Dance in the Dark

by Megan Derr

  No one knew how Snow White and the Evil Queen had been related. The most common tales were the classic stepmother and stepdaughter, but they could have been real mother and daughter, or sisters, step-sisters. Like all major pieces of the tale, the truth was lost. What was known was that Snow White had been an exceptional witch, and the Evil Queen a great alchemist.

  But Snow White had been the better of the two, and over time the Evil Queen grew jealous. Like all alchemists, the Queen had been obsessed with the impossible relics. But she had also been highly skilled at the 'crasser' art of mere poisons.

  Finally the Queen's jealousy turned into hate, and she set out to kill her rival—the woman she had once loved, once admired, once worked happily alongside. Legend went she tried various ways and means to kill Snow White, but it was not until well after the last, successful attempt, that anyone realized previous incidents had been failed attempts.

  History also disagreed on how the Evil Queen died—whether she had actually been caught and killed, or if she had killed herself.

  Ekaterina laughed. "No? You live mere seconds from a beach, but your skin is fair. Hair as black as ebony, and even without all that lovely blood, your lips lean toward red. Perfect at everything, deserving nothing, uncaring of those around you. A mother who gave up her life for you, and your father a lonely man in his castle, too stupid and foolish to see what he let into his home."

  "An evil witch who lost her magic mirror, and is jealous of poor Snow White?" Johnnie asked derisively.

  "Give it to me," Ekaterina said. "I have had enough of this foolishness. You are no longer protected, Johnnie, by anyone or anything. I can kill you in many more ways than you could possibly imagine."

  Johnnie shook his head. "I am not giving you anything until I know that my family and friends will be safe. I am not stupid, Evil Queen. You cannot simply leave us alive. Did you think I would believe that you would simply take the mirror, take your parents, and leave the rest of alive?"

  Ekaterina laughed. "Whenever did I say I gave a damn about my parents? They did not give a damn about me until I made myself beautiful. If they are not dead yet, they will be dead soon; I've no further use for them. When I return to Italy, it will be alone. Give me the mirror, Johnnie, or I will start killing."

  "You kill anyone," Johnnie said, slipping his hand into his pocket to wrap it around the mirror, "and I will destroy the mirror. It will not take much to destroy it, and I can do it before you can get it away from me. You get nothing until I know they will all be safe."

  She glared at him. "I see there will be no peaceful resolution to this. Are you trying to stall until your little guard dog can get in here to kill me? I am surprised you did not bring him along, but actually listened to me and came alone. A fascinating specimen, your dog."

  Johnnie did not reply, but the control over his temper started to fray. If she dared to even think of hurting Grim—

  "I will make you a bargain, dear Johnnie," Ekaterina said. "Truly, I am going too far away to care what mess I leave behind here, and no one will come after me. There is too much I could do to them. So, give me the mirror, and give me your guard dog, and I will let the others go free."

  "No," Johnnie said flatly. "Even if I believed you, I will not hand him over. He is not an object to be traded. Why do you even want him?"

  "He intrigues me. Not much to look at, of course, but he has power the likes of which I have never seen. He would suit my experiments, I think. I would not mind knowing the weight and flavor of his blood, either."

  Johnnie's hand tightened on his cane, as he fought against the urge to beat her with it. "You will never touch him."

  "Mm, possessive," Ekaterina purred. "Is that ugly little thing the reason that your daddy's love spell finally broke? I could do to you what I did to your brother. How would you stop me? I could make you adore me, make you love me, make you forget all about—"

  He swung, catching her across the side of her face with his cane. Pulling back, he stepped away as she recovered from the shock of his actually striking her.

  Then she lunged, and Johnnie bolted to the side, barely avoiding her. He pressed the release on his cane and drew the blade, bring it up and assuming a defensive stance. "You will not get away with this, Ekaterina. You want the mirror, you will have to kill me to get to it. If you try to hurt my family, I will see you live to regret it for a very long time."

  Ekaterina laughed, and then suddenly Johnnie's eyes were watering with the effort not to sneeze. "Do you honestly think, Snow White, that you can defeat me? That is only how the story ends, not the reality."

  She lunged again, and Johnnie swung, connecting with her arm, blocking her briefly—but then she did something, and he sneezed, and Ekaterina took her opening.

  Laughing again, Ekaterina shoved him into the wall and wrapped her hands around his throat, squeezing tightly. Whatever spell she had cast was keeping Johnnie from fighting her—from moving at all. He struggled to breathe, but the effort was futile.

  "I am going to leave your corpse in the middle of the city for all to see, for your father to find, and I hope the pain of it kills him slowly. I will watch him bury you, bury Elam, bury all of them, and laugh. I'll string you up and leave you to bleed out slowly, leave you aware enough to wonder if the rest of your family is dead yet, to know that one by one, they will fall in dreams, until at last your father comes and finds your remains. Then I will find your guard dog, and ensnare him, and we will toast your name in Venice before I take him to my lab and make him scream in pain because he loves me."

  Johnnie said nothing, simply fought not to black out.

  "Now, you paragon of beauty," Ekaterina quoted mockingly, "this is the end of you."

  Johnnie looked up, forced his eyes to focus, then simply smirked.

  Ekaterina frowned.

  "Let him go."

  The voice made Ekaterina jump, and accidentally let go of Johnnie—and then Bergrin had her, yanked her around, grasped the sides of her face and forced her to look up into his eyes. His hazel eyes became pools of shimmering white. "Look into my eyes, and see your soul reflected."

  For a moment, there was silence—then Ekaterina screamed in a way that Johnnie would not forget for the rest of his life. It was terrified, broken, desperate, worse by far than all the screams he had thus far heard Grim induce.

  He turned his head away and clapped his hands over his ears when he could take no more. But when the awful sound finally cut abruptly off, the heavy silence that followed almost seemed worse.

  Then familiar hands grasped his shoulder, hauled him up, and wrapped around him. Johnnie held fast, voice thin and hoarse as he said, "Took you long enough, babysitter."

  "I'll be faster next time, Highness," Bergrin said gruffly, hugging him tighter still.

  Johnnie coughed. "You had better. Take us home."

  Without a word, Bergrin obeyed.

  The house, when they arrived, was to all appearances back to normal. A servant, arms piled with clothes and other things taken from the ball room, stopped as he saw them. "Master Johnnie, your father said that you could find them in the front room when you arrived."

  "Thank you," Johnnie replied. Unwilling to let go of Bergrin's hand, he led the way to the immense living room at the front of the house.

  In the center of the room, across a massive oriental rug, were two couches and half a dozen chairs. Scattered about on the furniture were Ontoniel, Elam, Rita, Phil, and Zach. "The others?" Johnnie asked.

  "Sent home," Ontoniel replied. "It was not hard to convince them that the party extended into a two day affair, and they got carried away. People tend to prefer to accept the easiest explanation handed them."

  Elam stirred in his chair. "Except for Ekaterina's parents. They are dead."

  "I tried," Bergrin said sadly. "My mother tried, but she said they were doomed the moment they fell victim to the curse. Whatever else might have happened, their fate was sealed."

  "That is unfortunate," Johnn
ie said quietly. "What will become of their territory?"

  Ontoniel sighed, and leaned back in his own chair, a black armchair positioned closest to the enormous fireplace. "That is a mess for me to straighten out another day. It will not be the first time I have dealt with such a mess. Elam, you may assist me if you like; it would be good experience for you."

  "Of course, Father," Elam said.

  Johnnie nodded, and turned to Phil and Zach. "I am surprised you both are still here."

  Phil tapped her forehead. "We've been chatting. Oh!" She snapped her fingers, then fumbled through the pile of jacket, purse, and high-heeled shoes next to her on the couch, finally coming up with a familiar book. "Chris sent this; he said to tell you it looks like the west is well on its way to having a fine abnormal detective of its own."

  "Tell him thank you," Johnnie said, unable to say anything more. "For all his help, and Jed as well."

  "We will," Phil said, "after he's done yelling at us. Maybe."

  Zach snorted. "On that note, we really should be going. We are glad you've made it safely back, Johnnie. We'll see you again, sometime. Thank you both, for saving us."

  "Thank you," Johnnie said. "I am sorry—"

  "No need," Phil cut in. "We'll see you around, babe."

  Then they were gone, leaving only Johnnie and his family.

  "I hope," Ontoniel said into the silence, "that we have had enough upheaval in this family to last us for the next few centuries. I would prefer the only problems to be dealt with in the future all pertain to wedding plans. Am I understood?"

  "Yes, Father," Elam and Johnnie chorused.

  Ontoniel nodded. "I am certain I do not need to ask, but I will anyway—Ekaterina is definitely dead?"

  "Yes," Bergrin said.

  "What about the damned mirror?"

  Johnnie reached into his pocket and pulled out the cheap compact, then strode to the enormous fireplace and pitched the mirror into the flames. "Destroyed," he said, turning around and facing Ontoniel.

  "Good," Ontoniel said. "Rita, Bergrin. Welcome to the family. I am sorry you were introduced to us amidst so much turmoil."

  "My lord," Bergrin murmured, as Rita bowed her head and said the same.

  Ontoniel smiled faintly, then slowly stood up. "I think we have all had quite enough for now. I am going to bed, hopefully to rest properly. I expect to see everyone at breakfast, nine o'clock sharp."

  "Yes, Father."

  "My lord."

  "Good," Ontoniel said, and with a nod, left the four of them alone.

  Johnnie stripped off his coat and hat, tossed them into an empty chair, then strode to the mini-bar in the corner and poured a double. Knocking back the vodka, he then flopped down on the leather sofa recently vacated by Phil and Zach.

  Bergrin sat down next to him, and slid an arm around Johnnie, pulling him flush against Bergrin's side. Johnnie approved, and leaned against him, wanting to crawl into bed but deciding that took entirely too much effort at the moment.

  He looked at Elam, then at Rita, then back at Elam. "She is far too good for you."

  Elam gave him a withering look, and did not deign to reply.

  Rita laughed. "He is not all bad, I promise."

  "I will take your word for it," Johnnie said. "But in return for breaking his curse, I fully expect you to make him a nicer person."

  "Then I fully expect having a bodyguard lover to make you a more sensible person," Elam retorted.

  "Ha!" Bergrin said.

  Johnnie scowled and elbowed him, then pulled away, knocking Bergrin's hand away when he tried to pull Johnnie back. "You are supposed to take my side. Sit all by yourself."

  Bergrin smiled. "How about if I said I like you when you aren't being sensible? A sensible man would have refused me." The heat in his eyes made it clear as to which times he was primarily referring that Johnnie should have refused.

  "I think you have the same amount of sense, come to that," Johnnie said, but let Bergrin pull him close again.

  Elam looked at them in disgust. "Do you always act like you are twelve?"

  Rita's laughter cut off Johnnie's scathing retort.

  "I think you are conveniently forgetting all of our antics, dear. What about that night we got drunk and played chopsticks for god knows how many hours?"

  "You are supposed to take my side," Elam said, crossing his arms across his chest and glaring at her.

  Rita smiled and patted his cheek. "If you say so, darling."

  Elam covered her hand with his own, meeting her eyes for a very long moment.

  Johnnie turned away, giving them their space, and found hazel eyes watching him. He smiled. "I am glad it is all over."

  "Me too," Bergrin said. "Please try to stick to only stupid, easy cases for a bit."

  Johnnie smirked. "If you insist. I had thought I would simply avoid taking any for a week or two, but—"

  Bergrin bit his lip, then kissed him, briefly but with heat—and promise of all the things he would do, once they had the energy to do them.

  Johnnie turned back to Elam and Rita, as he saw them stand. Elam caught his eyes, though Johnnie did not know if it was by accident or design. They stared at each other a moment, then Elam nodded and said gruffly, "Good night, Johnnie."

  "Good night, Ellie."

  Then they too were gone, leaving Johnnie alone with Bergrin. "You will have to tell your mother thank you for me."

  "I will," Bergrin said. "She will want to meet you and your family, sometime."

  Johnnie snorted. "My father already has the dinner half-planned. That is probably the main reason he wants us all at breakfast."

  Bergrin tugged until Johnnie was sprawled in his lap and then buried his face in the crook of Johnnie's neck. Johnnie held on tight, just because he could, just because it was hard to believe he could.

  "I cannot believe—" Bergrin cut himself off.

  "What?" Johnnie said, combing through the soft mess of curls.

  Bergrin looked up. "This. You. The son of a Dracula is not supposed to pick me. The Dracula is not supposed to give his approval. After all this mess, after everything went wrong, I did not ever think I would wind up in the Dracula's living room with his spoiled brat son in my lap."

  Johnnie tugged on the curls he had just been petting. "When did I ever care about all that? If my father ever cared, he does not now." He fell silent, then added quietly, "She called me Snow White. I wonder what made me that, instead of the Evil Queen."

  "You could never be evil, Johnnie. You're entirely the wrong sort of arrogant for that."

  "It would not have been so hard," Johnnie argued. "Wanting what others have—the magic, the talent, the fitting in by right of birth—"

  Bergrin cut him off with a snort. "Even if that were remotely possible, I would not allow it. You're only cute when you're mostly obnoxious, not entirely. All that aside, dating death is totally taboo, so the rest is completely moot."

  "I do not care anyway," Johnnie replied, then quoted teasingly, "For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings/That then I scorn—" His words were cut off by a kiss, but Johnnie did not mind. "Take me to bed, Grim."

  Bergrin smiled and kissed him again. "As you wish, Highness."

  Fin

  About the Author

  Megan grew up a military brat and traveled extensively with her family. She is now firmly settled in Ohio, with two roommates and their four cats. She has always been book obsessed, and writing obsessed since she first gave it a whirl in college. Romance and fantasy are her primary obsessions, but she's game to write just about anything and enjoys a challenge. She is a sucker for stories of enemies becoming lovers. When not writing, Megan is drinking too much coffee, reading still more books, and harassing family and friends, or otherwise doing whatever possible to avoid editing.

  She loves to hear from her readers, and can be found on her website and her livejournal:

  http://maderr.com

  http://maderr.livejournal.com

  >

 

  Megan Derr, Dance in the Dark