Dance of Shadows (29 page)

Suddenly there was a knock on her door, and she was back in her dormitory, comforted by the sight of TJ sleeping soundly on the opposite side of the room. Vanessa couldn’t remember rolling out of bed, only that the door was open, and Justin was standing before her, his sweat-stained shirt clinging to his chest.

“Ask me to come in,” he said, stepping closer. He smelled of wet leaves and cold autumn nights, his eyes clear blue like the sky, as he pushed his hair back and blinked, his gaze roaming over Vanessa’s body, as if he couldn’t help himself.

Behind Vanessa, TJ snored softly. “I’m not alone,” Vanessa whispered.

“Then we’ll have to be quiet.”

“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked, even though somehow she knew. She had always known.

Justin inched toward her, pushing her back into the darkness. TJ turned onto her side, still sleeping, her hair spilling over the pillow.

“Why are you here?”

Justin didn’t answer; he only stepped closer, pressing Vanessa against her bed. His collared shirt was unbuttoned at the
neck, revealing smooth skin punctuated by a lone freckle. Vanessa stared at it, inhaling the trace of his cologne.

“You know why I’m here,” he said.

“What do you want?” Vanessa whispered, gripping the side of her bed.

Justin inched closer, his legs tangling with hers. His eyes wandered from her neck to her collarbone to the thin straps of her camisole. “You know what I want.”

Gently, he ran his hand up her thigh. It was bare, cold in the night breeze. She trembled beneath his touch. She wanted to pull away, but for some reason she couldn’t. Justin pressed his body against hers.

“You have to leave,” he said, his lips against her neck, kissing her. “You have to leave.” She felt his hands tangling in her camisole, pushing the strap off her shoulder, pressing into her skin until she couldn’t help herself. Her body went limp in his arms, and she buried her hands in his hair and pulled him toward her, surprised by the intensity of her response.

Justin groaned. “You have to leave,” he murmured. “You have to leave to be safe. But I don’t want you to leave.”

Vanessa breathed in his words, letting them course through her. She arched her neck as if dancing the part of the Firebird, but just as he bent her back, kissing her shoulders, her collarbone, her neck, she spotted a shadow in the doorway.

She gasped and sat up. Though he was shrouded in darkness, she knew who it was. “Zep,” she whispered.

The light from the hallway illuminated slivers of his face as he gazed between her and Justin. His expression hardened.
Vanessa wanted to call out to him, to apologize and say she never meant it. That she loved him, not Justin. But for some reason, the words didn’t come out.

Zep strode inside, his eyes burning. Justin stepped in front of Vanessa, challenging him. “Don’t go,” she wanted to say to him, but when she opened her mouth, no words came out.

There was a loud knock on the door. Vanessa sat up and opened her eyes. She was in bed, the sheets damp and tangled around her. Neither Justin nor Zep was anywhere to be seen. Confused, she glanced across the room at TJ, who was curled up with a pillow, snoring. Otherwise, the room was dark and quiet. Had she been dreaming? She could almost smell the sweat and wet leaves on Justin’s shirt. But he wasn’t there.

Vanessa swallowed, her mouth parched. She was about to take a sip of water when someone knocked again. A thin line of light shone out from beneath the door, interrupted by the shadow of two feet. Zep? She pulled on a sweatshirt and tiptoed over.

“Vanessa?” a boy said from the hallway. She jumped back, startled to hear Justin’s voice. “I know you told me never to speak to you again, but please open the door. Just this once.”

Vanessa hesitated, trying to understand why she was suddenly so nervous.

“Please,” he repeated. “I promise, I’m not here to threaten or insult you.”

She turned the knob and opened it just wide enough to see his face, damp with sweat and speckled with golden stubble. Now that he was standing before her, it was all too clear that
she had been dreaming. But why would she have been dreaming of Justin and not Zep?

Afraid he would be able to read her thoughts, she averted her eyes. “What do you want?” she said, staring at his hands.

She half expected him to answer the way he had in her dream, but instead, he said, “I just wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have messed up your rehearsal. You could have been hurt, which is the opposite of what I want.”

Vanessa frowned. The opposite?

“Anyway, I don’t want to keep you up, and I don’t expect you to say anything. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

She wanted to ask him what he meant. About Helen and what he thought had happened to her. But as he stood there, his lips dangerously close to hers, she felt an unbearable urge to pull him inside and kiss him, long and hard until they were breathless and tangled beneath her sheets.

“Do you still think I should leave?” she asked.

Justin seemed surprised by her question. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“That’s the part I haven’t figured out how to explain yet. All I can say is that there’s a reason for what I did in rehearsal. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Vanessa let out a nervous laugh. “What exactly were you trying to do, then?”

Justin’s steady gaze seemed almost kind. “To save you.” And before Vanessa could say anything more, he turned and stole down the hallway.

“Wait,” she called out to him. “What do you mean?”

Justin paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Good night, Vanessa,” he said. And he was gone.

“What if he’s right?” Vanessa said over lunch the next day.

“What if something strange is going on here, and Helen knows about it too?”

“Or what if Helen’s just crazy and scared of Josef because he roughed her up in practice, and Justin is a jealous prick?” Blaine said. “That sounds more likely to me.”

“Blaine has a point,” TJ said, spooning sugar into her tea.

Vanessa put down her fork. “I know, but it’s weird, isn’t it? That they both gave me the same advice, separately?”

“But neither of them told you why,” Steffie said. “Isn’t that a little suspicious?”

Vanessa sighed. “Justin said there was a reason he tried to sabotage my dancing. That he wanted to save me.”

Steffie stopped eating. “Are you actually considering dropping out of school because Justin and a crazy ballerina told you to?”

“No,” Vanessa said firmly. “But you should have seen the way she looked. She hadn’t showered or washed her hair in weeks. Her clothes were disgusting. And her eyes. They were desperate.”

“All the more reason
not
to listen to her,” Blaine concluded. “Also? She sounds kinda like my mom.”

“I wonder what happened to her,” TJ murmured. She cocked her head at Blaine. “Helen. Not your mom.”

“She probably just cracked under the pressure,” Steffie said. “Remember when we saw her after the performance? She was practically in outer space.”

“What about the punishment Dmitri mentioned?” Vanessa said.

Steffie shrugged. “Maybe she was going to have to do pliés or extra barre workouts. Josef and Hilda make us do that all the time when we mess up.”

“Yeah, but I know what Vanessa is saying. Punishment?” TJ said, smoothing back her hair with her fingers. “It’s a weird choice of words.”

“Dmitri’s from Russia,” said Steffie. “His English isn’t perfect. Plus, he’s arrogant and brutish.”

“And sexy,” Blaine said.

“She found me by the park,” Vanessa said, shoving him. “Maybe we can find her again. Even if she does turn out to be crazy, it can’t hurt to ask her what happened. Right?”

Steffie looked skeptical. “Sure, let’s ask the mad ballerina why she cracked.”

“The thing is, I don’t think she cracked,” Vanessa said. “I think someone cracked her.”

“What do you mean?” said TJ.

“I mean, yes, to an outside observer she would come off as crazy,” said Vanessa. “But the way she talked? She knew what she was saying, she was just scared.”

“Of what?” Blaine said quietly.

But no one had an answer for that.

The basement studio was empty when Vanessa arrived, a few minutes early. She threw her bag in the corner and flipped on the lights. She walked toward the familiar white figures on the walls, wondering what Justin had meant by saving her.

Where was Zep? It had been weeks since they’d really talked.

Tentatively, she touched one of the white figures, then another. They were warm beneath her fingers, as if the walls were burning. Vanessa recoiled, only to see the first figure she touched begin to brighten. Frightened, she backed away, when she heard a soft whisper, a lone girl’s cry.
Vanessa
.

“What?” Vanessa said shakily. It sounded as if it had come from one of the figures.

Vanessa
, another girl seemed to hiss.
Vanessa
.

“What do you want?” Vanessa said. “Who are you?”

The figures around her began to glow, their outlines brimming with light until they peeled themselves from the wall, their faces contorted with horror.
Chloë
, they hissed.
Margaret. Elizabeth. Katerina. Joy. Rebecca. Hannah. Josephine …

“Margaret?” Vanessa said, her eyes darting wildly about the room, searching for her sister.

The calling
, they whispered.
The summoning
.
Your soul for the taking
.

Vanessa turned, her hair whipping across her face.

We are you. You are we. We are you. You are we
.

“What?” Vanessa choked out.

They burned brighter as they chanted.
We are you. You are we. We are you. You are we
. They glowed, their faces twisting with agony. Their surfaces began to bubble, and large blisters formed on their arms. And before Vanessa had time to shield her eyes, they burst into brilliant red flames, their voices mounting into a hellish, tortured shriek.

“What are you doing?” Hilda’s voice boomed from the doorway.

Vanessa opened her eyes, only to find herself alone, cringing in the corner of the room. She lowered her hands from her ears and gazed at the figures on the wall. They were still and glossy with caked paint. There was no fire or smoke, no sign of burning. Had Vanessa imagined it?

“Did you hear anything?” Vanessa asked Hilda. “Just now?”

“Hear what?” Hilda asked, giving Vanessa a suspicious look. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I don’t feel well,” Vanessa said. Her legs were wobbly as she stood up, steadying herself on the barre. “I think I have to lie down.”

Across the room, Hilda’s stout figure came in and out of focus. Behind her, the door opened and a pair of broad shoulders loomed behind her. Vanessa blinked.

“Zeppelin,” Hilda said. “Perfect timing. Vanessa isn’t feeling up to rehearsing today.” She inspected Vanessa, her gaze piercing. Startled, Vanessa studied Hilda as if there was more to her than met the eye, but the woman’s face quickly softened. “Please escort her back to her dormitory and make sure she gets some rest.”

Zep let his bag drop off his shoulder and rushed to Vanessa, his face worried.

Vanessa should have been happy, but instead she was overwhelmed with guilt. “But what about Josef and rehearsal?” she asked. “We can’t both leave—”

“I’ll deal with Josef,” Hilda said. “Don’t you worry about him.”

Zep held out his hand. “Hi,” he said softly.

Behind him, the princesses filtered into the room, swinging their dance bags and laughing.

Vanessa stared down at Zep’s hand. It was still there, waiting for her. He was here now. Without saying a word, she laced her fingers through his, and together they pushed past Anna and her friends and walked out into the bright autumn afternoon.

Neither of them spoke while they meandered around the stone walkway between Lincoln Center Plaza and Juilliard. Vanessa didn’t look up at Zep once; instead, she studied her feet, which moved in tandem with his, as if they were still dancing.

“Where have you been?” she asked suddenly, just as he spoke.

“With Josef.”

Their words mingled together, and when Vanessa realized they had read each other’s thoughts, she smiled.