A Dance with Darkness: An Angelfire Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) (2 page)

“I am Bastian,” the blue-eyed demon said. “I hope we meet again.”

Then his hands were off of me, and he was gone. I stood there, breathless and alone, and shocked that I was still alive. I had not felt even a shiver of fear lick up my spine until I heard that name, a name feared by every angelic reaper who valued his life, and I realized the full extent of my luck. He couldn’t be
the
Bastian, one of the most powerful reapers in the known world. He was rumored to be in the Far East and far, far away from England. His presence here could mean nothing good for any of us.

But why had he let me live?

I CONCEALED MYSELF BY DISAPPEARING FROM human sight within the veil of the Grim and flew above the city toward the country and toward home. With every beat of my wings, my body screamed in pain. My thoughts were consumed by Bastian and how lucky I was to have escaped when I was so terribly injured and exhausted. Had he decided to fight me, I would not be breathing right now. The night was pitch-black; the thick clouds overhead blocked any moonlight that might illuminate my path, and the only light came from a passing carriage or two with lanterns swinging at the coachman’s side. By the time I arrived at the old cottage, my wounds had healed, but I was on the verge of collapsing. Candlelight glowed in the window by the door and I knew Nathaniel was home and awake. I pushed open the door and my friend’s gentle face and copper eyes met mine from his seat at the table.

I struggled to peel away the wool of my blood-soaked cloak from my dress and skin. Nathaniel was used to me coming home like this, and he weighed my healed injuries and tattered clothes without much concern. Such was the life of a demonic reaper hunter. He was just glad I’d come home at all.

“That must have been some fight, Madeleine,” he said, and got to his feet. I didn’t have to tell him how badly I needed to eat.

“I almost didn’t make it out alive,” I replied. “And that’s putting things lightly.”

A large pot of delicious duck soup steamed over the fire, making my mouth water. Nathaniel filled a bowl for me and set it at the table. “You eat,” he instructed. “And slowly. I don’t want it all coming back up.”

It took quite an effort not to guzzle the whole bowl without using a spoon. He was right, though, as he was about everything.

He brought the washbasin to the table and dipped a rag into the water. He lifted the rag and squeezed out the excess water before wiping the blood from my healed skin. “You’re lucky I have such a convenient friendship with a dressmaker. Tell me what happened.”

“I followed one back to a chandler’s shop,” I said between mouthfuls of soup. “Right into an ambush.”

He dunked the rag into the bowl. My blood swirled in the water. “How many were there?” He wiped at more blood.

“I killed six and kept one alive, but he didn’t talk.”

“Did you torture him for information?” He gave me a serious look.

I glared at him. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“One who gets her job done.”

“Nathaniel,” I murmured crossly. He was my dearest friend—my only friend—but sometimes he took the business side of our relationship a little too seriously.

“There have been over two dozen powerful demonic reapers to arrive at court in the last month,” he said. “We have to find out why they are here before they outnumber the
humans
at court.”

“Do you think they’re here to pick off the nobles one by one for their souls? To completely annihilate the English court?”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and shrugged. “I can’t say, but the situation is quickly becoming dire. We need more forces.”

“What about the Preliator?” I asked. “Can’t we call for her?”

“She’s in Africa,” he replied. “I saw Berengar not two weeks ago and he told me she was in Ghadames. It would take her and her Guardian months of travel by sea and land to get here. We’re on our own until then.”

“I thought her Guardian was dead.”

“This is a new one.”

“Ah,” I said dimly. It was an enormous honor to be chosen by the archangel Michael to become the guardian of a relic, but the greatest honor was to be Guardian of the Preliator, the most powerful creature on Earth and the only one able to wield angelfire. She was reincarnated each time she was killed in battle, but it was her Guardian’s duty to protect her mortal vessel. The honor was the greatest indeed, but it also came with a very short life expectancy.

“Did anything else happen?” Nathaniel asked as he finished up and dropped the rag in the bowl.

“Bastian was there.”

His eyebrows lifted in curiosity.

“Bastian did not engage, but I’m sure he orchestrated the meeting between the demonic. He left before I could fight him.” What I didn’t say was that Bastian had let me live. I wouldn’t have stood a chance against him after that battle. Though I ached to know why he spared me, especially after I killed his underlings, I wanted even more to know what he was doing in London.

“His presence isn’t unexpected,” Nathaniel said. “There will be a ball held at Lockmoore Castle tomorrow night. A masquerade ball. Evantia has apparently purchased this castle and is living there. She is rumored to be in charge of the demonic at court.”

“Evantia,” I repeated grimly. She was even more infamous than Bastian. He did her dirty work. I should have known if he showed up, she would not be too far away.

“You don’t sound surprised,” Nathaniel noted.

“Of course if Bastian is in London, his mistress would be too.”

“The masquerade allows us an opportunity to infiltrate,” he continued. “You are our best fighter and so I think it should be you alone. There’s too much risk in sneaking in a group. I imagine humans will be in attendance, but don’t be surprised if the castle is full of only the demonic. I know you can handle it, Maddie.”

Infiltrate a demonic masked ball? This sounded like possibly the most dangerous mission I’d ever undertaken and possibly ever would.

NATHANIEL HAD ARRANGED FOR ME TO ARRIVE AT Lockmoore Castle in a carriage. I preferred to sneak my way in through a servants’ entrance or a hidden passageway, but Nathaniel was sure I’d be detected. Better I waltz in as if I’d been invited, but not attract attention. Blend in. The demonic in attendance would be less suspicious of me if they saw me arrive rather than appear out of nowhere. They would know I was a reaper, but if I kept to myself, no one should be alerted of my more celestial heritage.

The swing of the horses’ gaits pulling the carriage along gave me something to focus on so I wouldn’t work myself into a panic. I was stepping barefoot into the vipers’ den. But if I succeeded in deciphering the motives of the demonic, then we could run them out of town, or more preferably wipe them out. But as my driver pulled into the path leading up to the house and I spied the vast numbers of the demonic elite filing into the castle entrance, my nerves tightened and my heartbeat raced. I drew a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs until they could stretch no more, and I held it, prolonging the moment when I’d have to let it all go and abandon the safety of the carriage.

I still held my breath as we rolled to a stop and my driver hopped down from his perch, his boots padding softly on the well-trod dirt. He lifted the latch on the door and swung it open to let the fresh air, voices, and music rush into me. He lifted a hand to mine to help me down the unsteady carriage steps to the ground. I lifted my skirts—made of a deep violet brocade threaded with silvery green detail—as I walked, and then let them trail behind me as I continued up to the castle. My mask, simple with violet plumage and the same silvery green thread, concealed most of my face and would hopefully prevent me from being recognized. My dark hair was braided and knotted in a net of matching thread and pearls. I wondered why Nathaniel had given me such a beautiful and striking costume. There were too many pairs of eyes fixed on me.

The castle loomed overhead, its stone walls devoured by ivy creeping toward the roof’s many peaks, chimneys, and towers. From my view, there was a myriad of windows—most more than large enough for me to fit through—but I saw no other doors besides the main entrance. I would need to establish an escape route before I got in too deep tonight. The interior was alight with countless candles and chandeliers of iron, and the floors were filled with demonic reapers. They danced in the ballroom, surveyed from the overlooking balconies and staircases, and dined from tables filled with delicacies of expensive fruit and meats. Luxurious tapestries depicting scenes from hunts and from mythology draped over the walls, and spread across the stone floors were ornate eastern rugs.

I had attended balls and masquerades before, so I was no stranger to the festivities. I recalled a harlequin in Paris who was an angelic reaper famous among humans for his fire-breathing and disappearing acts. Some reapers had natural abilities that astounded even their own kind. This harlequin would make fire dance in his palms and spread over his entire body until he was drowning in flames, and then he would vanish into the Grim as if he had burned up. Moments later, just as the crowd began to panic, he would reappear in a flash of fire, perfectly unharmed and seemingly resurrected. However, Evantia’s masquerade had no fire breathers, no humans, and the only masked reapers prowling the halls were demonic.

I set about my plan to determine an exit. I made note of how to return to the front doors, but that would be my last resort. Making a quick escape through the middle of the ball would be conspicuous and potentially disastrous. Glancing over my shoulder to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I caught sight of a familiar face. Her white skin seemed to glow around her black gown, and her pointed face—still somehow lovely even with all those angles—was framed by endless red tresses. At last, Evantia in the flesh.

Luckily she hadn’t noticed my pausing and staring for several moments. I gathered my senses and spun, heading for a dark hallway leading away from the main floor. A hand clasped mine and pulled me against the body of a tall man whose face was hidden behind a sinister coal-black mask topped with horns, revealing only soft, sensual lips and burning, poison-blue eyes.

“You are very foolish for coming here,” he said, his voice low. “Suicidal, perhaps.”

“Bastian,” I said, taken by a pang of surprise and foreboding in my gut. “How did you know who I was? What if you had grabbed someone else and called them suicidal?”

He smiled, flashing bright white teeth. “I could tell by your lips. And your eyes. I could forget neither, She-wolf.”

“I was just going, so if you’ll pardon me.” I began to pull away, but his grip was unyielding.

“You dressed for a masquerade and came all this way only to turn around and leave?” he asked, skeptical and teasing. “You never did tell me your name.”

I took my hand back. “Why would you want to know my name?”

“You know mine. It’s only fair.”

“I don’t want you to know my name.”

His smile became a quieter, more secret thing. “Then I shall continue to call you She-wolf.”

I narrowed my gaze at him, having had enough of his distraction. He knew I was angelic and I couldn’t imagine him not revealing my secret to the entire castle. I had found myself in a very bad predicament. “I’m leaving now. Good-bye, Bastian.”

His eyes haunted me from behind his wicked mask. Then, to my shock, he lifted my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles, his breath warm and gentle. “Always a pleasure.”