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The show has started, with the Angels and Demons opening. Delila agreed to shuffle around the acts and have me fire bending with the dragon staff first since it does take a bit out of me and I still need to do my duet dance with Kenan and our crew performance, not to mention the final act, which I don’t completely partake in, but do enough to be considered something… so she has put my biggest scene first, and then that gives me enough of a break between acts.
“Great,” Callan snaps from beside me. Her mirror cubicle is right beside mine. Everyone rushing around behind me filters into white noise as I glare at her.
“What, Callan?”
She runs the bright red lipstick over her lips. “So now the whole show moves for you.”
“Callan,” Kenan warns, his tone forceful.
“That wasn’t my idea,” I tell her, fluffing my hair up farther and fixing my horns. My eyes are smudged in black, my makeup heavy. I’m wearing the same outfit with the snake on my leg too. I pet-named him Cal. I guess you can think where I got that from.
“So what!” she snaps. “It’s not fair.”
“Saskia, you’re up,” Kyrin says from behind me, opening the back curtain.
I drag my attention away from her and stand, turning to face him.
He stills, his eyes dropping down my body. He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. The way his gaze drags up and down my body is loud enough for me to feel violated.
The curtain opens wider and Keaton steps through, but when he notices me, he falters. “What—wh?”
“Wipe your mouth, brother. You’ve got some drool coming out of your mouth,” Kyrin growls.
“Oh I’m going out to watch this.” Keaton smirks just as Perse slides in from behind him and pulls me into a hug, kissing me on the cheek. “You’re going to do amazing. Go light some fires.”
I step onto the stage, the curtain still closed. The dragon staff I know awaits on the other side and I clutch the fire sword in my hand.
“Tonight, we’re excited to showcase one of our newest girls who has an obsession with fire… ladies and gentlemen… meet, our very own Hellhound…” I flick open my Zippo and light the tip of the sword just as the curtains open.
The entry music starts playing as I swing the sword around through the dark, creating a loop of fire in the air. I lean down and light up each ball on the dragon staff. The crowd silences as I turn to find Killian perched on a chair on the stage, a spotlight on him. I’m thrown off. What the fuck is he doing there?
He leans forward, his clown made-up face coming into view and his abs tensing with the movement. Motherfucker. He curls his finger with a smirk, pointing to the sword.
I make my way toward him and hand him the sword as the crowd—me included—gasps when he opens his mouth and slowly swallows the sword down his throat, cutting off the flame and the spotlight at the same time. The audience screams in shock—along with me internally—as I make my way back and pick up the dragon staff. “Toxicity” from System of a Down starts playing as I roll the staff over my back, arching forward and grabbing it again, swirling it around my body with the tune of the guitar. As the verse comes back in and the song slows back down, I flick it around my body again, rolling it over my arms and across my neck. Flicking it forward, I run it over one arm and pick it up again. The crowd loses their minds, adding fuel to my adrenaline. The flames lick over my skin as I get lost in the song and performance. Coming to the end, I arch backward in bridge from standing position while twirling the staff with my right hand and reaching backward with my left hand until I’m completely arched with one hand on the ground and the other twirling the staff.
The audience goes crazy again and I use that as fuel. When the beat speeds up, so does my spi
My smile drops. “Sorry.”
He grabs the staff off me and kicks out what’s left of the flames. “What are you sorry for?”
“Bumping into you,” I say, dragging my attention away from his slick bare chest and coming face-to-face with his clown makeup painted face and wolf contacts.
He brings his fingers to my chin and tilts my head up to his.
I hold my breath.
His hand drops as a slow smirk crawls onto his face. “Hmmm.”
Hmmm?
“What does that mean?” I ask as he steps away from me.
“It means get out of my way, Little Hellhound.”
I start making my way toward the backstage, but not before he turns to look over his shoulder. “Oh and Sass?”
“Yeah?” I pause my step. “Your rope dart act? I’m going to need you to swing it low to the ground.”
Before I can ask what it is that he’s talking about, he disappears through the curtain.
“Sass!” Perse yells, poking her head around the curtain. “Change!”
Shit.
I quickly dash into the cubicle and slip into some short jean shorts and a little crop top, wrapping a chain around my belly for extra sorcery. As I’m putting on my finishing touches, Kenan comes up behind me, his arm wrapping around my belly. He leans down into my neck. “You ready to knock the stadium down?”
My lips curl against my teeth as I giggle. “So confident.” Ru
The curtains are open, but the room is dark. Darker than usual. My feet are bare, and it’s the first time I thought how odd it feels to have the sand from the center ring pressed between my toes. All I can hear is the deep thundering in my chest and the shuffling of the audience. “Unsteady” by X Ambassadors and Erich Lee starts playing softly just as Kenan hooks his hand in mine, swinging me out and pulling me back in. The start of any dance is always a bit rusty, but it doesn’t take long before I find my groove. He picks me up by my waist and throws me around his neck and back until I’m standing on my feet. The audience loses their minds, but I’m too wrapped up in the zone to pay any attention. The song is heartbreaking, the dance intimate. Way too intimate. It’s a song and dance about losing the love of your life, but not through death, but through adversity that, at times, people can’t endure. Love is not guaranteed, and the hardest thing the human heart will withstand is dealing with the loss of someone who is still alive. With every movement, every toss, every embrace, it has me trying to reach inside my brain for anything. An anchor that will help me with the emotions of the song, but I come up with nothing. Kenan swings me up and I flip, landing with my legs hooked around his neck before he flips me backward and I land back onto my feet.
The song ends and the curtains close, but not before you hear the roar of praise.
I’m huffing still, my breath struggling to catch up. It was by far one of the hardest routines I’ve ever done.
Kenan pulls me into his damp chest, heaving. “Damn! Did you see that?” The adrenaline you feel after successfully performing is hard to explain. It’s as though your entire body is set on fire from the inside, but you have no desire to put the flames out.