He looked like a senior, although she didn't recognize him because he was actually wearing one of those thematic little masks. A black one.
Jenny didn't care who he was. He'd saved her from Brian, and from her guilt at coming with Brian under false pretenses. She saw now that she was going to have to apologize to Brian before tonight was over, apologize and explain everything. He'd probably hate her. He'd probably leave her stranded at the hotel. Jenny kind of hoped he would; it would make her feel better.
The new guy held her very lightly. Jenny floated in his arms and let her mind drift back to junior prom. She had worn ivory lace, soft and romantic and old-fashioned, the kind Tom liked. Audrey had worn a different classic black dress. Summer had been in pale aquamarine, with fringe all over, like a flapper. Tom had looked wonderful in severe black and white. Afterward they'd all gone to McDonald's in their fancy clothes, laughing and fooling around. It had been a wonderful night because they'd been together.
Now here she was in fairyland, surrounded by strangers.
That thought was a little disturbing.
She and the new guy had swayed a little away from the other dancers. He actually seemed to know something about dancing, or at least he was semimobile. It was darker here near the balcony. Jenny felt strangely isolated.
And-it was curious, but everything seemed to have slowed. The music had changed. The band seemed to have segued into another slow dance, a haunting melody by some female vocalist Jenny knew but couldn't put her finger on at the moment. Otherworldly. Weird of them to do that without giving people a chance to change partners.
Weird melody, too, but beautiful. It was music that got into your blood, that made you feel strange.
Jenny was feeling very strange.
Time seemed to be stretching.
She didn't want to look up, because that was bad manners unless you wanted to be kissed. And Jenny didn't, whatever kind of music it was. Safer just to keep her head down.
They were on the threshold of the balcony now, and Jenny could look out over it onto the ocean. It was even darker here, so you could see the ocean below. Spotlights reflected off the water, looking like a handful of moons.
Oddly, there was no one on the balcony. Jenny would have thought it would have been crammed
body-to-body, but there was nobody here-or at least nobody she could see in the dark. Her partner was leading her toward the darkest corner.
I shouldn't go. ... Oh, God, I'm going to have to say Vada via, cretino again... .
But she couldn't seem to resist.
Here on the balcony she could feel the night air, just faintly cool on her arms and the back of her neck. The music seemed distant. She could no longer make out words, only single notes, pure and clear as drops of water falling into a still pool. Falling slowly. Jenny had the queer feeling that she herself was falling.
As loud as the music was the roar of the ocean. They were near the edge of the balcony now. The waves were hissing and crashing on the beach below. An eerie sound, Jenny thought, her mind strangely muddled. A formless, featureless, endless sound. Like white noise ...
Shhshhshhshhshhshhshh.
All at once she was awake. Awake, with chills sweeping over her and icy terror in her stomach. Not only her little fingers but the sides of her hands were tingling.
Get out of here!
Then, at last, she tried to pull away. But her partner wouldn't let her. She was held in a grip of steel. One of his arms was trapping her arms, the other was holding the back of her head.
She couldn't move. There was no question of screaming. She was alone with him on the balcony, separated by what seemed like miles from the rest of the dance. She could no longer hear any music, only wind in the palm trees and the ocean crashing below. They were very close to a very long drop.
She could see a strand of her partner's hair now, above a shirt collar as black as his tux. She hadn't realized that before-he was all in black and his hair was blond. Blonder than Brian's, blonder even than Cam's. Almost white- -as white as frost or icicles or mist, as white as winter- -as white as death -
A voice whispered in her ear, "Famished."
Not like that. Longer. "Faaamishhshhed..."
Chapter 9
Everything went gray.
Blood roared in Jenny's