Dance in the Dark (30 page)

"It is too bad he would never consider having the ball here," Jesse said, and though he tried to hide it, he could not completely keep all the wistfulness from his voice. 

Rostislav grinned. "No worries, love. Once Johnnie has cause for such celebration,
he'll
have his ball here."

Casting him a withering look, Johnnie said, "As you command." Him, a betrothal ball. Ha. Johnnie did not think a more ridiculous idea existed.

Bergrin stood and fetched their coats, holding Johnnie's so that he could shrug into the long, heavy, wool trench coat. Bergrin settled his cap on his head as Johnnie slid his fedora into place.

"Farewell for now," Johnnie said, as Bergrin took hold of his arm.

Then they vanished.

*~*~*

"You look beautiful, my dear," Johnnie said. "Even more so than usual."

Rita flushed, but smiled and lifted her chin. "I don't think I can hold a candle to you, Johnnie."

Johnnie scoffed at that, and finished pinning a deep red rosebud to the lapel of his tuxedo.  Comments about his beauty were more vexing than ever, now that he knew his beauty
was
supernatural in origin. He did not know what to think.
Better vampire
Jester had called him.

Funny the pixie had known all along, and if Johnnie had paid any real attention …

But even then, who knew? It would not have made sense to him, not then.  Detractors often referred to vampires as watered down incubi, half as pretty and too independent to do better than blood for sustenance.  It was only because he was in the mortal plane, and not the dream plane, that he did not have full incubus powers.

He could not even imagine how different his life might have been if he had grown up half-incubus.

Johnnie turned toward the door as it opened, watching as Bergrin slipped inside, closing the door again behind him.  Only barely did Johnnie remember to return Bergrin's polite nod of greeting, and he nearly dropped the corsage he held ready to affix to Rita's gown.

Bergrin was not wearing a tuxedo, but he had taken care to be a bit more dressed up than usual. He looked damned good. He wore black jeans, of such quality they almost could have passed for slacks, except that slacks never hugged quite that well—and they definitely clung in ways that Bergrin's old jeans normally did not.  He wore a soft-looking black sweater as well, and boots that held a polished shine. His curls had even been tamed, falling in a pretty tumble that made Johnnie want to sink his hands into them and muss them thoroughly while he kissed Bergrin senseless.

Jerking his gaze away before he was caught staring like a half-wit, he focused on pinning a spray of gold rosebuds to Rita's gown.  The bright, rich yellow complemented the sapphire blue gown perfectly, drawing out her rich, dark brown curls, the diamonds and pearls and sapphires at her throat, her wrists. She was many times more beautiful than even Ekaterina, and Johnnie did not doubt that if they had known of Rita, Ekaterina's family would have cast a curse. "My idiotic brother will return to his senses before the night is out, mark my words."

Rita smiled, though it was a bit unsteady. "I hope so. Thank you for believing me—for helping me, Johnnie. You and all the others. Especially your father; he certainly would have been fully within his rights to send me away."

"Nonsense," Johnnie said. "Ellie gave you Sariah's ring—my father could never turn you away, not after seeing that."

Bergrin stirred where he was leaning against the wall. "I'm surprised your father never asked about the ring. Surely it would have been a problem that Elam never produced it."

Johnnie shook his head. "My father would never ask, not about that. It is Ellie's ring, to give or not give, as he so chooses. Marriages are often a matter of business, but vampires do try to make love matches, or matches they think could turn to love, eventually.  The ring is a love token—my father did not give it to his wife until he loved her, and that was a few years after they were married."

"But wouldn't Elam have tried to produce it, when he fell in 'love' with Ekaterina?" Bergrin asked.

Again, Johnnie shook his head. "He had already given the ring to Rita, whom he truly loves. When the forgetting curse was cast, he probably forgot about the ring since it was irrevocably twisted up with his memories and feelings for Rita."

Rita smiled faintly, looking at her finger where the ring sparkled. "Should I remove it?" She asked reluctantly. "Would it cause trouble?"

"It is a private family tradition," Johnnie said. "No one else would know about it, and seeing it on your finger might fray the curse that much faster. Leave it where it belongs."

There was a knock at the door, stalling conversation, and then it opened to reveal Ontoniel—followed by Phil and a vampire Johnnie had seen on only two previous occasions. His hair still fell all the way down his back, a beautiful cascade of blue-black. "Phil," Johnnie greeted, then turned to the vampire. "Zachariah, is it not?"

"Yes," Zachariah said with a smile. "Zach, please. You are becoming quite the investigator, I hear."

Johnnie shrugged. "I like mysteries, and solving them."

Phil laughed. "Your father invited me, and as Chris and Doug are away on a case, leaving Zach all alone, I brought him along as my date. Whatever help we can provide, just say. I told Zach what was going on, after I got your father's permission.  We can definitely work the crowds for information, keep a covert eye on things, since I am certain you will have your hands plenty full."

"The help is most appreciated," Johnnie said.

"Our pleasure," Zach said, pushing back strands of his hair.

Johnnie turned back to Phil. "Where is Jester?"

"He was still wrung out from a case we wrapped up the day before yesterday, and crowds like this can fluster him, so I just left him at home," Phil said with a smile. "He is probably passed out in front of the TV like every other man I know would be."

Johnnie laughed. "I see."

"That pixie is spoiled rotten," Zach said teasingly.

"No more spoiled than your imp," Phil retorted.

"Yeah, but the imp gives me sex. Pixies just take up space." He winked, then cocked his head, listening. "I believe I hear the music starting up, shall we to the ballroom?"

"Of course," Ontoniel said, and offered his arm to Rita. Phil hooked arms with Zach, and Johnnie offered a teasing smirk to Bergrin as they followed along behind the others. "I should have ordered you to wear a dress."

Bergrin snorted. "I think
you
would be in the dress, Highness."

"Definitely not," Johnnie said, then turned more serious. "Do you expect a lot of trouble tonight?"

Bergrin laughed. "I always expect trouble. Where the rich and powerful are concerned, I expect double the trouble. Where
you
are concerned? I expect trouble in quadruple amounts."

Johnnie bristled. "I do not cause you that many problems."

"You make everything difficult, Johnnie," Bergrin said, so quietly that Johnnie only just barely heard him.

Before he could ask what that meant, however, they were in the ballroom and amidst the throngs of guests—hundreds of them, filling the grand ballroom that occupied the greater portion of the north wing of the house. Johnnie fell immediately into the role of host alongside his father, smoothly dealing with all manner of abnormal guests, though he tried to keep a watchful eye on Elam, Rita, and Ekaterina and her parents.

It was exhausting work—welcome toasts, betrothal toasts, speeches, mingling, dancing briefly here and there with people he had no interest in even speaking with, food and drinks and music to keep watch on.

But after a little over two hours of work, Johnnie was able to slip away to a discreet corner mostly shielded by lush plants, and take a break. Leaning against the wall, he watched the dance floor.

Bergrin appeared at his side, until then having tucked himself discreetly out of the way, to watch Johnnie as well as those under suspicion.  The entire time, Johnnie had not once seen him—but he had never stopped feeling Bergrin's eyes.

"See anything interesting?" he asked.

"Your brother definitely keeps looking at Rita, in a 'where have I seen you before' sort of way. Ekaterina seems impatient with him, when she is confident no one else is paying them any mind. He is ever attentive of her, but Ekaterina certainly does not return the gestures or the sentiments behind them. Not unless they're being watched."

Johnnie glanced toward Ekaterina, who stood with one hand in the crook of Elam's arm. They were standing together, smiling and chatting with the people around them, occasionally looking at each other and smiling fondly.

But Johnnie knew his brother, and he knew the man across the room was his brother in full 'I would rather be anywhere else' social obligation mode. From time to time, just as Bergrin said, he glanced away from the crowd. Each time, his gaze fell, faintly puzzled, on Rita, or on the baby grand piano on the far side of the room.

Johnnie really could not wait to harass Prim and Proper Elam about all of this later, when it was finally over.

"What of Ekaterina's parents?" he asked Bergrin.

"They seem almost falling over grateful their daughter and Elam get along so well. Bits of gossip I've learned lead me to believe she has had trouble in the past contracting a spouse. No one would quite say why, theories abounded with most and those who did seem to know for certain would not say."

"Well, I know she is a good fifty years older than Ellie," Johnnie said. "I was rather surprised to learn she was not already married. Perhaps she is picky or difficult—there are any number of reasons, and I think we had best find it." 

He glanced over the ballroom again, lifting one brow in amusement as he saw Phil ask his father to dance—and his father say yes.  They reached the dance floor just as the strains of a waltz began to fill the ballroom.

The mood in the room shifted, then. Nearly all of the inhabitants present had come through many centuries, living through the darkest of times, the roughest, to make it to what they called 'these much softer days'.  They clung to many old traditions and beliefs.

Dancing and old-fashioned parties were amongst those things to which they clung so fiercely. This was nothing like the vibrant, flashy, thoroughly modern affairs that Jesse enjoyed so much. This was a ball, with all the old world touches that word evoked.  Nostalgia was thick on the air now, as they all danced.

Johnnie watched them move through steps as old as the dancers themselves, steps they knew as well as they knew their names. It made him feel … isolated? Out of place? But he knew how to dance, and could do it well, and he knew everyone present, to one degree or another.

Maybe it was the ease with which they moved: the affection between them—especially the true couples on the floor, dancing as only lovers could.  No one had ever asked him to dance, who did not either want to curry favor with his father, mock Johnnie, or simply fulfill some social obligation.

He had never danced with a lover, never had one he could ask, or who would ask him. Johnnie wondered what it would be like, to be on the dance floor with a lover, one more happy couple dancing to music that had survived centuries when so much else had faded away.

"Johnnie—"

Bergrin's voice startled him, and Johnnie turned his head to look at him, and then his heart started pounding in his chest. A hesitant, uncertain look was on Bergrin's face, and Johnnie had the sudden, wild, unexpected realization that Bergrin was going to ask him to dance. He just knew it.  His breath lodged in his throat in anticipation, his chest tight with that sudden burst of joy—

"Nothing," Bergrin said, shoulders slumping ever so slightly, and he turned his head away from Johnnie, muttering, "Never mind."

The tight knot of anxious hope in Johnnie's chest turned into a sharp, twisting ache of crushing disappointment. He felt like a fool, so stupid and delusional he could not stand it. Bergrin asking him to dance! What had he been thinking? He cringed away from his own rampant stupidity.

But it hurt. Worse than anything he had ever felt. Because damn it, he had wanted Bergrin to ask him to dance, and he had been so
certain
that Bergrin was going to—and then he had not.  Had he changed his mind? Why?

But Johnnie knew the answer—Bergrin might have shared the secret of his mother, but he still thought of Johnnie as nothing but trouble—
quadruple
the usual amount of trouble. And Johnnie had asked him to spend a day at the Last Star, and Bergrin had essentially turned him down.  And for every 'Johnnie' there was at least twenty 'Highness'.  He thought Johnnie's clothes were stupid, he did not much care for nobility, and until he got stuck with Johnnie, playing bodyguard had not even been amongst his primary duties.

Johnnie pushed away from the wall, unable to take it a moment longer. Why was he never good enough for anyone?

"Hey, Johnnie—" Bergrin stopped him. "Where are you going?"

"To get some air," Johnnie snarled, jerking away. He glanced at Bergrin, feeling stupid and wretched and—

And heartbroken, he conceded. He hated to admit, but there was little point in denying it now. He had ceased to care about Elam because Bergrin consumed all of his attention.  Bergrin, who had just made it painfully, humiliatingly clear that he did not want to dance with Johnnie.