Dance of Fire (2 page)

‘That Justin. He's tall and handsome,' Vanessa's mother said, ‘but who
is
he? What is his family like? Why is he travelling alone?'

‘He's
not
alone,' Vanessa said. ‘He's with us.'

When it came down to it though, Vanessa didn't know all that much about Justin. He was older than she was, a senior. He had tried to help her back at school, warning her away from Zep. But she hadn't listened. She'd loved Zep, and he had betrayed her. It was only after the truth came out that she real­ised Justin was actually a good guy. Not just good, great. He and Vanessa had kissed once in the snow in front of Lincoln Center, but then Justin had got all stiff and strange. It was as if the kiss had transformed Vanessa into a different person, one with the capacity to hurt him.

And now Vanessa felt the same way about him. She thought of her dream, of the demon's words.
Your kiss will bring me home again, my love.
Even though she was no longer its host, were she and the demon somehow linked? Could it inhabit someone else, or use that person to get close to her? Was her dream just a dream or was it something more – a vision?

‘Is he a good dancer?' her mother asked.

‘I guess so,' Vanessa said. Truth be told, she had never thought Justin was particularly talented. He'd even dropped her once in a rehearsal, though he claimed he did it only to keep her safe. But now they were going to partner in the
pas de deux
on the second day of the competition, and Vanessa would see what he was really made of.

‘You
guess
?' Her mother shook her head. ‘Not just anyone can compete at London's Royal Court. Your other friends weren't asked to compete, Vanessa – just you and Justin. That must mean something.

‘Are you two . . . ?' her mother went on, looking uncomfortable. ‘You know.'

Vanessa raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we
what
?'

‘Don't make me say it,' her mother said. ‘An . . . item.'

Vanessa laughed. ‘No. We're not.'
At least, I don't think so . . .
she thought.

‘Good. What is he, eighteen? You're only fifteen, Vanessa. You don't need a boyfriend. Focus on dance.'

‘Right.' This was safer ground, and her mother seemed to relax.

She took out the invitation Vanessa had received, which was folded crisply and tucked inside her purse.

The Royal Court Ballet Company

1 Theatre Square

London, England

Dear Ms Adler,

Congratulations!

You have been selected to audition for the Royal Court Ballet Company. All expenses will be paid for you to attend the Eighty-Sixth Annual Scholarship ­Competition.

A world-renowned dance troupe based in London, the Royal Court is one of the most prestigious dance ­companies in a country famed for its contribution to ballet. The scholarship allows dancers of exceptional
promise to train with the company for two years, launching them on a career the upper bounds of which can only be imagined.

The letter went on to describe how the competition worked: one intense week in which ninety-six students from all over the world vied against one another in a series of three auditions, two days apart. At the end of the week, only two dancers would remain – the winners.

‘Just imagine,' Vanessa's mother said with wide eyes. ‘You could win!'

‘Maybe,' Vanessa said. ‘I doubt it though.'

‘Don't think like that, dear.' Her mother clicked her tongue. ‘If the other competitors see you as weak, they will dance right over you. If you
think
you're a winner, then you'll
be
a ­winner.'

‘Easy for you to say.' Vanessa was a good dancer, maybe even a great one, but she hadn't inherited her mother's passion for dance.

Margaret had.

Margaret
. All Vanessa knew was that her sister was alive – probably – and on the run. No doubt she'd fled NYBA because Josef had been using her to attempt to summon a demon – ­Margaret must have been terrified. Now Josef was dead, but his trail led back to other dancers in London. Vanessa's hope was that once she found them, they would somehow lead her to her sister.

A few months ago, Vanessa would have laughed. A demon? Raised through dance? But she had seen it, felt it; it had inhabited her, tried to consume her from within. Almost destroyed her.

There was a
ding!
followed by an announcement that they were beginning the descent into Heathrow Airport. Up ahead, Justin turned and locked eyes with Vanessa. His sandy-coloured hair was sticking up at the back, and he looked tired – like he'd woken up not long ago. But something about his expression made Vanessa's stomach flutter, and she thought again about the dream she'd just had.

Your kiss will bring me home again
.

What did that mean? Could kissing Justin endanger him?

‘Seat belts, please,' the flight attendant said as she moved down the aisle, blocking Vanessa's view.

Vanessa leaned back and slipped her earbuds in, though she kept the volume on mute. Beside her, moustache man awoke from his nap. He rubbed his eyes and took out a copy of
The
Times
.

Vanessa skimmed the headlines over his shoulder.
Man United Loses in Late Rally
seemed to be about soccer, and
Cameron Coalition Falls Apart
was clearly about politics.

‘Dear, it's rude to read someone else's newspaper.'

Vanessa sighed. ‘Fine, Mom.'

Never mind the demon. She wondered if having her mother by her side all week might be the most challenging part of the competition.

‘There he is!' Vanessa's mother said as passengers rushed past them towards customs. ‘Oh, Justin!'

Justin was standing in front of the boarding gate, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder. He was wearing a grey sweater that was loose around the neck, a snug pair of jeans and crisp-looking white sneakers.

Vanessa had to admit he looked good.

Her mother drifted ahead, pulling out her phone to call Vanessa's dad, as Vanessa and Justin fell in behind her. ‘How was your flight?' she asked.

‘Fine,' Justin said. ‘Yours?'

‘Oh, fine.' Vanessa wasn't sure what else to say. Was Justin nervous about the competition? Had he been in touch with Enzo? They hadn't exactly spoken since the end of the semester. Even though they'd been in touch to make arrangements for the trip and choose their
pas de deux
, it had all been by text, short and sweet and businesslike. There'd been nothing personal, nothing about their kiss in the snow.

‘Being in England already makes me want tea,' Justin said, eyeing a restaurant in the terminal. ‘And, like, a crumpet.' He smiled at her suddenly, his blue eyes warm and friendly.

‘Crumpet,' Vanessa repeated. She'd never actually had a crumpet. She didn't even know what one was. Why had she just repeated the word
crumpet
? Oh, God.

‘Watch where you're going!' an older woman yelled as she cut across the walkway, nearly knocking Vanessa to the ground.

‘Careful,' Justin said, catching Vanessa's shoulder. ‘You OK?'

‘I'm fine, thanks.' Glued to her phone, her mother hadn't even turned round.

Justin gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, and Vanessa felt her stomach flutter. ‘Good,' he said. ‘Let's go.'

Forty-five minutes and one stamp on her passport later, ­Vanessa was through customs. Her ears were full of English accents – everyone sounded like Russell Brand or the old dowager on
Downton Abbey
, which was weirdly comforting.

‘You may not know this about me, Justin, but I abhor being late,' Vanessa's mother said. ‘That and Chinese food. Neither are good for you, you know.'

Justin stifled a laugh, but Vanessa just shook her head. She already knew her mother was crazy.

Their overnight flight was supposed to have arrived just before 8 a.m., but now it was nearly ten. Vanessa could see the weak morning sun hiding behind grey clouds, and she shivered as the three of them stepped outside into the cold December air.

Vanessa turned on her cellphone while they waited. A few text messages came in at once. The first was from her friend TJ:
Be safe. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

There was one from Steffie that said,
Say hi to Justin for me
, and one from Blaine:
Kiss Justin for me.
Blaine was spending the holiday at Steffie's house in Cincinnati, while TJ was in Manhattan, trying to convince her parents to let her fly to London and spend Christmas with Vanessa and her family. All of them were hurting – missing their friend Elly, who'd gone missing in September and was probably dead, murdered by Josef or Zep. Vanessa shivered, remembering dancing with
Zep, kissing him, how crazy she'd been about him, while all the time he was working with Josef to raise a demon. What a creep.

‘Anything interesting?' Justin said.

Vanessa stuffed her phone into the pocket of her jeans. ‘Not really.' She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks, and she turned away.

‘Come on, let's hail a cab,' Vanessa's mother said, but then Vanessa spotted their last name –
adler
– on a cardboard sign.

She immediately recognised the man holding the sign: Enzo. He was a member of the Lyric Elite, an organisation of dancers who fought those who would use the power of their art for evil. An organisation that she hoped would help her find her sister. Enzo had shown up at NYBA too late to help with the demon, but he had got her and Justin invited to the competition as a first step towards working with the Lyric Elite.

Vanessa guessed he was twenty-one at the very most, with black hair that parted in the middle and tumbled down on either side of his forehead, framing his angular face. Enzo had dark eyes, olive-coloured skin and an ultrawhite smile. On first glance he didn't look like much, but when he walked towards them she saw he had the posture of a dancer, precise yet ­graceful, his muscular frame suddenly appearing weightless.

‘Oh!' Vanessa's mother said, stopping short when she ­recognised her last name. ‘Why, Justin – did you hire us a taxi?'

But Enzo cut off Justin's response. ‘Mrs Adler,' he said, stepping forward.

‘Yes?' her mother said.

‘I'm from the Royal Court Ballet Company.'

Vanessa's mother's eyes flashed with understanding. Instinc­tively she brushed her fingers over her hair. ‘Why, yes, of course you are.'

Enzo grabbed her mother's silver Tumi bag and began to roll it towards the street. ‘Please come with me. If we're lucky, we'll make it just in time for orientation.'

He strolled over to a white BMW parked behind a row of taxis. He clicked open the trunk and heaved all their bags inside. As her mother slid into the backseat, he looked at ­Vanessa and Justin and said, ‘I'll bring you up to speed later. But we have to
hurry
. If you don't turn up on time, you're in danger of being disqualified before you've even started.'

Chapter Two

Through the back windows, Vanessa watched the staggered rooftops roll past as they sped along the M4 towards the city centre. London looked so different from New York. The ­buildings here were shorter, the sky bigger, the clouds lower and greyer – as if they'd been hanging over the city for so long that they drooped with exhaustion. A thin, cold rain had begun to fall.

‘You're lucky – your schedule has already been laid out for you,' her mother said, flipping the pages of a small guidebook. ‘But I'll have to find some way to occupy myself. There are almost too many things to do.'

Lucky?
Vanessa didn't feel lucky. She closed her eyes and saw again her dream of Justin, his mouth a pit of flame. She felt a tickle of heat in her chest. ‘You could always go shopping.'

‘Of course, dear – that's what I'm talking about. Harrods will take
at least
a day, but then there's Harvey Nichols, and Liberty, and – oh, it's too much for just one week.'

‘Yeah, it's way more tiring than winning an international dance competition,' Vanessa mumbled. Though her mother shopped so much it almost seemed competitive.

Nearly half an hour later, the city skyline was replaced by a vast patch of countryside, a huge city park so quiet and idyllic that it looked like a painting.
richmond park
, a sign read. Vanessa pressed her face to the window as a flock of blackbirds swooped over the landscape towards a distant steely lake.

The white peaked roof of a building was just visible past the trees. ‘Welcome to the White Lodge,' Enzo said, steering the car down a dirt carriage path. ‘Once upon a time, royalty stayed here at weekends, but these days it's the home of the Royal Court Ballet.'

The lodge
looked
like something fit for a king or queen. The front was taken up by four immense white pillars framing tall glass windows, and two staircases swept down from either side of a marble balcony to meet in a flight of broad stone steps. It was like an ivory mansion carved out of ice – in the middle of a city park.

Vanessa opened the car door and stepped out into the drizzly air.

Justin came up behind her, his arm brushing hers. ‘What do you think?' he whispered, handing Vanessa her suitcase. ‘Pretty impressive, eh?'

At the wintry sight, Vanessa couldn't help but think of the white figures that had been frozen into the wall in the basement dance studio in New York – the silhouettes of dancers who had died while in thrall to Josef and his attempts to raise a demon. Now Josef was dead, and the demon was – where? What did it want? Dread rose in her.