A Dance with Darkness: An Angelfire Novella (HarperTeen Impulse) Read Free

FOR ME TO ARRIVE AT Lockmoore Castle in a carriage. I preferred to sneak my way in through a servants’ entrance or a hidden passageway, but Nathaniel was sure I’d be detected. Better I waltz in as if I’d been invited, but not attract attention. Blend in. The demonic in attendance would be less suspicious of me if they saw me arrive rather than appear out of nowhere. They would know I was a reaper, but if I kept to myself, no one should be alerted of my more celestial heritage.
    The swing of the horses’ gaits pulling the carriage along gave me something to focus on so I wouldn’t work myself into a panic. I was stepping barefoot into the vipers’ den. But if I succeeded in deciphering the motives of the demonic, then we could run them out of town, or more preferably wipe them out. But as my driver pulled into the path leading up to the house and I spied the vast numbers of the demonic elite filing into the castle entrance, my nerves tightened and my heartbeat raced. I drew a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs until they could stretch no more, and I held it, prolonging the moment when I’d have to let it all go and abandon the safety of the carriage.
    I still held my breath as we rolled to a stop and my driver hopped down from his perch, his boots padding softly on the well-trod dirt. He lifted the latch on the door and swung it open to let the fresh air, voices, and music rush into me. He lifted a hand to mine to help me down the unsteady carriage steps to the ground. I lifted my skirts—made of a deep violet brocade threaded with silvery green detail—as I walked, and then let them trail behind me as I continued up to the castle. My mask, simple with violet plumage and the same silvery green thread, concealed most of my face and would hopefully prevent me from being recognized. My dark hair was braided and knotted in a net of matching thread and pearls. I wondered why Nathaniel had given me such a beautiful and striking costume. There were too many pairs of eyes fixed on me.
    The castle loomed overhead, its stone walls devoured by ivy creeping toward the roof’s many peaks, chimneys, and towers. From my view, there was a myriad of windows—most more than large enough for me to fit through—but I saw no other doors besides the main entrance. I would need to establish an escape route before I got in too deep tonight. The interior was alight with countless candles and chandeliers of iron, and the floors were filled with demonic reapers. They danced in the ballroom, surveyed from the overlooking balconies and staircases, and dined from tables filled with delicacies of expensive fruit and meats. Luxurious tapestries depicting scenes from hunts and from mythology draped over the walls, and spread across the stone floors were ornate eastern rugs.
    I had attended balls and masquerades before, so I was no stranger to the festivities. I recalled a harlequin in Paris who was an angelic reaper famous among humans for his fire-breathing and disappearing acts. Some reapers had natural abilities that astounded even their own kind. This harlequin would make fire dance in his palms and spread over his entire body until he was drowning in flames, and then he would vanish into the Grim as if he had burned up. Moments later, just as the crowd began to panic, he would reappear in a flash of fire, perfectly unharmed and seemingly resurrected. However, Evantia’s masquerade had no fire breathers, no humans, and the only masked reapers prowling the halls were demonic.
    I set about my plan to determine an exit. I made note of how to return to the front doors, but that would be my last resort. Making a quick escape through the middle of the ball would be conspicuous and potentially disastrous. Glancing over my shoulder to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I caught sight of a familiar face. Her white skin seemed to glow around her black gown, and her pointed face—still somehow lovely even with all those angles—was framed by