Page 25 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)

I squeeze shut my eyes and beg for the drugs to take effect and numb me through the pain… or put me to sleep. Whichever comes first this time.

A silhouette appears in my mind’s eye.

Svelte and petite but with limbs that stretch far and wide as she dances. She’s so quick, spinning and leaping like the movements are second nature to her.

I watch in wonderment until I’m no longer consumed by the pain.

I’m only consumed by her.

The more she dances, the closer she moves. She becomes more than a silhouette in the haze of my dream. She springs and twirls and slides over toward me.

Her enchanting brown eyes find mine. So beautiful and dark, shining from the invitation in them.

Come with me, she says. Fall with me.

An angel of life or an angel of death, in the ravages of my pain, it doesn’t matter.

I trust my beautiful ballerina angel and take the leap deeper into the boundless abyss…

* * *

A wet cloth of some kind passes over my brow. I open my eyes to the fuzzy and distorted sight of Ms. Poitier bent over me. She notices I’m awake and shakes her head.

“You scared the hell out of me, C,” she lectures. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

I grin, my voice weak and hoarse. “But it’s so much fun.”

“One of these days it’s not going to end like this. You know that, right? You’re pushing your luck.”

“How long was I out?”

“A day and a half. Dr. Tulio says you need to rest up—”

“Nevaeh?”

Ms. Poitier dabs the damp cloth at the rest of my face. “She’s cared for. Poor girl’s going out of her mind with boredom. Why can’t she at least dance, C? There’s space for it in one of the spare rooms.”

“I said no.”

She sighs. “What do you expect me to do with her?”

“I have already given you instruction. You are to watch over her.” I attempt to push myself up only to be met with aching protest from my body. I settle against the pillow, glaring around as if seeking an invisible man to blame. “When will the physician return?”

“He’s in his office. He’ll be up any minute. I told him you were coming to.”

I grunt, turning my head toward the window. Morning birds tweet songs outside on the ledge. Light melodies that would probably make most people smile. It merely makes my glare harden. If I could, I’d roar at them to shut the fuck up.

My bad mood is insurmountable.

This isn’t how I envisioned the first few days of my marriage to go—this isn’t how I wanted to be spending the time that was supposed to bemine.

“Your father called. Should I let him know you’re awake?”

“I don’t want to hear from him.”

“It was important. About the Vorones.AndNevaeh.”

That gets my attention. My head snaps to the other side, turning away from the window to where Ms. Poitier stands at my bedside. “What about Nevaeh?”