Page 9 of Nightmare's Dance

He backed up, keeping between me and whoever held a gun on him. I assumed it was a gun, anyway.

“Give me a reason not to shoot you, knight,” a voice said. “We don’t need you.”

No way. Not sure I comprehended what was going on, but pretty sure the guy meant they wanted me alive, I slipped around my knight and put myself in front of him.

“Ember,” he hissed, trying to shove me behind him.

Geraint was strong, but I was far from weak, and I refused to budge. Unless he was going to pick me up, I was staying in front.

“What do you want?” I shouted.

The man who’d questioned us earlier at the party stepped out from the shadows. The two men in front of him held guns pointed at us. There was something weird about the guns, but I couldn’t place what it was. All three of the men were entirely forgettable, especially in the uncertain lighting from the sparse illumination. Outside of vague impressions, I wouldn’t even be able to describe them later. It was almost like they were imperfect clones of each other.

“You both come with us. If you don’t resist, knight, you’ll be able to continue your duties. If you fight us, we’ll kill you and create another.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geraint said, but something about the tone of his musical lilt told me he knew exactly what these men referred to. I wasn’t sure if they’d pick up on it, but I knew Geraint. I thought I did, anyway.

The men shared a look, and a fourth joined them from the direction we’d come from. Though he looked very much like the other three, blood smeared his face.

“He certainly hits like a knight,” the man grumbled.

“Take them both. We’ll sort it out later,” the one that seemed to be in charge said. “If it’s not them, then we’ll keep looking and m’lord Baz will have more performers for his collection.” The words were bitter and not at all pleased.

Whoever this Baz was, clearly these men weren’t fans of his. The name tickled at my memory like a feather brushing at the back of my neck. I didn’t have time to chase the feeling, though. Geraint’s hands tightened on my arms, but there was nothing we could do against guns. I studied the weapons as they got closer, my vision narrowing until hands holding weapons were all I could focus on. Those seriously looked like ray guns from a seventies science-fiction show. Were we getting abducted by aliens? My sense of disconnect deepened. I didn’t know a lot about firearms, but I was pretty sure they didn’t make guns like that.

“You will come with us,” the in-charge clone said.

Geraint sighed and kissed the top of my head. “We don’t have an option right now.”

I nodded.

“Leave your things,” the man with the ray gun ordered.

My knight dropped our bags next to the driver’s side door of the van we’d not quite made it to.

“If you have those portable phone things, leave them,” the clone ordered.

Portable phone things? I knew he meant cell phones, but even someone who didn’t speak English as a first language would know what they were called.

Mine was already in my bag. Geraint dropped his into his duffle and zipped it closed.

We were so screwed.

One of the two not obviously armed men grabbed me and jerked me forward. The armed men trained their guns on Geraint. It was an effective deterrent. I didn’t want to get him shot, so I cooperated.

They dragged us back into the house by yet another side door. Maybe some sort of servant’s entrance because the hallway, while still nice, was much plainer than anywhere else we’d been in the large mansion. The guy jerked me into something that looked like a ballroom or some sort of dance hall with a large mirror on one side.

Geraint sighed in resignation, but I had no idea what the hell they thought they were going to do with us in here.

The in-charge clone walked up to the mirror, putting his hand on it, and muttered something under his breath that I swore sounded like “Bloody Mary.” He repeated the phrase three times.

I blinked, trying to wrap my mind around what new weird thing was happening, when something out of childhood nightmares and urban legend appeared in the mirror. White hair, sunken and glowing green eyes, high cheekbones, and lips pulled back in a desiccated grimace, revealing decaying teeth. The woman in the mirror wore a white dress and the hands she lifted were little more than skin-covered bones.

Whimpering, I glanced behind me, but no one fitting that description stood in the hall with us. No. This apparition only existed in the mirror.

“What the fuck?” I breathed.

“To the palace,” the head clone said, sounding urgent and yet bored at the same time.

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