Lyri
06-10-2005, 08:35 AM
“Pivot, one, two, three. One, two, three. Down and up. No, Margaret!” Rose Willis buried her head in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the dance studio to where her pupils were lined up in their formation. She put a hand on Margaret’s waist and her other flat against the girls spine, forcing her back straight. “You need to keep your back straight, Margaret. Your posture needs to be perfect, otherwise you’ll lose your balance in the turns.” Rose backed away and the girl remained in her position, although her face had turned a warm shade of pink.
Rose realized she had embarrassed the girl. The instructor moved to another girl. “Keep your chin up Violet. Don’t look at the floor.” Violet smiled.
“Again.” Rose stepped back and watched as the eight girls launched into their routine again.
Opening night was in less than three days, and this number was less than perfect.
Rose had only a few more hours to rehearse with this team. She had so much more to organize. The other dancers, other numbers, the costumes, the music.
Not to mention her other job.
Watching the girls move and pirouette across the floor in front of her, Rose glanced at the clock.
It was almost seven.
She clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies. I think that’s enough for today!”
The girls immediately stopped their routine. Margaret even collapsed onto the floor.
Rose could only laugh. She knew her girls were working hard, they always did. “We shall meet back here tomorrow at three o’clock sharp. And don’t forget, you must practice! We don’t have much time left.”
The girls all nodded and grumbled as they picked up their belongings and left.
All but one.
Rose closed and bolted the door of the dance studio and turned back to the one remaining girl.
Violet Matthews was sitting against a wall, her legs spread out before her, ankles crossed.
“Thank Heavens for that,” Rose said; she kicked off her silver high heeled dance shoes. “My feet are numb.” Her American accent had completely disappeared, replaced by a think west London lilt.
Violet giggled. 2i still don’t understand why you can’t tell people you’re English.”
Rose gave her a withered look as she crossed to the mirrored wall along one side of the dance studio. “Do you really expect these girls to be taught dance by an English woman? No one in America would accept it, especially not in Chicago. And are there no chairs for you to sit on?”
“’A Slayer must rest wherever she can’,” Violet recited.
Rose smiled as she hit the concealed button in the floor with her toe. “It is nice to see you are finally listening to me.”
“There’s only one problem with that. I’m not the Slayer yet. I might not be the Slayer at all.” Violet climbed to her feet. “I’m a little old to be Called now, don’t you think?”
The Watcher stepped back as the mirrored wall separated and swung open, revealing the hidden training room beyond. Rose looked over her shoulder at her young charge. “You are never too old to be Called, Violet. You will be a Potential until the Council sees fit to remove that title from you. But you will continue to train until that day arrives. Now, come along.” Rose entered the training room with Violet on her heels
“Why do I have to train straight after dance practice?” Violet asked, hanging her purse on a hook just inside the door, and removing her shoes, just like Rose had done, but replacing them with flat, black slippers.
“Because a demon or vampire will not give you time to rest,” Rose answered, picking up a quarterstaff. “So shy should I?”
Violet glared. “I still don’t think it’s very fair. I’m sure other Potentials don’t have to do this.” She started her stretches.
“Other Potentials do not want to be dancers, Violet,” Rose reminded. “And if the Council ever finds out that I am allowing you to dance, never mind that I am the one teaching you and the rest of these girls, there will be hell to pay.”
“Is it really so wrong to want to be something other than the Slayer?” Violet asked.
“The Council prefers it if our Slayers and Potentials have contact with no one but her Watcher,” Rose explained. “But I would find that extremely tedious, as I’m sure you would.”
Violet nodded. “I don’t know how other Slayers do it. Did it?” she shrugged, unsure of the correct tense. The Potential rolled her neck in a slow circle. “Okay, I’m ready. What are we going to do today?”
Rose passed her charge the quarterstaff. Violet frowned. “WE already practiced with the quarterstaff this month.”
“You’ve done everything, Ms. Matthews,” Rose exasperated. “But we must still maintain the level of training and fitness that is expected of you, and of the Slayer. As I have said before, you might yet be Called.”
Violet spread her feet apart, bending her knees, dropping into the fighter’s stance Rose had first taught her six years ago, when the Watcher had first taken the little girl to train in the event that she might be Called as the Chosen One.
“But Neela has only been the Slayer for a few months,” Violet reminded. “Surely she has a long life ahead of her?”
Rose whirled and struck out with another quarterstaff.
Violet expertly blocked the attack.
“The life of a Slayer is short. Sometimes incredibly short.”
“But you would still expect Neela to remain as the Slayer for at least another year or so?” Violet blocked another blow.
But at her words, Rose lowered her weapon. “Violet, what is going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Violet nodded reluctantly and loot at her feet. “Yes,” the training Slayer said, barley more than a whisper. “I want to go to a dance academy.”
Rose froze. She had heard about the schools for young dancers, they were popping up al over the country. Anyone who wanted who was involved with dance had heard of them, professional tutors, teaching pupils the art of dance, far more than Rose herself could even hope to teach.
“An academy? But, why?”
“Because I am a dancer,” Violet insisted. “And if I want to become professional enough to star on Broadway, then I must have the proper instruction. The academy in Chicago has some of the best teachers in the country.” She took a deep breath. “There was an instructor here to see one of the other girls. She said I had talent.”
Rose was dumbstruck, “An instructor? When?”
“A month ago. When you were in England at the Council meeting.”
Rose remembered the meeting. It was a progress report. All Watchers of a Potential had been asked to return to the Council Headquarters and report on his or her girl.
Rose and Violet had come out of it quite well.
When she had returned, neither Violet, nor any of the other girls had ever mentioned anything about a dance tutor.
“I gave her my address and she sent me an application for an audition,” Violet went on. “It’s in three weeks.”
“Violet, this is highly irregular. There has never been a Slayer at a performing arts school before.”
“Rose, I am seventeen years old. When the year starts at the dance school, I’ll be eighteen. The Power that Be will have already over looked me. There has never been a Slayer Called after her eighteenth birthday, why should they make an exception for me?”
Rose sighed. “I really don’t know what to say to this. I am your Watcher, Violet, but I am also your dance teacher and your legal guardian. I can only do what is in your best interests.” She set down her quarterstaff. “And you are right. It is very rare for a Slayer to be Chosen after her eighteenth birthday.”
Violet beamed. “So I can apply for an audition?”
Rose nodded. “Once the show had closed, we’ll start preparing you for your audition.”
Violet giggled like a little girls and raced across the room to embrace her Watcher.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
Rose nodded. “yes, yes, you’re welcome. Now, training.”
She picked up her quarterstaff and lunged.
Six days had past and the show had been open for three days, with ten left to run.
Violet and the rest of her dance line buzzed backstage, changing into costumes, fixing their hair, applying makeup.
Margaret was in the corner, going over her steps. She had slipped the previous night, lost her footing, and almost fell, before she had regained her balance and found her way back into the rhythm. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
Violet sat with her back to the mirror, already dressed in her costume, her hair fixed and makeup applied.
She was nervous, she had never been nervous before.
She could hear the band and the dancers on stage, the first line up of the night. Violet and the rest of the girls were due on stage in less than fifteen minutes.
But for some reason, Violet couldn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach.
The rest of the girls were fussing around her, getting ready to go out on stage.
Violet couldn’t even think of the steps.
A man passed by her, someone she had never seen before. He wasn’t a dancer, or a teacher, to one of the backstage handlers.
Violet watched as he headed across the crowded dressing room, heading in Margaret’s direction.
The girl smiled when she saw him coming and ran to him, allowing him to sweep her up into his arms.
They’re sweeties, Violet realized. He’s come to wish her good luck.
She tried to remember if she had seen him there the previous nights, but any hopes of remembering were forgotten as her line up was called to the stage.
Sucking in a breath, Violet stuck a stray strand of hair into a pin and stood up.
She followed the rest of the girls to the stage.
As the girls waited for their cue, Violet tried to find her Watcher. But Rose wasn’t in her usual spot by the side of the stage. Violet couldn’t see her anywhere.
The music started and the girls launched into the steps they had been learning for weeks, twisting and turning and moving to the beat.
But after the first few steps, Violet froze. She couldn’t remember the moves. Her mind was completely blank.
She stood in the centre of the stage, looking out at the audience beyond the lights.
Violet’s head began to swim, her vision blurred before her eyes.
One of the other girls bumped into her and Violet reeled from the impact. She felt her knees grow weak.
“Rose?” she pleaded.
Right before she collapsed.
Rose sat in the second row of the audience and watched her girls come out onto the stage.
They waited for the music to start, then began their routine.
From the first step, Rose knew that there was something wrong.
Her Potential seemed confused. Violet worked through the steps like she was drill marching. She wasn’t in time with the beat and she didn’t look like she was enjoying herself like the rest of the girls.
Rose grew even more concerned when Violet stopped dancing altogether. The girl looked around at her fellow dancers, as if she wasn’t certain what she was doing, or what the steps were.
“Violet?” Rose said as she got out of her chair.
She excused herself from the row, trying to get closer to the stage.
Rose watched as one of the other girls, Ruth, bumped into her girl.
That seemed to be the final blow.
Before Rose reached the stage, she saw Violet’s lips speak her name, before the Potential fell to the floor of the stage.
Her knees seemed to buckle as they lost their balance.
“Violet!” Rose screamed, her accent completely forgotten.
Before Violet would have fallen face first onto the floor, she saved herself with her hands, palms out flat, elbows locked.
As Rose reached the stage, she never took her eyes off the girl. Violet never moved, not an inch. She sat there, bracing herself with her hands, head bowed.
The other girls had stopped dancing to stare, the band had stopped playing and the audience was mumbling amongst themselves.
“Violet?” Rose finally reached the stage, just as one of the backstage hands lifted Violet in his arms and carried her off the stage.
“Put in one of the understudies,” Rose ordered as she followed the stage hand. “Tell the band to start playing again.” The stage manager nodded and rushed to carry out the instructions.
The stage hand sat Violet in a chair and stepped back.
“She ain’t pregnant is she?” he asked.
Rose scowled at him. “No, she most certainly is not. But thank you for your help, James.”
James nodded and took one last look at Violet before turning to leave.
She was still sitting as still as a statue, looking at the floor.
Rose crouched in front of her.
“Violet?”
Her breathing was shallow, but she managed to speak. One word past her lips. “Neela.”
Rose paled. “Neela?” she put her hands on Violet’s knees. Violet, what’s wrong? Has something happened? Tel me.”
Still, Violet didn’t move for at least another minute. Finally she looked up into Rose’s eyes.
And bolted from her chair.
“Violet!” Rose yelled and ran after her.
But the girl was fast. She wove through the back stage area, dodging obstacles until Rose heard the stage door bang open.
By the time the Watcher reached the door, her charge was already half way down the ally.
Rose stood and watched as violet searched the dark ally. Almost as if she was looking for something.
Her dress was billowing about her in the strong breeze, making her silhouette looking as thought it was alive, a separate entity. Rose was about to go after her girl, when violet stopped, frozen, the only thing continuing to move was her dress in the wind.
Frowning, Rose descended the steps into the ally proper, just in time to see Violet lift her left leg and let it fly out in a lethal side kick.
Rose heard the sound of Violet’s dance shoe crack against something.
That something grunted with pain, before snarling in anger.
The vampire came out of the shadows and Violet fell into a fighting stance. They circled each other until the vampire lunged.
Rose was about to scream, but Violet was out of the way before the word even reached the Watcher’s lips. The teenager moved so fast that rose was barely able to follow.
Violet danced out of the vampire’s way, and arched her leg into a roundhouse kick that caught the vampire across the jaw.
Rose recognized the vampire as the man who came to see Margaret earlier in the night.
Violet followed up with a snap kick to the gut and a left right combination that left the vampire reeling.
Executing a cartwheel, Violet grabbed hold of an old wooden chair leg that was lying on the ally floor. As the vampire growled and came at her again, Violet pirouetted and slammed the stake through his chest.
The girl stood back and watched as the demon disintegrated before turning on her heel and walking back to her Watcher.
“The Slayer,” Rose gasped.
Violet smiled. “Present.” She smiled faltered. “Neela’s dead, and I’ve been Called. Never thought it could happen to me.”
“This is a big change, Violet,” Rose warned. “It will take a lot of getting used to. We’ll have to step up your training, of course.”
Violet turned to her Watcher with a twinkle in her eyes.
“I guess I’m not going to the dance academy.”
They laughed.
The End*
Rose realized she had embarrassed the girl. The instructor moved to another girl. “Keep your chin up Violet. Don’t look at the floor.” Violet smiled.
“Again.” Rose stepped back and watched as the eight girls launched into their routine again.
Opening night was in less than three days, and this number was less than perfect.
Rose had only a few more hours to rehearse with this team. She had so much more to organize. The other dancers, other numbers, the costumes, the music.
Not to mention her other job.
Watching the girls move and pirouette across the floor in front of her, Rose glanced at the clock.
It was almost seven.
She clapped her hands. “Okay, ladies. I think that’s enough for today!”
The girls immediately stopped their routine. Margaret even collapsed onto the floor.
Rose could only laugh. She knew her girls were working hard, they always did. “We shall meet back here tomorrow at three o’clock sharp. And don’t forget, you must practice! We don’t have much time left.”
The girls all nodded and grumbled as they picked up their belongings and left.
All but one.
Rose closed and bolted the door of the dance studio and turned back to the one remaining girl.
Violet Matthews was sitting against a wall, her legs spread out before her, ankles crossed.
“Thank Heavens for that,” Rose said; she kicked off her silver high heeled dance shoes. “My feet are numb.” Her American accent had completely disappeared, replaced by a think west London lilt.
Violet giggled. 2i still don’t understand why you can’t tell people you’re English.”
Rose gave her a withered look as she crossed to the mirrored wall along one side of the dance studio. “Do you really expect these girls to be taught dance by an English woman? No one in America would accept it, especially not in Chicago. And are there no chairs for you to sit on?”
“’A Slayer must rest wherever she can’,” Violet recited.
Rose smiled as she hit the concealed button in the floor with her toe. “It is nice to see you are finally listening to me.”
“There’s only one problem with that. I’m not the Slayer yet. I might not be the Slayer at all.” Violet climbed to her feet. “I’m a little old to be Called now, don’t you think?”
The Watcher stepped back as the mirrored wall separated and swung open, revealing the hidden training room beyond. Rose looked over her shoulder at her young charge. “You are never too old to be Called, Violet. You will be a Potential until the Council sees fit to remove that title from you. But you will continue to train until that day arrives. Now, come along.” Rose entered the training room with Violet on her heels
“Why do I have to train straight after dance practice?” Violet asked, hanging her purse on a hook just inside the door, and removing her shoes, just like Rose had done, but replacing them with flat, black slippers.
“Because a demon or vampire will not give you time to rest,” Rose answered, picking up a quarterstaff. “So shy should I?”
Violet glared. “I still don’t think it’s very fair. I’m sure other Potentials don’t have to do this.” She started her stretches.
“Other Potentials do not want to be dancers, Violet,” Rose reminded. “And if the Council ever finds out that I am allowing you to dance, never mind that I am the one teaching you and the rest of these girls, there will be hell to pay.”
“Is it really so wrong to want to be something other than the Slayer?” Violet asked.
“The Council prefers it if our Slayers and Potentials have contact with no one but her Watcher,” Rose explained. “But I would find that extremely tedious, as I’m sure you would.”
Violet nodded. “I don’t know how other Slayers do it. Did it?” she shrugged, unsure of the correct tense. The Potential rolled her neck in a slow circle. “Okay, I’m ready. What are we going to do today?”
Rose passed her charge the quarterstaff. Violet frowned. “WE already practiced with the quarterstaff this month.”
“You’ve done everything, Ms. Matthews,” Rose exasperated. “But we must still maintain the level of training and fitness that is expected of you, and of the Slayer. As I have said before, you might yet be Called.”
Violet spread her feet apart, bending her knees, dropping into the fighter’s stance Rose had first taught her six years ago, when the Watcher had first taken the little girl to train in the event that she might be Called as the Chosen One.
“But Neela has only been the Slayer for a few months,” Violet reminded. “Surely she has a long life ahead of her?”
Rose whirled and struck out with another quarterstaff.
Violet expertly blocked the attack.
“The life of a Slayer is short. Sometimes incredibly short.”
“But you would still expect Neela to remain as the Slayer for at least another year or so?” Violet blocked another blow.
But at her words, Rose lowered her weapon. “Violet, what is going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Violet nodded reluctantly and loot at her feet. “Yes,” the training Slayer said, barley more than a whisper. “I want to go to a dance academy.”
Rose froze. She had heard about the schools for young dancers, they were popping up al over the country. Anyone who wanted who was involved with dance had heard of them, professional tutors, teaching pupils the art of dance, far more than Rose herself could even hope to teach.
“An academy? But, why?”
“Because I am a dancer,” Violet insisted. “And if I want to become professional enough to star on Broadway, then I must have the proper instruction. The academy in Chicago has some of the best teachers in the country.” She took a deep breath. “There was an instructor here to see one of the other girls. She said I had talent.”
Rose was dumbstruck, “An instructor? When?”
“A month ago. When you were in England at the Council meeting.”
Rose remembered the meeting. It was a progress report. All Watchers of a Potential had been asked to return to the Council Headquarters and report on his or her girl.
Rose and Violet had come out of it quite well.
When she had returned, neither Violet, nor any of the other girls had ever mentioned anything about a dance tutor.
“I gave her my address and she sent me an application for an audition,” Violet went on. “It’s in three weeks.”
“Violet, this is highly irregular. There has never been a Slayer at a performing arts school before.”
“Rose, I am seventeen years old. When the year starts at the dance school, I’ll be eighteen. The Power that Be will have already over looked me. There has never been a Slayer Called after her eighteenth birthday, why should they make an exception for me?”
Rose sighed. “I really don’t know what to say to this. I am your Watcher, Violet, but I am also your dance teacher and your legal guardian. I can only do what is in your best interests.” She set down her quarterstaff. “And you are right. It is very rare for a Slayer to be Chosen after her eighteenth birthday.”
Violet beamed. “So I can apply for an audition?”
Rose nodded. “Once the show had closed, we’ll start preparing you for your audition.”
Violet giggled like a little girls and raced across the room to embrace her Watcher.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
Rose nodded. “yes, yes, you’re welcome. Now, training.”
She picked up her quarterstaff and lunged.
Six days had past and the show had been open for three days, with ten left to run.
Violet and the rest of her dance line buzzed backstage, changing into costumes, fixing their hair, applying makeup.
Margaret was in the corner, going over her steps. She had slipped the previous night, lost her footing, and almost fell, before she had regained her balance and found her way back into the rhythm. She didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
Violet sat with her back to the mirror, already dressed in her costume, her hair fixed and makeup applied.
She was nervous, she had never been nervous before.
She could hear the band and the dancers on stage, the first line up of the night. Violet and the rest of the girls were due on stage in less than fifteen minutes.
But for some reason, Violet couldn’t stop the butterflies in her stomach.
The rest of the girls were fussing around her, getting ready to go out on stage.
Violet couldn’t even think of the steps.
A man passed by her, someone she had never seen before. He wasn’t a dancer, or a teacher, to one of the backstage handlers.
Violet watched as he headed across the crowded dressing room, heading in Margaret’s direction.
The girl smiled when she saw him coming and ran to him, allowing him to sweep her up into his arms.
They’re sweeties, Violet realized. He’s come to wish her good luck.
She tried to remember if she had seen him there the previous nights, but any hopes of remembering were forgotten as her line up was called to the stage.
Sucking in a breath, Violet stuck a stray strand of hair into a pin and stood up.
She followed the rest of the girls to the stage.
As the girls waited for their cue, Violet tried to find her Watcher. But Rose wasn’t in her usual spot by the side of the stage. Violet couldn’t see her anywhere.
The music started and the girls launched into the steps they had been learning for weeks, twisting and turning and moving to the beat.
But after the first few steps, Violet froze. She couldn’t remember the moves. Her mind was completely blank.
She stood in the centre of the stage, looking out at the audience beyond the lights.
Violet’s head began to swim, her vision blurred before her eyes.
One of the other girls bumped into her and Violet reeled from the impact. She felt her knees grow weak.
“Rose?” she pleaded.
Right before she collapsed.
Rose sat in the second row of the audience and watched her girls come out onto the stage.
They waited for the music to start, then began their routine.
From the first step, Rose knew that there was something wrong.
Her Potential seemed confused. Violet worked through the steps like she was drill marching. She wasn’t in time with the beat and she didn’t look like she was enjoying herself like the rest of the girls.
Rose grew even more concerned when Violet stopped dancing altogether. The girl looked around at her fellow dancers, as if she wasn’t certain what she was doing, or what the steps were.
“Violet?” Rose said as she got out of her chair.
She excused herself from the row, trying to get closer to the stage.
Rose watched as one of the other girls, Ruth, bumped into her girl.
That seemed to be the final blow.
Before Rose reached the stage, she saw Violet’s lips speak her name, before the Potential fell to the floor of the stage.
Her knees seemed to buckle as they lost their balance.
“Violet!” Rose screamed, her accent completely forgotten.
Before Violet would have fallen face first onto the floor, she saved herself with her hands, palms out flat, elbows locked.
As Rose reached the stage, she never took her eyes off the girl. Violet never moved, not an inch. She sat there, bracing herself with her hands, head bowed.
The other girls had stopped dancing to stare, the band had stopped playing and the audience was mumbling amongst themselves.
“Violet?” Rose finally reached the stage, just as one of the backstage hands lifted Violet in his arms and carried her off the stage.
“Put in one of the understudies,” Rose ordered as she followed the stage hand. “Tell the band to start playing again.” The stage manager nodded and rushed to carry out the instructions.
The stage hand sat Violet in a chair and stepped back.
“She ain’t pregnant is she?” he asked.
Rose scowled at him. “No, she most certainly is not. But thank you for your help, James.”
James nodded and took one last look at Violet before turning to leave.
She was still sitting as still as a statue, looking at the floor.
Rose crouched in front of her.
“Violet?”
Her breathing was shallow, but she managed to speak. One word past her lips. “Neela.”
Rose paled. “Neela?” she put her hands on Violet’s knees. Violet, what’s wrong? Has something happened? Tel me.”
Still, Violet didn’t move for at least another minute. Finally she looked up into Rose’s eyes.
And bolted from her chair.
“Violet!” Rose yelled and ran after her.
But the girl was fast. She wove through the back stage area, dodging obstacles until Rose heard the stage door bang open.
By the time the Watcher reached the door, her charge was already half way down the ally.
Rose stood and watched as violet searched the dark ally. Almost as if she was looking for something.
Her dress was billowing about her in the strong breeze, making her silhouette looking as thought it was alive, a separate entity. Rose was about to go after her girl, when violet stopped, frozen, the only thing continuing to move was her dress in the wind.
Frowning, Rose descended the steps into the ally proper, just in time to see Violet lift her left leg and let it fly out in a lethal side kick.
Rose heard the sound of Violet’s dance shoe crack against something.
That something grunted with pain, before snarling in anger.
The vampire came out of the shadows and Violet fell into a fighting stance. They circled each other until the vampire lunged.
Rose was about to scream, but Violet was out of the way before the word even reached the Watcher’s lips. The teenager moved so fast that rose was barely able to follow.
Violet danced out of the vampire’s way, and arched her leg into a roundhouse kick that caught the vampire across the jaw.
Rose recognized the vampire as the man who came to see Margaret earlier in the night.
Violet followed up with a snap kick to the gut and a left right combination that left the vampire reeling.
Executing a cartwheel, Violet grabbed hold of an old wooden chair leg that was lying on the ally floor. As the vampire growled and came at her again, Violet pirouetted and slammed the stake through his chest.
The girl stood back and watched as the demon disintegrated before turning on her heel and walking back to her Watcher.
“The Slayer,” Rose gasped.
Violet smiled. “Present.” She smiled faltered. “Neela’s dead, and I’ve been Called. Never thought it could happen to me.”
“This is a big change, Violet,” Rose warned. “It will take a lot of getting used to. We’ll have to step up your training, of course.”
Violet turned to her Watcher with a twinkle in her eyes.
“I guess I’m not going to the dance academy.”
They laughed.
The End*