At Your Service

Chapter 16- Image

Anja was reading and taking notes from the book on demon-summoning from her parents' bedroom late that night at the desk in the study. Though exhausted from the preparations, she found herself unable to sleep. She jumped a little when she heard three gentle knocks on the door before it opened. "Hot chocolate, Miss Anja?" Carlisle questioned.

    She quickly relaxed. "Yes, please, Carlisle."

The butler walked in and looked the witch over. She left her long hair down so it fell to the bottom of her rib cage. She was wearing a faded pair of jeans with the cuffs rolled up above the ankles of the prosthetics, long grey socks that were a little too big for her feet and ankles, a cropped black tank top, and a flannel he recognized. "Your father wore that flannel the night he and your mother signed the contract with me." The witch merely hummed as she wrote. The demon listened to the quill scratching against the parchment of her journal. "You know, this morning, Solomon had me watch some of your tapes with him." He set the tray down on the coffee table. "We have been so busy with preparations that I forgot to tell you earlier."

Anja stopped writing and looked up at him. "Which ones?" she wondered as she ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back.

"We watched a video of you when you were five years old and already controlling the wind at a picnic, the video of you and your family at the beach at the lake this past summer, and two dance recitals," Carlisle answered, his thoughts lingering on how adorable of a child she'd been at five years old. "You've been a powerful witch and an angelic dancer from a very young age."

Blushing a little, Anja shook her head. "I was never anything extraordinary."

"I beg to differ." He set the tray down on the coffee table, poured her a cup of hot cocoa, and carried it over. Anja turned in her chair and carefully took the cup on its saucer from him, whispering a "thank you." "Whoever gets the pleasure to dance with you at the ball tomorrow night will surely be the most lucky man in the room."

Anja's soft smile melted into a gentle frown. "I will not be dancing tomorrow night." She took a sip. There was a long moment of silence that seemed to put tension in the room.

"Why?" Carlisle's voice had significantly softened, both in tone and volume.

Anja looked up as she swallowed the mouthful of hot chocolate to see the demon's expression growing tender. In fact, he looked saddened by her announcement. She stayed silent, opting to take another sip instead of offering one of the many viable and accurate answers she had for this question, answers such as, "I won't be able to," "No one will want to dance with me," or "I'm afraid of stepping on my partner's feet." Seeing that Carlisle was, in fact, expecting an answer, she finally answered, "I'm not interested."

Carlisle sensed the falsity in her response and raised an eyebrow. "As a prevalent, if not legendary, member of this society and the honoured attendee, you will be expected to, lest you disappoint the hundreds of witches who are sure to join us."

    The witch raised an eyebrow in retaliation. "Do I look like I care about my image when I have my power?"

    "Yes," the demon replied bluntly. "Your business and relevance in the witching world rely on your reputation as the Vandiver heir. You care very much about your customers and your respect amongst other witches, whether it be for your own benefit or for the memory and legacy of your parents, which is the point of the whole ball: a celebration of their lives."

    Anja sighed after a brief, shocked silence as she set her tea cup down, defeated. "You're right." There was a tense silence and stillness between them for a few moments before Carlisle took a step back and offered out a gloved hand. "What's this?" she muttered, eyebrows furrowed.

    The demon gave a cheerful laugh. "You'd better not respond in such a way when offered a dance tomorrow night."

    Anja scoffed nervously. "If."

    Carlisle's lips curled into a smirk. "When." His hand hadn't moved from its outstretched position. "You will need to practice in the comfort of your home and with the comfort of dancing with someone who could never hold any judgement towards you." The witch knew the demon was, once again, and to her distaste, correct. It was best to make a fool of herself in the casual privacy of her home with her butler rather than at such a public, formal event with other witches of high power and prevalence watching her every move.

The demon watched in satisfaction as the witch stood, using the chair and desk for support, and laid one of her hands in his, feeling her cold skin through his glove. Anja rested her other hand on his shoulder while he coiled his other arm around her waist and drew her closer. The witch now used the demon for support. "First, it's just a step like this." He took the first step, and she countered quickly. "Good, then a step like this." She anticipated the next step, and they were suddenly waltzing around the study as if they had been doing it for years, twirling around and in between furniture. "You do know how to waltz."

    "Of course I do," Anja muttered dismissively, looking down at her feet every five seconds or so to watch as their fake feet moved. "I never said I didn't."

    Carlisle pinched her chin between two fingers and tilted her face up. "Then I suppose you know not to look down." The demon spun her, watching as her hair swirled around like a silver ribbon, before locking his arm back around her waist and pressing her against his torso.

    "Correct," Anja rejoindered sarcastically.

    Carlisle nodded with a little grin. "There may also be slow dancing. It's much simpler than waltzing. Have you ever done that?" Anja was silent before shaking her head truthfully. They suddenly stopped waltzing. "It can be done in a variety of ways. Sometimes the arms are as ours are now." He put her other hand on his free shoulder and put both arms around her waist. "Sometimes, it's like this, and, other times, it's more like a hug." Even before he could, Anja hugged him as they started slow dancing, her arms around his shoulders, so he hugged her back, threatening to lift her off her feet.

    "I feel ridiculous," Anja muttered as she rested the side of her face on his collarbone.

    "Hmm." He ran a few fingers up her spine and back down again, sending chills coursing through her. "You don't feel ridiculous to me," he decided sarcastically, smiling when he felt and heard the witch chuckle.

    "I'm not ready for tomorrow," Anja whispered after a few moments. Carlisle was silent for a moment, contemplating. "I'm not ready to see their... remains. I'm not ready for all of the people asking me what happened, how I'm doing... I've never been in a situation like this."

    "Well, whatever happens," he hugged her a little tighter, though still softly, "I will be there for you... every step of the way."