had to be a way out of this.

  So I racked my brain for every piece of information from every self-help book I’d ever read. The only thing I could come up with was from Adversaries are Allies. The advice was meant for business situations, like when your boss hates you. It was all about turning adversaries (people who hate you) into allies (loyal friends). One strategy involved creating two columns: one for your strengths and the other for your adversary’s weakness. Then use your strengths to strike his weaknesses.

  Hmmm, being tied up with duct tape didn’t leave me with any strengths. But I was strong in knowledge, I realized. I knew he was a Dark Lifer, but he didn’t know I was a Temp Lifer. He knew Sharayah had changed, but he had no idea how drastically. There had to be some advantage in knowing this … but what? And how could I do anything with my hands and legs taped together?

  The GEM!

  If I could just push it out of my pocket and open the pages, I could literally call for help. Grandma was only a page-turn away and she’d send in the DD Team. They’d kick Dyce-Gabe’s arrogant ass out of his stolen body and back to the other side where he belonged.

  Leaning back against the bench cushion, with my taped hands on my lap, I fumbled for the pocket in my skirt. When I felt the book beneath my taped wrists, I pushed it up. I leaned sideways to get the right angle, groaning as my legs, also taped together, twisted painfully. My hair flew in my face, swinging into my mouth. I spit it out, all the while working on the book. A corner of it poked out from the pocket. But to get it any farther out I’d have to be a contortionist, and I’d always hated exercise.

  I’d just managed to twist almost completely upside down — my bound feet were wiggling above my head and my hands were a finger-touch away from the GEM — when the door to the cabin opened.

  “Miss me?” Dyce called out cheerfully. “Hey, why are you upside down?”

  I jerked upright, tossing my feet back to the ground and popping up in the seat like nothing unusual had happened.

  “Trying to get circulation back into my feet,” I said, breathing hard. “You wrapped them so tight.”

  “I’ll unwrap them when we’re on our way.”

  My pulse jumped. So we were going out to sea? Doomed, I thought again. I had to get out of here before we left the dock.

  “Could you loosen my legs now?” I asked in a more cajoling tone. “It’s not like there’s anywhere I can run.”

  “True.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But you’re like a wire stretched tight, ready to snap. Are you up to something?”

  “Nothing,” I said, breathing fast.

  He stepped closer, studying me suspiciously. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What can I do with my hands and legs taped?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

  “Don’t you ever believe anyone?”

  “No. Why are you acting so nervous?”

  “Um … let me think. What do I have to be nervous about? Oh, yeah. I’ve just been kidnapped and have no idea what you plan to do to me.” I listened for the telltale sound of the boat’s motor, but all was silent. At least we hadn’t left the dock … yet.

  “You don’t sound afraid. You sound like you’re hiding something,” he said, idly reaching up to adjust his cap as he studied me.

  I really should have been terrified, but now that I was just a whisper away from using my GEM, I grew braver. “Sure, I have a semi-automatic weapon hidden in my hands.”

  He started for my hands, then realized I was mocking him and drew back with an expression I could only describe as embarrassment. “You’re not in a position to make jokes.”

  “I’m not in a position to do much of anything.”

  “So why the sarcasm when you should be begging for mercy?” He pursed his lips tight. “Don’t you realize what could happen to you?”

  “Stuff happens. Like this book advised: The rock that rolls with the flow reaches its goal quickly. So why get all stressed out over something I have no control over?”

  “That’s very odd advice. What sort of book is that from?”

  “Bottom Feeders Rise to Stardom.”

  “That’s an actual book?” He knelt down close to me. “Or are you joking again?”

  “It’s a book, but it’s sort of dumb, more comedy than commonsense. I can’t recite poetry like you, but I do know my self-help books.”

  “I thought you only read romance novels and poetry,” he said in a puzzled tone.

  “People change.”

  “But not this much. You look the same, but you move and talk like a different person.”

  “Like I care?” I snapped, hoping to irritate him so much he’d leave. “If you aren’t going to let me go, get your ugly face out of here.”

  Instead of getting mad, he laughed. “So you think I’m ugly?”

  “Hideous. I can’t stand looking at you, so why don’t you leave?”

  He ignored my request, moving to check his reflection in a mirror mounted on a cabinet, turning his head right, then left, quizzically. “This is a pleasant face. Nice eyes, straight nose and good bone structure. I doubt other girls would complain.”

  “So kidnap another girl and let me
go.”

  He laughed again. “Did you think Gabe was ugly, too?”

  “Not at first, but lies and duct tape are real turn-offs.”

  Dyce turned from the table, studying me with a shiver-worthy intensity. “There’s something unusual about you that I can’t figure out. It’s tempting to change my plans and keep you longer.”

  Keep me alive longer? Is that what he meant? I was all for staying alive, but running out of patience with this egotistical control freak and his obsessive talk about plans. What motivated him to hijack random bodies? Was he afraid of the unknown, a wacko psychopath, or did he just hate women? I was guessing number three because of his sick love-them-and-duct-tape-them routine.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Sharayah,” he said softly.

  “You wouldn’t like them.”

  “Still, I’d like to know.”

  “All I’m thinking is that I want to leave,” I said wearily. Should I try to calmly reason with him or would tears be more likely to work?

  “It will all be over soon,” he added with a smile.

  I did not like his smile. I did not like anything about him — especially the telltale glow shining from his hand. My gaze fixed on his hand as he reached up to push back a wet strand of hair, then followed it down to the table. Dyce idly drummed his fingers. The glowing seemed brighter now, a beacon drawing my gaze.

  If only he would leave the room! I thought. Then I could send an SOS through the GEM. What had he meant when he said it would “be over soon”? If I didn’t use the GEM immediately, I might never get a chance.

  “I have to go pee,” I announced, squirming for effect.

  He scowled. “Can’t it wait?”

  “No.”

  “Nice try. You can manage on your own. The bathroom is right there.” He pointed to a door which I’d assumed was a closet.

  I shifted slowly, placing my bound feet on the ground, then standing up. I bunny-hopped a few feet, then wobbled.

  “Don’t fall—” Dyce jumped up to catch me.

  “Nooooo!” I screamed as his Dark Lifer hands came toward me. “Stay away from me, Gabe!”

  He stopped abruptly. “What did you call me?”

  “Um … nothing.” Steadying myself against the wall, I avoided his gaze. “I’ll just hop over to the bathroom.”

  “Wait. Why did you call me Gabe?” He blocked my way.

  “A slip of the tongue.”

  “It was more than that. What have you guessed, Sharayah?”

  I faked confusion. “I don’t know what you mean. We only met yesterday.”

  “You know better than that,” he said softly.

  “I only know that my arms and legs hurt, I want out of here, and I need to pee.”

  As I waited for him to answer, my gaze returned to the shiny patch on his hands. He caught my look, and glanced down and covered the shiny skin with his other hand.

  “Who are you?” he demanded, sounding more confused than angry.

  “That’s a stupid question,” I snapped. “You admitted to studying me for months, so you probably know me better than I do.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore.”

  He reached out toward my face with his arm — the one with the shiny patch — and I recoiled. “No! Don’t touch me!”

  “Why not?” he asked, moving closer.

  “I–I just don’t like being touched.”

  “Or could it be you don’t like my touch?” he said, reaching out with both hands. “Tell me why.”

  His palms hovered so close that my pulse raced with fear.

  “No!” I cringed, turning away.

  “I’m going to place both of my hands on you and keep them there, pressing down harder and harder until you tell me the truth. Just like this—”

  At the touch of his palms, I screamed, “Keep your Dark Lifer hands off me!”

  My words seemed to steal the air from the room. Instantly Gabe pulled his hands back and went silent. Overwhelmed, I collapsed on the bench.

  Gabe crossed to the table, sitting in a chair with his arms bent and his head resting against his hands. He sat like this for at least five minutes. The only sound was my quick breathing and an occasional drop of sea water slipping from his shirt to the floor. I wanted to kick myself, but of course I couldn’t with my legs bound. I’d forgotten to act like Sharayah. Dumb, so dumb! I’d blundered big time. I’d thought that knowing his secret while he didn’t know mine would give me power. But maybe I was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe the truth, as the saying goes, could literally set me free.

  As long as I mixed in a good amount of lying.

  “Okay, I admit it,” I said. “I know what you are.”

  He arched one dark brow, his expression like stone. “What do you know about Dark Lifers?”

  “They’re renegade Temp Lifers but without energy from the other side, so their hands and fingernails are gray and glowing. I guessed that you sprayed on a tan to hide your glow.”

  “How does a mere girl know this?” he demanded.

  “My grandmother told me.”

  “Your grandmother?” he repeated doubtfully. “I suppose you believe in the Big Bad Wolf and Humpty Dumpty, too.”

  I didn’t appreciate his mocking tone. “FYI, my grandmother has an important job on the other side. And I know Dark Lifers are real because I’ve met one. He tried to hurt me, too, but I got rid of him.”

  “Oh?” Gabe looked doubtful. “And how did you do that?”

  “I contacted the Dark Disposal Team.”

  His tanned face turned as pale as old bones. “You know about them?”

  “Yes, and they’ll be here soon.” A method for telling a convincing lie that I’d learned from Let’s Fake a Deal, a self-help book written by a top Hollywood agent, was to first convince yourself you were telling the truth. “The DDT will be here soon,” I repeated.

  As if my words had physically struck him, he stepped back from me. Then he shook his head. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Then wait around to find out. But from what my grandmother tells me, you won’t like what they do to Dark Lifers.”

  “Your grandmother is the overseer of the Temporary Lifer program?”

  “Yeah, and even though she’s dead she’s very protective of me. She told me a secret way to let her know when I find a Dark Lifer. So you better scrap your plans for dumping me in the ocean and get out of here while you can.”

  “I’ve eluded capture for over a century and have no intention of returning now.” He glared at me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  “I think so.” I spoke calmly, but inside I quaked at the dark energy oozing from him. He’d been playing with me before — but now he was serious and angry.

  “No, you don’t. And you’re wrong about my dumping you in the ocean. I would never hurt you. I’d planned to let you fall in love with me all over again, then explain to you how love is only a trap. Once you understood that love isn’t real and learned to guard your heart, I would have let you go. I went through all of this to help you. I still care about you, Sharayah.”

  “Nothing says ‘I love you’ better than duct tape,” I said with a sarcastic lift of my bound hands.

  “I had to make sure you listened.”

  “You’ve confessed to sending me death threats and plotting revenge for what happened to Gabe … I mean, to you.”

  “Right,” he admitted, his cap bobbing with his nod. “I’d never failed before that night, and at first I was angry. But that’s only part of the reason I tracked you down. I had to finish what I started — to save you.”

  “Save me?” I almost choked. “From what?”

  “From a life destroyed by false love. You fell in love with me too easily, quicker than most girls did. You were so eager for romance and so trusting that I knew someone would destroy you if I didn’t teach you to be strong.”

  “By breaking my heart?” I asked incredulously.

  “By showing you the true decep
tion of love. That’s all I wanted to do — convince you that true love doesn’t exist.”

  “I don’t believe that,” I argued, thinking of Eli.

  “You’re still too trusting and naive. That’s why I tried to prevent you from making the mistakes that I did.”

  “What mistakes?”

  “When I was alive, I was betrothed to a sweet young lady. As was common with gentry in those days, I also had a mistress. I respected my betrothed but only had passion for my mistress. I would rather have lived in poverty than in wealth without her, so I planned to run away and marry her. Instead, she murdered my betrothed so that we wouldn’t have to run. And since I still loved her and wanted to protect her, I confessed to her crime. She came to see me while I was in prison and laughed that I’d been a fool. She said that she had many men and only loved my family’s money, never me. Everything that mattered died before I met the gallows. When I became a Dark Lifer, it wasn’t out of fear — it was to save naive romantics from the destruction of love.”

  He seemed to be waiting, watching me for a reaction. But I wasn’t sure what to say. His twisted logic chilled me, yet inspired some sympathy, too. I mean, going to the gallows for someone you loved was tragic.

  “I’m sorry that you died and everything,” I said after what seemed like a long stretch of silence. “The DDT will be here any minute.”

  “You shouldn’t have contacted them.”

  “You shouldn’t have taped me up.”

  “I did it for your own good. In one hundred and twenty years, you are my only failure. I regret not helping you, Sharayah,” he said sadly.

  Then a shift took place in his expression, as if he was realizing something he’d forgotten until now. “But you aren’t Sharayah. Are you?”

  I hesitated, then shook my head.

  “Who are you?”

  Lying seemed a waste of time, so I went with the truth. “Amber.”

  “A Temp Lifer?” he guessed.