Black Frost Winter: The Black Seasons Book Two

by Lenai Despins

  Everyone followed her nod to a cocktail table at the far end of the room. Two men had rested their drinks on it. Their faces were lifted up at one another, lips moving in steady conversation. Even from a distance, their handsomeness was apparent; the masculine curve of their jaws was well-defined below their masks. Alexia’s eye lingered on the one on the right, recognizing the blond rippling hair.

  “That’s Leo and Marque,” Amy hissed, voicing Alexia’s realization aloud.

  “Leo…as in Alexia’s Leo?” Deborah asked.

  “He’s not my Leo,” Alexia corrected with a squirm.

  “Careful what you say,” Deborah warned. “If you don’t claim him, then I might.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  Deborah shrugged. “What about that other guy? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome?”

  “That’s Marque,” Amy repeated. “Chloe’s boyfriend. The one whose apartment we were at. Do you remember nothing from that night?”

  The mention of Chloe’s name shot a current of suspense through the air, prompting everyone except Kelly to stare at Alexia, who was only vaguely aware of them, lost in her own speculation. If Marque was here then Chloe couldn’t be far. Odds were that she’d make an appearance after all. Alexia’s eyes combed the room, searching for the one person she wanted to see, but hoped not to. The person with the answers she needed.

  “Is Leo the guy you’ve been dating?” Kelly asked.

  Alexia nodded the drowsy nod of someone waking up from a nap.

  “Well, don’t you want to go say hello?”

  It was the perfect excuse to position herself at the table that would bring her face-to-face with Chloe—if she turned up. She eyed Leo for a moment longer, something swelling in her chest. It didn’t hurt that he looked exceptionally handsome in a tux.

  “You bet. Excuse me for a sec.”

  Deborah’s voice carried over her shoulder as she started to carve a path through the crowd. “Here’s hoping it’ll be more than a sec.”

  The ballroom seemed to be at capacity, which made sense, considering the show had sold out. The music was steadily rising with each passing minute that brought them closer to midnight. It wasn’t until she was a few feet from the table that Leo came back into view. Up close, he was even more attractive. The sculpted definition of his face was accentuated from the angle her eyes met it, and even though the upper half of it was concealed, her memories filled in the gap.

  As if tickled by some invisible sense of being watched, he turned away from Marque. She caught her breath when Leo faced her; his eyes, although brown in the sensual lightening of the chandeliers above, still shone brightly through his mask. They paused on her for a moment too long, like he had caught sight of something of interest, but broke away not long after, evidently not recognizing her.

  Alexia smiled, relishing being admired by someone she wanted to be admired by. When she arrived at the table, Marque noticed her first. He paused the conversation respectfully as Leo turned to her again.

  There was a period of awkward silence as she waited for recognition to sink in. In time, she gave up and said, “Enjoy the show?”

  Leo’s eyes widened as he studied her. “Alexia?”

  “I was wondering why people weren’t flocking to get my autograph,” she replied with a hint of sarcasm. “Maybe I should carry this mask around all the time.”

  She had barely finished talking before Leo’s lips flew to her cheeks. “You were incredible! I didn’t know you could dance like that. I mean, I gathered considering it’s your profession, but you…” Lust was heavy in his eyes. “You stole the show.”

  Marque nodded politely at his side, neither agreeing or disagreeing. From his expression it was evident he didn’t remember her from the party or from the stage. Alexia tried not to be upset by this; if Leo had barely recognized her, then it was excusable.

  “Truthfully, it wasn’t my best performance…but I’m happy I came out of it alive.”

  It might have been a trick of the light, but the room seemed to darken in time with her words, and a fresh chill crawled through her. She shivered, and her eyes left Leo’s as they caught sight of something on the back wall. Above the disguised faces of the crowd, a fissure began to eat away the paint, carving a line like a pencil would make if it were dragged over a blank sheet of paper. Steadily, meticulously, from each side of the line, more emerged, converging into the lattice structure she had come to know so well.

  The black frost expanded in size like some life-sucking mass tainting the virginal walls with an evil they couldn’t shake. Soon, it reached a side door. A closet door? No, that wasn’t right. It was a stairwell door. The door that led to the roof.

  Leaning against it was Chloe.

  Her face was unveiled; the mask she had chosen was connected to a stick that was lowered in her right hand, dangling just above the floor. Her dress was made of black lace, eerily similar to the pattern made by the frost that coated the wall behind her. It could have easily passed as a wedding dress if it had been white. The fabric hugged the curvature of her body, only leaving it at the knees where it cascaded around her feet like a mermaid’s tail. As pretty as the gown was, Alexia’s eyes kept wandering back to Chloe’s collar. It had a grotesqueness to it—circling her neck like a noose. With strain, Alexia forced her gaze up to Chloe’s face, curious to see if the event had granted an exemption from her “natural” look. As soon as she found Chloe’s eyes, Alexia forgot why she had sought them out initially. Chloe was staring directly at her, irises so dark that they blended with her pupils to form a savage circle of black. One by one, the hairs on the back of Alexia’s neck began to rise, but she couldn’t turn away. Chloe was looking at Alexia with unmistakable intent, beckoning her, daring her to venture near.

  She knew she would go. The risks never surfaced in her mind, or if they had, her curiosity had beaten them down. Her hunger for the truth was insatiable, and she could only fill it alone. If she didn’t confront Chloe now, she’d never have the chance again.

  In one sly motion, Alexia cocked her head in the direction of her friends. They were still absorbed in conversation with Kelly, beaming at the Canadian with engrossed admiration. From their expressions, it was clear they’d be entertained for a long while.

  Three down, one to go.

  Turning back to Leo, she touched his forearm to interrupt his rekindled conversation with Marque.

  “I’ll be right back. Just going to the toilet.”

  His hand came up over hers so swiftly that it caught her by surprise, but she relaxed at the warmth of his fingers. “Hurry back.”

  Before she could think twice, Alexia threw herself into the crowd, which closed in around her on all sides. In a strange way, she welcomed the intrusion into her personal space, wanting people to pull in closer, seeking their protection. With each step she took toward Chloe, her feeling of helplessness grew. As she neared the stairwell door, the gaps between bodies widened, and soon she had a clear view of the principal dancer once more. Chloe had not moved a muscle. Her black eyes, more haunting up close, were still locked on Alexia, burning a hole through her soul. Alexia’s next step faltered as her body rebelled, common sense begging her not to go any farther. But her will overrode it, and regaining her footing, she forged ahead.

  The cold hit Alexia suddenly and forcefully, as though she had just stepped into a blizzard. Alexia’s sight travelled up the wall behind Chloe. Black frost still covered its surface, breathing an icy chill everywhere it could reach. Alexia stopped five feet from the principal dancer, not caring if the distance was offensive.

  “What did you do to me?”

  Alexia’s whisper was angered, but faltered at the end, succumbing to an inner terror she couldn’t repress.

  Chloe’s unblinking eyes never left hers, but her mouth twitched into a knowing grin.

  “Me? I didn’t do anything to you. You did it to yourself, ma chérie. I merely offered you the pill. You’re the one who swallowed it.”

&n
bsp; There was movement in her peripheral vision. The frost was growing again, traversing from the wall to the ground. In one quick motion, it shot out across the floor like a charging lion, coming for her with unstoppable power. She jumped back, but it was too late. The rope of frost coiled around her closest ankle, ensnaring her. Her skin erupted with an icy burn everywhere the ice crystals touched it. Alexia’s jaw dropped to scream, but a hand fell over her mouth, while another hooked itself across her forehead. Chloe held her in a death grip. One twist would break her neck.

  “Shhhh. Wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

  Alexia’s eyes darted out, praying for someone to turn in their direction. One face stood out from the rest. Mrs. Beaumont was huddled at a table with Ida and Sara. Only her profile was visible, but the sight of her restored some hope in Alexia as she remembered the director’s words. Alexia’s eyes slammed shut. Counting to three was rushed, more of a desperate prayer, but as she finished, Chloe’s grasp hadn’t alleviated, and her leg was still shackled with frost.

  Chloe wasn’t going away. She was really there. Her image might have been satanically enhanced by whatever she was drugged with, but she was real. No amount of counting would make her disappear.

  “Why don’t we take a stroll?” Chloe hissed.

  Alexia moaned in pain as the principal dancer grabbed a fistful of her hair, and using it as a leash, she dragged Alexia through the stairwell door. Alexia screamed as loud as she could, but Chloe’s other hand hadn’t left her mouth, and the muffled noise was drowned in the buzzing crowd. All hope of being saved shrunk in time with the narrowing gap to the ballroom. Alexia screamed a final time, but it was no use. The loud clang of the door closing was the sound of death.

  Stirred by a desperate drive for self-preservation, Alexia’s arms flew up, hitting and scratching any inch of Chloe that she could make contact with. The principal dancer dodged each attack with the same inhuman grace that she danced with. In time, Alexia resigned from her struggle, surrendering to the pain that throbbed through her scalp as she was slowly dragged up the staircase. An eternity passed before there were no stairs left to climb. Alexia’s mouth went dry when she realized they had reached the roof. Every muscle in her body shut down as Chloe kicked open the door. Alexia rooted herself to the spot. She would rather have all her hair ripped out than step out onto the catwalk. In a final effort to fight, she bit Chloe’s palm, sinking her teeth so far into the flesh that blood filled her mouth.

  Chloe pulled her hand away on instinct, giving Alexia the chance to scream bloody murder. Her cry was cut short when Chloe kneed her in the stomach. Stars swirled her sight as she doubled over.

  “Please,” she gasped. “Not out there. Anywhere but there.”

  Pleading was useless, she already knew it. With one last yank, Alexia was forced into the cold, winter air. The narrow plank moaned under the unexpected weight, and Alexia’s arm darted out, locking on the freezing rail with what little strength she had left. A foot to the right, the roof disappeared in a sheer drop to the Parisian streets below. Pedestrians were no larger than puppets in the distance, their cars like go-karts. As Alexia stared into the jaws of death, her feet slipped from under her, and she screamed again. The frost had followed them up the stairs, turning the wooden plank into a sheet of black ice. Alexia clutched the bar tighter to keep herself upright. It shook in her grip as if ready to break at any second. Chloe continued forward, unaffected by the slick surface. Hair still locked in Chloe’s grasp, Alexia had no choice but to slide her feet in pursuit.

  “Viens petit oiseau, ce soir nous volons.”

  She didn’t bother to translate, and Alexia was glad for it; her tone indicated how sinister the message was.

  “Why are you doing this?” she pleaded.

  The question prompted Chloe to pause for the briefest of seconds, considering a response.

  “Because I can,” she said in time, resuming her march of death down the catwalk.

  They were nearing its end and the end of the rail. Dead ahead, the roof protruded up another few feet, rising in an A-frame to house the dormer window below. The top of the peak was only a couple inches wide, narrower than the plank. Beyond it, the world died away.

  “You first, ma chérie.”

  Alexia’s hand was pried from the rail. With no grip underfoot, she was at the mercy of Chloe’s direction, thrust onto the last stretch of roof. Even the smallest gust of wind pushed her in a dangerous sway.

  “Please!” she screamed. “Please don’t do this. I’ll break it off with Leo! That’s what you want, isn’t it? Or is it the spotlight? I’ll never perform with you again!”

  “So modest,” Chloe sneered.

  They had reached the edge of the window top. With cat-like swiftness, Chloe released Alexia’s hair, wrapping her fingers around her throat instead. She pushed with just enough force to rock Alexia onto her heels, head hovering over the fatal drop. All Chloe had to do was let go and it would all be over.

  Alexia didn’t struggle against the choke. Freeing herself meant certain death. Her breaths were wheezed shadows of what they used to be. Chloe’s voice carried over them with ease.

  “I’ll never have the spotlight, but at least I’ll have some company.”

  The words were jumbled in Alexia’s head. Nonsensical. Chloe had always had the spotlight. She must have misunderstood. Her brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen.

  But Alexia needed to keep talking, needed to buy more time.

  “You’re the best…the best in the world.”

  Chloe’s grip tightened, each finger burrowing into her neck like a tick until her nails drew blood. “No. She’s the best. I’ll live in her shadow forever.”

  “Whose shadow?” Alexia croaked, summoning the last of her strength.

  There was a loud bang, and Alexia squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable, waiting to plummet to her death.

  But the fall never came. A new voice carried across the rooftop, raw with equal measures of rage and fright.

  “CHLOE!”

  Alexia opened her eyes in time to see Chloe’s neck twist, slow and horrible, searching for the person who dared to interrupt her. Alexia caught sight of a silhouette out of the corner of her eye, recognizing Leo by his voice. He drew closer, appearing more fully in the blurred sight she had left. His hands were raised cautiously, the way someone would approach a wild animal. That’s exactly what Chloe was. Feral.

  “Let her go. You don’t want to d—”

  Leo stopped, shocked into silence. His face paled a ghastly white, and his mouth hinged open. His eyes were locked on Chloe as though he couldn’t believe she were real.

  When he spoke, his voice was a hoarse wisp of air.

  “Renée?”

  Every harsh emotion was suddenly stripped from his face, replaced by a tender sadness that confused Alexia to her very core.

  “Is it really you?” he asked.

  The hands coiled around Alexia’s throat softened. Without warning, she was pulled upright, out of the mouth of danger and released back over the plank of wood. She fell straight into Leo’s arms.

  There was no strength in them, causing Alexia to sway uncertainly in his grasp. With discernible effort, he set her down on the wooden board behind him where she’d be safe. His eyes never left Renée’s.

  Her name reverberated through Alexia’s mind, ringing with a note of familiarity. She had heard it before, but couldn’t remember where. Everything seemed like a distant dream in her state of shock. Renée. Renée…

  Little by little, her memory recovered, and Alexia placed the name with a gasp. Renée. The dancer she had been searching for. The one who had died…in this exact spot. Alexia looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, the pieces falling into place. All this time, she’d thought she’d been seeing Chloe’s ghost. But this wasn’t Chloe. It wasn’t possible for someone to be dead and alive, to be two different people. But it was possible for two people to be identical in appearance. One destin
ed to live forever in the shadow of the other.

  Alexia looked up at the ghost of Renée Monet. Chloe’s twin.

  She hadn’t been hallucinating after all. Chloe hadn’t drugged her. It was Renée who had gotten inside her head. Renée who had been messing with her this whole time.

  “How is this possible?” Leo asked, mouth still agape.

  It was Alexia who responded, croaking the answer that was lost on the others.

  “Unfinished business.”

  They turned to her as if she held the key to unlocking a precious safe.

  Alexia sat up a little straighter, massaging her tender scalp. “You’re not destined to be stuck here forever. Something is keeping you here. Something unresolved. You’ve been here ever since that night, haven’t you? The night you killed yourself. Wandering the halls of this building…seeing people who are unable to see you in return.”

  Renée bowed her head infinitesimally, but Alexia read the answer in her eyes. The torture of isolation she’d endured was buried deep within them.

  “But you…” Renée whispered. “You saw me. You see me.”

  “A rare gift. If you could call it that,” Alexia muttered.

  “And Leo?” Renée turned to him. “I’ve watched you for so long…you’ve never glanced in my direction before tonight.”

  Leo’s mouth opened and closed, trying to expel words that would never eventuate to a question he’d never understand.

  “It takes a storm of emotion to be seen by The Unsighted—someone without the ability to see your kind,” Alexia explained. “But it can be done. I’ve witnessed it before.”

  Leo was shaking his head, no longer in disbelief but in earnest longing to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask. He looked Renée in the eye, mouth quivering at its corners.

  “Why did you do it?”

  The directness of the question seemed to take Renée by surprise. Her hand flew to her chest like she’d been hit with a bullet. The confrontation was overwhelming, and surrendering to it, she crumpled down on the edge of the roof, hands covering her face, shoulders rising and falling as she sobbed.