C H A P T E R • E L E V E N

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APPLE FESTIVAL DAY THREE. PART TWO.


A MONSTROUS MASS OF CROWS FLOCKED OVER THE CRIMSON BLOOD MOON AND MENACING THUNDER CLOUDS ACTING AS A LUCID WARNING.  Gola needed no warning, she knew of the danger lurking in the shadows and the vicious risk hanging in the raw air. He'd started this game and she'd end it before it ended her.

"Vote for me!" A raven headed girl cheered, handing Gola her informational card and a adorable sheet of cartoon stickers.

She nodded but unconsciously put both the card and sticker sheet in the next trash can she saw. Lamely the  stickers would have impressed her had it been any other time. As she was in fact obsessed with cute stickers. But this wasn't any other time. There wasn't any time for such trivial things. This was the time for the truth.

The truth was lives were on the line and she was running out of time.

Truth was the shadow demon was growing impatient.

Slightly shivering, Gola weaved through the packed Apple festival crowd, trudging silently until she reached the local opera house at the edge of the festival. Yona and her fellow dance mates will be performing  for the city tonight. All while she'd be back stage mending damaged costumes and adding last minute embellishments. Not only was a foreign prince and the mayor attending but most importantly Dean would be watching as well.

Gola wanted to make sure the costumes she'd hand sewn outshined the dancers. She hadn't any idea when Dean would be able to witness her or Yona's art additionally. God knows it took him over six  months to get enough time off work and sylvia to come see this show. 

Backstage chaos ruthlessly ruled. Dancers scrambled to dress and apply makeup, stretched, prayed, practiced then practiced some more. Mrs. Valkov reigned as absolute sovereign in the madness. vibrant as she managed to insult one dancers technique, label another overweight and nag Gola for not being able to tend to several costumes at once all within mere moments.

Though to a lesser extent than Valkov, Gola delighted in havoc. flourished even. Disorder had been a constant in her life and now it was the only way she could be. The only way she could breath.

"Show time girls! show time! Will first division take their places?" Artistic, fanatical Mrs. Valkov hollered, herding the youthful ballerina's into place behind the thick  scarlet velvet curtains. Her strident heels clicking against the hard floor shattering the dense silence between young womens deep shaky breaths. "Places! everyone places! Yona, Clara, Kennedy, Mickayla, America, Prue places!

As Valkov called their names they all briskly took the stage striking graceful poses.

"It begins." Mrs. Valkov whispered mostly to herself, her slightly wrinkled hands pressed so tightly together her already pale knuckles manifested white. "It begins!"

The dancers here, her little ballerinas weren't nearly as brilliant as the ones back in Russia, not a pinch as gifted as her. As she had been. When she was their age she'd starred in her very own show. People traveled from all over Russia, from all over Europe to catch a glimpse of her elegantly fluttering across the stage. She'd once been known as 'the little gem of moscow.' Treasured for her unmatched flair and beauty.  Regarded as a Princess and she earned every bit of it.

Mrs valkov had sacrificed much of herself to be a dancer. Emerged her soul into the fire and ignited the stage. Yes, her little ballerina's lacked artistic genius, tempo and strict principle but they weren't starved of the vigorous flame. A fond frenzy she'd feed them herself.

"Where is prue?" Clara, suddenly noticed the absence of the strawberry blonde.

Panic wrenched Mrs. Valkov's heart into her stomach. "Where is prue?!"

Every soul back stage frantically sought after the absent young teen. Prue swan was nowhere to be found. A whisper of a ghost. The curtain rose in less than five minutes.

"She said she wasn't feeling very well the day before yesterday and she looked pretty bad." Nyx almost  whispered shyly, twisting her hands while she gazed at the floor.

"Why did you wait until now to mention this? I don't feel very well every time I look at you little graceless pieces of swine, doesn't mean I don't go on with the show! The show must go on!"  furious, frantic Mrs. Valkov raved. The appearance of betrayal staining her once magnificent face. "You, whatever your name is, do you know her part?"

Nyx disappointedly shook her head no, her eyes watering.

"So who does know the part? someone must."

No one knew her part. Silently, Dancers shifted their glances uneasily in somewhat shame. They'd had less than two weeks to learn their new  parts for the big performance, less than two weeks to reach Mrs. Valkovs unreachable vision of perfection. Slaving away with the burden of their own parts of the dances they'd not even considered learning another.

"Unbelievable!" Valkov exhaled an exasperated sigh.

"Gola knows her part well." Yona admitted, pointing to her little sister who had been snickering to herself in the dark corner at the back of the room.

In sync all eyes landed on the Gola.

"The help?" Clara inquired, perplexed at the idea.

"I'll allow it. The show must go on! what are you waiting on you wretched girl? prepare this instant! The show must go on!"

That instant Gola was thrown into one of the tulle and silk embroidered costumes she'd sewn, her hair decorated with jewels and a snow hued feathery crown, her face layered in paints and makeup.

Everything was wrong.

Prue was missing without a trace. she'd never miss a dance because she 'wasn't feeling very well', she'd danced on a wounded leg, while under with the flu and even when her parents were killed. Taking her solo was wrong.

The curtains opened. An ocean of crimson eyes peered back at Gola. Tonight her and the devil would dance.

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