The Calling (5 page)

Barron signaled for the music to stop after a few minutes. Miki was glad. She was running out of rope—web. Glancing around, she watched as Barron talked softly to Primavera and Romney. She couldn't hear what he was saying to them.

She sensed Davin beside her, paused in the dim light. She clung to the ropes without looking at him. Her heart pounded and her arms and legs turned to jelly.

“You're shaking. You're really afraid, aren't you?”

She might as well be truthful—almost truthful.

“Sure. But not of you—the spider. Don't you remember joining the troupe, your first rehearsal? Or have you belonged to this company for a long time?”

“Yes. A long time. I can hardly remember when we started with the first rehearsal.”

“It can't be that long. You aren't that old.” She wanted to ask his age, but that seemed forward.

“I'm older than you think.” His voice sounded hollow, wistful. He volunteered no other information.

“Yes,” she turned to him then. “I think I see a few gray hairs around your face.” She meant to tease and was surprised when one hand moved quickly to his temple as if he could feel a gray hair. He was much too handsome and probably vain.

“Now, Miki.” Barron stood below them. “You turn and start back after Davin. He'll flee as soon as he realizes his mistake. Center stage, you'll fling open your cape and pose so the audience can see the red hourglass that will be on your costume.”

So she was really the bad guy here. She smiled at the idea. And loved it. And loved the idea of wearing a cape. She wondered when she'd get one.

“Then you strike, biting him as the music swells. Understand?” He didn't expect a reply, but she nodded. “Okay, we'll start at the beginning and dance it all the way through. Start center stage on the floor, Miki, then run from him at first. You are tempting him to follow. Pretend to be afraid when he does. He nearly catches you, then you turn on him and he sees his mistake.” Barron moved like a molten shadow downstage and leaped off to sit in the front row and watch. He must have been a beautiful dancer when he was young.

They played out the piece again as the music swelled around them darkly, filling Miki with an easy fluidity that surprised her. She could always feel the music, but this piece came from within as well as from without.

At first she wondered if the dancers on the trapeze bars played out a similar scenario, but she never dared to look and soon she forgot them.

As she started back after Davin, and he moved slowly away, a spotlight hit them and kept them in its pale glow, like moonlight on a deadly insect ritual. In her peripheral vision she glimpsed the immense shadows they threw against the ropes. She felt spider-like. She felt deadly.

Davin stopped and flattened himself against the ropes, his eyes full of fear. Only his pale, slender neck lay exposed as he arched his back and stretched his head back. He appeared trapped on the sticky web. She hesitated only a second.

One leg reached across his waist pinning him. Her knee felt the muscles in his flat stomach. She leaned across and trapped one of his arms with her hand. Then she pressed her lips onto his white neck flesh. His skin was cool, but she felt the throb of his pulse under her warm mouth.

Suddenly she was aware of what she was doing. She tensed. How long did she have to hold this pose? Pale cobwebs of light pinned them to the web. Surely there would be a blackout after this moment.

There was, but it seemed minutes coming. As soon as the darkness engulfed them, she swung back and away from Davin.

But to her surprise, he spun toward her and now captured her. His mouth came down gently and warmly on her lips. Then his kiss asked a question and she answered without hesitation. She couldn't help herself.

She was the one truly captured.

Seven

R
OMNEY'S GIGGLE BROUGHT
Miki back to the real world. She pulled away from Davin, embarrassed that the whole troupe had seen what happened.

Barron didn't seem to care. “Good work, Miki. I think you are going to fit into our little family quite well. I take it you agree, Davin.” He smiled at Davin, then glanced back at the notes he was making.

“Of course, Barron. Miki will have no trouble with the routines.” Davin smiled at her.

She couldn't keep her eyes off him, and it both frustrated and puzzled her. She hardly knew this man, yet she was magically drawn to him. If he had said, “Come, run away with me,” she would have willingly gone.

But when her eyes came to rest on Rima, she understood that the woman was jealous after all. Her green eyes were hard and brilliant with hatred. Arms crossed over her chest showing her purple fingernails, like claws poised to attack. Miki shuddered at recognizing the intensity of her feelings.

Had Rima been Davin's dance partner in the past? Had there ever been a sixth dancer? What had happened to her? Miki didn't feel she could ask right now, but maybe later. Both Romney and Kyle seemed willing to gossip, to tell her their secrets. They would be more likely to give Miki the history of this group of dancers.

“In this next number, Miki,” Barron interrupted her musings about the relationships in the troupe. “You are an innocent victim. You are frolicking in the park at night, enjoying the moonlight, when the vampires find you.”

A shiver flitted up and down Miki's body at the idea.

“You are afraid, of course, especially at first, but you are hypnotically drawn in. At last you give yourself willingly to nourish your newfound friends.”

“What should I do to show I have given in to them?” Miki dared ask.

“If you will relax and look lovely, the troupe will do the rest.” Barron stepped away and signaled for the music.

Miki found herself alone, center stage, with a soft spotlight creating a pool of golden moonlight for her “frolicking.” She smiled at Barron's old-fashioned word.

Giving herself over to the perfect music, she moved in happy spins and circles, skips, and even a cartwheel.

Then, suddenly, the music darkened, became threatening, as in a movie where the main character is going into an empty house, a dark hall, or a cave, and the viewer knows something evil waits for her. Miki had no problem letting the fear build inside her, reflecting the somber, trembling notes.

She found her fear real when she was surrounded by the troupe. All wore capes and used them like bat wings. They swooped and circled around her, getting closer and closer.

Soon she was confined to a tight circle where she turned slowly, staring at them. When had they painted their faces ghoulish white? Their lips were black, with the exception of Primavera and Rima who wore crimson and purple slashes across their mouths. Red dripped over their chins as if they had already fed but still hungered.

Pretending was unnecessary. Miki felt her stomach turn to liquid fire and her legs buckle under her. Someone—one of the troupe caught her as her body became limp.

In the next sequence the music flowed through her, haunting minor notes, held and drawn out to periods of silence, as if the musician was holding his breath.

She was aware of the other dancers, but she felt hypnotized or numb to any need to initiate movement. She lay draped over open hands, passed from dancer to dancer.

She felt the sway as four hands passed her to a dancer on the swing. She felt the spot on her back that made contact with his arm. Perfectly balanced, Davin placed his other hand to support her neck, exposing it to his teeth.

His mouth on the hollow of her throat seemed familiar. She found she wanted him to feed, to use her blood to nourish his body. There was a willing compliance to his need that went beyond the sensual, beyond any male-female exchange. She felt a need to give her very life to him.

When the music stopped and she felt herself set upright on the stage, it took several minutes for her to break out of the spell of the dance number. No one spoke to her, no one hurried her, or seemed to want to break the mood they had achieved for themselves.

Her eyes met those of Davin first. He smiled, then stepped toward her and hugged her. Romney and Kyle followed suit and she knew they had accepted her. With the possible exception of Rima and Elah, she was a welcome part of their troupe now, a part of this theater family.

A warm thrill filled her chest and spread to her stomach, then her arms and legs. She had never experienced this closeness. Her mother seldom touched her. She had few memories of her father. She had touched other dancers in her classes and recitals, but the experience, the sensation, never held this—this—what? Love? Maybe love was the right word. This was all new to her and a bit overwhelming.

She wanted to sit, alone, and think—or not think. Remember. Bottle up these feelings so she could keep them always.

“Let's take a break,” Barron suggested, as if he knew that Miki needed some time. “Half hour. Bathrooms are in the front hall, Miki.” Barron pointed to the back of the auditorium.

Miki hurried away, willing no one to speak to her. She stayed in the bathroom, alone, as long as she dared. Washing her face with cold water, she sprinkled drops on her warm wrists, and toweled them dry. The ceramic tile beneath her bare feet was cold, and she let the chill steady her legs.

Slightly recovered, thinking she could work again, Miki started back down the theater's center aisle. She stopped at the cushioned seat where she had placed her things and took a peach from a brown bag in her dance case. The sweet juice ran over her chin as she bit into it, and she mopped it up with her sleeve. She didn't eat much when she was rehearsing, but suddenly she felt starved. Did the troupe stop for dinner?

Where was everyone?

Davin stepped out of the wings and walked toward her. “We decided to call it a night, Miki. Everyone is hungry and tired.”

“Are you going someplace together?” She hungered to be even more accepted and hinted to be included in their dinner plans.

“Not really. Would you like for me to take you home?”

“Oh, no. I'm not afraid to go home alone. I do it all the time. I'll catch the bus.”

He seemed to think this over. “All right, but I'll worry about you.”

“Thanks, Davin, but I'll be fine.” She wanted him to take her home. She wanted to say yes. But she didn't want to appear too eager. There was a look on his face that she couldn't read. Had he gotten carried away and now felt embarrassed or had second thoughts? “I like a lot of time alone. I want to think about the routines, go over them in my head so I remember them.”

“That's a good idea. You did well. I'm glad you've joined the show.” He turned and disappeared into the shadows.

She swallowed her disappointment and hurried to gather her bag. She'd worn her rubber boots again since it had been raining outside earlier in the evening. And they were easy. It took only a few seconds to tug them on over her bare feet, to slip into a yellow plastic poncho, loop her bag and umbrella over her arm, and head for the stage door.

The door was open, and it puzzled her that she saw no one on the way out. Where had they disappeared to in such a hurry?

A steady drizzle greeted her at the alley. She raised her huge black umbrella and hurried through the wet darkness toward the slick, milky reflections of the corner street light. Her bus pulled into a slot near the curb almost a block away. She ran.

Her boots clumped, echoing into the rainy night. She collapsed the umbrella and swung onto the bus just before the doors swooshed closed. “Thanks.”

She didn't know if the smiling driver had seen her and waited or if her timing had been lucky. But she was glad not to have to wait on the corner for half an hour.

She shook water onto the floor and sunk into a seat, more exhausted than she realized. She willed herself not to think as the bus wound its way through the dark glistening streets and into her neighborhood. She willed her mother not to be home. She craved time alone to think the rehearsal through over and over. To try to figure out what had happened to her.

The apartment loft was two blocks from the bus stop. The streets were strangely empty. What time was it anyway? It couldn't be later than seven or seven-thirty. She'd gone to rehearsal right after her classes at five. She dug in her small purse for her watch, pulling it into the palm of her hand. Midnight? That couldn't be right. She shook the watch, held it, watching the minute hand flit from number to number. It was running.

Hearing a soft rustle behind her, she glanced around quickly. She never came home alone
this
late. She quickened her pace, pulling out her key from the open purse.

Did a shadow across the street move parallel to her? She watched the row of small shops as she practically ran, but she saw no one.

She heard footsteps behind her again. Matching hers. She glanced behind her. No one.

She was breathless when she got to her doorway. She fumbled with the key. Feeling the lock click open and the doorknob turn in her cold hand, she gathered some courage.

“Who's there?” For some reason she said, “Davin?”

There was no answer, of course. And Davin hadn't followed her home. She was being a silly goose. A scared, silly goose, she added. She spun into the apartment and closed the door behind her firmly, clicking the lock, then the dead bolt. She leaned against the door for a second or two to breathe.

The room before her was terribly dark. Her mother wasn't there. She'd gotten her wish to be alone tonight. And now she'd like to change her mind.

Eight

M
IKI HAD JUST
slipped into her bed and realized how tired and emotionally drained she was when she heard her mother come in. Immediately her mother's soft footsteps stopped, the door creaked, and she peeked into Miki's room. Even though she was curious, Miki didn't want to talk. She pretended to be asleep. Mom must have had a good time, she thought. She's keeping late enough hours. But Miki was glad to know she was home, to have someone else in the apartment with her tonight.