Death's Hand by S M Reine

left.
    “I’ve already seen,” he whispered. His eyes were kind, but only because he didn’t understand.
    And they began to dance.
    He led, and she followed. He took a step and she mirrored. When Elise tensed, he responded, moving in time to her whims but never ending the dance. They began with a simple box step, but it grew into more.
    At sixteen, she had awoken in the Russian wilderness to find herself saved by James. She loathed him. She wanted to die. But he took away her weapons and forced her to rely on him, and she eventually grew to accept his presence—if not his attempts at friendship.
    It wasn’t long before she accepted James’s challenge to dance. Even though she never became very good at it, it laid the groundwork for the way she fought today. The man she had started out hating became her friend, and only a couple years later, he had undertaken the ritual to become her aspis.
    Their friendship didn’t surprise her anymore. Some things were meant to be.
    But where were they now?
    She pulled away, and he let her go until the rhythm of the piano brought her to him once more. His posture was perfect. Except for their hands, they never touched.
    Closed telemark. Cross hesitation.
    “Your cold demeanor is a defense,” James whispered. Reverse turn. “You used to be passionate about fighting. You used to be passionate about life. But now you’ve left it all behind, and what remains once the passion is gone? A cold shell.”
    She kept her head turned to the side, her hand light on his shoulder as she stared into the darkness.
    Feather step. Open telemark.
    “What drives you now? Certainly not accounting.”
    Cross chasse.
    James dipped his head low, his lips brushing her ear. “What makes the fire in you burn? Does it thrill you to be so selfish?”
    “No, James,” she said, barely able to speak.
    “You miss the hunt.”
    “No.”
    A running right turn. The piano thundered. It echoed off walls that were not there, reverberating in the floor beneath them. The spotlight followed them, ever-obedient, illuminating them like a lonely star in an endless night sky.
    “I just want to be happy,” Elise said, helpless to fight.
    “What makes you happy?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t know what that means yet.”
    He released her, and she spun away from him, barely able to keep her balance. James watched her, and the piano went on undisturbed as though they hadn’t stopped dancing.
    “Elise,” he said.
    Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her dress swirled around her knees.
    “Where are we now?” she asked.
    James shook his head. “We don’t know.”
    He stepped forward, and she let him pull her forward. He was always so much warmer than she would ever be. “We can never know,” he said
    And then he bit her earlobe hard.
    Shocked, she jerked back. The face that stared down at her didn’t belong to James.
    Elise tried to pull out of his arms. “Who are you?”
    He pressed his face into her neck. His breath was hot, flames licking the curls behind her ears and scorching her tender flesh. “You’ve forgotten me already,” he murmured, his hands tightening on hers until she could feel the bones break like celery under the knife.
    She cried out and it made no sound. Her breath was swallowed by vacuum.
    “Go about your life like nothing’s wrong, as though nobody is looking for you,” he said. His voice raked down her spine, metal blades scraping down the bone, nails on blackboard. He trapped her arms at her sides. “Forget if you want. Be my guest. I can’t see you from afar, but I have eyes everywhere. I will find you.”
    Her dress was gone, and she was naked. His flesh burned against hers, and their dance was the fanning wind, a slow waltz toward an uncontrollable wildfire.
    She was trapped.
    “You will be mine ,” he hissed.
    Suddenly, Elise knew who he was.
    The room exploded into light, and she screamed.
    Elise’s eyes flew open, and then immediately flew shut again when light seared her