Broken Dove: A Dark Romance (Dance of the Dead Book 2), page 2
Blood was thicker than water, and I let it slip through my fingers just as quickly.
“We have arrived,” Nico Dos Santos announced.
Nico was the man who saved me from paying my dues on my back. He got broken girls and gave them a purpose. He took our broken wings and showed us how to soar. I guess I should be thankful because when he set us free, he made sure he found a place for me.
His last show ended with a bang—literally. To the world, he was dead. He and his prima ballerina were never to be heard from again. Except all of us knew the truth. After all, you couldn’t kill the things that escaped hell, and Nico had been wandering this world with a purpose, so now I assumed he had found it.
The plane ride had been mostly silent. There wasn’t much for us to talk about. Besides, his so-called daughter had come with us. I didn’t mind her, but at times, she scared me. Since I was one of the last dancers to always clear out, I’d had more interaction with her throughout the years. She could be sweet one second, the next a total bitch.
Nico left her at the hotel while he dropped me off. I assumed this was for protection. You couldn’t have two “dead” people prancing around.
I didn’t ask questions. I did not care because, honestly, there wasn’t much more left of the person I used to be. As long as I had a place at night to lay my head, some warmth, and food to fill my belly, that was more than enough for me. I could be in China, Buenos Aires, or New York, and it would all be the same to me. The days would drag on, and night would be all that remained.
We couldn’t have it all in life. At one point, I had, and look at how well that turned out. I took it as a lesson learned and stopped asking the world for things. Maybe someone had to pay for the sins of their fathers, and that was why life fucked us over extra hard.
“What time is it?” I asked as I stepped out of the car. As I figured out the terrain, my cane moved from side to side.
“Just after five,” Nico let me know.
Okay, good. With the time difference and the jet lag, it wouldn’t be rude to disappear to whatever room they gave me and just sleep it all away. With winter here, it meant the nights were longer. I might not be able to see, but I enjoyed the cold and the snow, even if I wasn’t a fan of the ice.
People pitied those who couldn’t see, but I pitied everyone who could—people with eyesight were often the blind ones. They relied on their vision for everything. They could smell something foul, yet they didn’t believe it until they saw the evidence. They could hear screams and chaos erupting, yet they wouldn’t start running until they saw the danger.
It wasn’t that blind people had their other four senses heightened. It was that we learned to rely on all of them and didn’t dull them like everyone else.
I walked side by side with my old ward so I could meet my new one. The place had to be huge, judging by the number of steps we had taken, and we had yet to reach the entrance.
My nose was cold when we reached the front door, and I smiled at the thought. If we had more time, I would have touched the tip. It was things like this I found joy in—the evidence of winter. The seasons didn’t have to be seen to appreciate them—you had to feel them.
Like standing outside the first shower of spring, lying under the hot summer sun until it burned your skin, the wind and leaves of autumn, and the snowflakes in the winter.
I was so distracted that I didn’t notice when the door opened.
“Luke, you look well,” Nico greeted as he took a step forward. He knew I didn’t like to be touched. He led, so it would be easier for me to follow him.
The first thing that hit me was the smell of cologne. My nose twitched as I took it in. It was strong, spicy, and masculine, masking the scent of menthol, but it wasn’t all that bad.
I knew the person was next to me because I felt his presence. It was tall and imposing, like a force field. The verdict was still out if it were to pull me in or tell me to run, not that I could get very far anyway.
The other girls thought I was lucky because even when I landed in hell, I was already blind. I couldn’t see any of the horrors that happened around us, but I sure as fuck could feel them.
With their eyes closed or wide open, they still had an advantage over me. They could see life in all its vibrancy: flowers, odd-shaped clouds, blue and gray skies, and that already was more than most of us had at one point. They could see their freedom, while I would always be stuck in a cage.
It was the same if my eyes were wide open or shut closed. It wasn’t that I saw in black; everything was just numb. Like white noise that never went away—everything was blank. There were no colors, just pain.
I might not have seen my monsters, but I felt them. I smelled the alcohol on their breath as they whispered dirty words on my nape, the sharpness of their nails as they scratched my hips, and their violent thrusts as they let go of their demons between my legs. For you didn’t have to see to feel pain. You didn’t have to see to feel every part of you being broken as time passed.
“Luke, this is Summer. Summer, that is Luke to your left.”
I turned my head to face him, and the moment I did, I heard the softest gasp leave the man’s lips. I might not be able to see him, but the air in the room changed. The presence I felt earlier was near suffocating now.
“Interesting name,” Luke murmured.
And God, his voice, it was smooth yet held a coarse hoarseness to it that made my skin shiver. It was unlike anything I had ever heard, but I stopped myself from telling him to speak some more.
My chin lifted defiantly at his words. Summer wasn’t my real name; it was just the one I had chosen for myself.
My life was like summer once. It was bright and warm, I had everything, and then one mistake took it away. It might be fucked-up of me, but I liked to have that reminder follow me everywhere so I would never forget all the things that had to happen to get me where I was today.
Our choices defined us.
My choice had blinded me, but it had also woken me up.
“Cecilia,” the man called out. “Portala nella sua stanza.”
My brow furrowed a bit. I mean, it shouldn’t be all that surprising that the man was Italian; after all, Nico was as well. The place he had rescued me from had been in Italy. I didn’t know if it was funny or cruel the way life worked.
When Cecilia approached, the first thing I noticed was the smell. She smelled like lilies, and there was something soothing about it.
After she collected my things, I guess she made a move to grab me when Nico spoke. “She doesn’t like to be touched,” he told her in English, for my sake.
I could feel their stares coming from all sides, but I ignored it and instead turned to face Nico, the man who had taken me out of the hellhole I had been in. I was aware that this would be the last time I would feel his presence near me, and I waited to see if the pang of sadness would hit me, but just like always, it never did. Forming bonds had been a struggle for me, even before everything—something had been broken in me long before the devil found me.
“Grazie.” It was one word and the first time I had spoken in my native tongue for as long as I could remember. If he was surprised that I had kept this from him, I had no way of knowing.
This was the third time I had changed cages, and as long as it wasn’t as bad as the first one I had ever had, I could live the rest of my days this way.
If you didn’t have expectations, then there wouldn’t be a chance for disappointment. Besides, I already knew that freedom always comes at a price.
As we walked, a scent caught my attention. The smell was fresh and sweet, and a melancholy feeling ran through me. I knew the word flower, but I couldn’t recall them. Not the shapes, not the sizes—they were something that were long lost and forgotten, yet here I found myself reminiscing about them.
Being in a traveling ballet company didn’t leave much room for exploring, just running around the globe but never far enough from your own demons.
“Welcome home,” the maid said as she opened the door to what I assumed was my room.
I smiled bitterly at her.
Home was something I had destroyed all on my own.
RUNNING
You run from the desires of your heart.
You run from the demons that haunt you at night.
Yet you feed them at every single chance you get.
2
SUMMER
Blind people can dream; we don’t dream in colors or shapes like others, or maybe we dream in colors that have yet to exist. So, there’s no way to explain to a person who still has their vision how our dreams are as valid as theirs.
It wasn’t often that I dreamed, but when it did happen, it left me feeling frightened and my hands sweaty, like I needed to wash them immediately. I could feel a sting in my eyes, but there was never anything there.
My heart was pounding as I woke up. I sat up immediately, a bit disorientated, and the first thing I did was touch my eyes. Like always, they felt wet. The only thing that was there was the scarring. Slowly, I put my hands down, moving them around my sides.
I was used to sleeping in beds where I could stretch my arms and touch the wall with one hand and the edge of the bed with another. This was maybe twice that size, and I felt like I was drowning in it.
It was by far the nicest bed I had ever lain in. The silks were soft, the pillows fluffy, the covers warm. It was elevated, so getting on had been a bit of a struggle.
With the other girls, I was grateful to have a bedmate. It made cleaning more manageable, and if that wasn’t possible, I was always glad to take the smallest room or the one they said had a shitty view.
The room was silent, but I knew a light must be on. Not because I could see it but because I could hear that faint murmur of electricity humming.
“Hello?” I asked, but no one answered.
I moved my hand until it made contact with my cane. My feet touched the cold floor, and then I got up so I could get a sense of the room. It never happened with the dance company, but before, men liked to play tricks on me. They wanted to know if I really couldn’t see, to ensure their secrets would be safe with me.
Slowly, I made my way to the other end of the room, where Cecilia showed me where the bathroom was located. My cane moved around as my heart pounded heavily with each step I took.
Fear was a pattern of something that manifested over an unpleasant action or a single event that terrorized you. I didn’t fear the dark, for you couldn’t fear things you couldn’t see, but I did fear the actions of men.
I told myself that Nico wouldn’t have sold me off to someone who would harm me, and that gave me a sense of peace. When I got to the bathroom, I opened the faucet and splashed my face. The cold water felt divine on my hot skin. I might not have remembered my dreams, but the voices I heard lingered.
“Zio.”
The screams of my younger self followed me around. I couldn’t remember him, but I knew he was my uncle, my hero, and the person I was terrified of. It was in these moments of weakness that my past tried to catch up to me. Prancing around the world did me no good when my demons decided to give chase.
When I woke up again, footsteps were coming toward me. I sat up immediately, my hand reaching for my cane, but as soon as the smell of lilies engulfed me, I relaxed a bit.
“Morning,” I greeted as I stood up before the maid could come and help me.
She was quiet for a second before speaking, but I could feel her gaze on me, and I knew she had to be looking at my face. I quickly reached for the nightstand and put on my sunglasses.
“It’s not safe to go wandering around at night,” she told me softly, and the pity that always followed when people saw my face was evident in her tone—it beat the disgust.
“I didn’t go anywhere,” I replied, my mind immediately racing to what I had felt when I woke up.
Had someone been in here with me? I had stayed up, and not even a stir or a creak could be heard. Only the silence remained. Surely it wasn’t the door, right? I made myself believe that whatever electricity was on had to be that way since the afternoon. I had just not picked up on it.
“Oh, the wind must have opened it,” she muttered to herself before telling me it was time for breakfast.
The smell of lilies became stronger, and her presence was in front of me. Then, I jumped back when she touched me.
This seemed to make her hesitant if her sharp intake of breath was any indication.
“Would you like me to pick out your clothes?” she asked, her voice drifting toward the other end of the room, where I had remembered leaving my luggage.
She was trying to pick out my clothes as if I had not been doing it all on my own for years. What was next? Would she want to change me like a toddler? I gritted my teeth, trying to remain calm since I was a guest in this house, and I wasn’t sure if I was also considered an intruder.
I lifted my chin in defiance and turned to where I assumed she was located.
“I can pick my own clothing.”
She didn’t say anything more. I thrived in awkward silence. People often started to fidget, their body language betraying them. I bet their eyes wandered around aimlessly, trying to find somewhere to focus and still their thoughts.
Cecilia put my luggage on the bed and hovered as my hands touched every piece of fabric I owned so I could figure out what I wanted to wear. It wasn’t like it would be hard. All of my belongings fit into this bag. Some dancers had more. They had their own places when we were in the off-season, while others like me had been wandering. We were more than ready to run when the time came.
As soon as I had my selection, Cecilia touched my arm.
“Please don’t touch me,” I snapped. “You can guide me just fine with words.”
“Of course.” Her voice was lower, and the giddiness that had been there before was now gone.
A lump formed in my throat, and I couldn’t explain why or how, but I figured I had a cotton mouth. There was no way feelings were coming to me after being stuck in an eternal winter. When I emerged from the bathroom, I thought she had left me, but with her words, she let me know she was by the door.
I used her steps as a guide to know where we were heading. The fresh smell was back, and I couldn’t help but stop so I could keep inhaling.
“There’s a greenhouse to the left,” she told me.
“Can we go in there?”
My throat constricted as I realized the longing that came out with my question. When was the last time I asked for something? Longing and wanting things was something I had stopped myself from doing.
“After breakfast,” she assured me.
The rest of the walk was silent as she guided me to the dining room. This time, she stayed a few steps behind me. I knew he was there before I took my seat. I could smell his cologne in the air, and the menthol smell was more pungent.
“Good morning,” I told him without turning my profile to him. I wasn’t about to bite off the hand that would feed me, but I wasn’t going to be at its mercy either.
Something was off about this, and I could almost guess what this man wanted from me. It was the same reason Nico Dos Santos had taken me in the first place. I was the keeper of secrets.
My previous owners didn’t think I could unravel what I could not see.
I was blind, but I wasn’t mute.
“Leave us, Cecilia,” he said instead of greeting me, and the rushing of retreating footsteps followed.
He had to be older than me, or I could be wrong, and his voice was naturally deep despite his age, but I was going with the latter, judging by Nico’s age. Not that I ever got a chance to see him the way I wanted to. He just gave me a small part of himself; my guess was to form some sort of trust between us.
If this man wanted me for what I thought he did, older would be the correct answer from what I was told; that horrible place had ceased to exist. So, his search must have started a while ago.
“Does it make you feel powerful to have people cower at your feet?” I bit out.
“What makes you say that?” he asked. I could feel his gaze, hot and penetrating, on my cheek. “For all you know, she could have been smiling.”
“Was she?”
My hands started to move around the table. I could smell food, and I didn’t think the asshole next to me was going to help me.
“No, but that is not because of me,” he replied.
He didn’t say more, but I heard a few things being dragged across the table and positioned in front of me.
“Here,” he told me as he took hold of my right hand. The moment he did, I felt a zing of electricity run through me. I pulled my hand back as if he had burned me.
I could hear his intake of breath, and I wondered if he had felt it too.
“Don’t touch me,” I hissed.
“So if you’re going to fall, just let it happen? Noted,” he mocked darkly.
This time, my hand wrapped around a warm cup. With both hands, I brought it close to my nose. I could smell the caffeine goodness, and my mouth watered. I didn’t have anything I particularly wanted, but the smell of coffee had always reminded me of happier times. And happier times always made my heart ache.
“I wouldn’t be any use for you dead now, would I?” I countered after that first sip. “You did not ask for me out of the goodness of your heart. You asked for me because you are looking for someone or something…”
I let my words trail off into the air.
He didn’t speak, but I could hear him shifting his weight.
“You would be no use to me dead at all. After all, I’ve been waiting a long time.”
3
LUKE
Some people were quick to shed their sins like a snake. It came quicker for some than others, but at the end of the day, they left them behind, forgetting all about them. Some knelt and prayed every day, lying to themselves that they had come to the point where they were finally free of their sins. As if they had not already tainted their souls. Too bad for me, my sins never left me alone. They stared at me from every single mirror I came in contact with—silent but always judging.
