Home > Beautiful Monster 2 (Beautiful Monster #2)(8)

Beautiful Monster 2 (Beautiful Monster #2)(8)
Author: Bella Forrest

She nodded, grabbing her suitcase again as I fit the key in the lock, and swung open her door. Identical to mine, with the makeup mirror and small dance floor, Sarah gasped.

“This is going to be amazing!”

I watched my best friend explore her room. I felt ecstatic. The final piece of the puzzle was in place. I was finally home.

Chapter 4: Liam

I had thought that I felt something odd when I shook Sarah’s hand, but I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Whatever it was, it was weak, untrained and unfocused. Judging by the way she dressed and what seemed like a strategic placing of piercings, I wondered if she was a witch, untrained and unknown. Witches were a lot more frequent than people realized, their bloodlines and powers easily transferred to other bodies. There had been fifteen original Witch families when they came into power nearly 2000 years ago, and God knows how many descendants since then.

I didn’t think this girl was out to do me any harm, however. Amy had known her half her life, and although she knew all about me and my kind, thanks to Amy, she had never been curious. Amy had told me she was mostly disbelieving, and it had taken a lot of convincing, so unless the girl was an actress all the time, even to her best friend, then she wasn’t aware she was a witch. We had a few of them at the school, diluted bloodlines of pupils who weren’t even aware of it. There was one in second grade, training to be a dancer, who didn’t know it was her powers that were making her jump higher than any of the other kids in her class. I didn’t feel the need to tell her. If the little girl could go through life blissfully unaware of a mythical existence, it would probably be for the better.

And so I forgot all about it, until the first week of classes. One of my dance teachers called me at 6 am, just as I was coming out of transformation, and begged me for a sick day. Without a substitute at the last minute, I moved some meetings around to be available to teach. It was an open dance class, meant for senior non-dancers who were taking it as part of a performance major. Amy and Sarah were both a part of the class, and when I texted my girlfriend in the morning, she texted back a smiley face and exclamation marks. Minutes later, a picture text arrived.

Opening it, my eyes nearly fell out of my head. It was Amy, clearly taken just a few seconds ago. She was wearing a dance leotard that I knew was not her own, fashionably shredded in the back, her hand on her hip and her body arched. She had clearly run next door to Sarah’s room, not that I was complaining. She looked stunning, every curve emphasized. Managing to pick my jaw off the ground, I sent her a quick message.

What would you wear if I wasn’t teaching?

A few minutes passed and then my phone beeped again. Amy in an oversized tee-shirt that came down to her knees.

I laughed, sending her back Love you. Despite barely returning to my human form, she always knew how to make me feel wonderful.

The dance class was the last class of the day, and with winter coming, darkness fell early. I had already planned to end the class fifteen minutes early, just in case I needed extra time to get out safely. But, as the day went on, the sun became obscured by rain clouds and the day grew grey and depressing. While it wasn’t true darkness my transformation would still be on time, as predicted. I always found dark days harder to deal with. I could often feel the twitch of the fangs in my mouth or the faint lust for blood. Nothing was terribly distracting, but it was there all day and it started to wear on me by day’s end.

When the time came, I made my way to the dance studio, already cursing the offending teacher for being late. I could dance, but it was more Broadway style than proper ballet. She had sent me a lesson plan that would be a group dance scene for Phantom of the Opera that everyone should know, whether they were cast as a lead or a chorus member. So I decided to show a video on the projector for the class.

Amy and Sarah were at the front, Amy in Sarah’s leotard. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her, and I knew I had to. Not that it was a secret anymore that we were together, but I still wanted to remain professional. I could smell her infected blood and it made me feel calm, the small cravings almost disappearing.

“Right. So Miss Nailer isn’t here today. She’s got a touch of a stomach bug, so I’m taking over. We’ll keep this relatively short and sweet.” I looked out over the students as they gathered around the projector. “This is going to be the Act 1 finale for Phantom of the Opera, which, for those of you living under a rock, is the year end show. It’s Masquerade, and you’re at a grand ball. You’re all going to be in it, presumably, even if you are cast as a lead, so there’s no reason not to learn it. I’m going to play it for you twice and then we’ll start going over it.”

I pressed play and let them watch, while I floated to the back of the class, trying to stop my fangs from twitching. One of the advantages of being immortal was that I didn’t have to take time to warm up and stretch. My muscles were always taut and ready to go.

I quite liked the choreography actually. I was a big fan of theater, but also a fan of modernity, and Miss Nailer had incorporated hip-hop and dance moves into it. It might make a few old people uncomfortable in their seats, but theater wasn’t for rich old fogies anymore.

Watching myself in the mirror, I moved through the steps that I remembered, my muscles snapping in perfect rhythm. Doing West End shows were some of the greatest memories I had of my career. When Amy had left to tour with Gatsby, I was almost jealous. It was a part of my life I would likely never have again, at least not for one hundred years, when everyone forgot my name and face. But she, she was just beginning, just starting to find out the real thrills of theater.

Dancing too, reminded me of Porsche, and I stopped before the memories got too intense. My beautiful ballerina, who would have probably stepped in to sub this dance class herself, was gone, and I had to stop thinking about her. A Shield would be so useful on a grey overcast day like this.

The class finished the video and clustered behind me, expecting me to lead them through the steps now. I could see Amy on my right side, her hair pulled up. She truly was the most stunning person in the room, her cheek bones angular and her eyes wide and full of emotions. I saw beautiful people on a regular basis, but the more I got to know Amy, the more I was attracted to her.

“Are we ready? One, two, three, four…” I counted them off and then we began.

For a group of non-dancers, they picked it up pretty fast. Mind you, it wasn’t complicated. It was meant to be taught to almost everybody. They ran into problems, however, during an eight step process when they had to partner up with each other and spin. After 3 failed attempts, I stopped them. Not wanting to play favorites, I called upon Sarah to join me at the front.

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