Dance of Shadows (Dance of Shadows - Trilogy)

by Black, Yelena

  “It’s not fate,” she said firmly. “It’s your decision.”

  “Just wait,” he said. “You’ll understand.” He released her arm and nodded toward the spotlight. Vanessa spun around just as he stepped back, disappearing into the shadows. Her eyes darted around the room as shapes began to appear out of the darkness—a flash of pale skin, a glint of an eye, a white hand poised above a head.

  At first Vanessa thought they were the white figures on the walls, but no. She listened, waiting, until she could hear the faint sound of breathing. They were people. Girls. The cast of The Firebird and La Danse du Feu. They moved as if they were sleepwalking.

  She wanted to run to them, to shake them and tell them what was going on, but before she could, someone threw a pair of pointe shoes across the floor. They slid over the wood, their ribbons tangling before resting in the circle of light.

  “Put them on,” Josef’s voice boomed out.

  Vanessa stared at the creamy satin of the slippers, knowing they would fit because they belonged to her, an extra pair she kept in her locker in the girls’ changing room. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to move.

  “Put them on,” Josef repeated.

  Vanessa thought she saw a shadow shift beside her. She spun around, only to see another shadow out of the corner of her eye. She turned, and when she did, a dim light flipped on around the edge of the room.

  The first thing she saw was the princesses, all thirteen of them, their faces powdered a milky white to match their leotards. Behind them, the white figures were still frozen onto the wall, one for each ballerina, as if the white figures were their shadows. The ballerinas stood in a circle around her, in position, their arms poised above them. Their lips were thin and red with lipstick, and their eyes were lowered. She recognized Anna among them, her blond hair swept back into a sleek chignon.

  “Anna.” Vanessa tried to catch her gaze, but she seemed frozen in place, her frail arms extended.

  “She won’t respond to you,” Josef said, stepping forward. The light played across his face, his heavy brow casting shadows over his eyes until they looked hollow.

  Josef held his hand up to one of the princesses, grazing his fingers over her shoulder. She didn’t move. He pulled away and clasped his hands together. “None of them will. They’re already mine.”

  Vanessa was about to turn to the door and run as fast as she could when she heard the gurgling sound again. She followed it behind the circle of ballerinas to the edge of the studio. A pile of what looked like clothes sat in the shadows. Vanessa leaned forward, squinting into the dark, when she saw it move.

  Josef smiled as she walked over to investigate. She spotted a shoe, then an ankle swathed in black tights. Vanessa froze. “Steffie?” she said uncertainly.

  Steffie wriggled on the floor, her limbs bound and her mouth muffled by a gag.

  Vanessa tried to run to her, but Zep stepped in front of Steffie, guarding her. “Uh-uh,” Josef said, chastising her. “Not yet.”

  Vanessa backed away in horror, her eyes wandering around the room. A few feet over from Steffie lay TJ, bound and gagged, her hair tangled over her eyes. Blaine was beside her, letting out a faint whimper through his gag. Just next to him was the door. Vanessa lingered on it for a moment, then looked away.

  “What have you done to them?” Vanessa said, trying to hide the quaver in her voice.

  Josef paced about the room. “I wouldn’t worry about them,” he said. “Their fate is sealed.”

  “I don’t believe in fate,” Vanessa said.

  “What do you believe in, then?”

  “In work. In practice. In people. In decisions, and what people do to each other.”

  Josef laughed. “Are you implying that I am doing something to you?”

  Vanessa didn’t move, didn’t respond.

  “Ah, but you’re mistaken. I’m not going to make you do anything. You’re going to decide to perform this dance on your own.”

  Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Threatening me with the lives of my friends isn’t exactly giving me a choice.”

  “I’m not threatening you,” Josef said. “You will be richly rewarded for your services. As will the ballerinas.” Josef inched closer to one of the dancers, running a finger down her bare arm. Vanessa thought she saw her tremble before going still.

  “What about other worlds?” Josef said. “Do you believe in alternate dimensions?”

  Vanessa backed away as he stepped toward her.

  “Only this dimension, it seems,” Josef said, answering for her. “So odd, considering the breadth of your … talents. Well, we’ll make you a believer yet. The timing isn’t ideal. I had hoped for a few more weeks, until the portal was ready, but tonight will have to do.”

  He sauntered within the circle of the thirteen princesses, adjusting the angle of an arm, moving a leg slightly to the left, straightening a spine.

  “Once we’ve broken through the dimensional fabric,” he said, straightening the strap of one dancer’s leotard, “and called for the grand master of the dance, Diabolique”—he paused, letting the name roll off his tongue—“I will be the demon’s master. It will serve me in gratitude for our sacrifice.” His eyes rested on Vanessa.

  “Sacrifice?” Her eyes darted to Steffie’s.

  “You, Vanessa,” Josef said. “The host of the grand master—and its bride.” He gazed at her black leotard in distaste. “And unlike your sister, you will give yourself over fully to it. With your world-warping talent as a dancer, you are the key to ripping through this dimension and into the next. You are the key to allowing it to cross over.”

  “What if I don’t allow it?” Vanessa murmured.

  Josef paused. “But you will,” he said. “Because the grand master has something you want.”

  Vanessa was about to protest when his words sunk in. “What do you mean, want?” she said, but Josef spoke over her, lowering his head.

  “And if you care about the safety of your friends, you’ll cooperate. Otherwise, I’ll kill them, one by one, until you come around. We’ll need a blood sacrifice anyway, so I might as well cross that off the list.”

  Blaine let out a desperate whimper, and TJ squirmed, inching toward him as if to comfort him. Just watching them made something inside Vanessa collapse. She scanned the room, trying to think of some way she could save her friends and escape, as Josef slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, curved knife.

  As if he were preparing for a performance, he turned from Blaine to TJ, his gaze finally resting on Steffie. He gripped the handle of the knife and strode toward her.

  Steffie remained still, like she was already dead.

  “No!” Vanessa screamed and started toward him, but someone beat her to it. A dark figure stepped out of the shadows and intercepted Josef, engulfing him in a sweep of strong stocky arms.

  Vanessa stopped in midstep and watched as they scuffled. All she could see were flashes—Josef’s face, twisted with fury, a glint of the knife, a pair of dark, beady eyes, and an all-too-familiar grunt.

  “Hilda?” Vanessa whispered.

  They fell to the ground with a thud, knocking one of the ballerinas from her place. Anna. She stumbled, collapsing to the floor. A spell broken, the other ballerinas blinked and began moving. Leading them, Anna picked herself up and backed away.

  Hilda swooped around Josef, her thick body surprisingly agile. He lunged at her with the knife, but Hilda was too quick. She grasped his arm and twisted until the knife was turned back on his own chest.

  He struggled, but it was no use. Hilda slid her hand around the base of his neck and pulled Josef back into a grand arch, as if he were her partner in a macabre dance.

  Vanessa wanted to scream, but when she parted her lips no sound came out. She covered her face as Hilda plunged the knife into Josef’s heaving chest.

  His face contorted with pain and surprise; his cheeks grew ashen and hollow. He let out a gasp, and then another. His limbs jerked, fighting the in
evitable, but Hilda held him in place.

  Vanessa stumbled back, her hands still raised to her face as Josef grew quiet. His leg twitched before resting limply on the floor. A tiny trickle of red pooled beneath his body, as if the color that had left his face had drained onto the floor.

  When it was all over, Hilda stood and wiped her hands on her dress. “That’s how we do things here,” Hilda said somberly, speaking to Josef’s lifeless body. “He’d outlived his usefulness anyway.”

  “You?” Vanessa whispered. “You?”

  Hilda gave her a stiff nod. “You thought I was meek, didn’t you? You and everyone else thinks so little of me,” she said, gazing down at her stubby legs and arms. “Even Josef.”

  “Is that why you … killed him?” Vanessa said.

  Hilda used his staff to drag patterns on the floor with his blood. As she did so, she talked. “No, I killed Josef because he’d gotten too proud and foolish. He thought he would be the one to bring forth the Guest. But I am the chief necrodancer here, and perfecting La Danse du Feu was my great idea. And I was always the better dancer, even though he and everyone else forgot that after I was forced to retire. They told me I was too old—at twenty-five.”

  She paused, gazing down at Josef’s body. “That was twenty years ago when we fled Europe for this school. We’ve been searching for the right ballerina ever since, the one who could complete the dance.” Hilda’s gaze came to rest on Vanessa. To her surprise, Hilda’s eyes seemed kind.

  Hilda bent down and slipped the knife from Josef’s chest, his lifeless body letting out one last shudder. Vanessa quickly looked away, suddenly weak. A wave of nausea crept through her and she wavered, taking a step back.

  Josef was dead.

  For a moment, all of the awful things he had done and said fell away, and Vanessa was overwhelmed with feeling. A life had disappeared. Josef would never return.

  “Thank you, old friend,” Hilda said to him, her voice weary but strong. “It’s only appropriate that after so many failed attempts, it is your blood, finally, that draws the Guest to us.”

  She hoisted herself up with a grunt and stepped over Josef’s body, making her way toward Vanessa.

  “I won’t do it,” Vanessa cried. “Threatening me won’t help. If I bring forth a demon, we’ll all die—”

  Hilda raised her hand to silence her. “Stop!” she said. “I don’t mean to threaten you. I’m offering you an opportunity.”

  Vanessa let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting to Steffie and her other friends, still bound on the floor. “An opportunity?”

  “Josef told you earlier that you would choose to perform La Danse du Feu of your own will, but he didn’t live long enough to tell you why. The demon has something you want.”

  “Which is what?” Vanessa said.

  “You know,” Hilda said as she studied Vanessa. “Why did you break into Josef’s office? Why did you come to this school in the first place?”

  “To find my sister,” Vanessa said, her breath blowing a stray wisp of hair from her face.

  A modest smile cracked across Hilda’s face. “Yes. Margaret.”

  Vanessa squeezed her hands into fists, trying to reassure herself that what she was seeing and hearing was real. She had always felt, deep down, that Margaret was alive, and if she worked hard enough, she could find her. Now Hilda was finally giving Vanessa her chance.

  “I can bring you to her.”

  Hilda’s outline blurred as Vanessa blinked tears from her eyes. By the edge of the studio, she could see Steffie’s eyes narrow. No! they seemed to say. Beside her, TJ and Blaine wriggled on the floor.

  Vanessa stared at the figures on the wall. They were still, lifeless, nothing but paint, but Vanessa knew the girls were there. She remembered their chanting, repeating the words in her head as she walked toward the center of the room, when another voice cut through the air.

  “No, don’t!” Anna broke out of the ranks and stumbled toward Vanessa.

  Hilda caught her in her thick arms and held her back. “I don’t know how you broke free, but if you value your life, you’ll go back to your place.”

  “The demon will burn you to nothing. It destroyed Chloë!” Anna cried.

  Vanessa followed her gaze to the black smudge in the center of the room. The same spot where Anna had laid down the bouquet of white roses on Halloween.

  Hilda spoke directly to Vanessa. “You are not Chloë. The demon consumed her, yes, but it didn’t have to be that way. If she had danced correctly; if she had felt it, wanted it, deep within her, it could have turned out differently. The demon doesn’t have to destroy you. You can work with us, and I’ll make sure that won’t happen; or you can resist us, and then your soul is in your own hands. But done properly, you shouldn’t be in any danger.”

  Hilda let go of Anna, and she stepped back, quietly crying. Why was she going along with it? Vanessa wondered, her eyes darting around the group of princesses. Why were any of them? They looked as if they were being held against their will.

  Hilda inched carefully toward Vanessa. “Everyone thinks demons are such horrible things, but that’s not true. They’re just powerful. That power can be used to do good things—provided the right person is directing the demon.” She softened her voice, the creases in her face smoothing out until she looked meek and gentle again. “Help me with this, and I will protect the ones you love.”

  Vanessa pursed her lips, silently apologizing to her friends. She would do this. It was the only way she could save them, save her sister.

  Steffie grew still. Ever so slightly, she shook her head, her eyes pleading with Vanessa. Don’t do it.

  Vanessa tore her gaze away. “I’m ready.”

  Hilda’s face spread into a smile.

  Vanessa looked to the center of the room, where the spotlight still shone on the ashen mark on the floor. She finally understood what it was, what the burns on the walls were from, and why she had always been drawn to them. The dancers who had disappeared, striving for perfection, were here.

  Vanessa let her eyes wander to the ballet shoes sitting in the center of the spotlight.

  She stepped toward them, trying not to look at the dark slump of Josef’s body at the edge of the room. Hilda picked up his staff and prepared to tap out the time. There was no music, there never had been in the afternoon practices. Only the arrhythmic beat. The sound of the staff startled Vanessa; made her think, just for a moment, that Josef had come back to life. Shaking it off, she put on the shoes and tied the ribbons around her ankles.

  “Positions!” Hilda shouted, a new, pleased edge to her voice.

  Vanessa turned to Anna and the other princesses, who were gathered by the far wall, crying, covering their faces. Anna’s pretty face was streaked with makeup, yet somehow it looked more real, more sincere than Vanessa had ever seen it. And even though they had never spoken a kind word to each other, or even a neutral hello, Vanessa realized now that they had always been on the same side.

  “Please,” Vanessa pleaded. “I have to do this for my sister.”

  Anna studied Vanessa, her gaze skeptical. “What if you can’t finish it?”

  “I can,” Vanessa said, trying to sound confident. “I know I can.”

  Finally, Anna gave her a stiff nod. “I hope you’re right,” she said, before turning to the other dancers.

  The spotlight shone over Vanessa as she took her place on the circle of ash, her shadow stretching across the floor. I’m sorry, she mouthed to Steffie, Blaine, and TJ, hoping that they would somehow understand her.

  Following Anna’s lead, the thirteen princesses gathered around her in a pale circle. Weaving between them, Zep emerged from the shadows and took his place by her side. Vanessa felt his eyes on her, begging her to look at him, to forgive him. But she couldn’t.

  “Remember,” he whispered, with the soft voice that had made her melt the first time they danced together. “Don’t think about it. Feel it.”

  She closed her eyes, shutti
ng out the room. She pointed her toe, bowed her head, and waited until she heard the first tap. Taking a breath, she began to dance.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Grace.

  After everything else burned away, that’s all that was left.

  That, and the memory of Margaret.

  As Vanessa danced, her body moved differently than it ever had before. Her steps were softer, her leaps broader, and her arms fluttered so delicately that it felt as if her sister had returned and was guiding her.

  Hilda stood at the edge of the room, tapping out the irregular beat, and the ballerinas sinuously braided themselves around Vanessa, their white faces expressionless, as if their features had been painted on. Zep moved silently beside her, his dark body acting as her shadow.

  Her feet found all the right steps until Vanessa leaped toward the edge of the room. She arched her neck back, her ankles wobbled—

  “Steady!” Hilda warned.

  Vanessa twirled away, catching herself before she fell out of place, and the dance continued.

  But a glimpse of Josef’s limp body shook her. She closed her eyes, trying to shut him out, but she could feel his presence on the floor. Hilda tapped out the beat, Josef’s staff pounding against the wood like an erratic heartbeat. Vanessa heard a whimper from Blaine. What would happen to her friends if she failed? If she couldn’t control the demon?

  “Careful!” Hilda cautioned again, her voice growing nervous.

  Zep spun toward her, sliding his hand down Vanessa’s spine. He gripped her waist, preparing for her lift, but she resisted. She didn’t want him to touch her. Suddenly, her body felt heavy and slow. She leaned away from him, trying to free herself from his grip, when she heard a whisper.

  “Stop it,” Zep said in her ear. He pulled her back before she could make an error. “Stop thinking about me. Stop thinking about them. Stop thinking at all.” His sweat smelled sharp in her nostrils. She wanted to cringe but didn’t.

  “If you want to help your sister, you have to clear your mind.” He arched Vanessa back and forced her to look at him. The light glinted off his eyes, making them appear glassy. “Do you understand?”