What has Chloe been giving me?
The temptation to send her eyes adrift in search of the principal dancer was almost painful, but she held strong to her will. The time to confront Chloe would come, but it wasn’t now. She needed her entire focus on the performance ahead.
The song began with every instrument sounding at once, a loud clash to prelude a bold and daring final number. As Alexia spun onto the stage, the anticipation of the crowd was palpable. They had done well to nail the build up in the first half; everyone in the audience was on the edge of their seats, eyes wide, unblinking, ready to immerse themselves in the show to come. The atmosphere helped Alexia focus, pulling her out of her thoughts and into the moment. During a revolution, she blinked, keeping her eyes closed a second longer than usual. In the darkness, she blocked out everything except the music and her body’s response to it. Arms lifting and lowering, legs bending and extending, she glided across the stage as a sight to behold. As the song reached its climax, the melody seeped through her bones. She was one with the music, song and dance united as an inseparable masterpiece.
Her eyes reopened to find the other dancers had faded into a distant blur. She was somewhere above them. Flying at last.
She stayed in that state for some time, relishing the sheer ecstasy of it. Then something stole it away.
There was a sudden weight to her stomach, like she had swallowed a rock that was pulling her back to earth. Her vision sharpened until the dancers around her came back into focus. Her body still followed the routine, but her mind was detached from it, a sixth sense warning her that something wasn’t right.
It was a mental marathon to focus on the piece, knowing in her gut what was coming. Chloe appeared in the corner of her eye, and what Alexia saw made her jerk her neck to face the principal dancer square on.
Chloe was standing in the wing of the stage, shrugging her duties to lead the dance as if taking a quick break. In the shadows, her costume had lost its shine, but above its neckline, her skin had a greenish tinge. The color was contrasted by the blood gushing down from a crack in her skull. The split was directly above her right eye, but she kept it open wide, drowning her cornea in a red bath. Blood spilled over her lower eyelid and cascaded down her cheek, where a forked tongue surfaced from the cavern of her mouth to lap it up. She was drinking it. As her mouth parted, Chloe’s lips curved into a smile that encapsulated all the evil in the world, crippling Alexia with fear.
Her mouth was parted to scream, but Alexia stopped herself before any sound came out. Mrs. Beaumont’s voice entered her head like the words of a guardian angel.
Close your eyes, count to three, and everything will return to as it was meant to be.
Alexia snapped her eyes shut, keeping them closed for as long as she could without losing her positioning on stage.
When they reopened, a turn in the routine had positioned her facing the audience, her pupils shrinking in adjustment to the blinding stage lights. A silhouette came into focus, back arched in mastery of unnatural ease, the lines only one dancer could achieve. Chloe. She was front and center, exactly where she was supposed to be. Uninjured. Ungored. Undeviled. Perfect in every sense of the word.
Alexia’s eyes twisted back to the stage wing, finding exactly what she expected; nothing. Everyone was on stage, where they were intended to be. Alexia fought a wave of dizziness to stay on pointe, forcing the nightmare from her mind to finish the piece. It felt like an eternity before the song drew to an end.
She wiped the sweat from her brow as soon as the curtain closed. It hit the back of her hand like ice. Despite the demanding physical exertion, she was frozen to the core. Shivering, she filed in line for the final bow. The curtain reopened to reveal an audience on their feet, clapping a thunderous applause, but Alexia was devoid of the thrill of success. Anger bubbled high in her chest as she sought Chloe. The principal dancer was bestowing a radiant smile upon the crowd; only the dancers on stage were close enough to see how forced it really was. The moment the curtain closed, her mouth flattened, seemingly bored as she strode off stage to the dressing room without a single congratulatory word to anyone. Her behavior inflamed Alexia’s wrath. She needed the truth, and she needed it now. Just as she was about to chase after Chloe, someone caught her wrist.
Alexia turned with the enraged expression of a chained dog.
The look was lost on Kelly, who pulled her in for a hug.
“You were great out there! I mean, I only caught a few glances, but I swear during that middle segment, you outshone Chloe.”
In her tempest of emotion, the compliment washed right over Alexia’s head. It was a strain to respond with civility.
“Thanks, you too.” She wriggled out of Kelly’s grasp. “Just need to pee. Be right back.”
She sprinted for the dressing room, ignoring the chorus of compliments that were shouted in her wake. Her hands slammed into the door when she reached it, shoving it wide.
“Chloe?!”
The hostility of her voice intruded the delicate space. It was met with no reply. She darted through the room, passing the toilets and lockers, until she reached the other side. Without thought, she barged through the door leading to the grand hallway of the Opéra Magique. The space was filling with an ever-growing crowd as the audience poured out of the auditorium in a swirl of ball gowns and tuxedos. Masks were beginning to surface from handbags and pockets, searching for faces to conceal. Most were as extravagant as the dresses; some with feathers, others with lace, but they all caught the gothic light of the chandeliers overhead with a stately shine. Chloe was nowhere in sight, shielded by a screen of colored garments. Alexia leaned farther out of the dressing room until someone from the audience recognized her. It caught the attention of another, and another, creating a domino effect until every head in the vicinity had twisted to stare at her.
Alexia retreated, cursing under her breath. She slumped against the back of the door. There was no way she would find Chloe if the principal dancer had disappeared into the night. Not in a city the size of Paris, not in a city of any size. Besides, there was no time. She was leaving tomorrow, which meant this book would close unfinished. There would be no conclusion, no insight, no answers. At least Chloe hadn’t won. If ruining Alexia’s performance was the aim of her game, the principal dancer hadn’t succeeded. Alexia was still standing, alive and well, and with the exception of a small, infinitesimal slip-up, she had pulled off a performance she was proud of.
The rest of the dancers began pouring in from the stage, livening the dressing room with squeals of laughter. Looking down to avoid their gaze, Alexia thumbed the ridges of sequins on her costume. Her effort was in vain.
“Hey!” Ida shouted when she spotted her. “You were great out there! That number with Kelly almost brought me to tears, seriously!”
“Thanks,” Alexia replied, trying to smooth the upset from her voice. “Back at you.”
“What are you just standing there for? Let’s go! The masquerade awaits!”
Alexia sighed. Ida was right. Her friends were waiting for her—Leo was waiting for her. She ventured to her locker. Most of the others had their gowns protected in garment bags, hung neatly to avoid crinkles. Alexia was too distracted to feel self-conscious as she pulled her dress from the bottom of her bag and tugged it over her head. It was as white as a midwinter snow fall, the strapless upper part rising above her chest in an asymmetrical peak. The waist was pinched, but flowed in A-line pleats from her knees down to her ankles to show off the only pair of heels she owned. They were metallic with criss-crossed straps that housed the top of her foot in a flattering design.
“Wow,” Kelly said, once she was fully dressed. “You should wear that dress everywhere. Here, zip me up, would you?”
Alexia tried to smile as Kelly twirled around, giving her the opportunity to admire the Canadian’s black dress with a tasteful plunging neckline. Its back zipped with extra slack.
“Did you buy this too big or have you lost wei
ght?”
“I usually shed a few pounds leading up to a performance, but don’t know how I still managed to do that with all the delicious food I’ve been shoving in my face.”
“French food doesn’t have calories,” Ida explained. “Haven’t you noticed? Everyone in this country is so petite. It’s magic.”
Kelly grinned her trademark down-to-earth smile.
“Well, magic or not, I’m ready to eat until I burst. Do you guys have masks?”
Alexia had almost forgotten. She reached for hers, tucked in the side of her bag. Deborah had gotten them matching ones except in different colors. Hers was metallic to go with her shoes. The fabric was woven into a design that resembled a spiderweb.
Kelly’s mask covered more of her face. It was all black save for the three red feathers that billowed off to one side, adding a pop of color to her outfit. As they went to fix their makeup in front of the vanity mirrors, Alexia looked past her reflection, taking in the surrounding scene. For a moment, the image of the room filled with ballerinas in ravishing costumes took her back in time. It was as if she was glimpsing through a door to the Opéra Magique’s past as it came to life before one of its historic masquerade balls.
“Here,” Kelly said, pulling her back to the present.
Her hand was outstretched, passing Alexia a bold, red lipstick.
“That’s okay, I’ll get it over everything.”
“It’ll bring your outfit together. Trust me.”
“You sound like Deborah.”
“Who’s that?”
“A friend I came over with. You’ll meet her tonight.”
“Okay, but I’m bad with names, so don’t hold it against me if I forget.”
“You won’t. No one forgets Deborah.”
There wasn’t much pampering to do with their makeup already done, but after everyone had changed, the girls crowded around the mirrors, pulling hundreds of bobby pins from their hair before smoothing their kinks with curling irons.
“Think we’re presentable enough,” Kelly said, releasing her final strand from the spiral rod.
Alexia nodded. The gesture was disconnected with her mind still elsewhere. “Do you know if Chloe will be there tonight?”
Kelly shrugged as if it didn’t bother her either way. “I haven’t heard otherwise. You would know better than me though.”
The remark was matter-of-fact, not malicious, but it pricked Alexia with irritation.
“Not really.” She paused, considering her words. “We haven’t been seeing eye to eye on things lately.”
“I’m surprised you were able to get to eye level with her at all. Must be hard for her to see anything with her head held so high.”
It was an opportune moment for Alexia to agree—to apologize. Tell Kelly she’d been right about Chloe all along. But something made her refrain. She was ashamed to put it down to her pride, but couldn’t think of another explanation.
Alexia stood, suddenly wanting to leave the vanity mirror and her reflection behind.
“Shall we dance?”
“We shall,” Kelly replied with a grin.
They ventured into the hallway together.
“Where is the party, anyway?”
“Pretty sure it’s this way,” Kelly said, leading her around the same corner Chloe had taken her before.
A few stragglers from the audience lingered at the base of the enormous wooden staircase. Music drifted down its steps. Alexia expected to be stopped as they passed the group, asked for a picture or autograph, but they only smiled politely and stepped aside. As she began to climb, her shoes stole her attention, and it clicked that they were no longer in their performance attire. Dressed in costume, they now blended in with the rest of the crowd. Alexia tightened her mask, welcoming the discretion it offered.
“Don’t think we’re off the hook that easy,” Kelly said as if reading her thoughts. “Mrs. Beaumont has a whole list of people we have to introduce ourselves to. We’ll only be invisible until she hunts us down. I’m just hoping we can get in one drink before the meet and greet begins.”
When they reached the first floor landing, the breath was knocked from Alexia’s lungs as her mind reeled back to the suddenly remembered nightmare that Deborah had woken her from. She stopped, paralyzed with the terror awoken by the déjà vu.
“Everything okay?” Kelly asked, probing for the reason behind the stop.
Alexia stared at the double doors she had run through in a different level of consciousness. It was eerie how accurately her mind had recalled them, as though she had seen them a hundred times before. But she hadn’t. She’d only passed through them briefly with Chloe the one time. How was it her subconscious had rebuilt their image with such accuracy?
“Alexia?”
She tore her eyes from the doors. Kelly had dropped her mask as if preparing to hear something serious. This time, Alexia didn’t leave her in the dark.
“I had a bad dream about this place the other night. Just got a chill remembering it.”
“Sorry to hear that. I know how you feel. Used to have nightmares all the time leading up to a big performance. Think it’s a way for your subconscious to deal with stress. At least it’s done and dusted now, so you shouldn’t have any more. But if not, my aunt told me that amethyst works for warding off bad dreams. Can’t say if it’s just placebo, but ever since I started sleeping with the crystal on my nightstand, I haven’t had a single one.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I travel with it too.”
The end of Kelly’s sentence was hard to catch over the increasing volume of music that flowed from the ballroom. The doorman flashed them a welcoming smile when they reached its entrance.
“Bonjour, Mesdames. Puis-je voir vos billets s’il vous plaît?”
“He’s asking for tickets,” Kelly translated.
“Were we supposed to have been given tickets?”
Kelly shrugged. “Not that I heard.”
Turning back to the man, she explained they were cast, in English for Alexia’s sake.
“Ah!” he exclaimed with a sense of approval. “Very good! May I please have your names?”
“Kelly Rose and Alexia Brooks.”
With astonishing swiftness, the doorman snatched the tablet that had been lying on the reception booth. He ran his finger down the list of cast members and nodded, before inviting them in with a dramatic swoop of the hand. The ballroom was more exquisite than Alexia remembered it. The ornate mirrors that circled it captured the reflection of a crowd equally as stunning. Fabulous dresses and classy tuxedos were paraded in every direction. Not a single person hadn’t donned a mask, and the disguise added an element of mystery to the ball.
As she strode forward, her eyes circled the room again. This time slowly, searching for the round table where she had drunk champagne with Chloe. She found it jazzed up with a floral centerpiece and stared at it for a moment, half expecting Chloe to materialize in one of the chairs. But her trance was broken when a group of partygoers sat down instead.
A wolf-whistle stole her attention. Alexia turned, even though she wasn’t certain the call was meant for her. A bright light flashed when she did.
“Gotcha,” Deborah said with a smug smile, returning her phone to her handbag.
“Come on, Debs, you don’t have to ambush her. Alexia is going to take plenty of photos with us tonight, aren’t you?” Amy asked, appearing with Carrie by Deborah’s side.
Even dressed to the nines with their faces partially concealed, Alexia could have picked her friends out from across the room. Deborah’s hair was pinned and teased into the resemblance of a beehive on fire. While the style could have easily crashed and burned on someone else, Deborah had the gumption to pull it off. She had found a cherry-red dress that was just as scandalous. The lowest part of the front hem rested far up her thighs, but swooped down at a sharp angle to reach the back of her ankles. Because half of her legs were covered, it was hard to call the dress completely
inappropriate, but that didn’t stop people from gawking. The women with shock, and the men with desire.
Amy was a stunning picture in an off-the-shoulder navy dress, form-fitting at the waist and rounded out at the hips to give her boyish body the illusion of curves. Carrie was in a silk yellow gown that complimented her fair complexion, and her ash-blonde hair had been styled in goddess waves.
“Are your friends supermodels?” Kelly asked.
Alexia raised and lowered her eyebrows, scoffing with her eyes.
“Don’t let them hear you say that,” she whispered before raising her voice. “Ladies, this is Kelly. Kelly, these are the friends who came over with me. Carrie, Deborah, and Amy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Kelly said with perfect politeness. “What have you guys been getting up to in Paris?”
“Little bit of everything,” Carrie replied. “Although I wish we had another week. Feels like we haven’t seen half of it.”
“I think it’s one of those cities where you could live here for a year and still feel that way.”
“I might just do that,” Deborah cut in. “Between the fashion and hotties with accents, Paris is like a dream come true.”
Kelly smiled. “Ah, but is it the men who make the accent attractive, or the accent that makes the men attractive?”
Deborah contemplated this so hard Alexia could almost see the wheels of her mind churning. Alexia snuck a peek at Carrie, whose wink said, “You’re right, I do like this girl.”
Fed up with the riddle, Deborah surrendered with a long sip of champagne.
“Who cares? All that matters is that they’re hot,” she said as she lowered the glass.
Following her own lead of thought, Deborah’s head twisted like an owl around the room, sizing up potential suitors.
“Who are they?” she asked, finding some targets worthy of her interest.
Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 19