Chaos Choreography (InCryptid, #5)(50)

“Hey!” I squawked.

Dominic nodded gravely. “I am Dominic Price, born Dominic De Luca. You are Alice Price-Healy, daughter and wife to traitors.”

“In the flesh,” said Alice.

“It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.” Then, to my surprise, Dominic bowed.

Alice grinned. “Oh, I like him. I like you, Dominic. Did the Covenant send you to infiltrate our family so you could kill us off once and for all?”

“No, although I’m sure they would have if it had occurred to them,” said Dominic, straightening up. “You are the last of our great deceivers, after all, and your death would mean much to those who keep the historical records. Alas, the people in charge are nowhere near that creative. I’m afraid I married your granddaughter because I was in love with her, and because she said yes when I asked her if she would. Between the two, it seemed rude to refuse.”

“Fair enough,” said Alice. Her levity faded. “It seems like we have a lot to talk about. Can we come in?”

“Please,” said Dominic, and stepped aside.

We went in.

Dominic closed the door behind us.





Ten




“My mama left me when I was too young to be without her, and I always swore I would do better than she did. Turns out the only thing I was better at was leaving.”

—Alice Healy

The Crier Theater, the next morning, after a lot of coffee

BY THE TIME THE CLOCK STRUCK TWO and I asked Alice to take me back to the apartments, we had what seemed like a halfway viable plan. Dominic would stop patrolling and lurk around the theater during rehearsal instead, watching for signs of suspicious activity, while Alice took over canvasing the city. She knew more about snake cults than he did, and would have a better chance of seeing something. The rest of the mice would come back to the apartments with us, where they could keep an eye on both available priestesses. And I would dance.

It seemed like a small contribution in the face of things. Dominic was risking arrest if someone decided he was trespassing or loitering. Alice was risking all sorts of things involving knives and shouting, since snake cults don’t take kindly to being spied on. Whereas I was just risking a sprained ankle and a few pulled muscles.

Dominic walked us to the door, Alice chatting merrily away to the rapt mice that filled her pockets and covered her shoulders. He snagged my arm before I could step into the hall, turning me to face him.

“Be careful,” he said, in a low voice.

“Not my style,” I said, and kissed him, long and slow and languid, like we didn’t have an audience, like I wasn’t about to walk away.

When we broke it off, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. “Incorrigible,” he said, and shut the door between us. That was probably a good thing. It was the only way to keep me from telling Alice I was going to make my own way home before I jumped his bones, and I needed to get some sleep.

New experiences I didn’t know I was missing: riding a motorcycle while accompanied by more than a dozen cheering Aeslin mice.

Lyra was sound asleep when I came in through the window. I smiled at her, wistfully. It must have been nice to be that oblivious to how dangerous the world could really be. Then I tied a scarf around my head to hide my hair and crawled into bed.

I was out before my head hit the pillow.



Sasha clapped her hands. “All right, again, from the top, and this time I want to believe it! Five six seven eight!”

I revised my earlier thought about the risks of dancing. I was looking at a sprained ankle, a few pulled muscles, and maybe a homicide charge if Sasha didn’t relax before the end of the rehearsal.

The fourteen remaining dancers spun and leaped and flung ourselves into one another’s arms, moving with one unified goal: to remind the audience how much they loved us, and how much they wanted us to stay. Sasha was a hard taskmistress, but she was also an inspired choreographer, and every one of us knew how lucky we were to be working with her. All we wanted was to please her. Nothing was going to break our concentration—

Nothing but the sound of a body impacting the studio floor, followed by a wail of pain. Dancers stumbled to a halt around me. I caught myself on Anders’ arm, craning my neck to see who’d stumbled.

“Medic!” shouted Sasha.

The crowd parted and there was Jessica, splay-limbed on the floor, a line of blood running from her nose to her upper lip. She was glaring daggers at Reggie, the only other remaining dancer from her season. He looked alarmed and faintly mortified, like this was the last thing he’d been expecting when he came to this rehearsal.

“You dropped me on purpose!” she accused, loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Now Reggie looked even more alarmed. “I didn’t, I swear I didn’t! I just—you jumped before the beat, and I wasn’t braced yet! I’m so sorry, Jessica, I didn’t mean to do it.”

“That’s a pretty major accusation,” said Sasha. “Are you going to be able to back it up?” The sympathy was gone from her voice. I remembered watching Jessica’s season while I prepared for my own. Nothing had ever been her fault. Somehow, every mistake she’d made had been something she could blame on someone else, even when she’d been alone on her side of the stage. Sasha apparently remembered that, too.