Page 79 of Dance with the Devil

I found one. It’s a small theater in Springfield, and they’re putting on a month-long show ofRomeo and Julietin the new year. In so many ways, it’s the perfect opportunity for Genevieve to dance professionally again, after she couldn’t reschedule the meeting she was supposed to have the day after the fire.

She was so disappointed to miss out on Riverside’s Christmas ballet, but if she can get a lead part inRomeo and Juliet…

Another snort. “I’m sure you could. Now, go. The longer you distract me, the longer until I’m ready to let you in.”

“I’ll be down here, so just shout when you are.”

“Will do!”

Genevieve’s private dance studio is at the back of the first floor. Down the hall, past the bathroom, there’s another door that separates my studio from her half. I open it, and because I closed my shop up for the night earlier, I don’t bother closing it so that I can hear Genevieve when she calls for me.

Instead, I sit down at my desk, anxiously tapping my fingertips against the top. Normally, I would reach for my iPad or a notebook or something to distract myself with, but since I don’t want to gettoodistracted in case I miss it when Genevieve is ready to invite me into her studio, I pull open my drawer instead.

And there it is.

I take out the tiny crystalline figure, holding it lightly between both my pointer fingers and my thumbs. It’s about an inch or so high, and depending which way I turn it, the colors shift from different shades of purples and pinks.

I know what it is, too. It’s a hummingbird. One of those small birds with the fast wings and a long needle-like beak. I know what it is… I’m just not sure what it was doing in my old studio.

To make it even more mysterious, after the arson investigators came and combed through the ashes of Sinners & Saints—paired up with two guys in Rolls’s clean-up crew—this was one of the only things that survived the heat of the blast on the ground floor.

It’s a trinket. Cheap. It should’ve imploded in the flames, and the reason it didn’t… the reason why I’m staring at it now, trying to make sense of it… is because of how it was found. Tucked just inside my studio, positioned in a fireproof box that definitely wasn’t mine, both Rolls and Devil came to the consensus that whoever poured the gasoline and lit my place on fire left the box behind for someone to find.

As if we had any doubts, the arson investigators confirmed Mickey’s babbling confession. That fire was set to kill, and since someone—and odds are it’s the same someone—glued my window shut so that I couldn’t use the fire escape, it’s pretty obvious that I was the intended victim even without Mickey’s gloating before I took care of him.

So what’s up with the hummingbird? After Rolls had a couple of guys sweep through my old place to make sure they recovered anything I might need, they recovered the small fireproof box and that was about it. I didn’t recognize it, but I took it—then almost immediately forgot about it.

Can you blame me? In the same night, I was technically jobless, homeless, and terrified that Genevieve would realize that choosing me as her partner would only put her inmoredanger. The fire triggered my childhood trauma, and though I’ve accepted I’ll never be free of it—or ever get over surviving when my family didn’t—it was a bit of a blessing, finally killing off the ghost of my stepfather at the same time as I strangled Mickey.

That was three months ago. Since then, things have completely turned around.

As his way of showing he accepts our relationship, Damien bought Genevieve the narrow, two-floor house that she accepted as a space of her own. It’s a toe over the line into Dragonfly territory, but as long as I can ride my bike over to the Playground and get there in no time, Devil was gracious enough to look the other way when it came to one of his top Sinners shacking up with a Dragonfly.

And if anyone thinks that Devil’s gone soft since becoming a girl dad? Just think about what he did to Dave—and what he plans to do to Johnny Winter once he gets his hands on him—and you won’t have to worry about the Devil of Springfield losing his edge anytime soon.

But the hummingbird…

Someone went through a lot of trouble to plant the figure in a fireproof box so that, after my old place burned down, it would still be there for someone to locate. Obviously, that someone wasn’t meant to beme,but because it was my shop, Devil decided to give the box to me without even opening it first.

I didn’t want it. It was Genevieve who took it, and though I spent a few nights on Rolls’s couch because Damien has his limits—and letting his baby sister’s lover stay in the manor, plowing her under his roof was definitely one of them—until Genevieve threatened to go no-contact with him if he didn’t let her come stay with me, I wasn’t sure what ended up happening to it.

Once the initial furor over the fire died down, Devil arranged for Genevieve and me to spend a few weeks in a Sinners-owned hotel on the West End, all while Damien pushed his people to get our joint studios completed. We eventually moved in about a week ago, and as Damien’s Dragonflies—led by Genevieve’s scowly cousin, Vincent—moved her entire wardrobe into ourrooms upstairs, she handed me the fireproof box and told me to open it when I felt ready to.

Because it was important to her, I used a pair of scissors to jimmy it open. Neither one of us could understand what the significance behind the hummingbird was, but I told Rolls and she told her brother, just in case.

That was supposed to be the end of it. Still, barely a week later, I can’t keep myself from taking it out, looking it over, and wondering why it’s so damn important?—

“Babe? I’m ready.”

I palm the hummingbird, then place it securely back into the open drawer so that I don’t accidentally smash it. Later, I tell myself. I’ll figure out the mystery of the hummingbird later.

Rising up, I use my hip to bump the drawer closed. “Coming.”

Well, no. That would be great if I was, but since Genevieve made it quite clear that she needs to concentrate on her big audition tomorrow, and it’ll be impossible for her to do that if I get her under me, I won’t be coming tonight.

Damn it.

I swear, though, that woman is more than just my addiction. She’s the air that I breathe, the rhythm of my heart beating, the fire that keeps me going. I went years in between finding someone to lose myself into before forgetting about them once I finished, but since that night outside of the Playground, I consider it time wasted if I don’t have her snug pussy wrapped around my cock at least once a day.

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