Dance of Fire (31 page)

Enzo's expression passed so quickly from disbelief to anger to something far more malevolent that Vanessa could barely keep up.

‘I did it for your sister!' Enzo shouted. ‘Everything I've done has been for her. Everything!'

Vanessa let out a desperate laugh. ‘How can you say that, when you were the one who betrayed her?' She thought back to Margaret's journal entries. ‘She trusted you. You were supposed to keep her safe. But instead – instead . . .' Her voice tailed off as she remembered her sister's final diary entry. It wasn't the dark faction at the Royal Court that had frightened Margaret so badly – it was Enzo. ‘All you cared about was using her to get your revenge. And now she's gone. And it's all because of you.'

Enzo shook his head. ‘That's not true –'

‘
You
were the one who brought her to the competition,' Vanessa said, ‘who pressured her to win, to face the demon. She thought you were taking her
away
from danger, but instead you pushed her towards it, because you were too afraid to face the demon yourself. And now you want me to finish the job.'

Enzo took a deep breath. ‘I was never afraid. I was unable. I don't have the talent that your sister possessed, that you possess. We can still call the demon back,' he said, sounding strained. ‘You mastered
La Danse du Feu
once. You can do it again.'

‘You're a coward,' Vanessa said, moving her feet into fifth position. ‘You brought us here to London and told us you would help us. Instead you've been using us.'

Enzo reached into his coat and pulled out a gun, its barrel shiny in the moonlight. He trained it on Vanessa. ‘As fast as you are, you can't dance past a bullet.' He cocked the hammer and tightened his finger on the trigger. ‘You forget that I trained you. I can anticipate your every move.'

Vanessa gazed down the muzzle and said, ‘Not this one.'

As she arched her body, her arms stretched into a
port de bras
, Justin shot her a bewildered look – guessing, maybe, what she was about to attempt. She had never danced widdershins successfully – she hadn't even tried it since that first time in the studio. She called to mind the unnatural steps, the way her entire body had to fight itself. How she had been guided by Margaret and the demon.

But now they were both gone. There was only Vanessa. She gazed at her feet, allowing herself to imagine her sister's shoes one last time. She could almost make out the shape of the letter M accidentally drawn into the snow by footprints, but the wind quickly blew it away. She gazed up at Justin, the gentle angles of his face reminding her of New York, of home. Maybe she wasn't alone.

She took in the stars that blinked above them like thousands of tiny stage lights, then lifted herself on to one toe in her sneakers, and stepped forward.

The moment her toe hit the ground, she flinched back, one leg thrusting her into a spin while the other made her body teeter in disagreement. The wind guided her as she spun into a dazzling pirouette, only to be thrust out of it, folding
herself into the dark as if she were nothing more than a shadow.

The night around them blurred, the stars melting together in brilliant streaks of light. Justin's body grew quiet, his face frozen, the Fratellis suspended mid-step beside him.

Enzo didn't move at all, just held the gun steady.

Even the air itself stood still, and as she moved forward, Vanessa's hair bumped over frozen eddies of wind and bounced loose about her face.

All around her, the world was silent. But her senses were filled by the rushing of her own heart, the pulsing of her blood. Emotion flooded her.

She missed her sister. Margaret was three years gone, and yet the sadness only grew with each passing day. It was always there in the background, dulling every single experience. Worse, she felt guilty – guilty about being here when Margaret was not, about not living life to the fullest, stuck in the shadow of someone who wasn't even there. And hot on the heels of the sadness and guilt came a new feeling: rage. Vanessa had done this to herself, but someone else had done this to Margaret. Her sister had been ripped away from her, and Vanessa ached as if the wound was real, physical. A prickle of wind grazed her arm, the phantom of her sister dancing beside her. Vanessa turned, expecting to feel her presence, to speak to her, but there was only emptiness.

So this was widdershins.

A few feet away, Enzo stood like a statue.

With one final step, Vanessa reached out and calmly took the gun from his hands.

Then she turned and flung it off the roof. For a moment it hung in the air, a glimmering line of moonlight along its ­barrel.

Then Vanessa pressed her heels together and stopped dancing. She dropped her arms to her sides, and let a breath of air escape in a delicate cloud.

Time rushed to catch up.

The gun spun out into the night and disappeared.

A shout burst forth from Justin's throat, warning her to move aside.

The Fratellis turned their bodies as shields for a bullet that would never be fired.

And Enzo clenched his hand, his finger pulling at nothing but air.

He gazed down at his empty hand. ‘What?' Realising what had happened, he backed away from Vanessa, his eyes darting from her to Justin to the Fratellis.

‘I threw your gun off the roof.' She wasn't scared of him any more, just emotionally drained. ‘I would leave now if I were you.'

‘Before we rip you to pieces,' Nicola said with a hearty growl.

For the first time since Vanessa had met him, Enzo looked frightened. With a quick flick of the leg, he spun backwards towards the door to the roof, blurring into invisibility, the ­staccato patter of his footsteps the last trace of his presence.

No one moved for a moment.

‘I'm sure he'll turn up again sooner or later,' Justin said.

‘He'd better not,' Nicola said.

‘Don't worry,' Nicholas said. ‘If he does, we can take him.'

Vanessa drifted towards the edge of the roof. She should have felt relieved, but instead she was numb, empty. This must be the price of dancing widdershins. She wanted to go somewhere and have a good, ugly cry.

With the twins out of earshot, Justin whispered, ‘Are you OK?'

‘No.' Her chest felt heavy, her thoughts so bleak they frightened her. ‘Zep swore that everything back in New York was because of Josef, that he was being controlled by him and Hilda. I didn't believe him. I told him to prove it to me . . . and so he did, and now, he's . . . he's . . .'

A tear trickled down her cheek. Justin wiped it away, his touch sending a prickle of warmth through her. ‘If Zep hadn't done what he did, we'd all be dead,' he said. ‘And you would be possessed by a demon. He did a good thing.' Justin paused. ‘Is there more to it than that? Were you still in love with him?'

Zep had been Vanessa's first boyfriend, responsible for some of her best memories, yet he had betrayed her. ‘No,' she said. ‘I'm not in love with him. Maybe I never was.'

She slipped her fingers into Justin's hand and squeezed.

‘The demon is gone now,' Justin said.

She nodded. ‘We're safe,' she said softly, brushing strands of Justin's sandy hair back from his eyes.

‘That,' he said, ‘but also . . . ? You're not going to hurt me.'

‘Hurt you?' Vanessa said. ‘Why would I –'

Justin leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, familiar kiss, his fingers running up her neck like frost blooming on a windowpane. She had been waiting for this, wanting this, for so long – ever since they came to London. Her body sighed as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her up on her toes in the kind of dance that she could lose herself in. Her body melted into his, her arms pulling him closer, tracing her fingers up his chest. She wanted to keep this moment, this kiss, forever.

But she knew she couldn't.

She pulled away and stared into Justin's brilliant blue eyes. ‘We can't be together, Justin.'

He blinked, looking nervous. ‘What? Why not?'

‘Because,' Vanessa said, ‘you just won the largest scholarship a high-school dancer can win. You're going to be in London for two years, and I'll be in New York.'

‘I don't have to accept,' he said to her. ‘Not if you don't want me to – I'll come back with you.'

She shook her head. ‘I couldn't let you do that.'

Justin clenched his hands into fists. ‘You're not being fair,' he said. ‘We can be good together, Vanessa.'

‘I know,' she said. She knew in her heart that she cared deeply for Justin, maybe even loved him.

‘All this time,' she said, ‘I've been convinced that Margaret was just waiting somewhere for me to come and find her. But she's gone, Justin. Forever. I need to tell my parents and we need to do whatever families do. Grieve. Heal, I guess.' She wiped at her eyes. ‘I – I'm sorry.'

But if she was honest with herself, she wasn't apologising to Justin, she was apologising to her sister. She had always assumed that when she went home, it would be with Margaret by her side, and now that she was standing alone, she didn't know how she was going to live with herself. If she had only made it to London sooner, if she had danced better, maybe she could have caught her in time . . . And now Vanessa had to move on without her. She would grow older, would change and get married and have children, while her sister would stay the same age, her memory frozen in time. The thought was unbearable.

Justin ran his fingers through her hair, tucking a wayward strand behind her left ear. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. ‘I'll be waiting for you. Whenever you're ready.'

They turned towards the Fratelli twins, who'd been standing at the edge of the roof, watching. Nicholas pointed at flashes of red and blue approaching down Battersea Park Road. ‘Not to be a nuisance,' he said, ‘but the police are coming. There
is
a night guard at this place. We should scoot.'

Vanessa looked down. ‘I feel bad about leaving Zep. His body, I mean.'

‘Yeah, me too,' Justin said. ‘But I'd feel worse if we stayed and got arrested.' He took her hand. ‘Come on. Zep wouldn't want us to get into trouble.'

Together the four of them ran towards the stairwell, as behind them, the wind and snow blew away all traces of the pentagrams.

Chapter Twenty-Three

They slipped out of Battersea and were already a block away hailing a cab before the first police cars arrived.

‘Shotgun,' Nicola said, pushing Vanessa inside and shutting the door behind her. The back seat of the black cab was roomy – there were two jump seats as well as a bench seat, plenty of space for the four of them.

‘What does
shotgun
even mean in this situation?' Nicholas protested, but Nicola moved past him, pulled down the seat behind the driver, and planted herself.

In her pocket, Vanessa's phone buzzed. There was only one person who'd be texting her right now. ‘Oh no,' she said. ‘
Mom
. I totally forgot. Justin, what time is it?'

‘Almost nine.'

‘We were supposed to meet her at the restaurant in her hotel at eight thirty,' Vanessa said. She leaned forward and told the driver where they needed to go, then glanced down at her phone. There was a text message, but it wasn't from her mother.

Where are you?
it read.
Tired of waiting for you at the dorm. S

Svetya? Confused, Vanessa texted back
Waiting why?

Svetya replied quickly.
Your mom said she was buying us all dinner. Geo too.

Her mother had invited Svetya and Geo?
We'll meet you at the hotel
, she responded.
We had something we had to do first.

She thought that would be the end of the conversation, but her phone vibrated with another text.
2 people came here looking for you. We will bring them.

Who?
Vanessa replied.
What 2 people?

But Svetya was apparently done conversing. No reply came through.

‘What's going on?' Justin asked.

Vanessa showed him her phone. ‘Svetya has apparently decided to make my mother's dinner invitation into a party.'

‘We'll deal with it when we get there,' he said, grabbing her hand.

‘Deal with what?' Nicola asked. ‘We'd like to come to ­dinner too.'

Nicholas nodded. ‘We love parties. Also? We're completely starving.'

Justin paid the driver as the four of them piled out on to the street in front of the Trafalgar Hotel. Another cab pulled up behind them, and Vanessa watched as Svetya and Geo climbed out.

‘Why didn't you text me back?' Vanessa said. ‘Who's with you?'

Svetya simply looked at the cab. After a moment, two other people emerged: a young man with a mass of blond hair and freckles, his neck wrapped in a white woollen scarf. He wore a green peacoat and a pair of slim-fitting jeans. And a girl.

She had flowing black hair and piercing blue eyes, and there was something immediately familiar about her. With a start, Vanessa realised that she'd seen this girl nearly every day of her life – until three years ago. The hair colour and the clothes were new, but Vanessa would recognise that face and those eyes anywhere – even in her dreams.

‘Vanessa,' Justin said, confused, ‘who's that?'

For a moment Vanessa was so full of emotion that she couldn't say anything more. The girl stopped in front of her, opening her arms for a hug.

‘Margaret,' Vanessa cried. ‘It's Margaret. My sister.'