Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series)

by Rogers, S. G.

  “Only one, but the trail has gone cold,” Ian said. “The chances are quite good the culprit is the same person or persons who killed her parents.”

  “What?” Raven exclaimed. “I thought her parents died in a car accident!”

  “That was what Tori was told,” Ian said, “but I’ve always had a hunch something wasn’t right about it. A few days ago, I requested a copy of the police report. Their car careened down the side of a canyon and burst into flames in broad daylight.”

  “It was a hideous tragedy, to be sure, but what makes you believe it wasn’t an accident?” Fletcher asked.

  “Gerald and Hannah were in the trunk.”

  A stretch of stunned silence ensued.

  “For some odd reason, the investigating officer speculated the accident was due to a deer in the road. Obviously it was foul play.”

  “Were the Shakespeareans involved?” Raven asked.

  “Not to my knowledge. And it makes no sense to kill the Arthurs and not their daughter,” Birmingham replied.

  “If Tori’s identity has been compromised, I suggest we move her to Blackfriars,” Raven said.

  “I agree,” Ian said. “With a few architectural and security modifications, we’ll have a defensible compound.”

  Quigley appeared in the doorway to announce dinner. Ian and Birmingham went in, but Felicia held Raven and Fletcher back a moment.

  “How are you planning to convince Tori to move here, Raven?” she asked. “I got the impression she doesn’t trust us.”

  “When she understands you’re not here to kill her, she might like you better.” And when she realizes my father and I aren’t responsible for compromising her identity, she might like me better, too.

  “Let’s invite her here for dinner first,” Fletcher suggested. “Tori can get to know us.”

  Felicia’s lips twisted into a wry grin. “Wait…I thought you wanted her to like you better. If she gets to know you, Fletcher, that defeats the purpose.”

  Fletcher’s gaze slid to Raven as he cocked a thumb in Felicia’s direction. “Tell me but truly—but then speak the truth—Do you not love my sister?”

  “King Lear,” Raven replied. “And since I’m in America, I plead the Fifth.”

  “If I had a fifth, I’d drink it,” Fletcher quipped.

  A snip of the scissors removed the tag from Tori’s new red dress. She slipped the garment over her head, pulled the zipper hidden in the side seam closed, and examined her reflection in the mirrored closed door. The dress was sexier than she was used to, with its strong color, mid-thigh length hem, and low back. Even so, it flattered her figure and made her feel…desirable. She was surprised at how breathless she’d become at Raven’s dinner invitation. Don’t be stupid. Romance is the last thing I need. Right now, survival should be my only focus.

  A soft smudgy line drawn in the crescent of her upper and lower lashes gave her eyes definition, and a generous coating of non-clumping mascara intensified their brown color. As she reached for a mauve lip pencil, she wondered why she was going to so much trouble. There’s nothing wrong with looking pretty. Tori dusted some vanilla-scented powder across her shoulders and collarbones. The shimmery powder lent an eye-catching golden gleam to her skin. The Celtic Shield knot charm necklace was a necessity, of course, but she slipped a pair of diamond studs into her ear piercings as well. The stunning earrings had been her mother’s, and she rarely had the opportunity to wear them. I wish she were here to help me get ready. Although she debated for a few minutes whether or not to pin her hair up, she decided to leave it loose and wavy. I’ve spent too many years restrained. It’s time to relax.

  The doorbell rang before six. Tori grabbed her lightweight pashmina shawl and a clutch purse and stepped into the hall. As she descended the stairs, she heard Misty chatting with Raven in the entryway. His masculine voice sent a shiver of excitement down Tori’s spine. When he caught sight of her, his mouth opened slightly. Just exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Raven wore a sport coat with a pair of black jeans, and a button down shirt—casually handsome and completely perfect.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  His accent is so sexy. “So do you.”

  Misty beamed. “You two make a beautiful young couple.”

  Tori felt a blush creep across her cheeks. I wish she hadn’t said that!

  Raven cleared his throat. “I’ll have Tori home before midnight.”

  “This old lady won’t wait up, I’m afraid,” Misty said. “Have fun.”

  He ushered Tori outside, where a black limo waited in the driveway. A uniformed driver held the passenger door open for them. Tori gave Raven a curious glance. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a loaner. I thought it would be kind of fun.”

  She slid inside the vehicle, awed by its luxurious leather seats and gleaming fixtures. “If you wanted to impress me, you’ve succeeded.”

  He climbed in next to her. “I’m glad.”

  As the limo pulled out of the driveway, she giggled. “This makes me feel like a movie star.” Her smile faded as an unpleasant memory surfaced. “Wait a minute…isn’t this the same limo I saw at school yesterday?”

  Raven made sure the privacy partition between them and the driver was closed. “Yes, it’s Lord Birmingham’s. He, Felicia, and Fletcher are going to be at dinner tonight.”

  “What?”

  “They’ve moved into the house. You see, everything has changed.”

  Tori’s consternation turned to relief as he told her why Lord Birmingham and his grandchildren had really followed him to Los Angeles. “You’re sure they’re not here to kill me?”

  “Absolutely. If I weren’t certain of it, you and I would be in hiding by now.”

  “So I’m to have two additional bodyguards at school?”

  “Yes. And although I hate to admit it, you couldn’t ask for better.”

  Confused, she shook her head. “If I’m not in danger anymore, why do I need protection?”

  Raven’s eyes flashed in the illumination cast by a passing streetlight. “I don’t want to scare you, Tori, but you’re in greater danger now than ever before.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Hot

  RAVEN TOOK A DEEP BREATH, wishing he didn’t have to tell Tori the rest. “I’m sorry, but there’s no way to put this gently. My father believes the accident that killed your parents was actually a double murder.”

  He described what Birmingham had told him about the accident. To his surprise, she nodded. “Deep down, I’ve always known my parents were murdered. One of the police officers who came to my school that morning to tell me they were dead was a demon in humanoid form. He had red eyes and a forked tongue, but nobody else seemed to notice anything wrong with him. Maybe he discovered my parents could see him.”

  “Sometimes demons take it upon themselves to hunt Nephilim, but more frequently they take direction from humans.”

  She swallowed hard. “When I was younger, I thought they died because I was evil.”

  He covered her hand with his. “You’re far from evil. You’re Nephilim. And I’m glad I met you.” Although he half expected her to pull away, she didn’t.

  “It’s been difficult for me to accept, but it is better to know the truth,” she said. “You were right, and I’m grateful—really grateful—for your protection.”

  A surge of tender emotion swept over him and he fought the temptation to blurt out his feelings. It’s not the right time, and I don’t want to risk making her uncomfortable. He gave her hand one last squeeze before letting go. The moment contact was broken, an awkward silence followed. To fill the void, he cast about for a topic of conversation. Tori beat him to it.

  “Do you know if I have any relatives?” she asked.

  “Both sets of grandparents are still alive, I think. I’m sure you must have aunts, uncles, and cousins, but my father would know more about that than I would. Perhaps this summer you can travel to England to meet them.”

&n
bsp; The limo was approaching Ventura Boulevard and Sepulveda, en route to the freeway. Clusters of demons were roaming the sidewalks, and as the limo rolled through the intersection, Raven caught a glimpse of a demon with a red mohawk. Oh, no! When he looked again, however, the demon had disappeared. It’s just a coincidence. It’s absurd to think the demon I tried to kill in London would be in L.A. of all places.

  “Is something wrong?” Tori asked.

  “Er…there was a bunch of demons back there.”

  “I’m trying to ignore them.” She chuckled. “It’s as if they’re in town for some sort of Apocalypse convention.”

  When he didn’t laugh, her smile faded and her eyes grew wide. “That’s it, isn’t it? Demons are coming to Los Angeles, anticipating the end of the world. Somebody knows who I am and is waiting for my birthday to perform the sacrifice.”

  He nodded. “You’re perfectly safe until then, but my father and I are prepared to offer you sanctuary at Blackfriars. If nobody knows where you are, they can’t hurt you.”

  “What about Misty?”

  “You can’t tell her, either.”

  “But she’s very trustworthy!”

  “Would you like it if she were tortured into revealing your location?”

  A groan. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  This time, Tori reached for his hand. Her skin was cold and her fingers were trembling.

  “You’re freezing!” he exclaimed.

  He started to remove his jacket to drape around her shoulders, but she stopped him.

  “I’m not cold. I’m scared.” Her fingers laced with his. “Don’t let go.”

  “I won’t.”

  Tori didn’t know quite what to expect at Blackfriars. Her parents had fled England to escape Lord Birmingham, and now she was supposed to trust him and his descendants with her life? Although her instinct was to cling to Raven, she didn’t want to be perceived as weak. Besides which, she wasn’t certain he would enjoy it. I shouldn’t mistake his kindness for attraction.

  An older man approached as they entered the house, dressed in a suit. “Good evening,” he said in a British accent. “Welcome to Blackfriars West.”

  “Hello.” Assuming he was Lord Birmingham, she waited for Raven to introduce her.

  “Quigley, this is Tori Moss,” Raven said.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Moss. May I take your wrap?”

  Slightly embarrassed at her mistake, she relinquished her shawl and purse to the butler. “Thank you.”

  “Would you care for a drink?”

  “Oh, um, no. I’m fine.”

  The butler ambled off with her shawl draped across the sleeve of his suit and her purse tucked under his arm. Tori glanced at Raven. “Your servants finally joined you, then?”

  “Yes, and you’re in for a treat. Mrs. Turnbull is a very fine cook.” He beckoned her forward. “Everyone’s in the library, awaiting our arrival.”

  She caught his hand, lowering her voice so as not to be overheard. “This is so weird.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A butler just took my things. Your private chef is preparing dinner. Everyone has assembled in the library, awaiting our arrival.” She giggled. “I feel like I stumbled onto the set of a movie and you’re acting like it’s all routine.”

  “There’s one aspect that’s not routine. I’ve never invited a girl over for dinner before.”

  Their gazes locked for a several seconds. Does he mean I’m special, or am I reading too much into it? Fletcher, clad in black slacks and cashmere turtleneck sweater, appeared in the open library doorway.

  “Don’t keep Tori all to yourself, old boy.” He gave her an admiring glance. “You look smashing.” With a dazzling smile, he hastened over to offer his arm. “May I escort you in?” Unvarnished charm oozed from every pore, and she noticed Raven’s lips tighten. There’s no love lost between those two.

  Inside the library, Felicia was sprawled across a sofa with one of her spiky red pumps dangling off her toes. Her black velvet pants hugged every curve, and a black off-the-shoulder suede top lent her a sex kitten look. When she saw Tori, Felicia gritted her teeth in a smile that never reached her eyes. “Hello.”

  I’m not sure I will ever warm up to that girl. “Hello.”

  The man Tori had known for years as Mr. Peabody hastened over. “Tori! I’m so glad you’re here. Let me introduce you to Lord Birmingham, the director of the London Shakespearean Institute.”

  A handsome older gentleman, dressed in a tailored suit, unfolded himself from a wing chair. Now I see where Fletcher and Felicia get their looks. The man’s thick white hair was impeccably groomed, and despite his age, he exuded an air of masculinity and power. It’s no wonder my father chose to run instead of battling him.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Tori Moss. The resemblance to your beautiful mother is uncanny,” he said. “I confess you’ve not been far from my thoughts these past seventeen years.”

  “I can’t say the same about you, I’m afraid,” she replied. “Until a few days ago, I was entirely in the dark over this whole situation. I thought my parents and I were American.”

  “How very odd. Weren’t you curious why they had English accents?” Felicia asked.

  “They spoke with American accents,” Tori said. “And as far as I knew, they’d never traveled abroad.”

  “Gerald and Hannah took every precaution to seem American,” Ian said. “Their cover was flawless.”

  “Not completely,” Fletcher said. “Someone found them out.”

  “Can you think to whom your parents might have confided their secret?” Birmingham asked.

  Tori shook her head. “When I look back on it, our activities were focused on my school and activities. They didn’t have outside friends…except for my foster mother, Misty Savannah. She has a huge home in Sherman Oaks, and we lived with her as long as I can remember. She let me stay after they died, and gave me as normal a life as possible.”

  “Lord Birmingham, do the Shakespeareans have any demon assets here in L.A.?” Raven asked. “Someone we could pump for information?”

  “Demon assets?” Tori repeated, confused.

  “Informants who can be bribed or tortured into giving up secrets,” Fletcher said.

  “None of which I am aware,” Birmingham said. “Until now, Los Angeles has been off our radar screen.”

  “I might know somebody.” All eyes swiveled in Tori’s direction. “He’s not a demon, but he owns a store dealing in paranormal books and artifacts. Maybe he’s plugged in to the rumor mill.”

  Seemingly taken aback, Birmingham and Ian exchanged a glance.

  “A Shakespearean in the making,” Birmingham said. “When we get past this crisis, perhaps we can find a place for you in the organization.”

  “Don’t let them draw you in, Tori. I’m sure you have better things to do,” Felicia drawled. “Is dinner ready yet? I’m starved.”

  Mrs. Trumbull had prepared an enticing meal of Beef Wellington, tossed green salad, risotto, green beans, asparagus, broccoli, and baby red potatoes. Quigley helped serve, and once again Tori had the peculiar sensation of having inadvertently wandered onto the set of a BBC drama. Over dinner, Ian recounted several stories of harrowing demon-hunting adventures he’d had with Tori’s father.

  “Are there a great many Nephilim?” Tori asked finally. “I mean, the ones like me who don’t realize it?”

  “A few,” Birmingham said. “The ones who talk about seeing demons, however, oftentimes end up institutionalized, or drop out of society.”

  “If you can’t identify these people, how do you recruit new members?”

  “The Shakespeareans breed them,” Felicia said. “It’s always assumed the next generation is thrilled with the legacy, even when that’s not true.”

  The slightly bitter tone of Felicia’s response did not escape anyone’s notice.

  “Nobody is forced to join the Shakespeareans,” Ian said.


  “Quite so,” Birmingham said. “Particularly not now, when our services are needed less and less.”

  “If L.A. is any indication, Shakespeareans are needed here desperately,” Tori said.

  “When the Apocalypse fails to materialize, demons will disperse. Shakespeareans will hunt the remainder. After that, our kind will become an anachronism.” Birmingham took a sip of wine, his expression unreadable.

  “Once we save the world, I’m going to get myself a theatrical agent,” Felicia announced. “I want to act.”

  “I expect with your looks and talent you’ll be very successful,” Tori said.

  Felicia cocked her head. “Aren’t you nice.”

  Inwardly, Tori smiled. Never before has the word “nice” seemed more like an insult!

  “I’d fancy being a soap star,” Fletcher said. “I’d work a few hours and then have the rest of the day to hunt demons.”

  Birmingham’s mood seemed to improve. “Oh, to be young and have dreams. What about you, Raven?”

  “All I can think about for the next few weeks is keeping Tori safe,” he said. “After that, I’ll have plenty of time to concentrate on the future.”

  “How gallant. The role of white knight suits you, Raven.” Felicia’s gaze dropped to her plate.

  Tori stole a look at Fletcher, who gave her a tiny nod. After cheating on Raven last summer, Felicia still has feelings for him? She has a funny way of showing it.

  After dinner, Ian and Birmingham retired to the library for a nightcap. Raven gave Tori a tour of Blackfriars, starting with the basement wine cellar. Since they hadn’t yet explored on their own, Fletcher and Felicia tagged along. The four of them trooped down the stairs into the cool, dimly lit cellar, which was lined with rows and rows of empty wooden racks.

  “Years ago, those racks used to be filled with kegs of wine,” Raven said.

  “Obviously, the monks knew how to hoist a few,” Fletcher said.

  Felicia walked down the row until she reached a heavy wooden door nearly obscured by a wine rack. “Where does this lead?”