Dancing On Air (26 page)

Marie had been right: the theatre was all but deserted. Somewhere towards the front of the theatre, Tinder kept a small apartment on the second floor. He would be there now, with whichever ballet girl he had managed to coax into his bed, but other than that there was no one else here. She slipped out the stage door and locked it behind her. Then slowly she started to walk down the lane. Her walking stick clicked out a beat on the cobblestones. Wispy tendrils of fog floated by like a drowned woman’s hair, but Marie steeled herself and continued her journey. There is nothing in the night to fear but, if evil did lurk about in the shadows, perhaps it should fear her. The thought amused her and she smiled.

When she reached the end of the lane, she cut diagonally across a wide road. The fog was becoming thicker. It gave an ominous chill to the darkened buildings that lined both sides of the street. The couple of streetlights gave off a soft glow but the bank of buildings almost seemed to rise above Marie’s head like a huge black wave. As she reached the far side of the road, Marie looked up. Only an odd light in the shuttered windows pierced the dark.

The normally busy street was frosty, silent and deserted. Marie quickened her pace. She leant more heavily on her cane as her knee began to protest in pain. She turned into a crooked alley. A drop of sweat trickled down her neck but, instead of feeling hot, she was cold and clammy. Several skinny walkways crisscrossed the alley and, for a minute, Marie hesitated. She wondered if she should turn back and return to the Imperial, but she was already half way home. Marie dragged in a breath and tried to steady her racing heart.
This is ridiculous. I am being ridiculous. There is nothing there and I am just scaring myself.
With grim determination, she strode headlong into the alley, walking as fast as she could without stumbling.

But after a few seconds, Marie forced herself to slow her pace. Drawing herself up to her full height, Marie took a measured breath before she continued on. She winced as a sharp pain gnawed through her knee, but she continued without pause and focused on how relieved she would be once she made it home. It was then she noticed the noise.

Click, click, click.

Marie looked behind. She was sure that the sound had come from that direction, but the alley was empty. Ignoring the pain, Marie walked as fast as she could.

Click, click, click, click.

It was closer now. Marie strained her ears. Were they footsteps?

A shiver skimmed along her spine as fear nipped at her heels. In the distance the jagged sound of metal scraping against metal made her wince. Marie’s mind swirled with all the possibilities of what the sound was, and none of them were good. Pushing herself and ignoring the pain, she almost managed to half run, half hobble down the alley. She was certain that something was hunting her in the shadows. She cursed her knee for the hundredth time and almost prayed to God to deliver her from the monster in the dark. Not that He would listen to the likes of her.

As Marie hurried passed one of the intersecting walkway, she glanced nervously down its gloomy depths. To her relief she saw only a jumble of abandoned wooden crates.

Click, click, click.

The sound was closer and Marie tried to run. If she could just make it to the end of the alley, then Beggar’s Mews was only a few minutes away. With luck someone in the buildings she had to pass may still be awake; someone may be able to help her.

A strong arm shot out of the dark and caught Marie from behind. It clamped around her throat and pulled her back against a rock-hard chest. Marie tried to lash out with her cane, but her assailant knocked it easily from her hand and it clattered as it hit the ground. Her fingers clawed at the hand, her nails sinking into the flesh and digging furrows. As she dragged in a breath, a rich scent wafted around her. It was familiar, a mixture of amber and cloves and wood. Instantly, she stopped struggling.

‘Vincent, you frightened me,’ she said as his warm breath blew against her ear.

‘Nothing that you didn’t deserve, my love,’ he said before he dropped a kiss on the side of her cheek.

‘You are angry?’

‘No, just a little peeved and disappointed. I cannot recall the last time you refused me.’

‘That is because it has never happened...until now. Will you release me?’

‘In a moment.’ He released the pressure on her throat but she remained pinned, her back firmly against his chest.

‘I understand that you wanted Lisette but she had given herself to Lord Gainswith. She will be his mistress and I cannot interfere in that arrangement... Not even for you.’

‘Not even if I offered the girl marriage?’

Marie stilled as her heart cracked opened. An oozing wave of jealousy, anger and pain flooded every fibre of her being. ‘You wish to marry Lisette?’

‘Yes, it is a notion I have been mulling over for several weeks now. As I have just celebrated my fortieth birthday, it is time to think of marriage, heirs and respectability.’

‘But she is a ballerina. Vincent, society will never accept her.’

‘She is the toast of London and will gracefully retire as soon as we are wed. Once Lisette becomes Lady de Vale she will have a fortune at her feet. Do not fret, Marie... Lisette will set the dictates of society and every dame and their daughter will kowtow to her.’

‘But you cannot marry her.’ Marie winced at the pathetic tone of her voice. ‘You love me.’

‘Yes, in a way I suppose I do. But I could never have married you.’

‘Why not? How does marrying Lisette differ? Was I not a ballerina, my technique better than both Mélisande and Lisette?’

‘Yes, you were marvellous, my love, but —’

‘But what?’ Her words escaped her lips in a hiss.

‘But you were never the prima ballerina. Mélisande was unequalled until now.’

‘That is unfair. Mélisande was the star, but after she died I had the accident that ruined my knee and my ability to dance.’

‘I know, but in the eyes of polite society you were merely a dancer. If you had been the principal dancer then perhaps things would have been different.’

She felt him shrug behind her. The pain of his words seemed to reverberate throughout her. ‘It is not right, Vincent. You cannot possess every single one of the Devoré women. You had Mélisande and me. Surely that is enough.’

‘And now I want Lisette. I will have her. Will you not change your mind and give me your blessing?’

‘Why do you care what I think? You will do whatever you want, whether I give it or not.’

‘That is true. Will you help me claim Lisette?’

‘You ask too much of me. I cannot. I love you and will not share you with my niece.’

She heard him sigh and then felt his kiss upon her cheek once more.

‘I cared for you too, Marie, but you should never have denied me,’ he said close to her ear. ‘Your jealousy was always too great and too diabolical. You took Mélisande from me, didn’t you? You vowed that you did not mean to kill her, that you had accidentally given her too much laudanum, but her death was your intent.’

‘I saw how you looked at her, with love,’ Marie spat as the hatred boiled up from within. ‘My perfect sister, the faultless Mélisande — the sublime ballerina that all of Paris was in love with. How could you, Vincent? How could you fall under her spell just like all the others? Of course I killed her. I had no choice. You sleep with girls and make them cry with pain but you do not love them. You only love me. You are mine and I will never share you with anyone.’

‘You took her away from me — the one person who saw past the anger, hate and spitefulness. Mélisande saw me as I was and she was not repulsed. She was my one chance of being a better man and by the time I realized what a treasure I had, you stole her from me. And after all these cold years Marie, you will finally pay for it.’

Too late she saw the glint of the blade. She opened her mouth to scream but the knife sliced through her throat. In her surprise she sunk against Vincent’s body, but he held her up. There was little pain but the odd sensation of her flesh separating from itself. Her blood sprayed out and she saw the steam rise from it as it mixed with the cold, night air. Her sight began to dim as she flopped against him.

At least I am where I belong, in the arms of my love...my devil... My Vincent.

Vincent waited until Marie’s body shuddered. A tear trickled down his cheek as he took a moment to remember Marie the way she was when they had first met. She had been beautiful, vibrant and so graceful in her dance. He had been mesmerized as she whirled across the stage of the Paris Opera. They had been drawn together by their lust for each other and the darkness of their hearts. They lived on greed and the pain of others, their own personal beauty masking two twisted monsters that fed off those around them. What fun they had as they manipulated the fools about them as easily as if they had been marionettes. Then he had met Mélisande and for the first time in his life there had been the promise of something more, something wonderful. But the darkness of his life had reared up and destroyed the fragile tendril of goodness. In some way he knew that he was responsible for Mélisande’s death, almost as if he had tipped the laudanum down her throat himself. Yet now it was time to lay the shadows of the past to rest. It was dead, just like Marie and Mélisande. Now, he must prepare for his future and his final chance at redemption.

Carefully, he dragged Marie towards the tangle of crates that stood in the walkway. He lay her down on the dirty cobblestones whilst he rearranged the boxes. He looked back and saw that her blue eyes stared lifelessly at the sky. He wondered if she would find any peace in the fires of Hell. He placed her close to the wall and covered her with the crates. It only took a minute and as he stepped back to survey his handiwork. It looked as if the boxes had been mouldering there for weeks. Content that it would be quite some time before Marie was found, Vincent walked back into the alley. He scooped up Marie’s walking stick and was about to throw it on the boxes when he thought better of it. He would keep it as a memento of his dead companion. Swinging the cane, he turned on his heels and began to walk back towards the Imperial Theatre and in the direction of his home.

Evander lay on his bed. He was propped up against the headboard with the assistance of several pillows. Gathered in his arms was Lisette. His fingers trailed over Lisette’s smooth shoulder as he stared out the window and watched the sky begin to lighten.

He was rattled. Yes, that was the only way he could describe it. Before Lisette, coupling was all to do with pleasure, amusement and, sometimes, conquest. It was the thrill of the chase and the apparent ease that he coaxed women to his bed. Some loved him for gratification, others for trinkets and the hope of snaring the earl’s youngest son, and some even for coin. It had been enjoyable indulgence; generally light-hearted and not at all serious. But this was different; Lisette was different.

He tightened his grip a little and dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. He loved her. That was obvious enough. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have asked her to marry him. But his feelings had been transformed into so much more over the past few hours. Before tonight, he had seen a future with Lisette, whether his family gave its blessing or not. She would be his bride and, eventually, mother of his children. But now he finally realised that he did not have a future without her. Perhaps it had been the way she called out his name, or the way she met him, kiss for kiss, and touch for touch. All he knew was that not only did he love her, but he cherished her as well.

Gently he rubbed her arm and tried to rouse her. ‘Lisette, we must ready for our journey. The dawn is coming and we must away to Temperly.’

Lisette stirred and raised her head. Giving Evander a slow smile she said, ‘It still feels like the middle of the night. Surely it is too early to rise.’

‘No, we must leave soon if we are to make Temperly by nightfall.’

‘A few more minutes?’

‘No.’ Evander hauled her up and gave her a kiss. ‘I am too eager for you to become my wife. You may sleep in the carriage, but now...you must dress.’

Lisette wound her arms around his neck. Her breasts lay against his chest and it took all his willpower not to pull her back down onto the mattress and make love to her.