The Deception Dance (43 page)

Maybe, Stephen said something to
Dina, it’s possible she just forgot. I decide to recheck with
her. I retrieve a clean T-shirt and stretch pants from where I dumped
the contents of my drawer on the ground, and head for the kitchen.

Dina, not surprisingly, stirs a
big pot on the massive stove. But the pot isn’t filled with
food, she’s boiling bandages.

Her eyes rove over me when I
enter. “That magic was fast… fast... too fast.”
She mutters shaking her head.

My teeth scrape over my lower
lip. “Dina,” I say, then hesitate, “um… are
you sure Stephen didn’t have a message for me? Or, I mean...did
he say anything to you?”

Dina turns back to her pot. She
says, “Nothing about you, but what I already told you. I am not
the right person for answers, Raven. If you have questions you should
find Albert.”

“Yeah, good idea. I’ll
do that...” I spin on my heel.

“But not now,” She
calls after me, “He’s in the training center. You find
him tonight.”

But there’s no way I’m
waiting until tonight, I navigate my way through the guesthouse out
the door and across the parking lot to the “gentlemen’s
club” (training center? secret base? whatever they want to call
it).

Two guards stand sentry outside
the club; when I step up to the door, without even looking at me, one
barks out, “Sorry, Miss Smith, you are not permitted in here.”

I’m a little surprised that
he knows my name, but I probably shouldn’t be. I say, “I’ve
entered here before. And, I need to speak with Albert.”

“I’m sorry, Miss
Smith,” he repeats with a tinge of annoyance in his voice, “You
are not permitted in...”

I don’t know what makes me
do it (as I’m sure it won’t work), but I reach past the
guard and press my thumb to the scanner. The door immediately slides
open.

The guard, for the first time,
looks at me. I don’t let him stop me; I lunge into the door,
dash down the hall past the mirrors and portraits, and stop at the
door that leads to the elevator.

The scanner next to the elevator
is made to scan the whole hand and wrist. I know mine won’t
work; they never took a scan of my whole hand, only my thumb. But I
figure, I’ve come this far, so I press my hand to the pad and
wait while a blue light traces around it.

When I pull my hand away, my
print is still there. I’m sure a blaring alarm is going to go
off and red lights flash every which way, but no, the door just
slides open.

I step in.
The wall contains the same four buttons;
I
press the second button down, remembering that that is where the
training space is.

As the car smoothly descends, my
heart races and stomach does back-flips. Then, the elevator stops.

The door slides open and I am
face-to-face with a group of five men in matching black uniforms who
are laughing just outside the elevator. They silence the moment they
see me.

We just stare at each other for a
few seconds. They gape as if this is the first time they’ve
ever seen a girl.

I say, “Um, hi. I’m
looking for Albert. Could you tell me where he is?”

The shortest man of the group
clears his throat, and says, “He’s in the training
center, that way,” He points to a corridor branching to the
left. “Miss Smith, who...who gave you clearance to be in here?”

I don’t answer; I push past
the men and run by a couple more. Every head turns as I pass, but I
don’t stop for directions again. The training center is not
hard to find; it’s on the other side of two massive sliding
doors.

I find Albert alone. The room he
is in is enormous; weapons line the far wall, and the floor is a big
blue matt. Albert stands by the far wall, hefting a heavy-looking two
handed sword to its stand. After he places the sword, he swings
around to pick up a long stick lying behind him, but he sees me and
freezes.

Albert is all the way across the
room but I can see his brow furrow. He stands to his full height
narrowing his eyes and asking, “How did you get in...? Ah!”
He throws up his hands, “Stephen!” He makes a few more
annoyed sounding comments, all in Swedish. And then continues picking
up sticks and placing them on a stand, he then crosses the room to
face me. “You should not be in here.”

I cross my arms over my chest,
“Where is Stephen?” I ask before he can forcibly remove
me.

“He is gone.”

“And Nicholas, too?”

“Yes.” He stops a
pace ahead of me; he’s wearing a loose black jumpsuit. Albert’s
giant, and hairy, and he looms over me, but he doesn’t
intimidate me (not anymore).

“When are they coming
back?”

“They’re not,”
He matches my crossed-armed pose, “Not while you’re
here.”

“Oh,” I bite my lip,
“You debriefed Stephen.”

He nods his large shaggy head.

“What exactly did he tell
you?” And suddenly, I’m terrified; terrified that Albert
will know what happened when I was in the fire. Even though I don’t
know what happened, not really, I just know that it was bad...that it
could mean something I don’t even want to begin to understand.
I swallow, “So you know everything that happened with Andras?”

“We know the deal you
struck with him. We are assuming that he’s following it, as:
you are still alive, and Andras has not opened the gates of Hell,
yet. So we...” He rolls his shoulders back and I can see his
tongue lick the outside of his teeth under his lips. He clears his
throat. “We decided that it would be better if Nicholas and
Stephen left before you woke.”

“I understand why you sent
Nicholas away; the whole falling in love thing.” I hold my
hands out, and ask, “But why Stephen?”

“Raven, your actions right
now just proves to me that our choice was the right one.”

I lean back re-crossing my arms.
“I think you underestimate me.”

Albert sways his head
back-and-forth. “Probably,” he concedes with a nod and a
sigh. “But with the world at stake, Raven, I’d rather
underestimate you, than underestimate love.”

I swallow and let my hands slip
to my side. I can’t think of any reply to that. And ... He’s
right. Of course he is, and I’m being stupid. My shoulders
slump and I focus on the scuffs at the toes of my shoes.

“Tobias might avoid you
too,” Albert grins, “He’s convinced he’s a
risk and I didn’t think you’d appreciate it if I told him
otherwise.”

I huff out a laugh and tuck my
hair behind my ear.

Albert blinks at my head, as if
he is just now noticing there is something different about me. “You
look better,” He examines me, “Much better. Is that a
wig? I thought you were bald...”

I shake my head not wanting to
give him an explanation. I peer over the room again, the training
room. I'm the first girl in here... Well, except one. I ask, "The
girl, who was allowed in here, then kicked out, what did she do?"

"Cassidy Dixon?" Albert
says with a low huff. "Yes, Cassidy Dixon was allowed to train
here. She was... is… one of the best demon killers out there.
Comes from a long line of demon killers, and priests; you actually
met her uncle ..." he looks at me, then closes his eyes and
shakes his head. "Cassidy was exiled because she chose to
protect her ten year old brother, and in doing so, let eighteen
innocent people be killed, horribly. And, the boy died anyway."

Sounds familiar. But I don't say
anything, I only stare.

"Yeah, I know what you are
thinking," Albert says. "But, Cassidy knew better, took an
oath, and was trained."

“I should have been.”
I say, “Trained, I mean. I’ve been here all summer; and
you sent me in to fight demons not knowing how to shoot a gun.
Stephen was right; Nicholas should have walked up to me right off the
plane and told me what I was facing.”

“You’re right,”
Albert says.

My eyes widen. But then I narrow
my eyes at Albert, I say, “You kidnapped me.”

He snaps back his head as if I
just seriously startled him.

“You gagged me, tied me up
and threw me around.”

“I’m...I am sorry...”

“I’m not finished.”
I hold up a hand. “Then, after you kidnapped me, I helped save
your wife.”

“I know...”

“Where I come from, that
means you owe me one, a big
one
.”

He narrows eyelids over his
stormy sky-colored eyes.

I lean back, “So, when do
we start training?”

He tilts his head up. “
Training
?”

“Andras is coming back for
me; and my guess is: it’ll be sooner rather than later. I want
weapons training...” I list off on my fingers, “Hand-to-hand
combat, I want to know everything there is to know about demons: what
kinds there are and how to kill each kind. And we have to start soon,
because the moment the government lifts the quarantine, I’m
going home.”

He smiles at me, a big smile,
“Oh, time won’t be a problem...”

“Yes it will,” I
insist, “I want to know everything there...”

“No, it won’t,”
He interrupts back. “We’ll have all the time in the
world.” He bobs his eyebrows. “I’m moving to
Arcata, California.” He gives me a wide grin. “Hayvee,
the baby and I are going to be your college roommates.”

About
A Month Later

“You like?” Hayvee
runs her fingers through my hair. Similar to most Europeans I’ve
met this trip, Hayvee knows about thirty languages, but
unfortunately, English isn’t really one of them. When Albert
told me his wife was Muslim, I had envisioned a rather-large Iranian
woman (I know... I know...assumptions make me an ass), but Hayvee is
neither large nor middle-eastern. Her skin is the color of milk
chocolate and her eyes light brown and as stormy as her husband’s.
Albert tells me they met while he was on assignment in Morocco.

She smiles into the mirror at my
reflection. Even though her skin is still blotchy and swollen from
old bruises, when she smiles, I can easily see why Albert defied his
grandfather.

I run my hand over the back of my
head, the one place where my hair is still unevenly cut. “Yes,
thank you,” I say. But not for the first time, I strangely wish
I was still bald. Madeline’s potion fixed me before I even
glanced in the mirror. I regret that now; I should have taken a good
look. Examined exactly what the Hell fire did to me...it doesn’t
feel real now. I keep thinking that maybe what happened in the
fire... didn’t happen; maybe I just went temporarily insane.
It’s a very plausible explanation.

I turn from the sink to smile
down at Hayvee’s big belly. Ultrasounds and doctors say that
even after all the beatings, the baby is still healthy. If quarantine
had lasted any longer, Albert would have forced me to wait until
Hayvee delivered the baby to fly home.

Even though we raced to the
airport the moment Sweden’s borders opened, we did not fulfill
my final goal. I had hoped that we could take my original return
flight, but the lady at the Brussels’ International Airport
ticket counter told us we could not get two additional tickets
because our plane was sold out.

We only need to take the next
flight, but it really feels as if I missed the only remaining thing
on my itinerary. My itinerary was a joke; I took a good look at it
before we drove to the airport, and the only plan we had stuck to was
flying to Rome. But, I guess all-in-all the trip would have to be
called a successful one; even if out of the two companions I arrived
with, one left early and the other...

…is in this bathroom.

Chauncey’s face peeks out
from behind the stall at the end of the long line of white doors.

“Hayvee,” my voice
comes out a little squeaky, “You know, I think I have to use
the restroom again. Could you meet me outside?”

She points to the door in
question.

I force a smile on my lips and
nod.

I know that I should follow
Hayvee out, that I should leave, but I don’t. I find myself
spinning to where Chauncey has just stepped outside the white metal
stall. She’s not covered in blood, that’s an improvement.
The Chauncey puppeteer actually managed to do a pretty decent
impression of the old Chauncey. Her blonde ringlets are perfectly
groomed and her black skirt and pink tank-top are trendy, if not
runway stylish. Her high heels clack across the tiles as she steps to
the sink closest to me.

“Oh, pooh!” She
whines sticking her lower lip out, “Why did you send Hayvee
out? She had the most beautiful scream. I would so like to hear it
again.”

“What are you doing here?”
I say, not stepping back even though she’s washing her hands
inches from me.

“Catching my plane, of
course!” She shakes her head (as if I asked the most obtuse
question ever).

I have to moisten my mouth with
my tongue before words will form, “to Arcata?”

Chauncey turns to me, her perfect
curls bobbing. “You don’t actually think that Albert
Tapper is the only one who’s going to be watching your every
move? Or, do you? I’ll be around, waiting for you to trip, to
fall...”