Find Me in Darkness Read Online Free PDF Page B

attention to Angie and Marva. “Anything to add, ladies? Other than that our newest member of the company has already proven herself worthy of being a Story Street alumnus?”
    As both women sing my praises and comment on their own characters, I glance once again toward the back of the theater. I don’t actually expect to see anyone. For one thing, it’s highly likely there was no one there at all, and I was just conjuring up remnants from my dream. But even if he was real, he surely would have overheard the conversation and gotten the hell out of here.
    So I am not at all prepared when I see the movement in the back row. And not just movement, but a person. A man.
    He rises, and because the stage lights are on, I see him only in silhouette. Tall and lean, he stands with the with the kind of confident posture that suggests that he is exactly where he is supposed to be, the rest of the world be damned.
    He is looking toward the stage, and though he could be looking at any one of the four of us, I know without a shadow of a doubt that his attention is entirely focused on me.
    For a moment, he remains still. But when he finally moves to leave, the houselights catch his eyes. And though I know that he is much too far away for me to really have seen the color, it doesn’t matter. Because I am absolutely one-hundred percent sure that they are as gray as a building storm.
    Malcolm .
    The name cuts through me, and I stop, only then realizing that I’d taken a step toward him.
    I shake my head, entirely unsure where that name came from. I don’t know anyone named Malcolm, and yet the name seems to fit this man perfectly.
    Which, of course, also makes no sense.
    I watch as the man turns and leaves, pushing through the double doors at the back of the theater. I’m just about to rattle off an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom when Eric turns a bit and deliberately includes me in the conversation.
    “Of course, analysis and interpretation is essential,” he says, “but the key is applying that interpretation. So how does what you noted about Juliet’s sexual sophistication apply to the scene we’re running?”
    “Um.” I mentally kick myself, because my mind has wandered so far off topic that I’m having a hard time remembering what exactly I noted. “Right,” I stall. “Well, they’re talking about marriage. And, um, if she’s sophisticated about what goes on during a wedding night, then her line should maybe not be delivered with innocence, but with more self-assurance?”
    For a moment, he says nothing. Then he points to Alicia. “Let’s run through it again. Christina, excellent work.”
    My cheeks heat, but I accept the compliment graciously. And throughout the rest of rehearsal—as I infuse Juliet’s dialogue with sensuality and sexual awareness—I force myself not to think about the gray-eyed man who had filled my dreams.
    Or the mysterious man who watched me from the back of the theater.

Chapter 6
    ‡
    M al continued to study the chessboard as Liam dropped into the seat across the table from him. They were in the VIP room at Dark Pleasures, the members only club that the Phoenix brotherhood had established in 1895 after Mal had insisted that they needed a place to gather, to talk, to be among friends.
    Not that the club at 36 East 63rd Street was limited only to the brotherhood. On the contrary, throughout the years they had offered private memberships to certain select humans, most of whom didn’t have the slightest inkling that their hosts had more secrets than simply what transpired behind the solid oak door that led to the VIP section. The policy was useful in a number of ways, most specifically because it allowed the brotherhood to keep its finger on the pulse of the city, not to mention the world. Dark Pleasures’s clientele was, after all, highly exclusive. And any given evening would find the bar filled with politicians and dealmakers, money men and celebrities.
    Today was Saturday, and