Dancing With the Devil

by Cate Masters

  A doorman, also dressed in black, stood to one side as he held the door for her.

  She nodded her thanks. No sense embarrassing herself with slurred words. Damn, I wish I’d had more sense. Self-control was her forte. Normally.

  In the lobby, her heel slipped, and she scrutinized the floor. Marble? How gorgeous. In black, which made its decadence more obvious. A crystal chandelier hung above the spacious area. Against the wall sat a long gilded table topped by two impossibly large crystal vases holding pungent black flowers, and a gold leaf mirror hanging in between.

  In a quick once-over, she inspected herself for major flaws. Finding none, she headed for the elevator. Odd there were no other doors.

  The flourish spanning the elevator doors was a larger version of the seal on the invitation. She’d come to the right place, apparently.

  She pressed the elevator button. A car immediately appeared. Stepping inside, her nerves tightened. Only one selection on the panel – the penthouse. Easy peasy. And again, so strange. What about the other floors? There had to be twenty in this building.

  The car glided upward. She clutched her bag against her. Who had sent for her? This all seemed like a freaking fairy tale. The only such things that ever happened to her were more like the fairy tales of old, the stories where the innocent falls victim to the villain, and the ending came as a gruesome scene, horrific and serving as a warning for all not to follow in the innocent’s footsteps. Do anything stupid like… get in a limo if you had no idea who sent it?

  The elevator dinged.

  Terror froze her as the doors slid slowly open and every head in the immense room turned her way.

  Chapter Two

  Lily inhaled a steadying breath and stepped into the most lushly decadent room – a hall, that was the only word for it. So huge, the opposite wall sat enshrouded in black shadow. In fact, so did all the walls, as if made of darkness. Maybe the scant lighting had something to do with the effect; candles lined the long serving table between hors d’ouvres, thick candles sat atop short pillars, and flickered from what must be wall sconces, though for all appearances might have been floating in mid-air. Fireplaces crackled as flames danced, and if she hadn’t imagined it, rose higher as if in cheer when she entered. Sedate jazz poured from invisible speakers. The faintest tinkle of laughter drifted up too, whether from the fire or not, she couldn’t tell.

  Difficult to tell in this light how many milled about, yet she felt the weight of every pair of eyes staring at her. Conversations ceased and the air filled with unmistakable tension. She’d been in front of enough crowds to recognize an unhappy one. When a few faces registered anticipation, that threw her.

  Yeah, anticipation of someone else, most likely.

  She gulped, her throat suddenly dry. Shit. What the hell made her come here? Huge, huge mistake, from the sneers some sent her way.

  Go. Now. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.” She whirled and punched the elevator button. Nothing. Had it descended to retrieve another visitor? She pressed the lighted button again, longer this time. The damn door stayed shut, and she had the vague sense of it refusing her, stoic and stubborn. Her finger stabbed it repeatedly. Come on!

  A melodic voice called, “Lily, darling. Wait.”

  A woman whose beauty defied description glided next to Lily. Kindness radiated from the woman. Must be the hostess, and an extremely gracious one.

  “If it’s your fault, then we must thank you.”

  The woman’s indistinguishable accent was as classy as her impeccable outfit – a rose-hued silk, conforming to her curves and cut in a flattering V-neck, low enough to reveal ample cleavage. Her flawless skin gave no indication of her age. Lily somehow knew the woman no longer counted years.

  Lily managed to say, “Thank me for what?”

  “Giving us an excuse to celebrate.” She gestured toward the others, still watching.

  “You must be expecting someone else.” Another Lily? her inner bitch mocked. With the same birthday?

  The woman’s smile glowed brighter than a candle. “No, darling.”

  Three darlings in one night. Not even her adopted mother called her that. Then again, Jean never used any endearment. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know.” The woman linked her arm in Lily’s. “You will.” She tugged her toward the others.

  Lily followed, not sure she wanted to understand. The way these people moved through the dim light bore an uncanny resemblance to the otherworld she half-knew all her life, but believed unreachable.

  Was she now in it?

  The woman leaned close. “Forgive my rudeness. I’m Persephone.”

  “What a lovely name. Guess you already know mine.” It made her vulnerable, a condition she’d vowed never to show.

  “Please don’t feel uneasy.” Persephone patted her arm. “We’re all friends here.”

  Sure, they were.

  As if Persephone heard her thought, she added, “Some of us are more than friends. We’re family.”

  Her muscles went rigid. No freaking way. “Family?” She’d searched for years. No record existed of any family. Supposedly her mother had died after a car ran her down, a terrible accident, according to the news account. The driver never saw her mother, all in black and pushing her stroller, which rolled away untouched.

  Persephone’s smile made the Mona Lisa look like a party girl. “Let me introduce my husband.”

  His dark handsomeness struck Lily dumb. Like Persephone, his bearing and grace suggested royalty or, at least, old money. The brownstone dripped it, their clothes appeared hand tailored and the fine drape of his suit reeked of big bucks.

  He bent to kiss her hand. “Happy birthday, my dear.”

  Careful, Lily. Bodie’s voice in her head made her withdraw from his grasp. Fury flashed in his eyes as his face blanked, no longer exuding pleasantness.

  “Sorry. Please stop calling me such things.” The words chafed worse than her stilettos. Freaking heels.

  The slightest twitch narrowed his eyes for an instant. A plastic smile smeared his lips. He bowed his head. “As you wish.”

  Persephone attached herself to his side, probably to stop him from tossing Lily out on her ear. Not that Lily would mind at this point.

  Nails biting into her clutch handbag, Lily squared her shoulders. “This is all very strange.”

  The husband – Persephone hadn’t given his name – stiffened. Hm, flared nostrils actually suited him.

  “Not so strange. In many cultures, a surprise birthday party is quite the norm. Welcome, in fact.” A hiss edged his low voice, his forced pleasantry not masking his anger.

  Lily guessed he hadn’t intended to. “I’m not ungrateful. Simply confused.” Ugh, there was that simply again. What the hell… At least she’d maintained her cool composure in the face of his wrath, a skill acquired over many years of pissing people off. Likewise, resisting those who tried to control her. Family or no, she owed them nothing.

  “Of course, it’s perfectly understandable.” Persephone’s honey-sweet tone did nothing to soothe Lily.

  “Did you know my parents, then?”

  “Yes,” Persephone said. “You bear a striking resemblance to your mother.”

  “My mother? Is she here?”

  The husband grumbled something in a language Lily didn’t know and then he gulped his cognac. Not on good terms with Mom, apparently.

  “We haven’t seen her in a long time.”

  Persephone’s light touch on Lily’s chin made her draw back. If it insulted the woman, she gave no sign.

  “You knew I was orphaned.” No need to phrase it as a question. Obviously, they’d let her enter the foster system without giving a shit where she landed. So much for family ties.

  “We arranged your adoption,” the husband ground out.

  Really. How lovely. How darling. “With Jean?” Points against them, then. “I’m sorry, what is your name?”

  His smile sent a shot like ice through her vein
s. “I have so many.”

  “Dearest.” Persephone’s stern tone held an edge of caution, delivered with syrupy sweetness. “Lily, you should know our family has certain, shall we say, quirks.”

  “Do tell.” She couldn’t wait to hear. The others stilled, and pressed closer. Obviously, this was better than reality TV, and she was the unwilling star. Quirks? Right now they looked like a bunch of psychopaths.

  “Would you care for a drink?”

  Hell no. She might wake up in the dungeon. “I’d rather cut to the chase.” And then cut out of here, quick. She wished they hadn’t strayed so far from the elevator. No other exit presented itself.

  Scanning the crowd, the shift in sentiment became all too apparent. If they’d come here to raise a glass in cheer to her birthday, few appeared ready to send her good wishes now. Some glares hinted at a lynching. Hers.

  What, they’d expected her to hug everyone and exclaim her joy at finding her family? If they even told the truth.

  One figure who pushed through the crowd looked strikingly familiar. Black silken linen jacket cut across his wide shoulders and tapered to his slim waist, black layered hair that fell across his forehead above ebony eyes, rimmed with thick lashes. Her lips parted. She recovered before it became a full-blown gape. Staring back at her, the guy from the club stood a few yards away.

  “You’re here.” The whispered warning in her head rushed up, stronger than before: get out.

  The smolder in his dark gaze intensified.

  A glance at Persephone conveyed her disappointment. Lily had ruined their plans, apparently.

  Too bad. “I really should be going.” Before things get any weirder.

  Persephone’s husband glared. “No.”

  “It’s best if I do.” Teetering on her heels, she backed toward the elevator.

  A strangled sound escaped Persephone. “We haven’t begun the celebration yet.”

  The walls shifted. Drew closer. Shapes moved within the walls. Not like the shadow figures she’d grown used to. Here, it seemed a threat.

  “I’ll see myself out.” Her attempt at a lighthearted goodbye failed. She sounded weak. Pathetic.

  The throng closed in, following her retreat. The elevator seemed so far away. A few might circle behind, and in these shoes, she’d be easy prey.

  The voice of the stranger she’d met – Bodie – rushed through her mind: Go now.

  If only he were here! She blurted, “Bodie!”

  Hushed snarls sounded, and everyone drew back.

  “How dare you speak that name…” the husband muttered through clenched teeth.

  Definitely time to leave. She reached for the elevator button. Please please open. Before she touched it, the doors whooshed apart. Inside, her finger sought the down arrow before she fully entered the car. The elevator slammed closed and plummeted down.

  Only when the doors parted did her scream stop. She scrambled across the threshold, and the elevator sealed itself, nicking her heel, as if glad to be rid of her.

  Her stiletto slipped on the polished black marble. Screw this. With two kicks, she freed herself of the shoes and ran across the long lobby, panicked that the brownstone might refuse to let her go. A stupid thought. Any other time.

  Bursting through the door, she sobbed with relief. The stone steps bit into her bare feet as she ran to the sidewalk.

  The driver stood by the limo, his face obscured in blackness. How was that possible? The building’s two outdoor lights should show at least some of his features.

  Then it hit her. He had none. No face, just a black void beneath his hat.

  Terror rose up, filling every vein with electricity threatening to short out her brain. Her legs shaky, she wanted to turn and run, but couldn’t tear her eyes away. Couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t chase after her. She forced a slow walk, backward, until the end of the block, when his figure had grown small.

  She wildly scanned each direction. Which way to go? Should she call Keb? Great idea; how would he find her?

  “Bodie,” she whispered. Yeah, as if the name were a magical get out of hell trick. Unable to stand there one more second, she ran, hardly registering the pain shooting from her bare soles pounding the pavement.

  At the end of the next street, a motorcycle roared up and skidded to a stop, blocking her path. With a squeal, she halted, then readied to run around it.

  The driver flipped up the visor of his black helmet. “Need a ride?”

  She knew that voice. After only one meeting, she could never forget it. “Bodie?”

  “Hop on. I’ll take you home.”

  “I…”

  “Would you rather walk?” After a pointed glance at the shoes in her hands, he jerked his head toward the seat behind him.

  Right. Not like she had a lot of choices, though placing her trust in him proved more difficult than earlier, when she’d climbed into the back of the limo so cavalierly.

  With a sigh of resignation, she hitched her dress to her thigh and slipped behind him.

  Revving the bike, he called over his shoulder, “Ready?”

  Not really, but, “Yeah.”

  The motorcycle lurched forward. She grasped his shirt, soft… too soft. And flimsy. When he leaned into a curve, she linked her arms around his waist. The feel of his back, muscular and emanating power, sent a thrill through her.

  Stupid! So stupid, after what happened. His little hero act could be part of the plan, Persephone and her weirdo husband’s, to integrate her into the ‘family.’ Like she’d ever want to be part of their inner circle. She’d rather be the daughter of Morticia and Gomez Addams.

  No nice guys existed. Everyone wanted something. Sooner or later, Bodie would slip up and give it away.

  She’d meant to keep track of the streets he used. Nothing looked familiar until he turned onto the street where her loft sat.

  True to his word in that much, at least. He’d gotten her home. Now for the inevitable rejection, having to tell him she needed no company tonight.

  The bike glided to a halt, and Bodie eased back and lifted his visor. “You okay?”

  Her foot found purchase on the roadway and she hopped off and stepped up onto the sidewalk. “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks for the ride.” Now leave.

  His eyes crinkled, the only part of his smile visible. “Call me if you need me.” He snapped the visor down and in one smooth motion, veered onto the road and rounded the next corner. In seconds, she no longer heard the bike.

  “Sure, I’ll call you. I’ll say your name and you’ll appear.” Her own personal genie, ready to grant her wish.

  The cold pavement beneath her feet made her shift her legs. Too real to be a dream. Facing the front of the building, she studied it for a sign of anything out of place, then hurried up the steps. Once inside, she rummaged to find her keys as she flew up the stairs to the next level. Fumbling at the lock, she flicked on the light and slammed the door.

  Frozen against it, every sense heightened, waiting. Listening.

  For a long time, she hardly dared to breathe. She finally eased away. Not before securing the dead bolt.

  Some birthday. The sooner it ended, the better.

  ***

  “How did you manage to lose her?” The reprimand cut through the air.

  Bodie stared ahead. “She opted to attend the party. I couldn’t follow.” Well enough they all knew; he had no need to remind them. “I intercepted her afterward.” Still, he should have stepped in earlier.

  Bodie related to the frustration in the low grumble emanating from his superior. His duty called for influencing the girl without direct argument, a tactic which his opponent utilized to the fullest. Unscrupulous, of course, but they based their reputation on it, and used certain… well, tools… to accomplish their goal.

  “They’re gaining inroads we hadn’t anticipated,” his superior said. “Not quickly, at least.”

  Another thing he knew too well. “Permission to advance to level two.”

  The
weight of the decision sounded in the heavy sigh. “Granted. One thing, Bodiel.”

  “Yes sir?”

  “Remember what separates us from them.”

  “Of course.” Scruples; he always kept them at the forefront of every mission. He operated at the extreme opposite of Zeveriah, his counterpart in the Underworld, the Archduke of Hades Section Six. Always had.

  “We’re running out of time. Keep me informed.”

  “As always, sir.” Strange. But pressure always trickled down from above, so his commander must be experiencing even greater discomfort.

  Why attach such importance to this girl? After all, she was one of them. Throughout time, the opposing factions of light and dark struggled to gain the upper hand, to divert the descendants from what they presented to each girl as her fate, ill or no. Titling each new female as The Destined One might have held sway in ancient times, but the recent few in line didn’t quite view the title in a positive light.

  Bodie had a feeling about this girl. A hope he hadn’t dared acknowledge for previous descendants. Not born to privilege, she displayed spunk. Hard headedness. Determination.

  Most promising, she’d kept her virginity intact. A first.

  Now, they wanted to rob her of that too. It instilled a fierce protectiveness in Bodie. “I will ensure the decision is yours alone, Lily.”

  Chapter Three

  “Hey, Gregory.” Entering the back door at Polaris, Lily gripped the strap of her messenger bag and crossed the length of the hallway toward the bartender. His presence immediately eased her worries, as always.

  He ambled over. “Hey, birthday girl. How you feeling?”

  He wouldn’t ask if he knew what a loaded question he posed. “Good. Do me a favor, will you?”

  “Anything, sweet cheeks.”

  She almost laughed at his high-pitched tone, even though didn’t feel much like laughing tonight. All day, worry had plagued her. Who the hell were those people? How did they know where to find her? “Ask Keb to keep a close eye out tonight, will you?”

  Concern knit his brow. “For what?”