Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series)

by Rogers, S. G.

  “This is a load of tosh. You can’t force me.”

  “Can’t I?” Ian got to his feet, crushed the rejection letter into a ball, and lobbed it at his son. “The way I see it, you’re out of options.”

  Chapter Three

  Trying to Lead

  New Year’s Day. Los Angeles, California

  A RUSH OF ADRENALINE pumped through his veins as Raven zipped west through the canyon pass on his newly renovated Indian motorcycle. Behind his helmet’s visor, he grinned as the bike hugged the curves like a champion. Cresting one last hill, the ocean finally revealed itself in all its sparkling azure splendor. When the road hit Pacific Coast Highway, he turned right and sped north. The temperature felt oddly warm for the dead of winter. How different the weather is here than in London!

  Since it was late afternoon, the expanse of shoreline was deserted. In a few months, however, he supposed the beach would be covered with gorgeous bikini-clad California beauties. Some measure of solace, I suppose, for being forced to leave England. Never having to see Fletcher or Felicia Harrington again might come in a close second. He found a place to park near the beach, and he took a stroll on the sand. To his disgust, he spotted a horn-covered demon hunched over the carcass of a dead dolphin, chewing. Anger traveled down Raven’s spine. His father had told him demons often lured beautiful creatures like whales and dolphins onto the sand for a seafood dinner. The sad event was often blamed on sharks, unfortunately.

  Raven loped toward the creature. “Hey, you…stop it!”

  Since the demon assumed he was invisible, he paid Raven no attention. Of course the shadow world denizen was invisible to most people—but not to the Nephilim. He’d been warned against engaging the enemy, but this abomination couldn’t go unpunished. What Dad doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Raven drew a Celtic throwing star from a pocket in his leather jacket, and spoke the word guaranteed to call the demon to him.

  “Macbeth!”

  The demon’s three eyes widened and his head snapped toward the sound of Raven’s voice. Like a rabid, snarling dog, he streaked across the sand—his maw opened wide. With expert precision, Raven hurled the throwing star into the demon’s moist crevasse. Howling with pain, the evil creature flipped onto his back. After a few histrionic convulsions, he exploded into dust and disappeared.

  “Into the air; and what seem’d corporal melted as breath into the wind.” Good riddance, foul fiend. The shadows were growing long, so Raven retrieved his weapon, returned to his motorcycle, and retraced his route through the Santa Monica Mountains. Finally, he turned off the main road until he reached the ornate gate of what used to be a monastery. His father had renamed the place Blackfriars West. After punching a key code into a small box to one side, the gates swung open and he rode inside.

  While Raven scrubbed his hands in the sink, the aroma of dinner made his stomach gurgle with hunger. He dried his hands on his jeans and emerged from the lavatory into his bedroom. Several trunks and suitcases were stacked against the wall, with the airline tags still attached. Any lingering hope his father would change his mind and send him back to London had long since faded. I suppose I should accept what’s happened and make the best of it. The vintage motorcycle his father had given him as a birthday present had been an obvious bribe, but an excellent one. Raven had spent all his time in the garage working on its renovation, with little opportunity to brood.

  He made his way down the stairs and followed the sound of clattering crockery until he reached the huge kitchen. His father’s hands were encased in quilted mitts as he pulled a casserole dish from the oven. Raven tried to think of something pleasant to say.

  “Smells good. Is it shepherd’s pie?”

  “Actually, it’s supposed to be Lancashire hotpot,” Ian replied.

  An awkward silence followed as father and son regarded one another.

  “Well…how go the repairs?” Ian asked.

  A grin. “I just took her out for a test drive, and the motor purrs like a tiger.”

  His father’s brows drew together. “You drove your motorbike on the public roadway? You haven’t applied for your California permit yet.”

  “Nothing happened, Dad. I even remembered to stay on the proper side of the road. Believe me, I can handle myself.” As Raven recalled the exploding demon, he fought to suppress a laugh.

  His father peered at him. “I don’t see what’s so amusing. Set the table, lad. Dinner is ready.”

  While Raven positioned placemats, plates, napkins, and eating utensils on the table, his father poured two glasses of water and one of milk.

  “Not milk!” Raven protested. “I’m eighteen, for pity’s sake.”

  “You’re still growing, and you’ll drink milk to keep your bones strong.”

  “You sound just like Mum.”

  The two slid into their chairs. “Well…let’s tuck in.” Ian picked up his napkin and draped it across his lap. “The new school term is coming up. You’ll enjoy Performing Arts Prep, I hope.”

  Raven shot his father a look of reproach. “The miserable have no other medicine but only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.”

  “Measure for Measure. How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child?” Ian retorted.

  “King Lear. And I’m not thankless. I just liked where I was.” Raven stabbed at his casserole with a fork. “What’s the assignment you’d planned for me?”

  “Before we get into all that, I want you to settle into your new school first. You should enjoy a sense of normalcy while you can.”

  “Ha! There’s nothing normal about my life, nor will there ever be.”

  “Nevertheless, it’ll be jolly good fun attending a performing arts school with the Yanks.”

  “Maybe.” A shrug. “It’ll be novel, at any rate.”

  His father’s sigh seemed full of regrets. “I’m sorry, lad. My career has been hard on you.”

  “It was harder on Mum.”

  “True. I put her through hell—no pun intended—and I never blamed her for divorcing me. Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.” The handsome, middle-aged man’s deep English voice filled the room.

  “The Scottish Play.” Raven frowned. “You could’ve been a famous actor. Do you ever feel cheated?”

  “Sometimes, but hunting demons is in my blood. It’s in your blood, too.”

  “Don’t give me the Nephilim speech again. I understand William Shakespeare was secretly a demon hunter, but do you really believe we’re all descendants of angels who consorted with mortals?”

  “How else can you explain our ability to see the shadow world?”

  “Bad luck?”

  Ian rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’m not amused.”

  On his first day of school, Raven angled his motorcycle into a parking spot and cut the engine. A male student ogled the bike as he dismounted. “Sweet ride.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Raven shouldered his backpack, entered the school, and threaded his way through the crowded halls. He was somewhat taken aback by the uniformly glossy look of the students…as if they’d been groomed by the same hair and makeup team. He gathered their appearance was influenced by their interest in the entertainment industry. Dad thinks this environment is normal, but these perfect kids haven’t a clue about the shadow world. Hunting demons was reality, not interacting with a sheltered collection of self-centered, spoiled California teens.

  His homeroom teacher, Mr. Rich, asked Raven to stand up and introduce himself. Although he wasn’t usually shy, he felt out of his element. His color rose as everyone turned around to stare. “Yeah, hi, I’m Raven. I just moved here from London.”

  “And which performing art are you studying?”

  “Oh, um, drama.”

  “Welcome to Performing Arts Prep.”

  He sat. Right away he sensed he was being weighed and measured. Undoubtedly his longish, unt
amed hair and Oxford Street wardrobe were found wanting. Feeling conspicuously different, he tuned everything out and spent the rest of homeroom looking over his schedule. Drama was first period, followed by math, science, and English. After lunch came dance, history, and music. Inwardly, he wondered if he could ever fit in with these slick designer kids. Maybe tomorrow he’d bring a sandwich and workout clothes, and spend his lunch hour in the school weight room. He could avoid talking to everyone that way and keep fit at the same time.

  When homeroom concluded, he headed to the theater for drama class. The first to arrive, he sat in the middle of the tenth row and watched his classmates troop in. Silly giggling girls and swaggering, cocksure boys—probably all certain they were an acting or dancing star. Maybe some of them would be proven correct. Despite Raven’s nerves, he was actually looking forward to the class. Performing always made him feel more confident.

  A tall brunette entered the theater from a side door. He’d noticed her in his homeroom, but hadn’t really had a good look. Her appearance made him sit up in his seat. It had been months since he’d seen such a truly lovely girl—with a gorgeous figure to match. Was she a model, perhaps? I’ll bet she’s a right snob, that one, but maybe I can dazzle her. On the other hand, the last time I tried to date a girl didn’t work out well for me. Maybe I should steer clear.

  The drama teacher—Mr. Strunk—divided students into groups of two and three and then handed out scenes from Romeo and Juliet. The assignment was to read the scenes cold, so Strunk could evaluate each student’s level. Raven glanced at his scene, which was from Act II, Scene IV. He was paired with a kid named George, who resembled the actor Orlando Bloom.

  “You don’t mind if I read Romeo, do you?” George asked.

  Truth be told, Raven preferred the role of Mercutio since the perverse nature of the character had always appealed to him.

  “No problem.”

  “Do you think you can manage an English accent?” George asked.

  The kid had obviously not been in Raven’s homeroom.

  “I’ll try.” The question is, can you?

  As teams and trios were called up to the stage to read, Raven sat back to watch. Quite quickly, it became obvious which students had been trained as actors and which had not. The brunette, whose name was Tori, was evidently a dancer. She stood on stage with her toes turned out, and she wore her hair in a pristine ballet bun. During her scene, she read Juliet’s lines with her eyes glued to the page the entire time. A shame. I’d quite like to see those eyes.

  Finally it was Raven’s turn to climb on stage with George. As Raven gave Mercutio full voice, George seemed taken aback at first. A spark of interest lit his eyes, however, and he rose to the challenge. The two played the scene off one another with zeal. When they were finished, their classmates clapped with genuine enthusiasm.

  “Best scene of the class so far. Where did you get your training, Raven?” Mr. Strunk asked.

  “London Youth Playhouse, mainly,” Raven replied.

  “Well done.”

  Raven and his scene partner returned to their seats.

  “You might want to work on that English accent,” George whispered. “It was a little over the top.”

  “Yeah,” Raven murmured. “Probably.”

  Dread had accompanied Tori as she walked into the theater for drama class. As confident as she was in her dance skills, she was equally insecure about her acting ability. I’m going to make a fool of myself in front of everyone. When she read her scene, it was all she could do to keep her hand from trembling as she gripped the paper. Fortunately the scene wasn’t long, and her partner had most of the longer passages. Afterward, Tori hastened off stage and slumped into a seat, her face burning with embarrassment. I was abysmal!

  The cold readings went on. When George and a new student took the stage, Tori forgot about her embarrassment. That new guy is totally gorgeous. A glance toward her scene partner confirmed she wasn’t the only girl to think so. After he introduced himself, Tori’s interest was piqued even further. Raven…even his name is sexy. His reading didn’t disappoint her. From the moment Raven opened his mouth, he was Mercutio in word and deed, barely even looking at the lines. He and George were both brilliant. Ha! George is notoriously ambitious. I wonder if his ego can stand the competition?

  When class was over, she picked up her book bag and stood. As Raven passed by, he met her gaze for a long moment before glancing away without so much as a smile or nod. Her spine stiffened. Can’t he be bothered with anyone or is it just me he ignores? For some reason, she found it difficult to shrug off the snub. Why do I care so much if he won’t acknowledge my presence?

  At lunch, she headed toward the cafeteria. Jenny fell into step alongside. “Did you see the new guy? Everyone’s saying he’s hot.”

  Tori shrugged. “He’s in my homeroom and drama class.”

  “Well?”

  “His name is Raven and he’s English.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. In drama class, his accent during his reading of Romeo and Juliet made him sound like an English lord or something.”

  “To be fair, it was Shakespeare.”

  Tori imitated Raven as a mincing English fop. “I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.”

  She and Jenny dissolved into laughter.

  “Nay, good goose, bite not.”

  The response came from behind her, in a silky male voice. Raven cocked an eyebrow in Tori’s direction as he shut his locker with a loud, pointed snap, turned on his heel, and strode off. Beyond humiliated, Tori exchanged a horrified glance with Jenny.

  “That was him!”

  “I guessed as much. He is gorgeous.”

  “But he heard me making fun of him!”

  “True.” Jenny gave her a sympathetic look. “Well, you won’t have to wonder if he’ll ask you out.”

  “Thanks, Jen. I feel a whole lot better now.”

  What did I do to deserve such good fortune? Raven had expected to be overlooked, ignored, or dismissed, but openly mocked on his first day…and by the prettiest girl in school? Tori had been so obviously miserable after she finished her scene, he’d been sympathetic. Not now. Hadn’t he learned his lesson once before? Pretty girls couldn’t be trusted. My instinct to steer clear was the right one.

  Hunger made Raven’s stomach contract. Maybe it was anger, since he was in no mood to eat anything. Although he hadn’t brought a change of clothes, he decided to head over to the weight room. He stripped off his shirt, slipped on a pair of gloves, and began to pepper the bag with punches. Sweat beaded up on his forehead as he slammed his knuckles into the sand-filled bag. At the same time, general resentment began to build. Coming to L.A. had been a very bad idea. As a classically trained actor, he was too different to blend in with this perfect, plastic lot. Fletcher and Felicia would have been a perfect addition. The only thing that might make the next few months bearable was his father’s promise to give him some sort of demon hunting assignment. What is he waiting for? Perhaps if he feigned a level of contentedness with school, he’d be given the assignment earlier.

  Blazes. It was ten minutes until his next class and he was a mess. In the bathroom, he splashed water on his face and dried his sweat with a paper towel. After he pulled on his shirt, he sped across campus toward the dance studio. Water from his wet hair moistened the collar of his shirt and dribbled down his back. Despite his haste, when he slipped into the dance studio, class had already begun. Fortunately, a distraction in the center of the floor prevented his tardiness from being noticed. A pop tune was playing over the speakers, and a smartly-clad couple was demonstrating a Latin ballroom dance.

  Raven glanced around; most of the girls were smiling and most of the boys were sullen, with their arms folded across their chest. If he was supposed to dance with a girl, he’d picked the wrong day to work out. He took a surreptitious sniff of his armpits. Did I remember to use deodorant this morning? Tori was in the class, to his dismay. Fantastic…p
erhaps I can do something else stupid to keep her amused. At least she was on the far side of the room at the moment, and couldn’t mock him for his body odor.

  After the couple finished the demonstration, the female instructor, Ms. Castor, announced the class would be learning several different Latin dances for the rest of the semester, beginning with the samba. The boy to his right muttered a colorful oath in protest, and Raven chuckled to himself.

  “I’m sorry…what’s your name?”

  Everyone turned around to stare, and he realized Ms. Castor was addressing him. Her lips were compressed into a thin line, and her partner looked annoyed too.

  “Raven.”

  “Well, Raven, you seem pleased at the idea of learning the samba.”

  Sarcasm dripped from her words, and Raven realized she thought the cursing had come from him. “Oh, um, that wasn’t—”

  She crooked a finger, beckoning him forward. “You can be my assistant today.”

  The woman clearly would brook no opposition. Can this day get any worse? With an inward sigh, Raven did the walk of shame to the front of the studio. The male instructor, Mr. Boone, stood next to him and demonstrated the natural basic samba movement. Raven imitated as best he could, but after several steps, Ms. Castor stopped him. “You’ve had ballroom dance lessons?”

  “No.”

  “Athletics, then? You don’t get great hip action like you’ve got without training of some sort.”

  His classmates tittered and hooted. Raven’s cheekbones burned with embarrassment.

  “I’ve studied karate and fencing.”

  “Well, I’m impressed.” She addressed the class. “Latin ballroom requires rhythm and exaggerated movements of the hips. As they say, don’t be shy, let ’em fly. Now let’s all practice the natural basic movement before Mr. Boone and I demonstrate the hold.”

  The beginning movement of the samba wasn’t difficult, but most of the non-dancers bounced up and down like zombies. Due to her training, Tori picked up the footwork right away. Although she practiced along with everyone else, her attention was actually on Raven. She didn’t know what he’d done to invite Ms. Castor’s ire, but she was glad of the result; she’d been able to stare at Raven’s reflection in the mirror all she liked and admire the rear view as well. The way he moved drew attention to his muscular legs and behind. Wouldn’t he look fine in a pair of tights! Tori felt ashamed of her earlier pique as she began to suspect Raven hadn’t snubbed her on purpose. He probably swings the other way and simply has no interest in girls. It wasn’t personal—and I’ll apologize if he gives me a chance.