Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) (2 page)

“I wouldn’t like to think so. I suppose that makes me an idealist.”

Gerald waved his hand, dismissively. “This is all silliness anyway. Birmingham got under my skin a little tonight, but there’s no chance of a Leap Day birth. None at all.”

“I’m glad my son was born already.” Ian shuddered. “I really wouldn’t want to be in your shoes right now.”

“Thanks for that.”

“Did you really mean to pull in the entire Nightshade Gang tonight?”

Chuckle. “No. I used the Scottish Play to snare the leader, not realizing the other demons were anywhere around.”

“Well, everybody at the Institute will think you’re a hero. If you didn’t have such long legs, I don’t think you would’ve made it.”

“Not without you, at any rate. The whole episode was a clumsy accident on my part.” Gerald paused. “Did I tell you Hannah is having a girl?”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah, we’re going to name her Elizabeth.”

“Maybe our kids can grow up together, and be best mates like us.”

“Jolly good.”

They clinked glasses and drained the last of the ale.

February 28th, London

Frantic, Gerald paced next to Hannah’s hospital bed as she grunted with the effort of yet another strong contraction. A white-uniformed woman came into the room to check the fetal monitors, and nodded with satisfaction. “The baby has a nice, strong heartbeat, dearies. The labor is progressing very well.”

Gerald took the nurse aside. “Where is Dr. Schaeffer? I called him before we left home.”

“He’s caught in a traffic jam, I’m afraid, but he’ll be here directly.”

“You don’t understand. We’ve got to have a C-section
immediately.
Is there another doctor on call?”

The nurse’s eyes widened. “The baby’s in no distress, so there’s no reason to rush into surgery, willy nilly! Dr. Schaeffer didn’t mention anything about it when he called me from his cell phone.”

“Is there any way to stop the labor altogether or speed it up?”

“You must let nature take its course!” the nurse scolded. “Now don’t fret, Mr. Arthur. Having a baby sometimes puts odd notions in our heads. Don’t pressure your poor wife any further.”

The nurse left, and Gerald returned to his wife’s side. A tear slid down her face as she reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Does anyone at the Institute know I’m in labor?”

“I called Ian. If anyone asks, he’s going to say I’m home with the stomach flu.”

Hannah peered at the analog clock on the wall. “It’s only eight. As soon as the doctor arrives, he’ll do the Cesarean and everything will be fine.”

“Yes, of course it will.”

Gerald squeezed her hand, but inside he was in turmoil. Events seemed to be conspiring against them, and he was horribly worried. Hannah had been fine up until her water broke an hour ago. At thirty-seven weeks of gestation, the baby wouldn’t be premature, exactly, but unless she arrived before midnight there would literally be hell to pay.

When Dr. Schaeffer appeared in the hospital room, Hannah’s contractions had reached a critical stage. After he scrubbed and examined her, he gave the nurse instructions to prepare for delivery.

“What about the C-section?” Gerald asked.

“Labor is progressing so rapidly there’s no need,” the doctor said. “You’ll be a father in an hour. Two at the most.”

The wall clock read just after nine, so Gerald breathed a sigh of sweet relief.
Now I can concentrate on Hannah!
Although he acknowledged his wife was doing almost all the work, he helped her as best he could. At long last, little Elizabeth arrived. Gerald was an emotional wreck, but the doctor and nurse were all smiles.

“Well, congratulations!” Dr. Schaeffer said. “Mr. and Mrs. Arthur, you’re the proud parents of a Leap Day baby.”

“
What?”
Hannah managed.

Shock. “No, doctor, it’s only ten thirty!” Gerald exclaimed.

The nurse clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry. That clock is notoriously slow. The computer monitor puts the time of birth at one minute after midnight.”

Neither the doctor nor nurse understood why Hannah suddenly burst into tears.

Disguised as a bearded delivery man, Ian arrived at the Arthur’s flat. Gerald wouldn’t let him in until he’d uttered the password phrase they’d used with one another for years.

“Cabbages and kings.”

Gerald’s expression as he let him in was tense. “Is Birmingham on to us?”

“I don’t think so.” Ian glanced down at the luggage stacked nearby. “Looks like you’re ready?”

Hannah was pacing in the living room with the baby in her arms. Ian’s heart broke at the dark circles under the beautiful woman’s eyes.

“How are you getting along?” he asked.

A shrug. “As well as could be expected, I suppose.”

“You pinched the charts from the hospital, I hope?”

“Of course,” Gerald said.

“Good. There’s nothing we can do about the doctor or nurse, but we don’t want any written records of Elizabeth’s birth.”

Ian emptied his brown leather satchel onto the table. Three passports and a large quantity of American currency fell out.

Hannah gaped. “My heavens, can you afford this?”

“My parents have a large estate in Surrey, and I don’t have to work a day in my life if I choose. Trust me, I won’t miss it.”

“You might be filthy, stinking rich, but we’re grateful for your generosity all the same,” Gerald said.

“Truly, we can’t thank you enough,” Hannah said.

She set the baby down in a Moses basket so she could examine the passports. From his inside coat pocket, Ian produced a note and handed it to Gerald. “When you get to Los Angeles, go to this address.”

Gerald read the name on the paper. “Misty Savannah? Isn’t she a pop singer?”

“The very same.”

“What’s your connection with her?”

“When my mother studied nursing in the States years ago, Misty was her roommate. They’ve kept in touch ever since. I know she’ll help you in any way she can, and there’s no way Birmingham can trace you to her.”

“Is she Nephilim?”

“No. Tell her only that you’re old friends of mine.”

Hannah glanced up from the passports, which were open in her hand. “You do beautiful work, Ian.”

A whisper of a smile curved Ian’s lips. “I was a forger in another life, I think. Your new names are now Ann, Charles, and Victoria Moss.”

“Victoria? I like that,” Hannah said. “We’ll call her Tori.”

“As soon as it gets dark, drive north to Scotland. Take a flight from Glasgow. Don’t use credit cards or your cell phone,” Ian said. “In fact, you should probably leave all that stuff here. When you get to America, change your accent and your appearance as much as possible. Say nothing that would connect you to your former life. Are you prepared to do all that?”

Hannah lifted her chin. “We’d do anything to protect the baby.”

“We’re grateful to you, Ian,” Gerald said. “More than we can express.”

“You’d do the same for me.” Ian hunched his shoulders, feeling suddenly awkward. “I guess this is good-bye, then. I’ll try to visit you every so often.”

As Ian stared at his friends, moisture pricked the back of his eyelids. He’d known Gerald since they were children, and he regarded him almost like a brother. The two men exchanged a hug, and Ian deposited a kiss on Hannah’s cheek.

“Godspeed, my friends.” With one last nod, Ian left.

Chapter Two

City of Demons

Los Angeles, California. Almost eighteen years later…

A
T
T
HE
E
ND
O
F
C
LASS
, the students sank into graceful
reverences
. A chorus of “
Merci
, Madame!” followed, but before the students had finished clapping, the lithe, gray-haired instructor held up her hands.

“Ladies, I have an announcement. The Saltare Ballet Theatre is coming to Los Angeles for a summer engagement. On the first Saturday in February, Mr. Saltare will be holding auditions for local dancers. If selected, you’ll be invited to take class with the company in the spring and perhaps perform in the
corps
.”

Gasps of excitement ensued.

“For those wishing to audition, applications are available in my office.” Although Madame Martine addressed all her students, her proud gaze rested on Tori Moss. “I expect to have a good showing from my pupils!”

As the class broke up, girlish chatter turned elegant aspiring ballerinas back into normal teenagers. Tori was immediately flanked by her two best friends.

“We’ll all audition,” Tori said. “Agreed?”

“I’ll go, but I’m not holding my breath,” Deborah said.

“Me neither,” Jenny said.

A dreamy smile lit Deborah’s face. “Even if it’s just for the summer, joining SBT is a fabulous opportunity.”

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if the three of us made it into the
corps?”
Tori asked.

A whisper-thin petite blonde paused on her way past. “If you don’t get selected, you can always start your own dance company. Tori Moss and her Fangirls.”

She sauntered off with her pert nose in the air. Tori noticed a pint-sized imp riding on the girl’s ballet bun, giggling and making faces. Although the imp was disconcerting, Tori tried to maintain her composure.
If anyone knows I see demons, I’ll be called a freak.
Despite her effort to feign nonchalance, Jenny mistook her expression for hurt feelings.

“Never mind Kirstin, Tor. She’s just jealous.”

“Got that straight.” Deborah curled her lip. “Why does she have to be so mean?”

Tori shrugged. “You never know what sort of demons people are wrestling with.” She gulped and changed the subject. “Speaking of which, are you looking forward to Trans-Zone semester?”

Groans.

“I forgot about that,” Jenny said.

“It’s not fair. I think we should be able to study whatever we want during the last semester of our senior year,” Deborah said.

“I don’t
want
to take drama,” Jenny said.

“Neither do I,” Tori said. “I froze up with stage fright during my second grade play and vowed never to act again.”

“We also have to take
movement
classes with the drama students,” Jenny said. “Last year, it was square dances.”

Deborah sighed. “I don’t know why the school says it’s important to force us out of our comfort zones. I’m fine with my comfort zone.”

Tori shivered at the memory of Kirstin’s grotesque imp.
My comfort zone includes never having to see that wretched demon again.
“So am I.”