Dance of Fire (25 page)

‘Exactly right!' Nicholas said. ‘If we can just get our hands on one.'

‘Once it's inside the object,' Nicola continued, ‘you destroy the trap, sending the demon back where it came from.' She grinned. ‘Easy, eh?'

Justin was speechless. ‘We're going to put it into a lamp?' he said. ‘That's your big plan?'

For a moment the twins didn't respond. ‘No,' Nicola finally said. ‘Not just
any
lamp. It has to have certain characteristics. The
Ars Demonica
explains exactly what to look for – silver with a certain percentage of lead, former ritualised use, a particular shape, and so on. Luckily England is a very old place.' She dug around in a pocket for her phone and opened it to a photograph. ‘We were able to locate an appropriate lamp in an
antiques shop,' she said. ‘We'll pick it up tomorrow morning. What are friends for?'

The phone's screen showed a picture of a pot-bellied metal lamp with a round handle and a spout. It looked kind of like the creamer Vanessa's mom brought out for company. It stood on four crooked feet, its spout and lid overlaid with a faded ornate filigree.

‘It doesn't look like much, but because it's silver, it takes enchantment easily,' Nicholas said. ‘The real challenge will be tricking the demon into entering it. The
Ars Demonica
details a dance ritual involving very precise steps. If we can perform them perfectly, we'll be fine.'

‘Are you sure you two are the right ones to do this?' Justin asked. ‘I don't remember you being the most amazing dancers.'

‘First off, you're wrong,' Nicola said. ‘Secondly, we have the book. And thirdly . . . that's why we need you.'

Vanessa stared at Justin, trying to gauge what he was thinking. After a moment he said, ‘Even if we do go through with this, the demon wants Vanessa. How are we going to trick him into thinking she is a lamp?'

Nicola said, ‘The demon can sense a person, but it can't actually
see
you – not unless it is in someone else's body. That's its weakness.'

Nicholas glanced around to make sure no one was passing by. ‘Basically, Vanessa pricks her finger and drops a teeny smidge of her blood inside the lamp. The blood and the enchantment create just enough presence to confuse the demon as to where she is.'

‘So let's review,' Nicola said. ‘First, Vanessa invites the demon in. It will be unable to resist the invitation.'

That much, Vanessa thought, would certainly be true.

‘Second, just when it's about to possess her,' Nicola went on, ‘Vanessa blocks it out so that it can no longer sense her.' She gave Vanessa an appraising look. ‘Can you do that? Block it out?'

She flashed on her lesson in the cemetery with Zep, thought about how badly she wanted to see Margaret, how she needed to get rid of the demon. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘I can.'

‘Great,' Nicholas said. ‘Which brings us to the third bit. The demon can't sense Vanessa, but it
will
sense a touch of her essence inside the lamp, so it will mistake the lamp for her body. It won't know that the lamp is chained with enchantments, ones we will have cast on it using the spells from the
Ars Demonica
.'

‘And once it's there, it's trapped,' Nicola said. ‘Step four, we destroy the lamp. Done and done.'

The wind filled the silence around them.

‘Great,' said Justin sarcastically, ‘so all Vanessa has to do is figure out how to block a demon from another dimension from entering her mind and convince it to go into a silver lamp instead.' He let out an angry snort. ‘Really great plan.'

While they argued, Vanessa closed her eyes and concentrated on the directions Zep had given her: the talisman, the memory, the blocking of her mind.

‘I can block the demon out,' she said again. ‘If you two think this plan will work, then I'm all for giving it a go.'

‘And if it doesn't work?' Justin said, raising his voice. ‘Then the demon will just move right into your head, Vanessa, and we'll have to kill you.'

Nicholas waved his hand in the air. ‘That won't happen,' he insisted. ‘You've got to trust us.'

Vanessa opened her eyes. ‘I do,' she said, just as Justin blurted out, ‘I don't.'

‘It's my life,' Vanessa said. ‘My choice. And I've made it.'

‘Good,' Nicola said, before Justin could get another word in. ‘Let's leave it at that.'

‘Meeting adjourned,' Nicholas said.

‘Why did you have us meet you here, anyway?' Justin said. ‘Out in the middle of this stupid bridge?'

Nicholas gestured around them. ‘We thought it would be more private; we can see anyone coming our way long before they get to us.'

‘But also,' Nicola said, pointing to a lit-up building at the other end, ‘we're going to an exhibit at the Tate Modern. It's open until ten tonight.'

‘We'll call you when we're ready,' Nicholas said, ‘but in the meantime, you need to get some sleep. Big competition tomorrow. You don't want to be late.'

Vanessa's stomach sank. The competition. Maybe she could get up early tomorrow morning and squeeze in an extra rehearsal.

All Vanessa remembered about the trip back was that it felt like the longest car ride she'd ever taken. Zep's words were still burned into her mind: Margaret was dead. She had killed herself. And though Vanessa was certain he was wrong, she had no justification for feeling this way.

Meanwhile, Justin quietly seethed on the seat beside her, saying nothing. Vanessa missed Justin, missed having him as a friend, and she ached to tell him everything – especially that she was sorry. She imagined an alternate reality in which Margaret had never disappeared, and Vanessa had met Justin on a brisk autumm day in New York. In that life, they might've bantered and laughed nervously the way people do when they first realise they've met someone special. He'd ask if she'd want to get a cup of coffee, and she'd say yes.

But they weren't living that life. They were living this one.

When the cab finally pulled over beneath the tree-lined drive leading to their dormitory, Vanessa ran inside, blurring down the hallway to get away from Justin.

She paused outside the door to her room, bracing herself to hear a sarcastic comment from Svetya about why Vanessa wasn't rehearsing for tomorrow. But when she entered her room, Svetya wasn't there.

Instead, facing her from her desk chair, was Enzo.

‘About time you got back,' he said. ‘We need to talk.'

Chapter Eighteen

‘Sit,' Enzo said.

Vanessa didn't move.

‘Vanessa, sit down,' Enzo repeated. He was perched cas­ually on her desk chair, as if it weren't completely bizarre that he'd basically broken into her room.

‘What are you doing in here?' she asked. She took off her jacket and sat down on the edge of her bed. ‘Where's Svetya?'

‘She and Geo are using the rehearsal space downstairs,' Enzo said. ‘She let me in after I told her I needed to speak to you.'

Because he was their coach, it was easy to forget that Enzo wasn't all that much older than Vanessa, maybe twenty-one. His long hair was pulled back, as usual, and he was wearing jeans and a black sweater. He seemed to draw the light towards
him with an air of authority that was both magnetic and frightening.

‘I'm not even going to ask where you were,' Enzo said to her, ‘even though you clearly left the lodge against my specific orders.'

‘Orders? You don't give me orders. You
suggested
to me –'

‘It doesn't matter, Vanessa,' he said, leaning back. ‘That's not why I'm here.'

‘So why
are
you here?'

Enzo's eyelashes fluttered. ‘I haven't been completely ­honest
with you, Vanessa.' He took a deep breath, as though forcing himself to continue. ‘I knew your sister.'

‘
Knew?
' Vanessa echoed. Another person who thought Margaret was dead? ‘What does that mean?'

Enzo looked down at his hands. ‘I helped her get away from Josef and create a new identity under the name Margot Adams.'

‘You helped her get away from Josef. That's great!' She stood up again, wanting to throw her arms around him and thank him, waiting for him to tell her that Margaret was outside, about to come through the door.

‘Please sit down, Vanessa,' Enzo said quietly. Once she was back on the bed he continued, ‘The reason I didn't tell you this before now is that I . . . is because she . . .' He paused, and Vanessa got the strong impression that he was on the verge of tears. ‘She died. I tried to stop her, but I failed.' He covered his face with his hands for a minute. ‘I wasn't able to save her. She's gone, Vanessa.'

‘No. She isn't.' Vanessa shook her head. She didn't believe Zep, and now she didn't believe Enzo. Her sister was alive. She had to be.

‘There was a girl named Margot,' Vanessa went on, not ­caring that she was practically shouting. ‘She died years ago in a car accident, and that's whose name Margaret took.'

‘Who do you think gave Margaret that name?' Enzo said. ‘I was Erik Adams. Margot was my sister.' He stood up and took something out of his pocket – a notebook. ‘A friend of mine named Hal and I brought Margaret here, to London. We got her involved with the Royal Court, and after she won the ­competition, she killed herself.' He held out the book. ‘This is Margaret's diary. I found it after– afterwards.'

‘
No
.' Margaret had left a message for Vanessa, using her pointe shoes, Vanessa thought. She'd probably hidden her belongings in the tomb when she took on a new life. Margaret had to be alive.

‘I'm sorry, Vanessa, but it's true.'

‘You're wrong,' Vanessa said. ‘My sister wouldn't kill herself.'

‘It was the dark dancers in the Royal Court,' Enzo said. ‘It turned out she hadn't escaped Josef at all. All that time I thought I was helping her, but I just delivered her into their hands. And it was that group who drove her to suicide.'

Vanessa couldn't stop trembling. ‘I don't believe you. She's not dead.'

Enzo frowned. ‘She threw herself off the pedestrian walkway of Tower Bridge into the Thames late one night. Her
body was never recovered, but multiple witnesses saw her jump.'

Vanessa watched as Enzo gently opened the diary and flipped to the final entry. ‘Her diary was open on her desk,' he said. ‘I found it that night.'

At the sight of her sister's handwriting, Vanessa had to blink away tears so that she could read the entry.

May 21

It is all too much.

The world of dance is forever closed to me. I had hoped that in London I would be able to escape, but they are everywhere, Erik swears, and he says the only way to beat them is to join them. The thing I love most in life, hopelessly perverted?
No
.

I'm already living one lie. New name, new identity. Unable to be with my family, and now unable even to dance. What kind of life can I have? Maybe I'll be happier in the afterlife.

After all, no one really knows who I am any more.

I am truly sorry, Erik. I did love you.

– M

Vanessa felt sick, dizzy. She shook her head and flipped through the journal. ‘Why are there pages missing?'

‘Probably she was tidying up, ripping out pages that might upset people.' Without saying anything, Enzo tugged at a thin
silver chain around his neck. Vanessa had noticed it before but never thought much of it. Now she realised there was something hanging from it. A ring.

Enzo unclasped the necklace and carefully handed it to Vanessa. The metal chain pooled into her palm, and she immediately recognised the ring – a silver band that had once belonged to their great-grandmother. On the inside of the band were the initials
MA
– their parents had had the ring engraved for Margaret on her thirteenth birthday.

‘I'm so sorry, Vanessa,' Enzo said, his voice faltering. ‘I'm sure she would want you to have this.'

Vanessa stared at the ring.
No
, she thought.
It can't be true
. Margaret wouldn't have taken her own life, not without ­reaching out to her for help first. Right?

Her throat felt dry, and her eyes began to water. Was she simply denying the truth? Was Margaret actually gone? Had Zep been right – and now Enzo? Maybe the message she'd gleaned from her pointe shoes hadn't been from Margaret at all; maybe the demon had already begun working on her back at NYBA.

Maybe it was true, and Margaret wasn't out there waiting to be found.

Vanessa's fingers closed over the ring. Her entire body felt numb. ‘Why . . . ? Why didn't you tell me this when we first met?'

‘I was waiting for the right time,' he said slowly.

‘
This
is the right time?' She wiped away tears and tried to steady her breathing. It was nearly 10 p.m. ‘With the final day
of the competition tomorrow morning? Yes, Enzo – or
Erik
? Or whoever you are? Perfect timing.'

‘I loved her too,' Enzo said. ‘Not in the same way you did, but I miss her every day. And this is our chance.'

‘What do you mean, “
our
chance”?' Vanessa asked, her voice faltering. ‘If Margaret is dead, then it's all for nothing. I'm going home tomorrow.'

‘
No
,' Enzo said, his eyes suddenly bright. ‘That's exactly what you shouldn't do. You can win tomorrow. You can gain a spot in the Royal Court and find out who these dark dancers truly are. And together we can take them down from the inside. Margaret won't have died for nothing,' he said desperately. ‘You and I both loved her. Don't you ­understand?'