Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) (32 page)

While Tori packed up some clothes, Raven explored her room. He knelt in front of her bookshelf and skimmed the titles. “Fantasy…dance biographies…several classics…more fantasy,” he murmured. “You like to read?”

“Yes, and my e-reader is stuffed full of books. Thanks for reminding me to bring it.”

She rummaged around for the device and charger and put it in her suitcase. Raven moved from the bookshelf to a wall of photographs—mostly of her in recital and Halloween costumes over the years.

“You were a stunning little girl who grew up into a stunning woman.”

“Okay, now you’re embarrassing me. When I was little, people used to call me a mosquito because my arms and legs were too long for my body.”

He drew her into his arms. “That’s because they don’t see you like I do. The Nephilim are known for recognizing inner as well as outer beauty.”

“Uh-huh. You’re the Marquess of Malarky.”

“No! More like the Baron of Balderdash.”

She gave him a soft kiss and then wriggled from his grasp. “I hear music downstairs. I think the natives are getting restless.”

After she gave the room a once-over, she zipped the suitcase and set it down next to her boom box and portable media player full of music. She took Raven by the hand and tugged him into the hall. “Before we go, I want to show you Misty’s Hollywood wall of fame.”

Once inside her foster mother’s bedroom, however, she was brought up short. Although the nails and hooks on the wall remained, nothing hung from them. “Huh? The photographs are missing.” She turned to Raven, stricken. “I hope they weren’t stolen!”

“There are many other things in this house to steal which are much more valuable than photos,” he said. “Misty probably sent them out for reframing.”

“That has to be it.” Tori frowned. “What a shame. I thought you might enjoy seeing her posing with celebrities.”

“Ask her about them when she gets back. I’m sure I’ll get to see them one day.”

Raven and Tori brought her things downstairs and into the entranceway. She dashed into the living room, where Felicia, Fletcher and Chase were congregated around the piano.

“We’re ready.”

Tori’s eyes focused on the mantle. The painting of Baphomet was missing, too.

Misty’s costume locker was located inside a climate-controlled storage facility in Sherman Oaks. After Tori unfastened the lock, Raven and Chase slid the wide corrugated metal door upward. The huge unit measured five hundred square feet, and was filled with rolling racks of men’s and women’s costumes. Overhead lights reflected off sequins and beads, and highlighted copious amounts of feather trim. Tori giggled when she saw a pair of leather chaps.
I wonder if Misty’s corset is here too?
Felicia immediately reached for a spectacular
carnivale
headdress. “Oh, my! I’m in heaven.”

The next hour was spent picking out costumes. Fletcher even found a few costume pieces appropriate for his dramatic scene with Ian. Felicia gurgled with happiness when she unearthed a spotlight on a shelf in the back. They loaded their newly found treasures into the trunk of the SUV and left the facility.

They quickly discovered the traffic on Ventura Boulevard was jammed. The street was choked with shadow world denizens who were running in between cars, climbing onto hoods, and generally spreading negative energy.

“The drivers can’t see these demons on a conscious level, but they’re slowing down instinctively,” Raven said.

Tempers were quickly fraying. A pair of drivers left their cars to exchange blows while surrounding demons hooted with glee and took bets among themselves on the winner. To circumvent the melee, Tori directed Raven onto a side street. At last they reached the freeway, only to find traffic was erratic there, too. Raven narrowly avoided a fender bender when someone cut him off in a four wheel military-style vehicle. As he did so, the driver saluted him with a one-fingered wave.

“Isn’t that precious?” Felicia said. “That man needs to stick his finger in his eye.”

“It’s not his fault,” Raven said.

“Excuse me?” Fletcher was incredulous. “We all saw him swerve into you!”

“What I meant is, the shadow world has everyone on edge,” Raven said. “The idiot probably doesn’t even know why he’s in such a foul mood.”

“Unless something is done, things will get worse before they get better,” Chase said. “In the end, demons will have everyone at each other’s throats, and civil society will disappear.”

“Sounds like the Apocalypse,” Tori said.

Up ahead, the military-style vehicle pulled onto the shoulder to circumvent slowing traffic. As he sped along, cars began to honk at him in protest. Finally, a trucker in the right lane angled his semi so the smaller vehicle couldn’t pass. At a standstill, the two drivers began to yell at one another.

Fletcher chuckled. “Thereby illustrating the irresistible force paradox.”

“When an oversized ego meets an immoveable twit?” Felicia joked.

Everyone except for Tori laughed. Although she forced a smile, she was on the verge of tears.
This dissonance is the result of my birth.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, she tried to erase it—but guilt made her feel as if monkeys were nibbling at her hair.
If the underworld portal becomes necessary to remove the preponderance of evil from Earth, I’ll volunteer to go. I might not be morally culpable for this imbalance, but how can I ask anyone else to bear the responsibility in my stead?

When they returned to Blackfriars, it was past noon. After a quick lunch, everyone split into teams to rehearse their talent. Tori brought her boom box and met Raven in the gym to teach him the
Tchaikovsky Pas de Deux.
The original choreography was Balanchine’s, but Tori simplified it for Raven. In addition, the piece was over eight minutes long, but she shortened it by half. A particularly beautiful lift made a perfect break…and spared Raven from the more bravura
danseur
steps that followed.

“We’ll leave them wanting more,” she said.

“They’ll always want more from you.” Raven slipped his arms around her waist. “As do I.”

Since Raven and Tori had claimed the gym for practice, Felicia brought Chase to a large room on the ground floor which was empty except for the spacious raised dais across the far end.

“This room used to be a chapel,” he said.

“How do you know that?”

“There’s a faint marking on the wall where a cross was attached.” He stepped up onto the dais to show her.

“I think you must be right. I don’t know what Mr. Cassidy intends to do with this room in the future, but it makes a wonderful performance space, doesn’t it? This dais can serve as our stage.”

Fletcher stuck his head in the doorway. “Oh, there you are.” He held Felicia’s portable media player and a pair of small speakers. “Tori is using her boom box, so I borrowed these speakers from Mr. Cassidy.”

“Oh, thanks. Just put them on that stool,” she said.

Her brother left. Felicia sorted through the music on her player and selected a beautiful pop tune in triple meter. As the song flowed through the speakers, she glanced at Chase. “What do you think?”

“Hmm…I hadn’t thought of that song as a waltz, but it’s perfect.”

He crossed off the dais and led Felicia to the center of the room. “Let’s see if I remember what to do.”

As they began to waltz together, he gazed off into space with a look of concentration on his handsome face. His attention thus diverted, she allowed herself to marvel in his exquisitely shaped cheekbones and almond eyes.
The man oozes magnetism—and cool.
He suddenly met her gaze and she realized they’d stopped moving.
The song is over.
She cleared her throat and took a step back. “I think you’ve got the hang of the waltz just fine.”

“It was better than I expected. I guess a bossy English girl is easier to partner than a bossy American.”

Her hands went to her hips. “I’m not bossy! I’m a woman of firm opinions.”

“Good to know.”

She turned toward the music player, but he caught her wrist and drew her into an embrace. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

His kiss was warm and sensual, and she welcomed it with every fiber of her being.

“Do you have any opinion on that?” he murmured.

“I’m not sure. Show me again.”

Chapter Nineteen

Déjà Vu

C
HAIRS
W
ERE
B
ROUGHT
into the former chapel and arranged into rows. Tori applauded madly as Raven, the Emcee, took the stage.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, and Satyr, welcome to the show.” He sketched an elaborate bow. “First up is a lovely lady who will dazzle us with her vocal stylings. Please put your hands together for Mrs. Trumbull, singing
All Things Bright and Beautiful.”

Tori could not remember a talent show she enjoyed more, from Quigley’s Irish whistle to Mr. Mime and Cody’s rendition of
Day-O
. Felicia and Chase danced a lovely choreographed waltz. She was clad in a dreamy beaded white gown, and Chase looked sharp in a black tux. As she watched the performance, Tori appreciated Felicia’s accomplished technique—and her obvious chemistry with Chase.
They must have overcome their differences.

Fletcher and Ian commanded everyone’s attention with their scene from
Othello—
complete with capes and doublets culled from Misty’s costume locker. Tori and Raven were the finale. They’d rehearsed for hours, and although nothing could make up for Raven’s lack of training completely, Tori was thrilled with his performance. In addition, he was incredibly sexy in a white satin shirt and black jazz pants. She’d matched her outfit to his, wearing a traditional ballet costume in fluttering black chiffon.

After the show was over, she changed her toe shoes for slippers while Mrs. Trumbull shooed everyone into the dining room for a feast. All manner of traditional English dishes were lined up on the sideboard, including Toad in the Hole, steak and kidney pie, roast beef, and bubble and squeak. Raven had to explain to Tori what several of the dishes were, and she gamely spooned a bit of each onto her plate. When everyone was seated, Ian asked Quigley to hand around flutes of bubbling wine. He lifted his glass in a toast. “I’m not sure when I’ve ever enjoyed a talent show more. I feel like I know all of you just a little better now. Here’s to averting the Apocalypse.”

The sweet, light wine tickled Tori’s nose.
It tastes like happiness.
She set her glass down, picked up her fork, and sampled a bite of sausage in Yorkshire pudding.

“What do you think of Toad in the Hole?” Raven asked.

“Delicious.” She giggled. “But are you sure this meat isn’t toad?”

He rolled his eyes at her. In the distance, a telephone rang, and Quigley hastened to answer it. Conversation around the table ebbed and flowed as people sampled Mrs. Trumbull’s party fare. A few moments later, the butler reappeared, whispering something in Ian’s ear that made him frown. He stood, excused himself, and brushed past Quigley on his way from the dining room.