by Yelana Black
She didn’t need to answer him. Instead, she closed her eyes, and, pushing everything out of her mind, she raised herself en pointe and prepared for the lift.
Hilda held the staff like a conductor, and Vanessa followed her instructions, feeling herself pushed back, then reeled in; smoothing out her long, extended leg, and curling her spine upward. When the rhythm changed, she shifted with it, her body slowing.
She was barely aware when Zep drifted away, backing into the shadows, his role over. Her chest heaved. Everything in the room went dull and blurred, and then suddenly a burst of color shocked her eyes. She squinted from the glare but kept dancing as the room grew brighter, redder, the colors saturating into a surreal prism of light.
“Good,” Hilda whispered. As the ballerinas spun past Vanessa, the floor beneath their toes began to ripple, carrying them with it.
Vanessa quickened her pace, forcing her body left, then right. This time she didn’t fight it. She allowed herself to stagger with the beat, feeling her satin pointe shoes sliding against the polished wood.
A smoldering smell floated through the air, and the paint began to curl. The glowing white figures peeled their bodies off the wall and twirled toward Vanessa, mimicking her motions and forming a luminous circle around the living ballerinas.
No one else reacted to them. The other girls kept dancing, their faces expressionless, while the radiant figures wove around them in bursts of light.
I’m the only one who can see them, Vanessa realized.
Pulling her eyes away, Vanessa gazed up into the blinding glare of the spotlight, letting its warmth envelop her. Sweat trickled down her neck and into the thin fabric of her leotard. She tilted her head back and raised her arms, reaching into the light, when she felt a new sensation.
It started as a tingling, a steamy warmth on the back of her neck. She shivered as it traveled down her spine, seeping into her skin and filling her with heat. Except it wasn’t heat, exactly—or at least not the kind she knew.
It felt like a surge of life. Of something thick and lush and foreign. She blinked, and when she opened her eyes, everything around her was moving in slow motion.
She could see the dust particles hanging in the air, the light reflecting off them as if they were bits of gold.
She could feel the air shifting and see the light bending around the circle of ballerinas.
She could hear Hilda tapping the beat, though it sounded simple and flat, and she wondered why she ever had trouble with it in the first place.
Vanessa flitted through the room like a warm breeze, her body weightless, a shell. She wasn’t just going through the motions of the dance, she was becoming it. The rhythm pulsed through her, and Vanessa knew that with this strange charge of life inside her, she could do anything. Her body wasn’t a limitation anymore. She could peel it off and it wouldn’t matter.
Her chest swelled, the leotard tight around her ribs. A strong, invisible force pressed against her back, straightening her spine. The ribbons cut into her ankles, and she felt the bones in her toes grow fragile, as if they might shatter beneath her weight. But she didn’t step out of place. She wanted to feel this new life grip her, take control of her body, and teach her to move through space and time like she was always meant to.
Her body was brittle now, as elegant as glass. Her lips parted and a thin string of air entered her. Her mouth moved without her, her throat constricting and her tongue growing parched as she felt herself whisper a jumble of sounds.
They weren’t English, exactly, or any language—just a mixture of sounds that suddenly made sense: Who am I? Even though the words had come from her, the voice didn’t belong to Vanessa. It was deep and impossibly rich, like the color of a clear winter night.
Vanessa closed her eyes and let its life seep through her. This is who I am, she answered.
She trembled, extending her hands above her head while the presence prickled her fingertips, feeling her, knowing her for the first time. But then something odd happened.
It took hold of her limbs and tossed her body to the side.
It was angry.
Vanessa was barely able to keep balance as she landed, still in position, before it tossed her again, the demon’s wrath surging through her. Suddenly she realized that it didn’t want to be called forth at all.
Vanessa’s vision clouded, and her mind pulsed with darkness as the demon tried to rip itself from her. Hilda’s tapping grew more distant. She blinked, trying to regain control, when she noticed a luminous figure flitting on the periphery. “Margaret?” she whispered in her own voice. “Margaret?”
She grew stronger as she said it, the room coming back into focus. She forced her legs into position, pointed her toe, and lifted herself in a triumphant relevé.
She felt a force move up her spine. It arched her back, making her bones creak as she bent forward into a low bow.
She heaved, and her mouth began to move again. Why have you called me forth? it asked her in a deep voice. Her vocal cords hurt with each weirdly pronounced word.
Vanessa lowered herself to the floor. I want to know what you know, she answered.
What I know? it said, the voice of the demon choking her throat. What I know, you do not want to know.
She rolled herself upward, letting the spotlight kiss her cheeks. I do, she answered back. I MUST. There is one I seek.
Her mouth parted and the demon spoke again. Only if you set me free.
Vanessa paused, almost missing a beat. Set it free?
If you set me free I will show you. I will help you. Whatever you seek we can find. Her fingers curled outward, beckoning her to accept the offer.
Vanessa let her leg slide behind her in an elegant curtsy. I accept.
A rift grew inside her, long and jagged, but Vanessa didn’t stop dancing. She raised her head up to the spotlight, turning, pirouetting, waiting. A searing force tore its way through her. Her knees bent back. Her neck cracked left, then right. Her arms snapped into place over her head, getting ready for a final sequence of steps, when the door to the studio burst open.
A shadow forced itself into the room, like a person she once knew. Justin? Was that his name? She couldn’t remember. Two others piled in behind him, large and identical. Twins. Fratelli. They seemed like they were in a rush.
It all happened in a haze, the room watery and slow around her.
From the corner of her eye, Vanessa saw lips move on one of the ballerinas. “Finally!” the girl said, forming each sound slowly. Anna. Her powdered face twisted, as if she were trying to run toward them but she couldn’t. Something larger was at work now. “You have to stop her,” Anna said, just before she twirled away, unable to break free from the dance.
Don’t worry, Vanessa wanted to tell them. I’ve made a deal with it. But she was ripped away into a scatter of steps. She was leaving this world now, floating while everything around her remained slow and distorted, as if the only time that mattered was the pace of her steps.
In the distance, she could see Justin move toward the circle of ballerinas, the twins looming behind him. His dark eyes fixed on Vanessa, and for a moment she remembered him—the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne, the sharpness of his hair across his face as he stood in her doorway late at night. But as quickly as the memories came, they vanished, and her head was filled with bright flashes that stunned her and then faded away, like embers burning to ash. The demon had taken over.
Justin must have noticed, because he stopped in his tracks and studied her, tilting his head to get a better look. Suddenly, he held up a broad hand and said something in another language. Vanessa didn’t understand it, but something inside her did.
The force inside her flinched, as if their words had wounded it.
The voice fractured, a jumble of whispers crowded her head, and for the briefest of moments she regained herself.
Justin was standing across the room, his hand held up. She extended her arm toward him, meeting his gaze. Justi
n, her eyes pleaded. Help me.
He must have understood. “Vanessa,” he cried. And in that split second, he lost whatever control he’d had over the demon.
Vanessa’s eyes blurred, and somewhere within her, the fractured voices joined together again as one and said, Yesssssss.
Hilda stepped in front of him. She raised Josef’s staff in the air, as if she were going to swing it at Justin, when Anna shouted, “No!”
Anguish clear on her face, Anna willed her legs out of position.
Immediately, Hilda spun with the staff and knocked Anna back in line. Anna’s knees straightened and her face grew smooth, and she was back under a trance again, her cheeks white as a porcelain doll, her red lips pursed.
Hilda spoke, her voice cutting through the room. “You?” She pointed to Justin and the twins with her staff. “I thought you were too young and stupid to learn any functional magic.” She shook her head and turned to the frozen circle of ballerinas. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re too late; we have brought forth our Guest. You’ve all betrayed me,” Hilda said in a low growl. “And you will suffer for it. Spirit! What is your name?”
Werzelya sounded in the room, reverberating in the floor and air and their very bones.
“Werzelya, I command you. Enter your host,” Hilda said as she began to beat her staff once more.
Vanessa could see the yellow stains on Hilda’s teeth as she said it over and over. And even though Hilda’s voice grew quieter, Vanessa could hear the words in her mind. Enter her. It started as a whisper, growing louder until Vanessa’s head began to pound.
She felt her feet move faster. Her blood seemed to boil, and her face grew so hot that she felt like she might dissolve right there on the floor. Her breath slowed. Her lips parted and she let out a soundless whisper.
Yes.
The air in front of her swirled until it formed a hot, thin, raging funnel. It gasped and hissed as it moved toward her.
Hilda raised her hands as if beckoning it toward Vanessa. The strand began to uncoil.
Unable to help herself, Vanessa closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath, inhaling it until she could feel it scorching her throat, pressing against her lungs. She twisted her head from side to side as it took hold of her.
Suddenly she went still.
Vanessa lowered her head until her chin was resting against her chest. From somewhere in the room, she heard Justin call out to her, though his voice sounded distant. Was he trying to help her?
“Get rid of these three,” Hilda said, gesturing at Justin and the twins.
A rush of heat forced itself up Vanessa’s neck, cocking her head upright. She blinked. Her vision was blurred, as if a dark film had fallen over her eyes.
Through it, she could barely see Justin’s body, flanked on either side by the Fratelli twins. With an unnatural twist of her legs, she thrust herself forward, and something seemed to fling outward from her, warping the air and rushing forth.
It rippled through the air, picked up the three newcomers, and dashed them against the wall.
Vanessa heard the thump of Justin’s body as he slid to the floor, the loud thuds of the twins falling beside him. She wanted to call out, to run to his side, but her legs felt so brittle that if she bent them, they might shatter. She couldn’t stop herself.
Justin struggled to his knees. “Vanessa!”
She felt her lips move without her. I am not Vanessa.
“Vanessa! Remember!”
The demon cocked her head to the right until she could no longer see Justin. It painfully forced her shoulders back until the blades touched, and an invisible hand pushed her into a fouetté. The room began to spin. She heard her name again.
“Vanessa,” Justin pleaded. “I know you can hear me. You need help. All of the dancers who’ve gone before.”
“Werzelya!” Hilda let out a low laugh. “Hit them again!”
No! Vanessa wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She leaped into a contorted arabesque, thrusting all of the demon’s fury at Justin.
A swirl of heat swept him up and smashed him against the ceiling, then dropped him.
He crashed to the floor, unconscious.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vanessa.
The luminous figures of the shadow dancers circled tightly around her, their features resolving into clear lines carved from light. A girl with a long face, her pointe shoes an older version of Vanessa’s, as if they were made two decades ago. A petite girl with thin, painted lips and a tulle net wrapped around her chignon, followed by another with full cheeks and freckles, and then another. Finally, a fragile brunette, her face a darker, more delicate version of Vanessa’s.
Something inside Vanessa stirred. Margaret? she wondered.
Vanessa, she heard again from a dozen long-dead mouths, their voices airy and distant, their mouths not moving. Look at us. Stay with us.
The demon within her tipped her head back, forcing her eyes to the ceiling. Vanessa’s lips parted, and she let out a throaty snarl. Her arms snapped up and her chin cracked left, where she could just glimpse the outline of her shadow on the wooden floor.
To her horror, the edges of her silhouette heaved and swelled, transforming until her shoulders had broadened and her body had grown huge.
She glanced down at her arms, expecting to see them transformed, but they looked the same as always—slim and smooth, her hands cupped.
The luminous figures around her grew brighter. Color seeped into their hair, tinting them light brown, flaxen, auburn, ebony. It painted their lips and rouged their cheeks and outlined their eyes in black shadows that fluttered every time they blinked. She could feel the warmth of their glow as they danced even closer, mimicking her moves.
Vanessa, they said in unison, their whispers filling her head. Release it.
Her face contorted itself into a twisted frown. Never! the demon said through her chapped lips. She is my bride. I will have my freedom. She will give it to me.
Shh, the figures said to the demon within her. The girl is not a worthy vessel.
Something deep inside her began to pulse. Vanessa felt the straps of her leotard tighten, cutting off her circulation. She tried to wiggle free, but she couldn’t move.
The luminous figures inched closer. The girl is not the host for you. She is just the key, not the lock. But Hilda …
The heat of the demon within her was unbearable now. Her skin itched as the fire crept outward, licking her chest, her throat, her cheeks. Beads of sweat dotted her skin. She wanted to stop dancing, to sit down and rest, but she couldn’t. She gasped for air, but it felt like there was none left in the room.
Steffie, she thought, TJ, Blaine. She tried to spot them in the shadows but saw nothing.
Look at Hilda’s power, one of the luminous girls whispered.
Look at her eyes. She thinks to control you, another one said, her long black hair dissipating into the air like ash as she, too, turned to Hilda. She wants to keep you, not free you.
If you stay with Vanessa, you will be the other’s slave, said another.
If you take Hilda, you will be free.
Let Vanessa go. Let her go and be free.
The girls stopped speaking, yet their words echoed in the room.
Vanessa held her position, poised on both toes as if suspended between worlds. She felt the demon within her pulling at her sides, ruminating. She felt her lips move. Hilda. Trying on the sound of the name.
Vanessa extended her hand, her fingers tingling, to the newest of the shadows. Her fingers entwined with the outline of the figure’s glowing white hand. She felt a shock of energy as the girl’s palm closed around hers.
The luminous dancers swept her across the room toward Hilda, their heat pulsing through Vanessa like electricity. The demon inside her shuddered. Her blood cooled.
It was ready.
They whipped through the outer circle of ballerinas, still frozen in the motions of La Danse du Feu.
“Yes!” Hilda
cried. “Come to me!”
Vanessa’s legs moved of their own accord, her lips parting as a white-hot braiding of air left her mouth and reached toward Hilda. The demon scratched against her throat, clawing as it escaped.
“I was the one who called you forth,” Hilda said. “Take me!”
Something coiled in the air around her, tightening around her limbs, her chest, her throat.
“Yes!” she cried, lifting her face to the spotlight.
A ripple traveled beneath Hilda’s skin, her shadow quivering and expanding as if something were trying to elbow its way out. A jerk of the neck and she leveled her head, her eyes black and metallic.
Slowly, the smile faded from her face. The shimmery white figures of the dancers knotted themselves around her.
Her limbs went stiff. An invisible force dragged her legs, her back into position.
“No,” she sputtered. “Wait—you’re wrong! I can’t—”
Sweat soaked her clothes, matting her hair to her temples. “I—I can’t,” she wheezed.
Hilda’s eyes turned back in her head, and the whites began to glow. Spurs of light shot from her mouth, forcing her lips open.
You fed me lies, she spat in a voice not her own. You sought to enslave me. But I will not be imprisoned. I will be free.
As her face seemed to crack and fissure with searing light, the luminous figures closed in. Vanessa could no longer see Hilda, could only see the swaying, writhing, bright burning knot of the dancers.
“No!” Hilda cried.
The dancers exploded into a terrible burst of light, and disappeared like one hundred thousand fireflies. Josef’s staff fell to the floor with a clatter.
There was nothing left of Hilda but embers, hissing as they cooled to ash on the polished wooden floor.
Vanessa stumbled back, feeling life return to her fingertips.
The room came back into focus. By the door, Steffie, Blaine, and TJ struggled against their bonds, safe now and still alive. Behind them, the white figures of the long-lost dancers had resumed their places in the wall, their limbs again nothing more than white paint surrounded by ash.
