“Alexia.”
The voice was silk, familiar, flowing into her ear as a sound she never wanted to stop.
It didn’t.
Her name was repeated, again and again. Each time she climbed another rung of consciousness, leaving the dark abyss of sleep behind. Her eyes slitted open to a foreign room, tenderly lit by a reading lamp. The ceiling extended far above her head; its cream-color travelling down the walls until it met the gray carpet. A painting was mounted on the wall she faced. Twists of dark paint spiralled into an abstract design. Alexia stared at it, waiting for her memories to be restored—wondering who the room belonged to, and how she had gotten there. Each second that passed without their return fuelled her anxiety.
Where am I?
The rise and fall of her chest quickened as she rolled to see who lay beside her.
Leo’s worried gaze met hers.
He wasn’t lying down, but was seated on the edge of the bed. One hand was on her shoulder.
“It’s okay. You’re alright.”
Alexia sat with a quick snap of the torso, then groaned as the blood rushed from her head. Leo propped a pillow behind her back.
“Take it easy. Just lean on this for a second.”
She did.
“What time is it?”
Leo glanced at his watch. It looked expensive.
“7:12 a.m.”
“I guess a better question is, what day is it?”
“It’s the day after yesterday.”
A shadow of a smile graced her lips. “Isn’t it always the day after yesterday?”
Leo returned the grin more clearly. “Just making sure you’re all here.”
“And where is here?”
Alexia sat up straighter, exposing the rest of her sweater as the sheet fell down to her waist.
“Well, I wasn’t intending for you to see it this way, but it’s my room.”
Alexia opened her mouth. She never got a word out before Leo interrupted.
“Nothing happened, I swear. I thought about taking you back to your hotel room, but I didn’t think I would make it past security carrying you in…in your state. I hope it’s okay I brought you here.”
In my state?
Alexia racked her mind, desperate for any memory to return. She couldn’t recall being with Leo at all the night before.
Breathe. Just breathe. What’s the last thing I do remember?
Through a swirl of confusion, Chloe’s face surfaced. That was it. She had been with Chloe. Drunk champagne after practice. But only a glass. She’d only had one glass before…before…
The pills.
What had they taken? Adderall? She must have had an adverse reaction to it. Alexia vaguely remembered getting into a cab…dancing in a club. Had she drunk more afterward? Maybe one. Maybe ten. Although she didn’t feel that hungover. She was just disoriented. At least now she had a few memories to lean her anxiety on. The rest of the night had vanished from her consciousness though. The realization was disturbing.
“I…I don’t remember,” she said, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat.
Leo slid closer, wrapping his arms around her like a comforting blanket.
“It’s okay, take your time. Can you recall anything?”
Alexia bit her lip so hard she thought she’d draw blood. “I had a drink with Chloe after practice.”
When he didn’t reply, she dared a glance at him, hoping the disappointment in his expression was minimal. But his face remained a closed book. When they locked eyes, he nodded for her to continue, blond hair bouncing gently.
Alexia wanted to tell him more…about the drugs, but the admission dissolved on the tip of her tongue.
“I must have drunk too much. I don’t know. Chloe took me to a club. I guess I blacked out,” she raised a hand to her forehead. “God, I’m really embarrassed. Was it Chloe who called you?”
Leo’s response caught her off guard.
“No. I—I didn’t know you were out with her. Luis called me, the bartender from the place I took you last night. He saw you wander in there alone and collapse in a booth.”
“I was alone?”
The statement should have shaken her with anger, but it only instilled Alexia with concern. Why hadn’t Chloe been with her? Maybe the Adderall had affected her in the same way. Had they both been victim to a spiked dose? All of a sudden it felt like an invisible hand was squeezing the air from her lungs. What if Chloe was in danger?
Registering her reaction, Leo’s voice turned grave.
“I’ll call her, make sure she’s alright.”
The speed at which he retrieved his phone made it seem like it had magically appeared in his hand. The room was so quiet she could hear the soft clicks of Leo searching his contact list, followed by a faint ringing as he raised the phone to his ear.
The imaginary hand around her throat clenched tighter as the ringing continued. The call was going unanswered. By the time Chloe’s voicemail kicked in, Alexia gasped for air, certain she was having a panic attack.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s early. Chloe always sleeps late.”
But in her hypersensitive state, Alexia was attune to everything. With her senses running on overdrive, Leo couldn’t hide the disquiet in his eyes or alarm in his voice.
“I’ll try Marque instead.”
This time, he left the room before dialling. Alexia was thankful for it. Her heart couldn’t take the suspense of listening to another line ring out. But eager to pick up any snippet of conversation, she leaned closer to the door.
Relief flooded her when Leo’s voice floated under its sill. Marque had picked up at least; she could tell by the pauses in conversation. It was just unfortunate they spoke in French. She understood nothing.
After what seemed like an eternity, Leo stepped back into the room, smoothing his disheveled hair and the angst from his face.
“She’s fine.”
Alexia exhaled, dizzy with emotion.
“She’s with Marque?”
“Yes,” he replied, sitting at the foot of the bed. He angled his torso so she had a clear view of his face. It looked like he had to say something that he didn’t want to.
“What is it?”
His lowering eyes were filled with discomfort. “Are you sure you were with Chloe last night?”
Alexia was taken aback by the question.
“I may not remember much, but that I’m sure of. She’s been hanging around the opera house most evenings. She wanted me to stay behind on the night we first went out. When I told her I couldn’t, we arranged to meet last night instead. She wanted to show me the rooftop.”
“She what?!”
Alexia was stunned at the sudden hostility of Leo’s voice. He’d never spoken to her that way before.
“Chloe wanted to show you the rooftop?” he pressed, still enraged.
Alexia nodded, not understanding.
“Tell me you didn’t go there.”
It was her turn to lower her eyes. “I saw it, but couldn’t bring myself to go out on the ledge. The height…I was petrified.”
More and more of the whites of Leo’s eyes were exposed as he listened. By the time she had finished talking, he was shaking. Alexia reached for his arm. He flinched at her touch, as though she had pulled him from a hellish dream. With lightning speed, he grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them hard.
“Listen to me. Never go there again, it’s not safe. Promise me?”
Through her shock, Alexia could only muster a meager nod of consent.
“I need the words, Alexia. Promise me.”
She swallowed forcibly before answering. “I promise.”
As his hands eased off her shoulders, softness was restored to his tone.
“Good. Now, are you well enough to dance?”
Alexia thought long and hard about the question. She was tense from anxiety and stress, but her head wasn’t pounding the same way it normally did after a night of heavy drinking, which was strange. Physically, she
felt she could manage the day. Mentally, she wasn’t so sure. She only told Leo the former.
“Okay. I’ll give you a lift back to the hotel. What time do you need to be at the opera house?”
“In an hour.”
“Then I’ll wait for you to get your things from the hotel and take you there too.”
Alexia smiled to hide an internal cringe, mortified at the extent to which she’d burdened Leo already.
“You don’t have to, I can grab a cab.”
He reached for her hands. “What’s that saying you have…over my death?”
“Over my dead body.”
Leo’s grin summoned the dimple on his cheek. “That’s the one. Now, hurry up.”
For a bachelor pad, Leo’s apartment was surprisingly clean. Alexia ducked into the bathroom, afraid of running into Leo’s brother looking the way she did. She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror before setting to work. With painful tugs, she finger-combed her long knotted strands, and wiped away artificial bags of smeared mascara from the undersides of her eyes. Splashing cold water on her face was solely to wake her up. The towel she blotted her skin dry with smelled like Leo. She held it for a moment longer than necessary against her cheek.
Once composed, she tiptoed into the dark hallway. Its windows were painted black with sunrise not due for another hour. The door on the far end was shut. Alexia prayed Leo’s brother was still fast asleep; this wasn’t exactly the ideal way to meet his family.
Maneuvering through the apartment, she found the living area with a sliding glass door that led into a courtyard. It was the first Parisian residence Alexia had been to on ground level, and she couldn’t have been happier for it. No rooftops to fall off here.
To the left of the living area was a modern-looking kitchen, where Leo was placing an espresso cup on the counter.
“You drink coffee right?”
“Do I ever,” Alexia replied, venturing over.
She reached for the miniature mug. It smelled as good as Leo…almost.
“Good. I don’t have much in the way of breakfast, but if you don’t want toast there’s a cafe a few doors down. Serves the best pastries in the city.”
“Best pastries in the city? Now I feel obliged to try them.”
“As you should.”
Leo crossed the living room to open the front door, craning his neck around the corner.
“I might have spoken too soon,” he called. “It’s peak hour. The line stretches around the block.”
“Toast is fine,” Alexia shrugged, not particularly hungry anyway. “Maybe we can get breakfast there another time.”
The next time I sleep over.
Leo seemed to be thinking the same thing for he came back to her, leaning down to kiss her cheek. When his lips met her skin, her hairs stood on end. She shifted her head on impulse, mouth ready to meet his, but he had pulled away. He levelled his gaze at her, caressing her cheeks in his palms. The intensity of his stare was so strong, Alexia had the urge to lower her eyes. But his silence only lasted a moment before he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks to you.”
A hint of green returned to his irises when he dropped his hands.
“Thanks to Luis.”
She cleared her throat. “Remind me to drop off some flowers for him later.”
“Don’t go making me jealous now.”
Leo plopped two slices of bread in the toaster, then looked at his watch. “Might have to take it to go.”
Alexia shot the espresso, relishing the much needed hit of energy, and took the toast to appease Leo. She found her jacket on the coat hanger in the front hall, and squirmed at the thought of Leo trying to remove it from her unconscious body the night before; head limp, arms dangling at gravity’s pull. She wished she could tell him it wasn’t really her fault—that she hadn’t been unconscious from binge drinking as he so clearly suspected. But revealing she’d been under the influence of narcotics that Chloe had given her would only taint his image of the principal dancer further.
At least he’s seen me at my worst. The only way to go from here is up.
“It’s this door,” Leo said, calling her away from the front entrance.
A two car garage was attached to the residence. Parked next to Leo’s Ducati was a stylish black car. She didn’t recognize the logo on the front hood.
“Is that your brother’s?”
“Yeah, but we’ll take it today. Not sure I trust you to stay on the bike this morning, no offense.”
Alexia bit the corner of her lip. “Fair.”
At the mention of his brother, a question she was dying to ask bubbled its way up her throat.
“Was he home last night?”
Pausing midway around the vehicle, Leo stared at her with a deadpan expression.
“Sure. My whole family was over. You don’t remember meeting them? They were very fond of you.”
“Not funny.”
His animation returned when he unlocked the car with a wide grin. They slipped into its leather seats in unison.
“In all seriousness, he was home, but asleep. I was tempted to wake him up, but thought it only respectable that you consciously agree to meeting beforehand.”
“Thanks for your consideration.”
The car purred to life with such stealth, that if there hadn’t been a pause in conversation, she wouldn’t have heard the engine start.
“Is this electric?”
“Yeah.”
“I like your brother already.”
“That makes one of us,” he smirked.
After getting changed at the hotel, the drive to the Opéra Magique passed in a blink of the eye. It might have been the darkness of morning twilight capturing it in a gloomy frame, but the building seemed more sinister that morning. The image of its rooftop snaked to the forefront of Alexia’s mind, haunting her.
Leo’s voice drifted through her angst.
“Guess I won’t see you until after the show tomorrow.”
The show tomorrow!
Reality hit her hard and fast. Tomorrow was New Year’s Eve. The reason for her coming to Paris.
“I’d say good luck,” he continued, “but I doubt you need it.”
“Wouldn’t be so sure,” she muttered as he leaned over to kiss her farewell.
The wind fought hard to keep her in the car. With effort, she opened the door against its will, stepping out onto a glacial sidewalk. All around her, Parisians were adjusting scarves and hats as they journeyed through the wind-swept streets to work. Alexia weaved through them to the staircase she had once perceived as divine, a sentiment that she felt would never return.
Paranoia drove her to avoid eye contact with the receptionist, convinced he knew she had roamed the building after hours, seen sections not meant for her eyes. Her head remained lowered all the way to the dressing room, which she found empty. Alexia pulled her phone from Deborah’s handbag, counting her lucky stars that she hadn’t lost either the night before. It was just after 8:00 a.m. Leo had driven fast. She still had plenty of time before rehearsal began. The stillness of the space was ominous, tickling her with the sense of being watched by invisible eyes. Desperate to shake the feeling, she rummaged through her bag for her headphones, fitting them tightly in her ears. She often listened to a playlist of classical favorites during warm-up. It helped guide her to the meditative state she strove to lose herself in when she performed. The notes were magic, a lullaby that restored the calm to her soul. Turning up the volume, Alexia passed through the stage door. The curtain was closed, shielding the view of the royal auditorium beyond. The scant visibility offered by safety lights suited her fine; the darkness helped blanket her mind.
Finding a place in the center of the stage, Alexia lay down on her back, reaching her arms high above her head and arching her feet as far as they would bend. The cracking of toes rose above the music, but she didn’t flinch. Chloe was right. Exposure was the key to turning the unusual into the familiar. A
fter fifteen years as a dancer, the noise no longer made her bat an eye.
Closing her eyes, she held the position for a few minutes, letting world-renowned composers transport her deep inside the inner workings of their imagination. Her breathing slowed as her mind shut down in the early stages of sleep. Just as she was about to drift off, something called her back.
It wasn’t a sound that infiltrated the music, it was a feeling. A sixth sense that told her she wasn’t alone. Alexia peeled back her eyelids, expecting to find the first of her peers entering the stage.
The auditorium was dark and still.
Unnerved, she sat up, removing one of her earbuds. No sound was detected above the music still flowing into her right ear. With a tug, she freed that one too, casting herself into the silence of the stage. Fully invested in her surroundings, every inch of Alexia’s skin broke out in goosebumps. She wasn’t alone.
“Hello?”
The sound of her own voice startled her—loud, shaky.
It was difficult to hear anything over her pounding blood, but she knew there had been no response.
Unable to shake the feeling that someone was watching her through the mellow light, Alexia twitched her head in all directions.
Nothing.
The unease that seeped into her bones told her that she was wrong. There was something…someone.
At last her gaze travelled up, pupils rising like balloons that had been released from a child’s grasp. They met a silhouette in the rafters above. Motionless. Staring down at her.
Alexia scurried backward across the stage, dragging herself in a clumsy crab walk.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice a ragged whisper of fright.
The person made no reply, remaining so still that Alexia second-guessed herself.
It must be a pillar…or part of the curt—
Alexia’s scream pierced the silence when the figure moved, stepping out from the concealment of shadow.
Chloe was recognizable now. Her hair hung limp around her shoulders as if stretched thin from so much time in a merciless bun. Even the wan light couldn’t hide the sallowness of her skin. From the distance, Chloe’s eyes were unreadable, but her face was contorted with a disturbing expression. The lines of determination she normally wore had been flattened into a lifeless canvas. Alexia shuddered. This wasn’t the Chloe she knew. What happened to her last night?
Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two Page 13
