Dance of Fire (21 page)

‘Oh, please,' Vanessa said.

‘Some days I would be myself. Those were the days that I spent with you. I would go to classes and rehearsal, would see you in the hallway and try to ask you out. But then a few days would pass, and I couldn't remember what had happened or what I'd been doing. It was really . . . frightening.' He wrung his hands together. ‘When Josef and Hilda died, it was like waking up after a long sleep. I didn't know what I had done, so I ran. I couldn't go home and face my family, so I crashed with a friend. I didn't leave his apartment for two weeks. I was ­terrified.' He folded his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. ‘You were the only part of my life that was real, Vanessa. Being around you – it was the only time I was myself.'

Vanessa laughed. ‘After all the lies you told me, do you really expect me to believe that?'

‘No,' Zep said, his voice hollow. ‘No, I don't expect you to believe anything I say. But that doesn't mean it's not true.'

Part of Vanessa wondered if he was telling the truth, but she quickly silenced it.

‘I was going crazy with anger at Josef, and at myself. I couldn't live with what I'd done. The only way I could imagine fixing it was to find you, but you'd gone to London. So I ­followed you. And from the looks of things, I wasn't the only one.'

She stood up and backed away, reaching for her cellphone. ‘You're crazy.'

‘Am I, Vanessa?' asked Zep. ‘Don't tell me you don't know what it's like to be under the control of someone . . . or
something
else.' He looked over his shoulder at the stage. ‘I
saw
you dance yesterday. The demon is here.'

Just the thought of the demon made Vanessa's mouth go dry.

Zep raised his hands. ‘I know you have no reason to trust me, but I know more about the demon and the necrodancers than any of your friends or coaches. I was working with them. I was ­
controlled
by them. I can help you.' His eyes were sad but hopeful. ‘It won't make up for what I did, but it'd be a start.'

‘You're right,' Vanessa said. ‘It won't make up for Elly. Nothing will.' She stood up and backed away, reaching for her cellphone.

Everything in Vanessa's mind told her she should run. Zep was a liar, a murderer . . . and yet Vanessa knew the power Josef had had. Surely what Zep said was possible. It would explain the strange hot-and-cold way he'd acted towards her, one day asking her on a date, the next not seeming to know who she was.

‘The demon talks to me,' she said at last. ‘It wants me to let it in. It says it can help me.'

‘No,' Zep said firmly. ‘You
have
to resist it, Vanessa. The more you allow it in, the weaker you'll grow. It will find out what you care about most in the world and will use that to seduce you.'

Vanessa gulped. Was the demon using Margaret as bait? ‘Why do you care so much?'

‘I did many things I regret,' he said, slowly getting to his feet, his grey eyes barely visible behind his black hair, ‘but the one thing I will never regret is getting to know you.'

Just a month before, Vanessa's heart might have swelled at those words, but not now. Not ever.

She couldn't decide which would be worse – to find out that he was lying again, or to discover that he was telling the truth.

Before she could say anything else, Zep stepped backwards and slid his foot across the floor in a slow turn. And without warning, he vanished, the only trace of him the sound of ­fading footsteps, like a distant patter of rain. So he'd learned the blur step too.

Far away, a door slammed shut.

He was gone now, Vanessa thought, relieved. But was he gone for
good
?

Chapter Fifteen

Surprised to find she could fall asleep again after her encounter with Zep, Vanessa awoke a few hours later to rays of sunlight filtering into the dorm room. For a moment she stared at the white ceiling, willing herself to get up and face the day. The air smelled like hazelnut, and she turned her head towards her desk and saw a mug of coffee, still hot – she could see the steam rising into the air.

Vanessa slipped out of bed and stood up. She picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip. It was good – stronger than what she was used to back in New York. Next to the mug was a brief note:
Get energised. I want to make sure that when I beat you in the next round, you're at your best. –S.

Sweet, Vanessa thought. Or rather, as sweet as Svetya was ever going to get.

She took another sip and quickly checked her email. She had messages from Steffie, TJ and Blaine, plus one from her dad. But strangest of all was an invitation sent from a blank address.

Full of foreboding, she clicked on it and watched a cream-coloured envelope appear on the screen, its flap sealed shut with red wax. Another click and it unfolded, revealing a slip of paper.

Vanessa Adler, you are cordially invited

Time: 8 p.m. on Thursday

Place: The Millennium Bridge over the Thames

There, far from anyone who might overhear us, we'll lay out our plan.

Sincerely,

N&N

Vanessa couldn't help smiling. Leave it to the Fratellis to make something so serious sound like a party.

To be fair, the twins had been true to their word – they'd promised they'd reach out when they were ready. It would be awkward with Justin, whose name was also on the invitation, but she didn't have much of a choice.

She clicked on her next email, from TJ and Steffie.

Vanessa! Hi!

So we did it. We conned our way into Josef's old office! The place was even creepier than before (says me, Steffie), maybe because now we know what he was up to.

I know it does not need to be said, but thank sweet baby Jesus he is gone.

Anyway, we found a bunch of stuff about the Royal Court Company – a binder full of newspapers and clippings. But none of them mention Margaret. And, because we're such great friends, we also scanned in all the Royal Court rosters from the last three competitions – they're attached here. No mention of Margaret in any of them, but you can't say we didn't try.

Steffie is staying with me for XXX-Mas in NYC. Wishing you were here.

Be careful.

Your besties,

TJ (& Steffie) . . . (and Blaine, who is still stuck in Texas and has been super-dramatic about it)

Silently thanking her friends, Vanessa opened the PDFs and scrolled down –

She froze, her hand recoiling from the keyboard.

There, on the roster of the Royal Court Company from just two years ago, was the name
Margot Adams
.

The next email was from Blaine.

Hey Hon,

I have no info about your sister, only about a hot new guy I met! He works at Cafe Mojoe! He's amazing! My
lattes
never tasted so good!

But enough about me. I miss you! Tell me more about London! Obviously you're whupping the competition. I only wish I were there to see you in action. I can't wait for Christmas to come and go, and then to be back at school, now that all the crazy is gone.

Anyhoo, Vanessa for the win! Oh, and give Justin a big fat kiss for me. Wink wink.

Kisses,

Blaine

There was only one email left, dated yesterday. She opened it.

Dear Vanessa,

Congratulations on making it through the second round! (Though I'm not surprised.) Your mom called to tell me all about it. I miss you both on this side of the ocean.

Take special care of yourself, and know, always, how proud we are of you. Can't wait to see you for Christmas! You gals can take me to high tea.

Love,

Dad

She sat back, feeling a little guilty about not having written more often.

Dear Dad,

I still can't believe I made the final twelve. It's so exciting! Only one more round before we find out who the two winners are.

She tapped her fingers against the desk, trying to figure out what to write next, when, out of nowhere, someone slammed her laptop shut.

Vanessa jumped up, surprised.

Svetya stood beside her, a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘You stare into a screen too much,' she said. ‘It's unhealthy, right?'

‘Um, right,' Vanessa said. ‘Anyway, thanks for the coffee.'

‘And the banana,' Svetya said.

‘You left me a banana?'

‘Not yet.' Svetya pulled a banana out of her dance bag, which was slung over one shoulder. ‘I had to smuggle it out.' When Vanessa didn't move, she said, ‘What are you, a gaping monkey? Why aren't you dressed? Practice is in twenty minutes – oh, and take a quick shower. You stink.'

By the time they made it down to the studio, Enzo was already standing in the centre of the room with Geo and Justin.

His face hardened when he saw Vanessa. ‘First you disappear from the dressing room, then you don't reappear until the next day's practice,' he said, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘You are lucky. Other coaches might not be so forgiving.'

Vanessa dropped her bag by the wall. ‘I'm sorry,' she said.

Svetya went to stand beside Justin. He leaned over to whisper something to her, and she threw her head back and laughed. Was he flirting with Svetya just to annoy her . . . or had he really moved on?

‘Before we begin,' Enzo said, ‘I would like to thank you all for working so diligently. I am the only coach who has four students in the final round of the competition.' He gave them a slight bow, which had the strange effect of making Vanessa feel as though he were the one on display, rather than them. He looked up, his dark eyes softening, as though his words were meant only for Vanessa. Despite herself, she blushed. ‘You have made me very, very proud.'

Vanessa clapped, and the others joined in. It was exciting to have got this far – there was no doubt about that.

‘Your work is not over, and the most difficult part is yet to come.' Enzo said. ‘But before you rehearse for tomorrow's final round, the contemporary solo, I will teach you another step.' He looked around the room. ‘Or perhaps
teach
isn't the correct word, as only a few dancers have ever been able to perform it.

‘The easiest way to think of it is as a refinement of the blur step,' he went on, tucking his hair behind his ears. ‘As you know, in the blur, you're here one moment –' and with a blink he disappeared – ‘and in the next, you're over here,' he said from the opposite corner. ‘You don't actually become invisible, but you move so quickly that you seem to disappear, and in your own head, it appears that way too.'

‘According to dance lore, there is a way to become aware of every moment,' he continued, his words animating him with an infectious excitement. ‘To slow time to a crawl. The world around you freezes, and you will be able to move freely between each tick of the second hand.'

‘Then show us,' Geo said. ‘I would like to know how to do this.' He looked back at Vanessa, Svetya and Justin. ‘I mean, wouldn't you guys like to know too?'

‘No one that I know personally can do it,' Enzo admitted. ‘It means dancing so perfectly that your energy reaches the level of magic. Only the greatest of the Lyric Elite – Balan­chine, Nureyev, Martha Graham – could work at that level.'

Beside him, Svetya put a hand on her hip. ‘But if you cannot do it, then how are you going to teach it to us?'

‘I will show you the steps,' Enzo answered, his feet now in first position, heels pressed tightly together. ‘But memorising the steps isn't the same as
performing
them. Still, who knows? Maybe one of you will some day reach this most rarefied level of our common art.' Then, as if in slow motion, he began to walk through a sequence of steps.

It started like a tease, his legs inching forward, then withdrawing, as if he couldn't decide which direction to go in. Even his arms worked in opposition: one moved in, towards his chest, while the other reached out towards the far wall.

As she watched, studying Enzo's every movement, Vanessa began to understand why the dance was so hard to perform. Enzo's motions were unnatural; his body seemed to fight itself, one side trying to move forward while the other pulled back. With every turn he wavered, one leg bending straight through the air, the other lagging behind.

Unlike most ballet, this dance wasn't about passion or love or loss. It was about the oldest and most difficult human flaw: to be at odds with oneself.

Vanessa knew that conflict intimately. Ever since Margaret had disappeared, she'd spent many days arguing with herself: pursue dance or quit it altogether? Go to New York or never leave home? Be with Justin or turn him away?

Enzo raised an eyebrow when he'd finished the demonstration. ‘The steps are counterintuitive, but that's the point,' he said, panting slightly. ‘But you cannot expect to alter the laws of time and space without altering the laws of your own body. This dance is designed to do just that. It is called “widdershins”.'

He relaxed his posture. ‘In ballet, you are taught to exert complete control over your body. But you cannot master widdershins by trying to force it. You have to empty your mind.' Enzo clapped his hands. ‘Come. Let us begin.'

A murmur rose from the four dancers. They'd barely had time to process what they were supposed to do, let alone memor­ise the steps.