FIVE
Spirit sat on the edge of her bed in her slip, and reminded herself for the bazillionth time that this was just one night. Nothing was going to get done or undone in just one night. It wasn’t as if this was even a Significant Night like the Equinoxes or Solstices. Not a thing had stirred, for good or bad, since the last night of the Hunt.
New Year’s Eve was just an arbitrary night on a calendar; there was nothing magically special about it. Keep her guard up, sure, but there was no reason to be paranoid.
She’d never have gone to a dance, much less a formal dinner and dance like this one, if she was still at home. If she was still at home.…
It would have, could have, been so exciting. Fancy dress, a dinner right out of a movie? Way to go, Oakhurst, for turning what should have been a dizzying experience into an ordeal, and sucking every bit of joy out of it.
That was pretty much the way things went around here, though.
She took a deep breath. Okay, so this was going to be a night of tense misery alternated with pure boredom, but hey, at least there wouldn’t be anything trying to kill her or her friends.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed in her slip because Muirin hadn’t delivered the dress yet … and if she didn’t hurry up and do so, Spirit was going to have to go to the formal dinner in whatever was left in the Little Closet of Horrors. Or whatever she could make look sort-of formal with her school uniforms.
And at this point, she wasn’t sure she cared.
The door burst open and Muirin sailed through it, carrying a black-and-white dress over her head like a banner. Her expression was one of triumph and she looked absolutely fabulous, as if she was ready to step onto the Red Carpet at an awards ceremony.
“Sorry I took so long, my hair decided to have a mind of its own.” Muirin handed the hanger to Spirit and closed the door. “Oh good, Addie did your hair already.”
Actually, Spirit had done her own hair—she wasn’t too bad at doing a French braid—but she decided not to say anything. Instead she stood up and held the dress out for a look.
She felt herself smiling. It was actually—nice! More than nice, it was elegant! It had nice straps—she had lived in terror that Muirin was going to make her go strapless, because she didn’t have any strapless bras. It was kind of like the dress Audrey Hepburn had worn as Eliza Doolittle at the ball, fitted in from the chest to the hips and flaring out from there, except the black had been made into a couple of side panels that would make her look taller and model-slender. “Here,” Muirin said, shoving something else at her, which turned out to be a wrap made of more black satin with white fur on the inside. “You’re going to freeze otherwise. You got them to get you white shoes like I told you, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Spirit replied, sticking out one foot to show, while she struggled into the dress. Muirin spun her around while she was still struggling, expertly tugged the dress down and into place, and zipped her up, all before she quite knew what was going on.
“A credit to my design,” Muirin said smugly.
Spirit turned to look in the mirror and blinked. She looked … well, a lot older. Sophisticated. Not like she’d expected.
Next to her, Muirin was just amazing, all sleek and styled and a whole lot older than she actually was, with just enough Goth about her to keep her looking like herself instead of someone’s trophy wife. All in black, of course. Even to the tiara in her hair, which was black crystals instead of the usual faux diamonds.
Then Spirit blinked at the tiara, because it didn’t even remotely have that “fake” look to it, and turned toward Muirin to look more closely at it.
“Black star sapphires. Man-made. And the setting’s only ten carat.” Muirin smirked. “The Trust isn’t going to let me go that crazy.”
She’s wearing a gold and star sapphire tiara.…
Spirit didn’t have any jewelry … but then again, what was the point? Everyone knew she wasn’t rich. Self-consciously she patted her hair, took a last look at her makeup, and reached for the wrap to go.
“Don’t forget your ring,” Muirin cautioned.
Spirit blinked. “My—”
“Ring. Class ring. This is one of the times you have to wear it.” Muirin held out her hand with a look of distaste. On it was her class ring, the stone reflecting golden-yellow. “Even if it doesn’t go with the dress.”
“Oh. Right.” Spirit opened the drawer she’d tossed the box into the day she got it, and fished it out. She felt a distaste that matched the look on Muirin’s face as she opened it, and a heavy reluctance to put the thing on.
It seemed to close around her finger as she did, and she fought back an urge to yank it off and throw it back in the drawer. Instead, she picked up her wrap, and waved at Muirin. “Age before beauty,” she quoted wryly.
“Pearls before swine,” Muirin smirked, finishing the Dorothy Parker quote, as Spirit had known she would. Spirit grinned, and followed her out.
The dining room looked even more formal than it had at Christmas dinner. Red velvet curtains hid the buffet line, more red velvet curtains closed out the view from the windows. Every table was set with the really, really good china with the school crest in gold, and a dozen different forks and spoons and knives. There were candles in silver holders on each table, the napkins were linen in silver holders, and there was a card at each place setting, in a silver holder. Spirit didn’t have to pick them all up to know they were solid silver, not silver plate. There were four Waterford Crystal goblets for each place—Spirit knew they were Waterford because the instructions for the dinner had mentioned them. The rolls were in silver baskets lined with linen napkins. The butter was sculpted rosettes on ice in a cut-crystal bowl that sparkled and cast rainbow reflections. The salt and pepper shakers were crystal and silver, which did the same. One of the waitstaff, done up in a tux, stopped them at the door. He gravely asked Muirin her name, then consulted a list and conducted her to a table. He did the same for Spirit, who by this time was hideously tense. Who was she going to get stuck with?
No one awful, it turned out; just the regular gang plus an adult, which was such a relief. The waiter brought her to a table near the windows that held Burke, Muirin, Addie, Loch, and a teacher she only knew vaguely, a Ms. Campion, who taught Chemistry and Alchemy.
She started to reach for her chair, then remembered just in time to let the waiter pull it out for her. When she was seated, he handed her a menu. One of the glasses was already poured full of water, and with her mouth dry, she reached for it.
She looked up at the same time, and noticed Burke staring at her as if she was a stranger. She felt her cheeks getting warm, but in a good way.
“That’s a very attractive gown, Miss White,” said Ms. Campion.
“Thank you. Muirin made it for me,” she replied, blushing, and Muirin grinned and winked.
“Muirin’s creative ways with clothing are familiar to the staff,” Ms. Campion responded dryly. Muirin grinned even harder, but managed to make herself look serious before the teacher glanced her way again.
Polite conversation. We’re supposed to make polite conversation.… Spirit racked her brain for something to say. Not school, that wasn’t sophisticated enough. The weather was too ordinary.
Addie saved her. “Are you a fan of classical music, Ms. Campion?” she asked politely.
“Very much so,” the woman said, a little warmth coming into her smile.
“Ah! Well, I recently was introduced to the works of a composer new to me,” Addie replied brightly, “through a movie Spirit recommended.”
That managed to get a conversation started that they could all add to, the use of classical music in movies, and from that, to composers who specialized in movie music. Then the waiters delivered the appetizers, except the menu called it “First Course.” It was—snails. She had never, ever thought she would find herself eating snails! But the other choice was raw oysters on the half shell, and at least the snails were cooked. So she dug the snails out of their shells with a special little fork, and managed to get two down by not thinking about what they were. Then “Second Course,” which was soup; she couldn’t tell what it was, except it was creamy, orange, and didn’t taste like tomato. Third was a little portion of fish with a pale yellow sauce on it and cucumber slices. Fourth was a little piece of steak and a couple of teaspoons of stir-fried vegetables, and she would have thought that was going to be the end of it, except the menu said, no, there was a lot more to come … all the portions were tiny, but with all the food that was on that menu, they would have to be, or you could never get through it.
Next, a slice of … she had to consult the menu … it was duck with orange sauce, some sort of fancy sweet potatoes, and peas. All in doll-tea-party-sized portions, of course.
Then they brought a cup of something that looked like sherbet. It was, kind of. Not very sweet. Tasted sort of wine-y.
Then half a little bird. The menu said “quail.” With stuffing. She was terrified they were going to make her eat the bones, too, but no, she watched Addie, and Addie teased the meat off with her knife and fork and just ate that.
Then cold asparagus with a vinegar-y sauce.
Then something brown and little rounds of bread to spread it on. Pâté de foie gras. Goose liver paste. Ugh. But the rule was, you had to eat some of every single course and look as though you liked it. They were actually going to be graded on “apparent enjoyment.” Well, not graded, “critiqued,” but it might just as well have been a grade. She managed, somehow, mostly by scraping as little of it on the bread as she could.
And finally, at last, dessert. Bananas Foster, which she had never heard of, and which a waitperson made at the table with a lot of fanfare and flames. It turned out to be bananas in rum with sugar and cinnamon, cooked and set on fire and served on ice cream. Muirin’s eyes just lit up when she saw it, though she didn’t act the way she usually did when presented with dessert. It was good, better than the snails and the goose liver.
Every course came with a change of plates, different silverware, and a change of drinks. Not real wine, fruit juice, but it wasn’t sweet, it was dry and tart. Red with the meat, white with the fish, sparkling with the duck.
She was glad it wasn’t wine, she’d have been drunk.
They did get coffee, real coffee, with dessert. She was grateful for that, she needed the caffeine along with the sugar jolt. She never knew eating could be such hard work!
She was more than ready to go back to her room, pull on a sweatshirt, and watch a movie, but the evening wasn’t over yet.
Never mind that they had been sitting there for three hours, from seven until almost ten!
Ms. Campion signaled the end of dinner by putting her napkin on the table and waiting for one of the boys to come pull her chair out. Loch picked up on what she was waiting for first, of course. It was then that Spirit saw that Loch not only had a tux, he had a full tux with tails, like something Fred Astaire would have worn! And he looked, well, amazing in it. He pulled out Ms. Campion’s chair and she stood up. “There will be about half an hour for you to freshen up,” she said. “Then the dance will start at ten-thirty. As always, you are expected to be prompt.”
“Thank you, Ms. Campion,” they all murmured; in the rest of the room, similar gettings-up and goings-out had started. Loch pulled out Spirit’s chair, while Burke got Addie’s and Muirin’s.
Spirit would have liked nothing better than to go back to her room, pull off the dress, and pretend she was sick. But … no … there was no way she could get away with that.
Bleah.
* * *
The dance was, of course, in the gym/auditorium. The decorations from the Winter Dance were back up, along with some balloons and streamers. She’d been in a kind of numb state at the time, and couldn’t appreciate them then; now, well, on the one hand, they were pretty, all blue and white and glitter and crystals. But on the other hand, they looked cold, and not so much festive as “professional.” Like this was some kind of theater or movie set, and they were all extras who were actually working and supposed to pretend they were celebrating.
Well, yeah. We are pretending. This wasn’t our idea of a good time. Obviously if the kids had their way, this would just be a flashier version of a school dance. More and better refreshments, maybe costumes. Certainly louder music. And everyone would be using their powers, too.
The music tonight, however, was all Big Band, and none of it was swing or any kind of lively—it was kind of what you’d hear at an Old Folks Home “dance,” Spirit thought.
People are going to go to sleep in the middle of dancing, she thought, which would be kind of amusing actually. She could just see it. Like a bunch of zombies.
Use of powers was completely forbidden. The teachers had been so adamant about that, without specifying what would happen if you dared try, that Spirit figured even the most rebellious were pretty cowed.
All she could figure was that this was supposed to be more “practice” for the leading roles in society they were all supposed to take when they graduated. You had to pretend you liked all the food, pretend this sort of music was your idea of a good time, because people were watching you, and if you didn’t fit in, you wouldn’t be invited back or to the private dinners where important things got done. Well, if this was what being a lead in society was like, she would be perfectly happy to go work at Mickey D’s for the rest of her life.
For a fleeting moment she wondered just what she was supposed to do when she graduated.
Assuming I survive.
Unless Muirin and Addie were right and there was a big pile of money waiting for her somewhere because of insurance, it wasn’t as if she had any money for college. Where was she supposed to go? What was she supposed to do? The others who didn’t have money, well, they had powers, and there weren’t any rules out there in the world telling them they couldn’t use them. So they would, of course. And that made her think about something else; sure, there were plenty of honest ways to use your powers, but there were more that weren’t. How many Shadewalkers were master thieves for instance? Or spies?
But, of course, she didn’t have any powers.
Maybe she would have to work at Mickey D’s for the rest of her life. She had a fleeting vision of herself serving burgers, living in a trailer …
Strangely, that fleeting vision almost seemed more appealing than being here.
She shook off the mood and walked all the way into the gym. There were more little tables set up around the dance floor, also with little name-plaques on them, but it was clear when Spirit spotted her that Muirin had somehow managed to swap a bunch so the gang got a table in a corner. Muirin was putting the last of the name-plaques on the table when Spirit saw her; Muirin looked up at her as she hesitated, just inside the door, and waved at her. With relief, she pulled the wrap around her shoulders and joined them.
It turned out that the refreshments were pretty sparse—but then again, only someone like Murr-cat would have room for any kind of snacks after that dinner. There was punch and there were soft drinks—but not in cans or bottles, you had to ask the “bartender” for one and you only got a cup at a time, unless you were a boy, getting a drink for a girl, too. The boys were supposed to do that. The girls were not supposed to do the same.
There were shiny gold cardboard tiaras for the girls and shiny black cardboard top hats for the guys, and noisemakers all bunched up in the centers of the tables, waiting, but hardly anybody even looked at those. No one was wearing them.
“Welcome to our joyous celebration,” Muirin said, straight-faced. “Happy New Year. Be festive if it kills you.”
Now that she wasn’t concentrating on eating and making sure she did all the right things with the right silverware, Spirit got a chance for a good look at the other gowns, starting with Addie’s. It was strapless, with a chiffon scarf, corset-like top, and huge, flowing chiffon skirt, all in a pale ice blue. Like Muirin’s, it was pretty obvious that this hadn’t come from the Little Closet of Horrors, either. Addie didn’t wear jewelry, though she had matching silk flowers in her hair, and not the kind you got at a discount store; these would have looked real, except for the color. Bird-of-paradise flowers didn’t come in blue—though, of course, if you had the right powers, you could turn them blue.
As she looked at the other girls sitting down or milling around, it was really obvious who had gowns of their own, and who had been stuck with the Closet. Poor Elizabeth was one of the latter, bundled into an ill-fitting seafoam horror that made her skin look yellow, and bunched up around her waist. It made her look fat, which was pretty hard to do, considering how slender she was. Elizabeth wasn’t sitting down; she kind of hovered at the edge of the crowd as if she wasn’t sure what to do.
It occurred to Spirit at that point that, unless some of the others had made their dresses—she supposed that was possible; after all, there was a theater group, and a costume shop, so there had to be sewing machines—this was a good way to tell who had money and who didn’t. Anyone who could have a real formal clearly did.
Judging by the lack of Ugly, most of the kids, the girls, anyway, had money.…
“Do I get to keep this?” she asked Muirin. “The dress, I mean.”
Muirin shrugged. “Put it in your closet. If they don’t demand it back, it’s yours. I don’t suppose you know how to sew?” she added out of the blue.
Spirit flushed, because … well, that was one of the things her mom had insisted she learn along with her homeschooling. Most of her clothing was homemade. No, not was, had been, because it all burned up in the fire. The last two years before the accident she’d been making all of her own clothes rather than suffer her mom’s tastes. The only thing they’d ever bought was blue jeans. “Uh, yeah…” she said. “Pretty well. I mean, not like you, but I can do basic stuff.”
“Good. Your payment for that dress is to help me. No one ever wants to get stuck in the Bridal Rejects dresses twice.” Muirin licked her lips. “I collect a lot of favors around October and November, and again before the Spring Dance at the end of the term.”
Spirit blinked. “You mean…”
Muirin began pointing out the dresses she’d remade, refitted, or sewn completely from scratch. “There’s a certain amount of raiding the Theater Department fabric that we can get away with,” she said with a smirk. “Of course, they keep buying up Prom Zombies and sticking them in the closet, so I don’t often have to resort to cutting up stuff meant for The Importance of Being Earnest.”
Spirit began revising her estimate of how many of the girls had a lot of money sharply downward.
“Remember what I told you? There’s a big trade in favors around here.” Muirin nodded wisely. “Hey, you know what? If you don’t want one of the jerkwads to mess with you, we’ll offer to help his girlfriend with her party stuff for the Spring Fling, make sure he knows we did, and I guaran-darn-tee you he’ll leave you alone. If I’d known you could sew before this, I could have saved you some grief.”
While Spirit was blinking in shock over this revelation, Loch and Burke returned with drinks for everyone. Muirin seized on her soda with the look of someone dying in the desert seizing a cup of water, and blew a kiss to Burke, who gave it to her. “Loch, I cannot believe you have a fitted tuxedo with tails,” Addie said with admiration. “You look fabulous! Is it bespoke?”
Spirit had no idea what Addie meant, but evidently Loch did.
“Yeah,” he said, with a shrug. “Dad got invited to a lot of Embassy things, and during school holidays it was easier for him to haul me along than leave me behind. I think he got some kind of brownie points for having me with him. So here I am, with a tux, and no blue jeans, because everything that got shipped here was packed by Dad’s secretary.” He rolled his eyes. “I think all she did was grab what was in the closet in my bedroom, which was never stuff I actually wore much, because I was hardly ever home. God knows what happened to the stuff that was still at school. It probably got bundled up and sent to storage.”
Burke, who was wearing what must have come out of the boys’ version of the Little Closet of Horrors, gave him a look of sympathy. Somehow, he made the boxy secondhand rent-a-tux look good. Then again, his didn’t fit too badly. Not like a couple of the boys, whose trouser-waists were obviously somewhere in the vicinity of their armpits, and who were wearing cummerbunds to conceal that fact.
“Why won’t you ever let me fit your tux to you, Burke?” Muirin asked, teasingly.
“Cause it won’t fit next time I have to wear it,” he replied, with calm logic. “Besides, you just want an excuse to tickle me.”
“He’s ticklish?” Spirit asked Muirin, who smirked.
“Very, if you catch him off guard. Which I never can. Addie did it once, and it was hilarious, he turned purple.”
“Everyone got your dance cards?” Addie asked.
“My which-what?” Spirit was bewildered now. Addie shoved a little booklet-thing across the table at her; it had a brown metal foil cover with the school crest in gold stamped on the front, and a tiny little gold pen attached to it with a gold ribbon. She opened it. There was her full name in gold on the inside, and a list of numbers with the names of dances and blank spaces beside them.
“You have to dance at least five dances, whether or not you’ve taken Ballroom yet,” Addie reminded her. “Your partner signs off on the dance. Or if you’re really popular, guys come up to you and fill it in ahead of time.” She made a face. “It’s part of ‘improving our social graces.’ Yet another thing to get graded on.”
“Next thing you know, they’ll start grading us on how many dreams we have a night,” Muirin said sarcastically.
“Oh…” Spirit swallowed. “Uh…”
“No sweat, Spirit.” Burke plucked the card out of her nerveless fingers, and wrote his name in three of the spaces. Not to be outdone, Loch did the same. “There you go. One over the mandatory number, you’re set.” Then they both did the same for Muirin and Addie.
Muirin took hers back with a smirk. “Since I took Ballroom and I have a bigger quota, I’m going to go collect on some favors,” she said, archly, and sailed off in the direction of the other tables. Addie laughed.
“But … I don’t know how…,” Spirit began.
“Which is why we picked easy stuff.” The music changed, and Loch held out his hand. “Come on. Just do what I do, backward.”
It wasn’t as easy as Loch had implied—but it wasn’t as hard as Spirit had feared. He helped by counting it out under his breath—it was a cha-cha, a dance she’d only seen in movies. She managed to not trip and fall or step on his feet. He brought her back to the table, and since the next dance didn’t have his or Burke’s name after it, she sat and watched the others, trying to get the steps.
Loch was a very good dancer, and some of the girls started coming up to him to get him to sign their cards, which he did, readily. It seemed to Spirit that he was sad, though, and she couldn’t figure out why. Okay, there was no real reason to be all that happy, but there was a melancholy look to him that was odd.
She couldn’t get up the nerve to ask any of the boys to dance the way Muirin was doing, and anyway, since she hadn’t taken the Ballroom Dance classes, she wasn’t being graded on this, so she just sat and drank diet cola and watched in between being taken out on the floor by Burke and Loch, and felt a little envy when she watched Murr-cat being whirled around by Loch in a waltz. That looked like fun; Muirin was even smiling.
About ten minutes to midnight, there was a little stir at the door, and a moment later it was obvious why. Doctor Ambrosius strode into the room, though he spent a little time greeting the teachers at the “bar” end of the room. Spirit sighed. They were probably in for another speech.
She just hoped Loch would come get her for the midnight dance. That would be a nice sort of omen for the new year.
But it was Burke who came over to the table, and held out his hand, just a little awkwardly. She didn’t want him to feel badly, so she got up and took it and let him lead her out onto the dance floor with a smile, even though she was a little disappointed. Still, at least she wouldn’t be sitting out the first dance of the New Year. That would bite.
The music didn’t start, though, and Doctor Ambrosius walked out to the edge of the floor, standing in a spotlight. Spirit tried not to sigh. Here comes the speech.…
The sixty-second countdown started before he could open his mouth, much to Spirit’s relief. Ambrosius didn’t even look annoyed; he had his “genial” face on, the one he’d worn when the presents were given out. She felt Burke tighten his grip on her hand, and in spite of it being pretty corny, she found herself counting down aloud with everyone else. Burke caught her eye and smiled. She smiled back.
She wondered if he was trying to work up the courage to kiss her … and she wondered how she’d feel about that, even as she called out the last few seconds. Did she want him as a friend, or as a boyfriend? Maybe it would be easier to keep things the way they were. But if he was her boyfriend, maybe he’d feel like he had to support her more. That would help while she tried to convince the others that they were still all in danger.
But would that be using him? Was that fair to him?
“Five … four … three … two … ONE!”
Suddenly the lights went out. Completely out.
The “Happy New Year!” shouts died, abruptly. It was very dark, and unexpectedly quiet. A couple people laughed nervously. Even the emergency exit lights were out. It was like being in a cave.
Spirit wondered if this was supposed to be part of the evening, even as Burke held her hand even tighter. But nothing happened, and even the nervous laughter died out.
She got a strange, horrible, sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and a cold chill went down her back that had nothing to do with the cooling air of the room.
Something was wrong. And something very bad was about to happen.…
Maybe not, she tried to tell herself, a little desperately. Maybe it’s just a prank so people can kiss.
But that horrible feeling in her stomach didn’t go away, and neither did the sensation that made her want to shudder. The darkness wasn’t at all comforting; it swallowed up even the little sounds people were making as they stirred nervously, engulfing the shuffling feet and edgy titters in a way that made her hair try to stand up.
There were uneasy murmurs now … whispers that didn’t sound like people were using the dark to neck. Why didn’t Doctor Ambrosius say something?
Why didn’t one of the teachers?
“Something’s wrong,” Burke said, still holding her hand hard. “This never happened at the other dances.”
“C-c-could it be a trick?” she whispered back, her voice shaking despite herself. “You know—a prank?”
“Not a chance. All the circuit-breaker boxes are in locked rooms to keep people from pulling stupid stuff; it has to be a power failure.” Burke sounded very sure of that. “Maybe as far as town. There’s no storm out there, though. Maybe someone from Radial got drunk and blew up a high tension tower.”
“Do they do that?” she asked incredulously.
“Well, they never have before, but they’re redneck cowboys, it’s New Year’s Eve, and they have easy access to dynamite…” his voice trailed off a moment. “Heck, it could be a cascade failure from as far away as Canada. Anyway, the power should kick back on in a minute. Oakhurst has big backup generators. We can make all our own power for as long as the diesel lasts, in fact, and there’s huge storage tanks underground.”
But he moved closer to her, and she to him, and all over the room people were starting to get an edge of fear in their voices.
“I’m sure Doctor Ambrosius and the teachers are getting the gennies going now,” Burke said, but his voice sounded … uncertain.
But the power, and the lights, didn’t come back.
The room was really getting colder.
And the sick feeling in the bottom of Spirit’s stomach told her that the worst was yet to come.