Victor stood in the moonlit clearing, his eyes on the blushing leaves of the maple tree. He didn't want to spend another moment in the confines of the bedroom with Jason giving him the silent treatment. A frustrated Victor had got up and headed to the clearing after the tween had fallen asleep.

He studied the tree, noting a few of the tribute flowers had broken through the soil, their long hibernation over. "At least I've done right by your grave, Papa." Victor looked over the clearing, wondering why he always found it comforting. He remembered the determined little boy he'd been, anxious for acceptance and fearful of leaving the clearing to complete his mission. The clearing was... a part of his home?

The thought startled him. He called on the magic. "Show me," Victor ordered.

The magic delivered.

The clearing lightened, and a glowing figure cloaked from head to toe in white held a dark-haired baby napping in its arms. The infant began to fuss, so the figure rocked the baby back to sleep.

The image faded, replaced by a green-eyed toddler waddling across the clearing on stubby legs, falling on the sweet-smelling grass, laughing, and chattering nonsense. The cloaked figure was there, sitting on the sidelines. The prattling child ran over and was patted on his curling mop of hair. He threw chubby arms around the figure's neck, hugging with the intensity of a loved child before wandering off to play.

Again, the image faded, this time replaced by the child, older, waiting by the path. Again, the white-clothed figure sat off to the side, returning the child's exciting waves. A smaller red-headed boy toddled up the trail, and the older child faded, becoming a shadow of his former self. Lovedae and the professor strolled into the clearing, hand in hand, spreading a blanket on the grass. The redhead ran to the dark-haired child, and the boys embraced like long-lost brothers.

A tear slipped down Victor's cheek when a hand slipped into his. He grasped it tightly as he and Jason watched their younger selves play.

The two romped around the clearing, but only one piping voice was audible. They rolled together on the warm grass, but only one child flattened the vegetation. The two found sticks and made marks in the soil, but only one made impressions.

Later, the professor called, "Jason, time to go home."

Little Jason hugged his playmate before running to his parents. Victor waved to the departing family that knew nothing of his existence before sailing into the loving arms of the white-cloaked figure who raised him. And now he knew why a particular name had hovered in the background of his mind. The one who covered itself in the voluminous white cape was Carys. His teacher, his provider—his friend.

The scene disappeared, leaving the clearing bathed in moonlight.

"So, that's why I've always known you," said Jason.

"I spent plenty of time at the house observing Mum and Papa. Carys knew of the link between Papa and me. I grew to admire Papa then eventually love him." Victor wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand as the memories once lost no longer escaped him. "After you were born, my trips there increased. I'd especially come to play with you around nap time."

"So, Carys is the one in the white assassin's cape."

Victor smiled at Jason's description. "Carys raised me in the space between the realms, where the laws of science don't apply, and time flows differently. I frequently came to the clearing to play. This was my backyard." He remembered Little Vic saying the same thing. "I was happy with Carys. I would have missed them dreadfully when I was sent to live here. It's probably why my memories were blocked."

Victor remembered a somber Carys sending him to the Grants on a fall night. He'd balked but obeyed.

"Looks like they really cared about you. But I'm gladder you came to live with us," said Jason.

"Me too."

"I shouldn't have gotten mad at you." Jason huffed out a breath as he changed the subject. "You were stressed, so me and Rosetta wanted to make deep-fried Oreos to cheer you up."

Victor frowned. "I've never fancied deep-fried Oreos."

"I know, but it's the thought that counts."

Victor chuckled. "True."

"Carys musta sent you here for a reason. That makes you special, not the magic. So, if you gotta be a magic user, be the best." Jason gazed up at his brother with admiration. "You're the best role model a guy could ask for. Dad isn't here, but I know he'd agree. "

The words eased the ache in his heart. To know this amazing lad thought the world of him sent a sense of euphoria through his frayed soul. If Birgit planned to come back and harm a single strand of hair on Jason's carroty head, she'd need to fight her way through him first. Victor's hand tightened on Jason's. "Let's go back to bed."

Jason grinned. "Can you swoosh us there?"

Victor laughed. "Of course." He paused. "I love you, Jason."

"I love you too."

Victor obliged the boy and swooshed them home.

The spring morning teemed with ample sun and gentle breezes. Victor arrived at the studio in perfect time for his first client, a preteen named Gloria, who talked more than she danced. He drilled the girl on the jive, a boppy, lively dance while shutting down her ceaseless chatter.

Victor focused on her kicks. "You need to be more forward over your feet, Gloria, knees bent. Your jive shouldn't jump so much as it should skip. Remember, it's slip, kick, slip, step." He demonstrated the move several times, but the child still looked like she was attacking a door with her feet. "Mind your posture and kick as if you're trying to get toilet paper off your shoe."

Gloria stopped. "Dry toilet paper or wet? Because there's a difference. If it's—"

Victor gave her a flat stare. "Really?"

His next student, Sammie, was fifteen, shy, and a joy to work with. Her mother was not.

At the end of the lesson, he escorted the girl back to her mother, who waylaid him for a chat. "Vincent!" The woman giggled. "I tell you every week how much I love your accent. You must be sick of it."

His smile resembled a grimace. "It's Victor, ma'am."

"Oh, guess what? We're planning a trip to your homeland, the land down under! We'll say hello to the queen for you." She laughed.

"The land down under is Australia." Victor patted the embarrassed Sammie on the shoulder. "I'm English."

The mother frowned. "Are you sure?"

But an hour later, nothing compared to the current pain in his backside, Adam Sinclair. The thin instructor scowled at the two young men poised before him. "An indescribable disappointment, that dip. Like ordering a cheeseburger and only getting the bun." He ran a hand through his salt and pepper spiked hair. "Grab a straw, boys, because you suck."

Victor removed his arm from around his partner's shoulders. "Danny, weight on the left foot. Keeping it on the right is why we're off-balanced." He then said through clenched teeth, "We're just practicing, Adam."

The USA Dance Association had deleted their former rule of couples consisting of males and females and switched it to followers and leaders, regardless of sex. Adam complained to Marta that Victor needed to get up to speed on same-sex pairings. Marta relented and assigned him as Danny's training partner.

Victor had no qualms about dancing with a man. It was part of his job. His problem with the affair consisted of his classification as the 'follower' even though he had the most experience. Traditionally, the man was the leader and assisted the female follower through the various movements in their routines. Since becoming a teacher, Victor felt it was his job to make his partners and clients look their best, considering them the picture and he the frame. Keep the focus on the beauty of the picture, and all would be well.

Victor hated being the 'picture.'

Complaining did no good. Adam claimed that Victor being almost three inches shorter than Danny's six-foot frame made the current setup appropriate. When he asked why they didn't switch back and forth like other same-sex couples, Adam remarked that Victor's constant whining made him the better girl.

Victor fumed but kept quiet after the unfair remark.

"Did I ask for excuses? What I want is more chemistry but knowing your grades in that class, why get my hopes up?" Adam's narrow face took on a look of suffering. "Start in the fan position into the Alemana."

Danny took Victor's hand, and they went through the rumba routine again. Miffed as he was, Victor still excelled on the floor. He glided and spun, his arms and body movements precise, the footwork flawless. As the follower, Victor shaped his fingers elaborately, creating attractive lines in hand and arm stylings, his hip movement exaggerated by the placement of his foot, ankle, and leg. The look was sensual and inviting.

He saw the passion on Danny's face—the latest victim of the alluring aura of the rumba.

Victor moved in closer, reaching for the leader as if needing his touch to survive the dance, then spiraled away as if teasing. His emerald eyes met his partner's as he slid close again, their hands meeting in a hold position as they moved. All seemed well until their forward walks in shadow position. Danny had an arm around Victor's shoulders and held his hands as they slid across the floor in perfect unison.

"Victor, a little more hip action," sang Adam. "When you ronde out into the next move, make it a bit more dramatic by whipping your leg higher."

Victor stopped, fed up. He stepped away from Danny and faced Adam. "Instead of just dancing the follower's role, you want me to dance it more feminine too? Shall I nick a pair of Marta's heels next?"

The instructor's lip curled as he prepared to answer.

"Adam, enough. Victor's job isn't to imitate a woman," said Marta from the doorway. Tall and lean with her iron-gray hair in its usual bun, the woman exerted a presence of strength and authority. Even the testy Adam backed down when Marta gave an order. "Gentlemen, you're done for the day. You've suffered enough."

Victor grabbed his towel and removed himself to the hallway before Adam could complain. Aoife walked by him, ignoring his existence, but Ally, who had stood watching the practice, followed him to the bench.

"Rough morning?" she asked, a smile on her poppy red lips.

"Anything involving Adam is rough, love." He plopped down on the bench.

Ally sat next to him. "Adam is too hard on you. He knows you have limited time to work. Curt had slots open, but he tried assigning Ao-ife to you. Weird name. Good thing she refused, or you'd have no free time."

"It's pronounced Ee-fuh." Victor smiled at the receptionist.

"Hard to write but easy to pronounce. I don't know much about dancing, but Aoife is like a mechanical doll on the floor. She watches you a lot, but that's your fault for being too pretty."

Victor laughed as he silently agreed about Aoife. He had no idea why Marta hired a girl who had the proper credentials on paper but danced like a robot on the floor. "Curt's a good teacher."

Ally snorted, then laughed. "I think she hooked herself up to a computer and downloaded all the dance moves into her brain but can't execute them right."

The receptionist's words sparked a memory of something Kristy had said when they first met—If you're an awful dancer, all the magic in the world can't make you a star if there is no base to work on. Aoife was a passable dancer, but many of the nuances in ballroom and Latin that most pros knew were missing. If he had to rate her, 'basic' came to mind. The more Victor thought about it, the more Aoife fit the bill of what they were looking for. She'd appeared out of the blue, struggled with the work, and watched him like an unfriendly hawk.

"Ally, a favor?" he asked, taking the girl's hand. Ally practically lived at the studio and seemed quite observant. "Keep an eye on our newest teacher for me. Let me know if you see anything unusual as quickly as possible."

"You think she's trouble?" The poppy red lips frowned. "She's here a lot, sometimes leaves if you aren't around. I noticed that right away."

"Really?" He leaned over and kissed Ally's cheek. "Thanks for the extra eye, love. I appreciate it."

Blushing, the receptionist wandered back to the front desk. Victor began packing his bag, his thoughts on Aoife. He needed to talk to Dr. Mason about his suspicions.

"Victor?"

He turned and smiled at Danny. Three years his senior, the young man didn't deserve involvement in his ongoing spat with Adam. Danny was shaping up to be a fine dancer, and Victor wished him well in finding a permanent partner.

"Danny, there's a lot of argle-bargle between Adam and myself. Don't let it get to you. You did fantastic today."

Danny frowned. "Argle-bargle?"

"Never mind." Victor sighed. "We should schedule a session together so I can help you with your footwork."

"You don't mind same-sex pairings?"

"Some people preferred dancing with the same gender regardless of sexuality." Victor shrugged. "I'm not comfortable as the follower, but Adam wants me to partner you for competitions if you haven't found a permanent one by summer."

"I'm comfortable with you. Why can't we be permanent partners?"

"Sorry, mate, I'm taken."

Danny moved closer, smiling. "Let's talk about it over dinner and a movie. My treat."

He wondered if Danny was interested in more than just dancing. Victor didn't want to embarrass the man if he judged him wrong. Thankfully, Marta discouraged outside fraternizing between students and teachers due to the level of professionalism slipping. Not a problem with Kristy as he trained her pro bono. He opened his mouth with this in mind when a hand touched his shoulder.

Victor glanced back to see the pink-haired genie, who slipped her arms around his waist. Her face tilted upward as if daring him to kiss her. Not one to back down from a challenge, his lips met hers, brief and inquiring.

"Babe, we still practicing later?" she asked before turning her sapphire gaze to Danny. "Hello, I saw you dancing with my partner. You guys move well together."

Babe?

"Danny, this is—"

"His girlfriend, Kristy." Her smile was charming.

A surprised Danny stepped back. "Oh."

"My—" A wide-eyed Victor glanced at the genie. "Girlfriend. Kristy."

"Vic, I'll call tomorrow and set up a practice." Danny let out an uncomfortable cough. "Nice meeting you, Kristy." He sauntered toward the door, only stopping to wave goodbye to Ally.

"I thought we were still dating?" Victor eyed the smirking genie. "What happened to 'slow and steady?'"

"That ended when I saw you flirting with Mr. Tall-and-Tanned."

"I wasn't—" His heart beat faster, wondering if Kristy was sincere. "Seriously, what gives, love?"

"I decided I don't want to wait anymore." 

He wanted Kristy to fully understand his position. "My definition of dating might not fit the norm. You can date multiple people, but a committed relationship means we only focus on each other and look toward building a future together." Victor took her hand. "It's more than just a title of boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I understand." Kristy smiled. "It means I'm yours, and you're mine."

"Precisely."

"Agreed." Her lovely eyes were hopeful. "Are you done for the day?"

An ecstatic Victor slipped an arm around his new girlfriend and grabbed his bag. He'd ask Ally to cancel his afternoon clients. "I am now."

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