Even though I haven’t touched an instrument in months, the words and melody fall effortlessly from my fingers. I draw the emotion to the surface, pouring everything about the way I feel for Claudia into my voice. Claudia’s eyes remain locked on mine, and a tear rolls down her cheek.
My throat rasps as I struggle through the chorus.This is intense. I’ve played this song, but I’ve never felt as raw and open about it before. Not until the Ice Queen made it real.
As I sing the final line of the chorus, my fingers do a strange thing. They move. And before I know it, I’m playing a riff.
It’s not a riff from any Octavia’s Ruin song.
It’s something new.
I play the riff, over and over again, letting it be of this moment, letting it say all the things I’m not able to say. And I open my mouth, and I sing.
I don’t have words yet. Only a melody.
Only a single word.
Guilty.
It’s not much. It’s the hint of a melody. But it’s the most I’ve written since Dylan killed himself. And I plucked it from that single tear.
Claudia’s lips fall open. Her eyes flutter closed, and I see her as I’ve never seen before, open and laid bare and vulnerable. I see her as she’s been all these years, trapped in her own private hell with only my voice to carry her through. The sheer joy of who I am to her lifts a weight from me I didn’t realize I’ve been carrying.
She says I sing the stars. I thought it was an expression, but until this moment I didn’t realize it was true.
I know who I am.
I’m Gabriel Fallen, and I sing the stars and the rain. I sing the lust and the blood and the slaughter and the pain.
I’ll sing the entire fucking universe for Claudia August.
44
Claudia
I’m in my office with Eli, George, and Yara, going over possible options to getting Casper and the other animals out of Nero’s basement stronghold, when Noah barges in. “Turn on the news.”
“Which station?”
“Fucking all of them.”
I pick up the remote and point it at the large screen set into Howard Malloy’s mahogany bookshelves. The screen flickers to life, showing a breaking news story.
“…fifty-three women sold into slavery, promised to crime lords and underground club owners for all manner of depraved acts.” The reporter shudders with barely contained sadistic glee. “Now, thanks to the intervention of Senator Marlowe, these women will be granted sanctuary on American soil, and will be able to start their lives again.”
Yes.
The report crosses to city hall, where the senator stands in front of a gaggle of reporters with three of the girls from the boats. “This is an extraordinary case, and a big win for human rights,” he beams at the cameras. “We’ll be working with each of these women individually to find the best outcome for their cases. For some, they might be able to return to their home country. For others, we offer them asylum here in the US. It’s important they know that the United States of America is the land of the free.”
Yara puts her head into her hands, her entire body wracked with sobs. I mute the television. Eli slides across to her and places his arms around her shoulders. I know how good a hug from Eli feels.
I reach across the table, holding out my hand. Yara touches her fingers to mine.
“Thank you,” she whispers between sobs.
I’m not sure I deserve her thanks. I think I should be the one thanking her and Eli. Something warm surges through my veins – the kind of warmth I feel around the guys, but different somehow – warmer, softer. Not a sensation I’m used to, but one I want to experience again.
I did the right thing. And I did itmyway. And although it might’ve brought down a world of trouble on our heads, it’s worth it a hundred times over.
I made Julian August proud.
