Succubus Revealed by Richelle Mead Page A

friends Bastien and Georgina. Georgina’s moving here next month.”
    Matthias looked like he was in his late twenties, early thirties at most, and had sandy blond hair in need of a haircut. There was something cute about its disheveled state, and he took off wire-rimmed glasses to peer up at me. I couldn’t help but think Ian would’ve liked those glasses, but unlike Ian, Matthias probably needed them. Matthias blinked a couple of times, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise.
    “You’re a dancer,” he said to me.
    “Er, yeah, I am. How’d you know?” Per Phoebe’s suggestion, I’d made myself put on some height while we were walking down the back halls, but that was hardly enough to tip him off.
    Matthias got to his feet and studied me up and down, not in a leering kind of way . . . but more like how someone assesses the value of a piece of art. “It’s in how you walk and stand. There’s a grace to it. An energy. It’s exactly what she does.” He nodded toward Phoebe. “Are you guys sisters?”
    “No,” said Phoebe. “But we’ve taken some of the same classes.”
    Bastien choked on a laugh.
    Matthias was nodding, completely enraptured. He picked up his papers and flipped through the pages. “Yes . . . yes . . . we could definitely use you here and here.” He paused, checking a few more places. “And here. Maybe even here.” He jerked his head up, blue eyes alight and excited. “Let’s see what you can do. Phoebe—do the opening part of the second number.”
    Phoebe responded instantly, springing to center stage and instantly falling into line as Matthias began counting off beats. When they finished, he looked at me expectantly. “Now you do it.”
    I started to point out that I was in heels and a dress but then realized showgirl attire probably wouldn’t be too different. I took a spot near Phoebe and mirrored her as Matthias counted again. We repeated the combination, and by the third time, I hardly had to look at her to get the steps. He directed her to a different number, slightly more complicated, and a similar performance ensued as I sought to match her. When we finished, he clicked his tongue in approval.
    “Amazing,” he said. “You guys need to tell me where you trained so that I can recruit all your classmates.” Turning back to his papers, he began scribbling notes. “Phoebe, can you lend her some clothes for practice? Not that it’ll affect her performance, of course, but I imagine she’d be more comfortable in something else for two hours of rehearsal.”
    Phoebe winked at me. “I’m pretty sure we can get her a change of clothes.”
    I glanced between her and Matthias. “Rehearsal?”
    “Sure,” said Matthias, still not looking up. “That’s what we do to get ready for performances around here.”
    “You want to be in the show, don’t you, Lucy?” teased Bastien.
    “I understand . . . but I’m not moving to Las Vegas until January,” I explained. “I have to go home tomorrow night.”
    Matthias finally glanced up briefly from his beloved notes, seeming as pained as Seth often was when interrupted while writing a book. “You’re here right now, aren’t you? Might as well get started. Unless you’ve got something else going on?”
    I looked helplessly at Bastien and Phoebe, who were grinning like idiots. The incubus slung a friendly arm around me. “Of course she doesn’t.”
    After a moment’s hesitation, I gave a slow nod, still a little overwhelmed at how fast things were moving here. “I . . . I’d love to rehearse.”

Chapter 8
     
    I t was hard to believe that in only a couple of days I’d gone from doubting my transfer was real to suddenly signing on to be in a Las Vegas stage production. Things happened so fast that it was easy to get swept along, and Bastien and Phoebe’s gleeful encouragement just made things happen that much more quickly.
    Shape-shifting took care of my clothing problem, and Bastien soon left us, allegedly to go get a drink