The Dance (19 page)

“I'm here,” Melanie screamed, to Bryan's relief. He hadn't meant to leave her, but she too had discovered that her medallion had some reverse power now that she no longer wore it. She had escaped the panther demon and headed for the dais where Madame Leona stood, frozen with anger and dismay.

“Bryan, get Laurie. She fainted when I grabbed her medallion, or else she's hurt,” Melanie begged.

“But you—”

“I'm all right, now that I can think straight.”

“Then head for the door, Mel. Please.” Bryan looked around for Laurie Roberts. He spotted Hank, but decided she was holding her own. Hank kicked one of the demons and threw her medallion at another. Nothing was going to stop these things, but if they could slow them down long enough to get out of this room, they might have a chance.

Laurie lay curled into a heap at the far side of the room. Hunched over her was another of the transformed male dancers. In a gnarled and lumpy hand he held a bundle of snakes that writhed and swiveled, hissing and tonguing the air. As Bryan approached, the figure spun around and hissed. His spiked hair looked like a punker's experiment until Bryan got close enough to see that each spike was another smaller asp, standing, weaving, ready to strike should Bryan get too close.

Before he could decide how to take Laurie from this demon, Melanie appeared again, swirling the black velvet cloak that Madame Leona had discarded when the ceremony started. She tossed it so that it swung over the serpents, rendering them harmless long enough for Bryan to scoop up Laurie and carry her to the entrance to the studio. Where was Brandish?

Hank helped Laurie stand. “Thanks, Bryan. I have her. Seth went to get Jean. Go back and help Melanie.”

Melanie, a determined look on her face, now faced off with Leona Turva herself. Leona threatened Melanie with the long, curved dagger. Brandish stood ready to help Leona.

“You've lost, Leona Turva,” Melanie called to her. “You killed Paulie, but no one else will die tonight because of you.”

Candles wavered on the table with its ebony cloth. The smell of sulfur and musk filled her nostrils, cloying, smothering, making her cough and her eyes sting.

“You are wrong,” Leona screeched. “Wrong, wrong, wrong. You spoiled the evening but you are a perfect offering, and I will take you with me.”

Melanie had not realized that Nicol, Anne, and Janell were circling behind her. She had focused all her attention on Leona.

“Melanie, behind you!” Bryan shouted a warning, but he was too late. The three dancers confirmed their allegiance to Leona by taking Melanie prisoner. Their beauty had taken on the translucent, hard-edged glare of evil. Shrieking and cackling with laughter, they tightened their hold, nails digging into Melanie's flesh.

She screamed and struggled, trying to throw them off. But they were stronger. Pinning her arms, they drew her closer, closer to Leona, who raised the razor-sharp knife back to strike.

With one last effort, Melanie jerked away from Anne, fell, and propelled herself forward long enough to grasp the edge of the tablecloth. One tug tumbled wax and candles onto it, setting it afire.

Leona stood close enough so that flames and hot wax leapt onto her skirt.

Bryan, who had felt he was running in deep water instead of wispy fog, grabbed Nicol and flung her away from Melanie. Screeching as she spun across the room, Nicol shifted to the form of a raven and rose above the chaos, grasping the dagger in her talons.

“Here!” screamed Hank, who had unlocked the door, dashed into the hall, and reappeared with her arms loaded with excelsior.

Seth was right behind her. They tossed the curled wood shavings into the flames that threatened to snuff themselves out with little on which to feed.

“Of course,” Melanie shouted. “Get more, get anything out there that will burn. Those old costumes, the cardboard boxes.”

She and Bryan kicked and spread the shredded wood across the floor and into the two corner shrines nearest them. Flames followed, eagerly licking a path between the ballet dancers huddled near the door and their partners, now seven misshapen beasts who hissed and screamed but drew back from the fire.

They watched, transfixed, as Brandish carried Leona Turva into the midst of the demons. He lifted her body, smoking from the smothered fire of her robes. The smoke intensified, swirled, formed a twisting funnel which rose higher and higher towards the ceiling. Continuing to dissipate, the gray mist swirled until his hands stretched empty.

Flames licked towards Brandish now, circling all the demons and the huddled trio of Nicol, Anne, and Janell. They stepped back and back until all were trapped, facing the roaring inferno.

“The fire is out of control. Let's get out of here,” Bryan shouted, pulling Melanie to his side.

Smoke poured from the studio, filling the rest of the building. Flames roared, picking up momentum as Melanie and Bryan backed out of the large room last.

To Melanie's surprise, Frau Voska appeared, running through the flames from Leona's offices. In her arms she held the big gray puff, Murmur, the theater house cat.

“Please,” she said, putting the cat into Melanie's arms.

Then, before Melanie could speak, Voska ran back towards the inferno where flames exploded, bursting through walls and spreading eagerly.

“Frau Voska! No!” Melanie hugged the cat but could make no move to follow the woman. She worked for Madame Leona Turva. Was she also—not from this time, this world?

Bryan held onto Melanie as they ran up the wooden stairs. Her satin shoes were not designed for this.

Seth tugged open the box office door, yelling to them. “Bryan, Melanie, this is the only way out.”

Bryan scooped Melanie and the cat into his arms and dashed across the street. Only from that distance did he dare set her down near the huddle of ballet dancers flanked by Seth and Hank. Only then did they dare stop and watch the ancient building turn into one huge bonfire, a crackling, roaring blaze in the winter sky.

twenty

T
HE BUILDING, A
tinderbox of ancient wood, was impossible to enter by the time the fire trucks arrived. The firemen could do nothing but shoot streams of water on the outside to keep the fire from spreading.

Bryan had given his coat to Melanie, and the two stood shivering across the street from the fire. Seth had shared his coat with Hank but had also found a blanket in Bryan's car for Laurie and Jean.

Melanie hugged Murmur, who to her surprise made no attempt to escape. “Those policemen are going to come over here any minute now to ask us what happened,” she said.

“I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to figure that out,” Hank said. “You—you—”

“You were right, Bryan, Seth.” Melanie finished what Hank was trying to say.

“Bryan knew about Madame Leona and those—those—things?” Laurie asked, starting to recover from her stupor.

“He and Seth tried to warn us,” Hank explained, “but would you have believed them?”

“They were so beautiful.” Jean seemed to be still under the spell of the dance.

“At first.” Melanie turned and buried her face in Bryan's shoulder. “Oh, Bryan, if you hadn't come—I don't want to think—”

“Then don't.” Bryan had a story. “Listen, Madame Leona had set candles all over the studio for the party you were having after the recital. Someone must have knocked one over and the fire got out of control before you knew it.”

“Because of all that trash piled in there,” Hank added. “That's believable enough. If we all stick to it.”

“And say that's all we know,” Laurie Roberts added.

“That is all we'd be able to prove.” Melanie looked back at the fire, roaring now, flames reaching for the sky as if they would consume even the clouds, the stars, the sliver of a new moon.

A car screeched to a stop at the curb near them. “Melanie, Melanie!” Katherine Clark jumped from the driver's seat and dashed to the small group huddled on the sidewalk. “Oh, Melanie, thank God you're all right.” She grabbed Melanie from Bryan's arms and held her tight. “I heard it on the radio. I haven't been able to sleep—”

“It's all right, Mother.” Melanie soothed her mother as if she were the adult. “I'm fine.”

“Where is Leona? Madame Leona, were you with her? This is not all the troupe.”

“Some—some of them didn't get out, Mother. We tried, but the fire was out of control in seconds.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, so sorry.” Katherine stared at the crumbling building.

“Yes, it was a tragedy.” Melanie looked at Bryan. Maybe her mother would never have to know the whole story.

“Let's go home. There's no sense standing here freezing,” Katherine said, looking at the rest of the dancers. “Everyone should go home.”

The spell on them all was completely broken by those words. Melanie agreed to ride with her mother. “Mother, we have a cat now,” she said before they left the group.

“But I don't like—” Katherine stared at Melanie. “Oh, all right. As long as it survived, someone has to take it. Madame Leona would—”

“Frau Voska would like to know it's safe.” Melanie hugged Murmur close, and the cat began to purr.

It took more than a week for the police and firemen to sift through the remains of the old Lafayette Theater building.

Melanie and Bryan, Hank and Seth were at Melanie's waiting for a pizza when the news came on. They had watched every TV newscast for days, waiting for a final report.

Tonight the fire chief being interviewed said, “I've never seen a fire so intense, one so hot, one that consumed so completely everything in the building. It was as if the flames of Hell had blazed out of control for a few hours.”

They all looked at each other but no one spoke.

“How many bodies did you finally find?” the news reporter asked.

“This has been the biggest mystery, Dave. Those fortunate enough to escape told us there were at least five, maybe six if the custodian was there, trapped in the fire. Leona Turva, owner of the school, and, incidentally, of the antique shop that also burned, three more dancers, and Elatia Voska, an elderly woman, a retired dancer who worked with Leona Turva.”

“Elatia—what a pretty name,” Melanie said, stroking the gray puff curled in her lap. Murmur seemed quite content with her new owner.

The fire chief continued, “To date, we have found one body in the ruins. Just hours ago we identified the charred skeleton as that of Ilene Greenway, former owner of the ballet school. It was thought she had left town.”

“So you suspect foul play?” the newsman asked, eagerly.

“That's part of our investigation now, too.”

“Ilene,” Hank said. “She didn't sell to Leona after all. All of our suspicions have been correct.”

“But we can never prove them, can we?” Melanie felt terrible that her mother's friend had died in order that Leona's mission could be completed.

“I didn't tell you—” Bryan said. “I didn't realize it until later—”

“What, Bryan?” Melanie turned to him, took his hand, wondering if she wanted to hold it forever. “There's more?”

“No, not more. Just souvenirs.” He pulled two of Leona's medallions from his pocket. The lioness, Hank's. The panther, Melanie's.

Melanie pulled back from them.

“I don't think they have any power without her,” Bryan reassured Melanie and Hank. “What shall we do with them?”

“I sure don't want mine.” Hank moved to the fire as if she were suddenly cold.

“I don't need a reminder.” Melanie took hers and examined it again thoroughly. The alexandrite was green, as if calm now.

“We can put them in the auction for money to rebuild the Princess,” Hank suggested. The day after the theater burned many people got sentimental and immediately started a fund to rebuild the historical relic.

“When she returns, she won't have a matched set.” Seth smiled and reminded them of the legend. “But I guess we don't have to worry about that.”

“She'll find them.” Melanie shivered at the idea of this ever happening again. She placed her necklace back on the couch beside Hank's.

As if to reassure them all that at least for now whatever unearthly power that had prevailed had left, Murmur moved from Melanie's lap to sit between the two medallions Bryan had spread on the coffee table. She batted first one, then the other. Then feeling lazy again she curled back into a soft gray puff and fell asleep.

“You think Murmur is trying to tell us something?” Bryan asked. “That they're gone?”

“I'd certainly like to believe that's so,” Hank replied.

“I choose to think they're gone, that she's gone,” Melanie said. “Surely a legend—a sorceress—has no power when you stop believing.”

About the Author

Barbara Steiner (1934–2014) was an acclaimed author known for her books for children and young adults. Steiner authored over seventy titles, including picture books, early chapter books, mysteries, young adult thrillers, historical novels, and romances. In her lifetime, Steiner visited more than ninety-four countries and all seven continents, and many of her books were inspired by her travels. She lived in Boulder with her family until her death in January 2014.

All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1995 by Barbara Steiner