I had discovered that Fionn, Rory and Ciaran played shows weekly at the Bowl, and I made sure to attend each and every one of them now that I knew about them. I was working up the courage to make an appearance singing with them. The thought was daunting, though. To sing in front of people again? To be so vulnerable? It was too much for my nerves to handle.
But today I had finally decided to be brave and try to sing along while Ciaran, Rory and Fionn practised. It was just a jam session, no audience. I was told there was no pressure. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got to their rehearsal space, which turned out to be nothing more than an open chamber carved in the limestone tunnels.
“It has really good acoustics,” Fionn explained as he sat down with a small drum he called a Bodrahn. I met him there before the others arrived. He told me he liked to use various percussive instruments when practising. His eyes gleamed andthe flickering light from the sconces that lit the space glinted off the violent red of his hair as he struck the drum. A loud, solid sound filled the space, and I could feel it resonating through me, through the ground and into the soles of my feet.
“Sounds perfect.” I nodded.
Rory arrived next, walking over to us with a black guitar slung over his shoulder and several pieces of paper in his hand. “This is the song Ciaran sent. He’s been working on it for a while, I guess. He said he’s running late and to start without him.”
I took the piece of paper. The musical notes of the song were written in elegantly formed sheet music, which, thanks to my father’s tutelage, I could read.
“Oooooh, I think this one needs a shaker.” Fionn rubbed his hands together with glee as he read his copy. He got up and walked over to a cabinet in the far corner of the room and grabbed some additional instruments.
I read the music to myself as Rory started plucking the melody on his guitar. The lyrics told a surprisingly familiar story; one that was often retold in the opera and ballets: the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice—the ill-fated lovers who predated even Scion’s earliest texts. The connection to Orpheus and Eurydice was flimsy, though, and my heart caught in my throat as I read the rest of the chorus.
“This is the song he’s been working on?” I almost laughed.
“Err… yeah… it’s a little… intense… Typical Ciaran.” Fionn’s eyebrows rose as he read through the lyrics. “Holy goddess, this is… yeesh. My face is getting red just reading this. D’you think it’s about me?” He fanned his face mockingly.
I pressed my lips together. “Should we try it before he gets here? Impress him with our prowess?” Sight singing was a muscle I possessed but didn’t get a chance to flex very often.
“Definitely.” Rory grinned. He tapped his foot four times, signalling to Fionn when to begin, and began plucking strings,creating the melody. Fionn came in with the shaker, layering on top of Rory’s guitar. And finally, I began to sing.
I don’t know where the voice that escaped me came from; it was like when I had danced in Mal’s class the first time. Something sensual, smoky and dare I sayhuskycame out of me when I sang the song that Ciaran had written.
The lyrics were suggestive—almost downright lewd. They closely mirrored what Ciaran and I had been living through over the past few weeks—dancing around each other, never giving in to the temptation of it all. It was comforting to think that he was feeling the same way I was. So much so that he’d taken pen to paper and turned it into something beautiful. Singing it heated something in my blood. My face flushed just knowing these words had been written by Ciaran.
I was about to start the second verse when I felt a presence beside me: Ciaran. He began singing, and suddenly it was a duet.
His baritone voice layering in with my soprano sounded like coffee and cream blending together, sending a frisson up my spine as our voices twined around each other. Ciaran added a breathy laugh, similar to what he would improvise on stage, and I was undone. As we sang together, I could feel that power within me, usually curled up in some forgotten corner, rise to the surface. My voice twisted around his, teasing and taunting. I chanced a glance over and found his gaze on me, searing with an intensity that bordered on predatory. I didn’t look away as I spontaneously threw in a little run, trilling over his voice in the chorus.
And then, as our voices lifted, the lights of the sconces flared and the limestone walls around us shook. Wind whipped around, stirring my hair, as if we were standing in the centre of a cyclone. But I continued to sing, not breaking eye contact with Ciaran as he shouted the exclamation at the end of the song’s couplet, somehow still pitch perfect, deep and sensual.
Rory and Fionn didn’t balk or stop playing, even when the temperature dropped to an icy chill. Our breath came out in great puffs of mist, and the wind continued to whip around Ciaran and me, standing in the dead centre of the room, the strange focal point around which all this power orbited.
After the last “hey yeah” was shouted by Ciaran and I finished humming in harmony, we were both left gasping. Rory picked at the final few chords, and Fionn continued to shake that shaker until the very end.
“Well. That was a bit more magic than we’ve gotten from your training so far,” Fionn remarked from his seat as he placed the shaker on the floor gingerly.
I didn’t have anything to say. I was still transfixed, staring up into Ciaran’s depthless eyes, unable to break away. We had moved closer together, mere inches separating us.
Breathless, Ciaran stared back; neither of us was willing to break eye contact. The wind died down, and the lights went back to normal; warmth returned to the air. But it was undeniable what my magic had done—what had exploded out of me when I sang with him.
“Hello… Is anyone going to talk about what just happened?” Fionn was standing, looking back and forth between Ciaran and me as I blinked and finally broke eye contact. My ears hollowed out in the aftermath of the magic that had filled the space and I was a little dizzy.
“That was… interesting.” Rory stood with his eyebrows raised.
Ciaran took a step back. “I told you. You are very powerful.” He held his hands up, gesturing to the space around us, indicating what had just occurred there.
“You were singing too,” I mumbled.
“But that power… that was all you, Seraphina.” Ciaran reached between us and grasped my chin, raising my eyes to look into his once more. “I have shadow magic. Not wind or ice.”
“We’ll keep training to get it under control,” Rory stated.
“We will. And I’m sorry I’m late.” Ciaran broke away from me at last. “There was… news… from the opera house.” He glanced at me, assessing my reaction to the mention of my old home. “They have finished repairing the theatre and are planning to reopen next week.”
My stomach gave a lurch. I didn’t realize they would be opening again so quickly. The theatre had been dark since the disaster. I don’t know why it bothered me that they were moving on. I guess the case was closed to them. It had been me and my power that had destroyed the theatre and taken those lives. What more was there to know? It hurt. That my friends were just up there, moving on, like nothing had happened.
