The program he perused while waiting for the ballet to begin indicated the troupe would be performing La Bayadere. He lacked even a cursory knowledge of ballet. His life thus far had not afforded much opportunity for idle leisure. Poverty as a child, followed by his training, and then mission after mission forewent pleasurable diversions. On occasion, he took in an opera or concert, but Shax’s predilection for video games, reality TV, and old Shaw Brothers’ films dominated most of his free time. Dustan scanned the list of dancers and found Kyra Annikov would be performing the part of Nikiya, the female lead.
The libretto sounded interesting. Set in the Royal India of long ago, Nikiya, a beautiful temple dancer, is in love with a young warrior named Solor. However, Solor is engaged to the Rajah’s daughter. Nikiya dances during the betrothal and afterward receives a basket of flowers from the Rajah’s daughter. The basket contains a deadly snake and Nikiya dies. Solor dreams of reuniting with Nikiya in the Kingdom of the Shades. The gods, angered by Nikiya’s murder, destroy the palace. Solor and Nikiya reunite in spirit, in the Kingdom of the Shades. Dustan thought the concept a bit convoluted, but maybe there would be some exciting effects.
The lights went down and a hush fell over the crowd. A group of warriors pranced into view, jumping and spinning. After a few moments with the hero Solor, Kyra glided across stage as Nikiya. Dustan snatched a breath, his eyes wide. Dressed in a flowing silk skirt that raked the floor and a sequined bra top, she enchanted him with her graceful movements. Long, dark hair cascaded down from beneath an ornate headpiece. Solor lifted her petite form into the air with ease. Her every twirl and leap transfixed Dustan. A thousand butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and his palms moistened. A quiver ran through him, and he touched Blood Dancer for reassurance, trying to shake the unbidden feelings. Appearances deceived, he reminded himself. This was an angel, like any other. Dustan focused his energy, letting his senses reach out. Kyra’s aura bloomed deep, yet vibrant purple.
Purple?
Shax had warned him her aura might appear different. All angels, without exception, possessed auras on a spectrum from gray to white, demons pink to scarlet. Never purple. A fuzzed image leapt into his mind, tipping his head backward—a tall man in a robe with an essence tinged blue. With the mental door cracked, a myriad of bizarre scenes played on the screen behind his eyes. Dustan pressed slick palms to his eye sockets, the kaleidoscope of pictures and colors dizzying perception. Nausea roiled in his stomach.
He stood, made certain his topcoat concealed the sword, and headed to the men’s room. With arms taut against the sink, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. Blue eyes filled with confusion gazed back at him. Memories interlocked with dreams and merged with delusion. Nothing made sense. If he could only disperse the fog and remember. Somewhere inside his addled mind hid a truth he needed desperately to discover. The greater part of his life, and a full half of his soul, spent trying to lessen grief and satisfy hatred, shifted into uncertainty. Worst of all, he could not understand why.
Why now? What changed?
“Losing your nerve, lad?”
Dustan jumped at the voice behind him. “What the…. Shit, Shax, you scared the hell out of me.” He peered down at the little man. “What are you doing here? And why aren’t you in a different form?”
“Don’t plan on staying. Thought you might need a pep talk.”
“No, I’m okay. Not fully back yet, I guess.” Dustan splashed a handful of water on his face and dabbed it away with a towel.
Shax scrunched his nose. “You seem preoccupied. Something on your mind?”
“No. The assassins, Zaphkiel, Ariel—this is my first real mission since all that happened. Think I got a bit anxious. Panic attack maybe.”
“Doubtful. Keep your eyes on the prize, lad. We’re all depending on you. We’ve almost evened up the numbers, can’t afford to start losing recruits now. Let this angel whack our future soldiers and the damage reverberates for a long time.”
“I get it. I do.” He steeled his gaze and shook his arms loose. “I’m on it Shax, don’t worry.”
Shax grinned and patted him on the back. “Glad to hear it. Never doubted you myself. Higher ups get their curlies twisted, ya know?”
“Sure. It’s good as done.”
The demon nodded and disappeared.
Shit. Keep it together.
Dustan did not return to the hall, but instead made his way to the dressing rooms. An off-limits area, he needed to avoid security. Not difficult—the two guards working backstage seemed to find the ballet crowd nonthreatening. One sat at the far end of the corridor reading a Sports Illustrated, and the other took more smoke breaks than sweeps of his zone.
Dustan slipped into the female dancers’ room, found a secluded spot behind a row of stored backdrops, and waited. Sometime later, the cast entered the room. All laughs and hugs, they repeatedly kissed each other on both cheeks.
“You did an amazing job for your first lead, Kyra,” said one of the dancers. “I bet you keep the part even after Catherine gets well.”
“I doubt that. But it was a wonderful experience. I feel like I’m floating.” She laid several dozen roses on a table, beaming a wide smile.
Dustan tried to avoid playing the peeping tom while the women changed, but he had trouble taking his gaze off Kyra. She sat before a mirror framed in bulbs, radiant, her eyes shining with pure joy, her skin aglow. Once the women had dressed, a knock came to the door. A man glided into the room, four fingers rapping the opposite palm in a dainty clap. He wore a bright yellow tuxedo with a cyan bow tie, and thick, horn-rimmed eyeglasses glittering along the frames.
“Wonderful my angels, simply divine.” He reached out to Kyra and cupped her face. “And you…marvelous, simply marvelous.”
“Thank you, Claude. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Nonsense, you earned it. Enjoy it, my dove. You’re a star.” The effeminate man hugged her and clapped all the way out of the dressing room.
Two hours passed with fellow dancers, producers, and stage directors visiting to congratulate Kyra and the others. Dustan’s knees grew stiff where he crouched behind the backdrops. Finally, only Kyra and a woman he heard called Jamie remained.
“Need a ride, hon?” asked Jamie.
“No, I drove. Think I’ll stick around for a little while. Visit the stage one more time,” she said, glancing away to conceal a blush.
Jamie grinned. “Don’t be embarrassed. Every one of us has felt the same way. Make sure to have security walk you to your car.”
“I will.”
Jamie gave Kyra a last hug and left through the performers’ exit. Kyra slipped on a brown leather jacket over a pink blouse and black jeans. She drew the side zippers on ankle-high boots and departed the dressing room into the stage entrance corridor. Dustan waited a minute and followed.
Kyra entered the stage area from the hallway while Dustan crept onto the concourse, keeping to the shadows along the inner wall. He spied two security guards, one near the front entry to the Center, another patrolling a circuit and headed right for him. Dustan pressed into a recess situated beside one of the vendor’s booths. The guard turned into the auditorium two gates up, peeked into the hall, and proceeded down the concourse, passing his position without a glance. Dustan assumed at least one or two more guards made similar passes on the east side of the complex.
He tiptoed into the hall and crouched behind a row of seats. None of the guards stepped more than a foot into the auditorium. The stage curtains remained drawn as he crept through the aisles. Good. With security sticking to the concourse and gates, they would not hear any commotion from so far away. Still, this place had great acoustics. Oh well, nothing for it but hope for the best. With any luck, he could dispatch the angel before anyone was the wiser.
He slipped behind the drapes and pressed against a partition in the darkened wing. Kyra twirled on a toe, arms high over her head. Her jacket tailed out, whipping the air. She giggled and placed h
er hands to her mouth. It seemed a sin to dash the moment; she appeared so happy…and innocent. Dustan clenched his fists and shook his head. If he did not do this now, he really might lose his nerve.
“Very impressive,” he said.
Kyra spun, surprise on her face. “I’m…sorry. I wanted to stand on the stage one more time before leaving.” She offered a disarming smile.
“No problem. I’m not here for that.” Dustan reached to the scabbard fixed to his back and drew Blood Dancer.
“You found me? After all this time? I suppose I could not hide forever.” Her lips pouted, and a tear traced down her cheek. Dustan’s hands trembled. Kyra’s reaction, the images swirling in his mind, his own emotions, all conspired to weaken his resolve. Something was not right here.
“Do it, boy. This one will trick you quicker than any. Powerful one, she is. Put your blade through her heart and be done with it.” Shax stood at his elbow, a hand on his back pushing him forward. The demon had never shadowed him on a mission like this before.
What the hell is going on?
Kyra gave him no time to consider the discrepancies further. An orb of violet light sprang into each hand. Dustan ducked beneath one, but the other caught him high on the left shoulder. The contact numbed his entire arm, leaving it limp at his side. His own energy flared, and he launched a fiery ball. The woman nimbly pivoted out of its path.
She drew a pair of long daggers from the insides of her jacket. Thin double-edged blades fixed to sleek black metal hilts twirled deftly in her small hands. Kyra proved no less the dancer with the daggers, spinning and leaping, thrusting and slicing. Dustan managed to take a half dozen nicks and cuts on her first pass.
“Quit holding back. She ain’t the delicate flower she looks,” Shax shouted from a few paces behind.
Blood trickled from wounds already knitting closed and trailed down his arms and neck. Dustan narrowed his eyes, anger building, and launched a counterattack. Blood Dancer sang through the air in swift slices and arcs. The woman was quick and nimble, but as she flipped over his head, an upward thrust raked her leg. An electric shock blazed down his arms and into his legs. He fell to a knee, trying to maintain his grip on the sword.
“You’re…a demon?” He stared at her, his body stiff with receding discomfort and confusion. The violet aura radiated in a halo about her. The tall man shimmered blue in his mind…
“No. I’m something else.” Kyra bounded toward him, daggers extended. Dustan could not produce a defense. His strength had returned, but his conviction and desire waned. As the blades drove toward his chest, instinct and self-preservation kicked in. He parried the dagger on the right, rotated out of the left’s path, and struck the woman with the hilt of his sword squarely on the jaw. She toppled to the ground. He leapt onto her, Blood Dancer raised for the finishing blow.
“Do it, boy. Do it now. Finish her.” Shax sounded gleeful.
Kyra’s eyes fluttered. Deep, liquid brown pools gleamed up at him, a fatalistic resignation on her face.
“I…I can’t.”
“Get outta my way,” said Shax, shoving him to the side. “I’ll do it my own damned self.”
Shax grabbed Kyra, waved a hand, and disappeared with her through a portal.
19
Friends and Other Enemies
Kyra had managed to wiggle free of Shax’s grip by the time Dustan emerged from the gate. The demon no longer appeared as a dwarf, but a warrior almost as large as Grigori. Fitted head to toe in dark red armor, his maroon aura blazed around him, as did the scythe he brandished. His heavy stomps shook the ground in tremors.
An ice bowl surrounded by gigantic monoliths framed their battle. Chaotic runes scrawled in the stone sparked with the crackle of clashing energies. The floor of the ravine lay slick with rock and frost; jagged glistening fingers jutted from the ground. The sky overhead, milky gray streaked with azure, appeared as a dome, and made Dustan feel as though he stood inside a planet-sized snow globe.
Shax’s scythe cut through the air inches above Kyra’s head. She flipped away and launched an orb of violet fire at the brute. It smashed into his abdomen, the force pushing him back a step. He shook his head and charged. His weapon sliced down, plunging a foot into the ice as Kyra rolled away. Another orb hissed toward the demon. He slapped it to the side with the back of his gauntlet.
Dustan skated down the slick embankment. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do. He was aligned with Shax, but he did not want to see Kyra killed. Indecision gnawed at him. If he didn’t think of something soon, the two would destroy each other and render his consternation moot. He raced to the far side of the basin and halted as Shax heaved a blow that missed and thundered into the base of one of the colossal steles. The slab rocked and collapsed, sending shards of ice raining down on the combatants.
“Shax stop,” shouted Dustan. “Don’t do this. She isn’t an angel.”
If Shax heard, he ignored him. The demon’s rage seemed to deafen him, all his intent focused on eviscerating Kyra. She was not going down easily. A dozen gashes streaked the big man’s torso and abdomen. Deep-hued red energy leaked out in fine streams before the wounds closed. Shax dismissed those as well. He swung low with the blade. Kyra leapt high over it, and Shax caught her with a fist, sending her flying across the frozen ground on her back. The demon pursued, his heavy footfalls leaving indentions in the canyon floor. Kyra attempted to rise, but dazed, she slipped on the frost-covered surface and lay helpless on her back. Shax loomed over her, scythe raised for a killing strike. Dustan mouthed a silent no and hurled a sphere, knocking the brawny man a step to the side, pain shooting up his own arm. It gained Shax’s attention. The demon glared at him, his nose seeping energy.
“Shax, stop. We need to figure this out.” Dustan’s eyes flitted from Kyra to Shax and his scythe. His emotions, his soul, felt caught in a tug-o-war tearing him apart.
“Nothing to figure out. The bitch is an abomination, she has to die.” Kyra struggled to her feet and made to move out of striking range, but checked up as Shax pointed his weapon. “Stay put, girl. I ain’t done with you.”
“Look at her, Shax. She isn’t an angel. We don’t need to do this.”
Dustan’s pleas fell on deaf ears. The demon snarled as Kyra backed away. Every muscle in Dustan’s body constricted, fear clawing at his chest. He would not kill Kyra, but he could not stop Shax. The warrior would not listen. Perhaps Dustan had it wrong. Shax must know better than he did. He claimed they had been searching ages to find her. What threat did she represent to the demons?
The blade cracking into the ground brought him out of his brooding. Kyra appeared exhausted, her movements lethargic. One of her daggers protruded from Shax’s shoulder, the other clasped tight in a two-handed grip where she squatted and swayed on her heels. A menacing grin stretched across the demon’s face as he lumbered toward her. Kyra’s gaze screamed desperation. In a brazen move, she charged the big man, leaped three strides from him, and vaulted into the air. She aimed the dagger for his right eye. Shax swatted the blade aside with one huge hand and punched her between her breasts with the other. Again, she hurled backward, crashing to the ice. Amethyst energy trickled from the corners of her mouth. Kyra appeared finished.
Shax clomped across the ground, positioned one boot on each side of her motionless body, and prepared to drive the point of the scythe into her core. An overwhelming sense of loss assaulted Dustan, a hollow dug deep inside him. A tall man hued in blue stood behind his eyes, and a voice from a dream drifted into his mind…. A time will come when you must decide what you want to be.
Dustan darted forward. He gained speed, and leaped with his shoulder leading, colliding into Shax as the demon began the downward swing. Both slid along the frozen ground, clapping into the shelf wall. Shax bolted to his feet. Dustan put himself between the demon and Kyra, who still lay unconscious.
“Out of my way, boy.” Shax gritted his teeth, fury blazing in his eyes.
“No. I won’t le
t you kill her.” Dustan braced, his body stiff with discord. Indecision morphed into desperation, and he drew his sword.
Shax squinted at the blade. “You going to fight me over this bitch?”
“I don’t want to, but I will if you make me.”
“Ha. We’d only cause the other some pain. Can’t kill each other.”
“No, but maybe I can keep you occupied until she can escape.”
The demon’s face twisted in anger. “You don’t know what you’re doing, boy. You’re pissing me off for one thing.”
“Sorry. Why don’t you explain it to me? Help me out here, Shax.” Dustan wanted, no needed to understand.
“Explain a million years of war to you? This little girl, if she lives, which she won’t, could be the end of us all. Everything we’ve fought for. Those I’ve lost, all dead for nothing.” Shax stepped to circumvent his obstacle, but Dustan moved into his path.
“How? How is she such a danger?”
“It’s more complicated than I care to explain right now. Get out of my way, last time I’ll warn you.” Shax stormed forward.
Dustan retreated a step and brought Blood Dancer to life. “I will not let you kill her, Shax. I mean it.”
“Enough of this.” Shax lowered his head and charged.
The man with the blue aura hovered in Dustan’s vision—A time will come when you must decide what you want to be.
The man transformed into Kyra prone on the ground, dying. The scene altered again and his father stood before a shimmering blue-white wall.
Blood for the Dancer Page 16
