I couldn’t help but remember that I often felt like this before one of my weird panic attacks, hallucinations, or whatever you wanted to call them.
The guy who had carried me home yesterday had felt so real, but Bree was convinced that I was conjuring things in my imagination because of the stress. But that didn’t totally explain what had happened and how I’d been able to smell such a vivid scent. The honeysuckle, the post-rain freshness of the air. He’d felt solid, steady. And if he hadn’t carried me back to Bree’s? Then I had no idea how I’d gotten there by myself.
Still, I needed to push those thoughts aside until this interview-slash-audition was over. My best dancing was always done with a clear, fresh head. When I was emotional, my dancing reflected that. It was more chaotic, more strange. Technique didn’t matter as much as dancing out all the pain.
Inside, the lobby was hushed, and voices echoed from a door held ajar by a box full of props. My heartbeat flickered, and I pressed my palms against my black jeans. My dreams were inside that theatre, ones I’d had for as long as I could remember. If I screwed this up…
“I need to go to the bathroom before I go in there,” I finally said, turning to Bree. “Meet you in a bit?”
She gave my arm a squeeze. “You’ll be fine, Norah. You’re good at this. Go splash some cold water on your face, and then go in there like you own the place. I’ll see you after. Break a leg.”
I cracked a smile, grateful for Bree’s words. Quickly, I found the bathroom and took in several deep breaths to steady my nerves. She was right. I was good at dancing. I might not be good at anything else, but I knew I was good at that. All I had to do was go up onto a stage and perform the steps I’d done a hundred times before.
It was time to stop hiding behind my fears.
After splashing some water onto my face, I stepped back into the empty hallway. All of the overhead fluorescent lights had been cast off, and the hall formed a dark, empty tunnel to the metal doors leading to the rest of the building. Pinpricks of light shone through the cracks. Other than that, there was no sign of life.
Something didn’t feel right. It was the absence of noise. It was the absence of any movement at all. Not even a breath of sound in a place that was normally full of activity. I shivered and paused in my steps to feel the pointy tips of my ears. They were still there.
A long, painful wail bounced off the walls. An animalistic sound. Goosebumps stampeded my arms. Every hair on my neck stood on end. With frozen lungs, I turned to stare down the hallway behind me. A dark shadow hovered at the far end.
And then the shadow charged.
I twisted on my heels and stormed toward the door. A loud hiss filled my ears, and the tangy scent of blood swirled into my nose. The air pressed in tight around me. Whatever chased me would dig its claws into my feet and take me then.
But it didn’t. And once I was out of the hallway and into the rest of the theatre with the glaring lamps shining light onto my head and the murmur of ordinary voices, I wasn’t sure anything had even been there at all.
A heavy thud echoed from behind me. Shivers slid down my spine, and I rushed through the theatre doors. Two expectant faces turned my way from the front seats. The directors I needed to impress, but I wouldn’t be doing any impressing tonight.
Bree had taken a seat near the back, and I grabbed her arm. Frowning, she yanked out of my grasp, her eyes wide.
“Norah, what are you doing?” Her voice was low, soft. She didn’t want the directors up front to overhear our discussion, even though they could clearly see I was trying to drag my friend out of this place.
“We have to go,” I said, grabbing her arm again. “Don’t fight with me on this.”
“Norah—”
No time to argue. I pulled her along the red carpet and back out into the lobby, kicking open the front doors of the theatre with my heavy boots. Once we were out in the fresh night air—if you could call the trash-infested air fresh—she wriggled out of my grip and shot me