by Sarina Dorie
He scooted his chair back. “The brownies will repair the pocket of your trousers if you leave them some kind of food item.”
I straightened. The pain was gone. Only a phantom ache remained. I felt like I should thank him, but I wasn’t supposed to do that. I struggled to find words.
His face was flushed from the exertion. He gathered up wads of bloody gauze and Jeb’s bottle of whiskey that he’d left. I reached for the hook.
He slapped my hand away. “Don’t you dare. Knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you placed that in your other pocket and sat on it later.”
I laughed. Okay, that did sound like me.
“Was I professional enough for you? I didn’t make you feel . . . more embarrassed than a person who sat on a fish hook should be?” He smiled when he said it, the teasing in his tone more obvious than his usual dry humor.
I nodded. “It was . . . you were . . . I. . . .” I struggled for the right words.
He waited.
“How do I thank you without thanking you?” I still hadn’t figured this one out.
“Elric is always doing kind deeds for you. How do you thank him?”
My cheeks flushed with heat. “I kiss him or hug him and tell him how wonderful he is.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be appropriate between us, would it?” He snorted.
I didn’t want to like him. It would have been so much easier if I could have anesthetized my feelings for him as easily as I did pain, but I couldn’t.
“How about a hug instead? A platonic hug.” His expression was solemn now.
Perhaps he expected me to refuse. Perhaps I should have. But I did want to be friends with him. I wanted to thank him.
I stepped forward into a quick hug. The last time—the only time—he had hugged me was when I thought it had been my last day at the school. His spine had been stiff, and it had been obvious he hadn’t wanted to hug me. Perhaps he’d just done it because he thought it had been the right thing to do.
This hug was different. He closed his arms around me and didn’t let me go as I tried to draw away.
His head dipped low enough to whisper in my ear. “Now tell me how wonderful you think I am.”
I pulled away, startled by the huskiness in his voice.
His eyes twinkled with delight, and he shook with silent laughter. I took it he got a kick out of my reaction.
“You’re horrible,” I said.
“I try my best.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It Don’t Mean a Thing If You Ain’t Got That Swing
My studies with Thatch and Imani went well. Every time I had a secret date with Elric, I worried it would be the last. A couple of weeks into summer vacation, I woke up one night, hearing the sound of someone rummaging through my room.
I sat up. “Who’s there?”
A long lean figure stood at the wardrobe, the silhouette illuminated by a light. I blinked my groggy eyes, wondering if this was a dream.
Vega muttered under her breath. It sounded more like swearing than a hex.
“Vega?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too.”
“It’s late. I thought you’d gone home for the summer.”
“I can’t find my dancing shoes. I thought I left them here.” She plopped into bed and flung an arm over her forehead. “They’re enchanted against blisters. Plus they make my legs look really hot. Have you seen them?”
“No.”
“Well, my plans aren’t going to work unless I find those shoes. I can’t go dancing two nights in a row without them.”
I closed my eyes and fell back asleep. I was surprised when I found her curled up in her bed in the morning, feet barefoot and blistered. She reeked of cigarettes and alcohol. I tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, not wanting to wake her. When I returned to change out of my pajamas, she was still asleep. A few hours later, after Imani’s lesson with Thatch, she remained in bed.
It must have been some night if she slept the day away.
After dinner I found her awake in my room. She was dressed in a different sequined gown. Elric sat on my bed, laughing.
I hurriedly closed the door. “Why do you keep doing this, Elric? I’m going to get into so much trouble.”
Vega eyed me, her lazy smile holding a hint of danger. “I thought you two were supposed to be broken up now.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I said quickly. “We broke up. I don’t know why Elric is here.”
“I know why. For a date with me.” She cackled.
Elric leaned forward, placing a hand on hers. “Miss Bloodmire, I told you my interest in you is strictly platonic. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to get to know a woman as friends before courting her.”
“I like to get to know a man before courting him.” She raised an eyebrow. “In bed.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Aren’t you the naughty one?” Elric patted the bed next to himself.
I shook my head. “Elric, I’m sorry, but you can’t be here. You have to leave.” I had Imani to think of. Didn’t he get that?
“It’s all right. I’ve devised a new plan. I asked Jeb if I could have permission to date Miss Bloodmire instead. He told me he was glad I was getting over my infatuation with you and agreed he would allow me to try it.”
“What?”
Vega leaned back against the headboard. “Your prince took me dancing last night. It was wonderful. I had no idea he could do the Charleston or Lindy Hop.”
I stared at him incredulous. “Is this some kind of joke?” Had he really gone out with Vega—without me.
“Not a joke. A loophole.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Tonight I’m taking Miss Bloodmire dancing. She’s going to invite you to come with us.”
“No, I’m not,” she said.
“Sweetie,” Elric said, a little too cloyingly. “What did we talk about? You agreed to follow the plan.”
I looked to Vega. “Are you playing along with this plan?”
“No. I’m not playing. Elric paid me.”
“In what?”
“Duh. In dance.”
My first year at the school I had discovered that was her greatest weakness. I’d never been able to satiate her love for music and dancing.
Elric took my hand in his and tugged me to his side. “Do you like dancing? Miss Bloodmire helped me pick out a dress for you. It’s period. I hope you don’t mind.”
Vega lounged like a cat.
“Vega.” I pointed to the door. “Out. I want a word with Elric.”
“Sorry. You aren’t allowed to be alone with my boyfriend.” She chuckled.
I couldn’t tell if she was taunting me to annoy me or because she really wanted him to herself. I stood. “Get out.”
“Fine, but I’m only leaving because I wanted to go dancing before you arrived at the club with my date, anyway.” She sauntered out, her heels clicking on the floor. Either she’d found her dancing shoes or she was making do with another pair.
She gazed at Elric over her shoulder and winked. “See you later, honey.”
Did she really think she could steal my boyfriend?
The moment she closed the door behind her, I said. “This plan isn’t going to work. Miss Bloodmire hates me. She’ll tell on us.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Besides the fact that my existence offends her, let’s see. . . . She has to share a room with me during the school year, Thatch made her mentor me in magic, and apparently I said the wrong thing to her about dancing once. Thatch told me if I wanted to get on her good side I should say, ‘If you ain’t got that swing, it don’t mean a thing.’ She accused me of making fun of her. I didn’t find out until later that it was a song lyric, and I said it wrong.”
“Indeed. The line is ‘It don’t mean a thing if you don’t got that swing.’ The song is about a style of music. I used to be a fan myself. My late wife an
d I used to love to go dancing at speakeasies. Have you ever seen Miss Bloodmire dance? She’s brilliant.”
“Never.” She was gone most weekend evenings. I had assumed she spent most of that time in the crypt. The only dancing I had guessed she did was dancing on the graves of her enemies.
“Really? You’ve never seen her in her glory? We’ll have to remedy that.” He snapped his fingers.
The room around me changed to a smoky nightclub. It smelled of alcohol and sweat. People in old-fashioned clothes sat at dimly lit tables. Women wore dresses with short skirts. Their hair was cut in bobs like Vega’s. Sequins, rhinestones, and fringe glittered on their clothes. Men in suspenders or vests wore fedoras and flat caps. The brightest lights shone on a big band on the stage. They played a raucous, upbeat song. I wasn’t sure if it was nineteen-twenties or nineteen-thirties music. I wasn’t as familiar with the era as Vega was.
A spotlight showcased a couple dancing energetically on the dance floor.
Not just the setting had changed. It felt like I’d been transported to another era. I stared in wonder. The only indication that gave away we were in modern times and somewhere in the Morty Realm was a man in the corner who tapped away at his smartphone.
This spell must have cost Elric a lot of magic to transport us this way. I wondered how much of this magic had been borrowed from his guards.
Elric nudged me. He wore tweed pants with a matching vest over a button-up shirt. His tie was something in between a cravat and a neckerchief. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail and his face hidden under the shadows of a flat cap.
“Well, you clean up real good,” he said in something like an imitation of an American accent.
He took my hand and kissed it. Long satin gloves reached my elbows. I hadn’t been wearing gloves a moment ago.
I looked down at myself. I wore a long-waisted pink dress covered in beads and sequins, ending in fringe. When I touched a hand to my hair I found it had been pinned back. Waves of curls had been guided into place to create an imitation of an old-fashioned hairstyle.
Elric looked me up and down as if admiring his handiwork. I wasn’t sure I liked someone changing my clothes by magic. He took my elbow before I could respond and guided me across the room.
Vega stood up from a table when she saw me, her red lips turning down into a scowl. “What are you doing here so soon?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” I said quickly.
Elric bowed, a pleased smile on his face. He didn’t seem to notice her fury. “I take full credit.” He offered her his hand. “Care to dance?”
“Darling, you can try, but it’s unlikely you’ll be able to keep up. I’m afraid I may have worn you out last night.” She laid her hand on his anyway, nose in the air.
“I’ll do my best.” He winked at me.
I sat down at Vega’s table, uncertain what to expect.
Her black dress glittered as they stepped into the light of the dance floor. Her scowl was replaced by wonder the moment Elric’s feet started moving to the music. He danced to the frantic beat, his legs kicking, his arms waving. Vega laughed and joined in. I suspected the song was the Charleston or some rendition of it, only wilder, with something more modern thrown in. Elric danced around Vega and spun her in a twirl. He lifted her into his arms and flipped her over his back. She landed with catlike grace before resuming her dance.
People cheered.
My jaw dropped. This was incredible. She was incredible. Elric was totally hot. I knew he could do court dances, but this was amazing.
When the song ended, they returned to the table. Vega was flushed and sweaty. She tipped back her drink. Her smile was genuine, not her usual sinister one.
“That was marvelous,” Vega said.
Elric nudged her. “I know.”
She grinned. “It was inspiring. I think that was the best I’ve ever danced in my life.”
He smirked. “I tend to bring out the best in artists.”
“Let’s do it again!” She grabbed onto his arm. The next song started up.
He laughed and shook his head. “We don’t want to make our friend jealous.”
I wasn’t jealous. I was in awe. “I don’t mind. I’d love to see you dance again.”
He smoothed a finger along my cheek. “I’d love to dance with you.”
There was no way I could do what Vega did. That took years of practice. I shook my head.
“One more with my date,” he said. “And then I’ll spend time with you.”
He was on fire on the dance floor. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Other dancers started to dance, but they gave Vega and Elric a wide birth as though they were the stars of a show. It was a long song, but every moment was filled with some exciting flip, turn, or move that was aerobically acrobatic.
Vega’s hair was matted to her head with sweat when they sat down. She shoved black strands out of her face, her eyes locked onto Elric. She leaned against him, looking as enamored as I felt. He wasn’t even winded.
“That was incredible!” I said. “I wish I could dance like that.”
“Do you?” he asked. “I could grant you that wish quite easily.”
I realized what I’d said too late. “No. That’s kind, but no. I don’t want to become a puppet again.” I’d hated that loss of control when his father had forced me to dance. It had felt like he’d crawled under my skin and sank hooks into my muscles to make them move. As if my affinity wasn’t hard enough to control, this was one more way I wasn’t in charge of my own body. I didn’t like that loss of power.
Elric squeezed my shoulder. “That isn’t what I meant. I was talking about talent. You’re an artist. My people inspire creativity. It wouldn’t take much to make you into a dancer.”
Vega snorted. “It takes more than talent alone. It takes skill. Clarissa trips over her own feet.”
I ignored her. I hadn’t done anything to earn a wish. Probably that meant I would be indebted to him if I accepted his offer. I didn’t want that.
I shook my head.
His smile faded. “What?”
“I’m not a dancer. I’m just an artist. It’s more fun to watch anyway.”
“No it isn’t.” Vega leaned more heavily against him so that her breast pressed onto his arm. She placed a hand on his. “One more time.”
He patted her hand. “We need to find you someone else to dance with.”
Vega tipped back another half-full drink on the table. “No one here is equal to my talents or skills.”
Elric grinned. “Probably not. Someone will need to be . . . inspired.” He looked over the empty glasses before Vega. “I think we’ve worked up a thirst.”
He snapped his fingers at the bar across the room. I thought he meant to call a waiter or waitress to our table. I followed his gaze.
A man wearing a tweed suit stood in front of the bar. From his stiffened spine and the way he looked around, I could tell he was uncomfortable being here. I couldn’t see his face under his flat cap.
I wouldn’t have given him another look if Elric’s gaze hadn’t fixed on him. I did a double take. It was Thatch. He marched over to us, a round tray full of drinks in hand. He slammed the tray onto the table, sloshing amber fluid onto the tray and table.
I leaned back.
Thatch glared at Elric. “Why have you summoned me here?”
“Summoned?” I looked to Elric. Surely, he hadn’t materialized Thatch here just to give Vega a dance partner.
Elric lazily leaned back in his chair. “To serve my needs.”
Thatch glowered at me like this was my fault. “I am not your servant.”
I shook my head. I would have preferred if he’d stayed at the school.
Elric laughed. “Of course not. You aren’t a servant if you’re having fun. Sit, have a drink with us.”
Thatch went rigid. His face turned red, and his muscles quivered. Elric leaned forward. A vein throbbed in his temple
. Their nostrils flared, and they reminded me of bulls about to charge each other.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“A contest of wills,” Vega whispered. She sipped from her new drink, gazing from one man to the other. “A contest of magic.”
A song started up.
“Fine, then. Have it your way,” Elric said. His breath was more labored now than it had been after he’d finished dancing.
Both men visibly relaxed. Thatch’s shoulders slumped in exhaustion. He leaned one hand on the table.
Elric’s eyes narrowed. His smile turned wicked. “Why sit when you could dance instead?”
Thatch’s spine went rigid. His face contorted in fury.
“I don’t dance,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You do now.”
Thatch’s face turned redder. He whirled and marched out to the dance floor, his body as stiff as a toy soldier’s.
Elric waved a hand at Vega. “Dance while you can. I’m not going to keep this up long.”
She rose.
I stood. “No, you aren’t going to dance with him. He doesn’t want to do this. He’s your friend.”
Vega shoved me out of her way. “Don’t tell me who I can and can’t dance with, midget.”
“They’ll be fine.” Elric grabbed my wrist and pulled me back into my seat.
Thatch continued to glare at us. His lips moved. I knew he was trying to break free of the spell. He chanted, even as his legs kicked wildly and he flailed his arms in time to the energetic beat. Elric sipped his drink, expression calm.
I wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. “Why are you doing this?”
“It amuses me.”
“You promised me you wouldn’t control me or my friends. You promised me you wouldn’t coerce or manipulate or—”
“I promised I wouldn’t coerce or manipulate you. I won’t use your friends or give them magical orgasms. Tell me, is Felix Thatch your friend?”
“He’s my teacher.”
“Indeed. That doesn’t make him your friend. You might want him to be your friend, but there is a difference between wanting and reality.” He arched an eyebrow at me.
