This is the dance of the dead.
I’m about to bolt when I spot a flash of black. It’s solid, wholesome, not like the shimmering edges of the deceased.
A shoulder, an arm, the dark hair pulled back in a low bun.
It’s him.
Valdemar is here, and he’s looking for me.
I push my way through the crowd. The dancers continue to churn around me as my flowing silver gown swishes around my legs.
Not taking my eyes off Valdemar, I slide through the throng, wondering how the dead can be so difficult to navigate through.
The tempo builds and the dance along with it, the dancers’ rotations increasing to a dizzying speed until I feel like I’m being twirled around with them, thrown between couples like a lost sock in the washing machine.
Fighting the tide, I try to reach Valdemar, glimpses of him getting more and more infrequent as I fear he’s heading away from me. I try to call out, but it’s as if his name is useless, having no effect at all. Hands reach for me, pale and withered as if the bodies are decaying further with every step they take. My dress catches on something, and I’m forced to take my eyes off Valdemar for the briefest of seconds, but it’s long enough for me to lose him amongst the gaggle of rotting bodies.
Sequins swamp me, empty eye sockets glare at me, and tiaras glisten amidst straggling curls as the dead surround me, roiling and curling like a human whirlpool. And just as I’m about to be swallowed by them, they vanish.
Blackness surrounds me. Nothing but blackness until he walks towards me, his white shirt blaring against the black hole we’re now enveloped in, his skin glowing compared to the dead who were just here.
Taking my hand, he kisses the back of it.
“I thought you weren’t going to find me.”
“I will always find you, angel.” His eyes smoulder, his touch soft. “Shall we?” When he extends his other arm, the ballroom reappears, empty and inviting.
He holds me like a professional dancer, and the violins return. The room spins as we take flight across the polishedfloor, Valdemar’s swift moves and strong hold ensuring I never miss a step.
It’s blissful abandon, sheer frivolity as we cover the entire ballroom until the music slows, and our embrace tightens before he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me over to the abandoned stage, the orchestra having vanished.
Setting me down on the edge, Valdemar stares at me. “Angel.” Pushing my hair off my shoulders, his fingers graze my skin and send a pack of wolves howling through my body. “So beautiful. I wanted to tell you that on the first day I met you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
He smiles. “Because you wouldn’t have believed me.” Taking a step closer, he buries his face in the crook of my neck, his arms encircling me like my favourite blanket. “You are more beautiful than the moon and the stars.”
Moving my head back to let Valdemar nuzzle my neck, I catch the glimmer above us. The ceiling of the ballroom has melted away and left us with an unobstructed view of the clear night sky. Stars dazzle, blinking in unison, watching us from their perfect vantage point.
I keep my eyes on the stars as Valdemar steps back and runs his hands under my dress and up my legs.
“It was torture, listening to you beg me to touch you, knowing those women were doingmyjob. It’s a good thing they were already dead.”
The magnitude of his words means nothing as his hands travel higher.
“You are mine, angel. You’ve always been mine.”
The stars spin as he reaches between my legs and strokes me softly.
“Valdemar.”
Clinging to the back of his neck, I push myself against his hand. The last few nights, I’ve been shaken like a fizzy drink, the pressure having mounted to a dangerous level. Valdemar is about to make me explode, so I tighten my grip and hope I can make this last as long as possible.
“Look at me,” he commands.
My eyes rise to his, and I swear I see stars glinting behind the darkness of his pupils. How easy it would be to get lost in his eyes. How easy it would be to become lost in him.
But I don’t feel lost.
