Page 58 of Stripped
Chapter 28
Pim sat up on the small, olive-green sofa. She felt like she could have slept for twelve more hours. "What time is it?" she asked Peter. She had abandoned the car on the outskirts of Aberdeen. The cash in Wraith's wallet paid for a taxi, and when she got to the hotel, she convinced Peter to move to a different one.
"Eleven. I have to head over to the theatre," he said, looking at his watch. "The company will be arriving. I'll wait for you to get ready and we'll go together, darling."
She had told him everything, from her grandfather's apparent murder to Sokolov and the dead girl, all as he held her. She knew she shouldn't trust him, but the company was the closest thing to family she had right now, and as dysfunctional as it was, in the end, it was the only world she knew. Peter had his faults, but he would always be there for her.
"I don't think I can dance tonight. The thought makes me sick."
"You don't have to decide that now. At least come to the theatre and try class. You can't stay alone."
"I don't have any supplies."
"Paul said not to worry. He's bringing you everything you need."
Showered and dressed in the slightly wrinkled clothes from the night before, she sat next to Peter as they caught a taxi to the venue. The streets were packed with visitors. The solid granite buildings that made up Aberdeen and gave the city the name Silver City by the Golden Sands, sat stalwart, protecting the people from the cold North Sea wind. The Aberdeen International Market on Union Street, along with the ballet, were in town, and the city was abuzz with vendors and spectators. The taxi pulled up in front of His Majesty's Theatre. Peter helped Pim out of the car, grabbing his various bags. "Come along."
The theatre was considered a national treasure. Edwardian in its architecture, it was both opulent and awe-inspiring. Pim should be excited to get the chance to perform here. Instead, she felt nothing. The dancers had already arrived, portable barres had been set up on the stage, and most were beginning to warm up for company class. Paul came up and gave her a hug. "I brought you a bag. It's in your dressing room. How are you doing?"
"It's been a long week." She bit her lip; she didn't want to cry.
"I can imagine."
"No, I don't think you can." She took a step back, glancing at the ground, not able to look at his face. "I can't perform tonight. I'm sorry, Paul. You'll have to do it with Catriona." She turned and made her way backstage to the dressing rooms. There was a sign on a door next to the general changing rooms, Primrose McNeil. She had never had her own dressing room before, not even in Inverness. The door stood ajar, and she pushed it open, entering. A lighted mirror hung on the wall before a vanity, where her makeup was all laid out. Her costumes hung on hooks from the ceilings, the tutus standing out like open umbrellas. A vase with a dozen white roses sat on a table by a pink velvet armchair. She fingered the card, To my darling Etoile. The most beautiful swan. Love, Peter. A knock on the door made her jump.
"Sorry, Rosy," Niall said, peeking his head inside.
She did her best to give him a smile. "Did they send you to make me change my mind?"
"No, I came on my own, to make sure you're okay."
"I'll be all right. I just can't dance right now, or maybe ever."
"Rosy, I've been around the ballet world longer than most. I haven't seen someone with your talent for a long time and not just technically, but artistically too. You're strong. Whatever's happened, use that strength to push through, don't let it break you."
"I'll try, Niall."
"I know you will." He turned to leave and stopped, coming back. "I almost forgot," he said, picking up a flower from a table in the hall. "This came for you."
Pim shut the door, her hands shaking as she set the flower down on the vanity. A single black rose whose danger wielded its dark warning intentionally. She opened the card. When a thing is perfect, it is eternal. Safe in the past forever. A life for a life. I'll be watching - V.S. She threw the rose and the card in the trash bin. It was a play on a quote from Alasdair Gray's Lanark. Ruthlessly honest, and its truth scared her. Perfection lay in the timelessness of death, sanctified forever. Sokolov had not only breached her mind, it felt like he now owned her soul. And a damaged soul at that. He brought something out in her last night not only terrifying and repugnant, but inspirational and beautiful. He had linked the two of them in a deadly game of transcendence and had found a way to create that which she had always strived for—perfection. But perfection could not only be cruel, it was also offensive. She sat down at the vanity and began to apply her stage makeup. She would dance, but it would come at the cost of her or another's life.
* * *
Wraith, Gabriel, and Kian approached the theatre. Wraith had called ahead and confirmed that Pim would be dancing the lead role this evening. Intermission was just ending, and the men went to their agreed upon places. The colonel had insisted on sending three agents, not knowing if Viktor Sokolov would be in attendance. Wraith waited for the house to darken and the music to begin before he made his way stage left, into the wings. Dancers warming up, racks of costumes, along with changing assistants, and stagehands with props, filled the sides of the stage in silent giddiness. The buzz of excited energy reverberated through the air. Pim was onstage, dancing the black swan. She looked different from rehearsal, no longer holding back. She, as the seductress, filled the stage, daring Prince Siegfried to choose her and commanding the audience to love her. Peter stood watching, awe-struck.
"She's bonnie," Wraith said, coming up behind him.
"I've never seen her dance this way. She'll bring the house down." Peter pulled his eyes from the stage, giving Wraith a dirty look. "She almost didn't dance. No thanks to you."
Wraith wondered what exactly Pim had said to Peter."I would never intentionally hurt her."
"Aye, but you did. You're not welcome here; you'll only upset her. Leave."
"I'm staying. She's in danger."
"Danger brought on by you."
The gun sat heavy against Wraith, holstered against the side of his chest. He would use it if he needed to, but Peter made no move to kick him out, caught up once again with Pim. Act three finished, and she exited the stage. Two women pounced on her, unhooking the bodice of her costume and pulling it down as she stepped out of it. She stood only in her tights as the dressers fumbled with the white swan costume. Peter came over and grabbed it from the hand of a portly woman. He helped Pim step into the satin bodice and rigid tutu, pulling it up her body and fastening the tiny hooks up her back.