The Dance

by Barbara Steiner

  Bryan fought an irrational hysteria. He clutched the front of Maurice Cohen’s suit coat. “Do you believe this, Mr. Cohen? You have to tell me the truth.”

  Cohen pulled back, uncomfortable with being put on the spot. “There is one more thing for you to believe or not believe, young man.”

  “What?” Brad demanded. “What else could there possibly be?”

  Cohen peeled Bryan’s fingers off his coat and stepped back before he spoke. “The legend also says that this evening of dancing usually comes to a climax with the sacrifice of one of the women dancers.”

  sixteen

  NEITHER SETH NOR Bryan spoke, except to tell the cabbie their destination, until they were on the train back to Bellponte.

  Bryan first tried to laugh off their experience now that they were back in the sunshine, which did little to warm the day. “Well, that was some story, wasn’t it? You wanted some facts, some concrete evidence. What do you think now?”

  Seth, usually the joker, was not in a laughing mood. “Maurice Cohen taught ancient history at the university for years before he retired and opened this shop. He’s a scholar, Bryan.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s without superstitions. He can’t really believe all that stuff he told us.”

  “But he did, Bryan, and I—I do, too.”

  “That’s ridiculous. There are no witches or demons—that’s just mythology.”

  “But you believe there were back in some remote piece of history?”

  “I doubt it. Witches were just poor women who happened to hold beliefs that were a little different. If I didn’t like someone, I could call her a witch. Then a crowd would get hysterical and burn her just in case such a thing existed.”

  They both stared out the window for a few miles. “Then you aren’t going to tell Melanie what we found out?” Seth asked.

  “I’ll tell her, sure. If I get a chance. I’m sure she’ll laugh about it, too. This doesn’t mean I’m on Leona’s side now. I do think she has some kind of hold on those seven women. Maybe she has them hypnotized, or drugged, or just brain washed. I’ll still ask Melanie to get out of the troupe, but I know she won’t do it this close to the recital and performance.”

  “Where did Leona get this book?” Seth asked, indicating the heavy bag he’d set between his feet.

  “How should I know. Maybe it was passed down in her family from generation to generation, even for five hundred years. That kind of thing happens.”

  Seth stopped arguing. Bryan stopped thinking. Tried to, that is. What he’d been given to think about was so farfetched, so unreasonable, it was hard not to think about it. But it was harder still to believe.

  It was a little after three o’clock when they got to Bellponte and hurried through the darkening afternoon to Bryan’s car. The sky was the color of pewter, turning piles of old snow gray and dirty blue. Clouds were heavy with new moisture. Bryan felt heavy, unreasonably tired, weighed down with something he didn’t understand.

  They found a parking place near the theater and hurried into the Blue Princess, Bryan lugging the heavy book, Hank’s medallion tucked into Seth’s inside coat pocket. Bryan knew that no matter where this book came from, Leona would not be pleased that they had taken it out of the studio. He hoped for good luck with getting it back into Madame Turva’s office.

  Almost at the door of the ballet studio Albert Brandish stopped them. “You boys got business in there?”

  Bryan was startled, his concentration on their task. “Our—we’re picking up two friends. Surely they’re through rehearsing by now.”

  “We got tired of waiting out front,” Seth added. “It’s getting ready to drop a ton of snow again.”

  “I’ve got orders to keep everyone out except dancers.” The man was the Incredible Hulk in overalls. If he wanted to keep them out, he could.

  “Can we wait in the lobby of the theater?” Bryan asked. This must be the custodian that Melanie mentioned. Surely he couldn’t keep them out of the theater, even though there was no show scheduled for tonight.

  “I guess so.” Brandish spotted the ballet bag. “Want me to take something into the studio for you?”

  “No. No.” Bryan hugged the bag tighter. “My friend will come and get it when she’s finished.”

  Hank, still in her leotard, was the one who came looking for them. “There you are. Finally,” she whispered, looking back down the stairs. “I got a thousand demerits and a lecture for forgetting my medallion. I think if Leona finds this book gone, she might explode. She’s been the very devil to work with today.”

  “Don’t say that.” Seth hugged Hank and lifted the book into her arms. “What can we do to help you put this back? Yell fire from out here? Get everyone’s attention?”

  “Something. Why don’t you go back downstairs with me? I’ve noticed that Leona hates it when anyone comes in the school who’s not a dancer. If she comes to throw you out, I’ll have a few seconds to slip this book back into the drawer where I found it.”

  “The custodian was standing guard.” Seth looked around. “But I don’t see him right now. Come on.”

  The three pounded down the steps and into the heated air of the ballet school. All the classes were getting out, so there was enough confusion for Hank to accomplish her job, they hoped.

  Bryan made sure. He and Seth stepped inside Leona’s domain. “Melanie, there you are!” He acted as if he’d been looking for her for a long time. And he was glad to see her, even though Nicol was with her and shot blue steel daggers his way.

  “Bryan? What are you doing here?” Melanie was clearly surprised to see them.

  “Ignore him, Melanie.” Nicol took her arm.

  “I need to talk to you, Mel.” Bryan walked closer.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Bryan,” Nicol said, tugging Melanie toward the dressing rooms.

  “Would you let her make her own decisions, Nicol? Maybe she’d like to talk to me. You’ve interfered enough.”

  Someone must have gone for Madame Leona. She hurried into the scene, walking between two dancers, each incredibly beautiful and older looking than Hank and Melanie. These must be the other two “witches” that Hank and Melanie had mentioned. Leona’s helpers.

  “No one belongs in here except dancers.” Leona Turva stared at Bryan, making him feel more than slightly intimidated. Her dark eyes pierced him like a pin through a captured insect. He felt her power, the aura of someone used to having her way. “I asked Brandish to keep visitors out.”

  “I came to pick up Melanie.” Bryan found his voice. “It’s going to storm.”

  “We’ll get her home.” Nicol stepped in front of Melanie.

  Bryan saw Melanie hesitate just enough. He pushed Nicol slightly and took Melanie’s arm.

  Hank ran to them, mission accomplished. “I’ll get our coats. Meet you in the lobby, guys.”

  Seth stepped up and took Melanie’s other arm. Bryan actually felt they were kidnapping her as they practically dragged her up the steps and into the lobby.

  As soon as she was over her surprise, Melanie started to protest. “I need to shower. I’m not sure I want to go with you.”

  “Please don’t make a fuss, Melanie. No matter how you feel. I must talk to you.” Bryan’s voice was as firm as he could make it.

  Melanie shook her head to clear it. She had come straight from the spell of the dance to the confrontation with Bryan. She was tired, so tired. Grasping the medallion that had escaped the front of her leotard, she held it as if it would give her strength, or help her think. It pulsed, warm in her fist, and she did feel better clutching it tightly.

  She felt Bryan staring at her. Looking up, she was surprised to see that he seemed afraid.

  There was no time to ask him why. Hank appeared, looking like a one-woman department store. She had clothes, coats over her arms and shoulder, and boots in both hands.

  Hank and Bryan helped Melanie pull jeans over her leotard, a sweatshirt on top, and then zipped her into
her coat. Hank untied and tugged off her slippers and jammed her feet into boots. She wasn’t aware that Bryan had slipped her necklace off in the confusion until she reached for it again.

  “My medallion! Where is it?” She felt panicked, naked.

  “I have it, Melanie. You don’t have to wear it now that you’re finished with rehearsal,” Bryan said. “It’s safe in my pocket.”

  “It’s mine! I’m supposed to wear it. Give it back, Bryan, no kidding.” She felt strength drain out of her body, her legs, her knees. Before she knew it, she was falling—falling—

  “Catch her, Bryan,” Hank screeched. “She’s fainting!”

  Bryan scooped her up into his arms. She wasn’t unconscious, just terribly weak. She felt him catch her, hold her close, lift her, and carry her to the car. He tucked her into the passenger seat, buckled her seat belt, left her for a few seconds.

  She heard her door slam. His open, slam. He reached for her on her left. “Melanie, Mel, are you all right?”

  “You should have put her back here, Bryan,” Hank scolded. “I could have held onto her.”

  “She’s all right. Aren’t you, Mel?”

  “I feel so weak, Bryan. What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. You’re just tired. I’ll bet you haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Take me home, Bryan. I want to go home.” Melanie held to the seat, concentrating on keeping upright. “I’ll be all right if you take me home.”

  Bryan did as Melanie asked, skidding on icy streets twice. He pulled into her driveway, then ran around before she could try to get out of the car.

  “I’ve got you. Just relax.” He tugged her out and scooped her into his arms again as if she weighed nothing.

  She felt light, floating, as if she was a feather, a snowflake, drifting, drifting …

  “Melanie!” her mother screamed. “What happened? What’s wrong? Oh, my baby.” Katherine Clark pulled the door wide and pointed to where to take Melanie. “Put her in her bed. Oh, I knew this was going to happen. You’ve been working too hard. Not eating enough. Leona should pay more attention or she won’t have a show. Put her on the bed. I’ve got a pot of soup on the stove. That’s what she needs. Something to eat.”

  As soon as Katherine was sure Melanie wasn’t hurt, she ran back down to the kitchen.

  “Whew,” Seth said. “We are surrounded by intense women.” His comment made them laugh—a little.

  Melanie let Hank help her get her coat and boots off and tuck her into the bed. Keeping her eye on Bryan until she saw him take the medallion from his pocket, she pretended to cooperate. But when he laid it on her bedside table, she rolled over and grabbed it. Why had he taken it away from her?

  She squeezed it until the metal of the panther dug into her hand. It felt warm, making her breathe easier. Her head cleared a little, and she watched Bryan look at Seth, then both look at Hank, and at her.

  “Okay, now why did you cause such a scene back there, Bryan? What was it so important to say to me?” Slipping the chain over her head, she let the panther rest near her heart and pulled herself to a sitting position.

  “Melanie,” Bryan said, “did my pulling that thing off your neck make you faint?”

  “Of course not.” She grasped it again. It did—she knew it did. And that frightened her even more than being without it had done. “It’s just—that I’m supposed to wear it all the time. Hank nearly got killed today for forgetting hers.”

  “She didn’t forget it,” Seth said, starting their tale. “We took it to the city.”

  “What did you find out, Seth?” Hank asked, sitting beside Melanie on the bed and taking her hand.

  Quickly, and with one eye on the doorway, Bryan and Seth gave the two girls all the information they’d gotten in the afternoon. The more Melanie heard, the harder she squeezed Hank’s hand.

  Hank looked at Melanie when they stopped talking. “Well, that’s quite a story. Are you sure you didn’t go to the movies instead of visiting this so-called expert?”

  “You don’t have to believe it,” Bryan said, staring at Melanie. “I don’t think I do. But you know how gullible Seth is. He fell for it like a drowning man clutches a rope.” Bryan tried to laugh.

  “That figures, Rubens.” Hank put her arm around Melanie. “You are steeped in Old Testament mythology.”

  “Demons are mentioned throughout the Old Testament,” Seth admitted. “There must have been a reason for that.”

  “The Old Testament is the history of a people. So it would explore their superstitions, their belief systems, all of their culture,” Bryan pointed out.

  “Jesus cast out demons in the New Testament,” Seth countered.

  “That was a flowery way to say he cured someone who was mentally ill.” Bryan looked at Hank, then at Melanie for support.

  “Just what we needed on a cold night,” Hank said. “A deep theological discussion. Right, Mel?”

  Melanie nodded. She wasn’t sure what to make of the story. Looking at the medallion, she could see that it was old. She already knew that. And that book was old. Five hundred years? Surely not, but it was ancient. No argument there.

  “Let me get this straight. You think Madame Leona is getting us ready to dance with seven demons? Bryan, I know you want me to drop the ballet, but if you expect me to believe this, you’re really desperate.” Melanie laughed out loud. At the same time she clutched the bed, drawing the sheet up into her fist.

  She did believe it! Something inside her made her sure that everything Bryan and Seth had found out was true. What—what could she do about it?

  Hank joined in with Melanie’s laughter. “Think your mother has enough soup for company? I just realized I’m starved.”

  “She probably made enough for the whole school,” Melanie said. “Go help her, Hank. Come back up here and eat with me.”

  Hank left and Seth followed her. Bryan sat beside Melanie on the bed. “Melanie, you don’t have to believe this, okay? But if you keep wearing that necklace, if you stay under Leona’s power, how are you going to keep snooping around, trying to find out what Leona is up to?”

  “There’s no proof of any of this. What if she’s just a dance teacher?” Melanie didn’t know why she had to keep arguing with Bryan.

  “Let me have the medallion, Mel. I’ll stay with you. So will Hank and Seth. We’ll stay with you tonight.”

  “My mother will love that.” Melanie grasped the chain.

  “Tell her the truth.”

  “Tell my mother that Madame Leona is—is—”

  “She’s evil. A witch.”

  “No, Bryan, that’s not possible.”

  “Then take off the necklace. It has no power.”

  Melanie took a tighter hold on the medallion. Now just the idea of removing it made her shiver and feel sick at her stomach. But if she didn’t …

  “Let’s forget this, Bryan. Leave me alone till after the recital.”

  “That might be too late.”

  “When is—is this—this— When is it supposed to happen?”

  “I don’t know. I’m guessing soon. Leona had to replace Paulie quickly. She seemed to be under some pressure to get another dancer so she’d have seven.”

  He placed his hand over hers. Unlocked one finger, another, then another. “I’ll take it home with me. Bring it back tomorrow in time for you to have it at rehearsal. You can wear it only when you dance, only when you’re with Leona Turva.”

  What small bit of her own personality that remained, that was rational, knew Bryan was right. “All right. Take it. Hurry, before I change my mind.”

  She felt the metal slide from around her neck. She heard Bryan’s voice say, “Melanie isn’t feeling well, Mrs. Clark. I think she’s going to need you to stay with her some of the night.”

  I’ve changed my mind, Brian, give it back. She tried to scream, tried to call out, reach out. Nothing worked. Her legs melted into the bed. Her arms were rubber bands. Her voice was silent.

 
; Darkness closed in around her—the thickest, blackest, most ominous silence she had ever known.

  seventeen

  And the demon Danel came to her, reassuring, helpful, and leading the way.

  SHE FELL INTO a deep pit, tried to climb out, up and up and up, there was no way out. Even had she succeeded, on one side, at the top, Frau Voska stood, alternately waving her stick and beating it against her black skirt. On the other side, Leona Turva stared at her. “How dare you,” she said. “You have disobeyed me. You must be punished.” She laughed on and on and on, a high-pitched, shrill sound. “You are still mine. You can stay there until I want you, until it is time.”

  She fought to wake up. She must wake up. If she was awake she could climb out of the pit.

  “Melanie, Melanie, honey. Wake up. Please wake up.” It was her mother’s voice.

  “Mother?” Her head felt like it was twice its size. Her legs belonged to someone else. She had no control over them. Something heavy pinned her to the damp sheets. “Help me. Help me get up.”

  She felt her mother’s hands trying to pull her to a sitting position, trying to prop her up. She felt dizzy, so dizzy.

  “Melanie, should I call a doctor? Maybe we should go to the emergency room at the hospital.”

  “No. No. I’m all right. I’ll be all right. If I can just wake up. I have to go to rehearsal.”

  “I know you want to, but I don’t see how you’re going to dance today. I’ll call Leona. She’ll understand.”

  “No, she won’t. It’s too close, too close to time.”

  She struggled to pull her legs over the side, to sit up on the side of the bed. Her mother sat beside her, holding her.

  With all her mental strength, she fought. All night she had fought. She was winning. She could win.

  “Do you want something? Some juice, hot tea, coffee?” Her mother’s voice pleaded with her to want something. To tell her something she could do.

  “Have you been here all night?” Melanie asked. Her head was clearing a tiny bit, then more and more.