Selene sat up. “Really?”
Benson’s eyes were full of stars. He was genuine. “I’ve loved Gigi since the first day I saw her, Selene. I won’t waste another day.”
Selene smiled wickedly. “You should definitely forfeit, then. Make that dream happen faster.”
“I’ll consider it.” His laugh turned into a yawn. “What are you going to do?”
Selene considered the words she could string together like smoke. She’d met a man in a mirror who taught her how to bleed shadows. She’d found a ghost with untold secrets, even to himself. She’d fight her way back in.
Instead, she scanned the room, eyes grazing the familiar titles of the books for something that would give up secrets of the ghost. She found exactly what she expected: nothing. In the last seven years, she’d read almost every book in this room. They were mostly music and magic theory, history, and scores and scores of sheet music. There was nothing here that would explain the boy trapped in the glass or what he could do.
“I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“You do know.” Benson found the shape of the silence and filled it. “Gigi asked me if this was all worth it. Years off our life. Tears, sweat, blood.”
Selene absently ran her finger along the raw edge of the wound on her thumb. “Of course it’s worth it.”
“That’s what I said.” Benson leaned back in his chair. “Even without the competition, I’m not sure I’d do anything else.”
“Not even with a needle and thread?”
“That’s my father’s passion, not mine. Writing music, shaping magic, it’s like living a dream. It’s the best and worst thing I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine my life without it.”
“I’ve tried.” Selene took one of the books from the stack and flipped through it. It was a collection of sheet music from competitions past. She paused briefly at her father’s. “I don’t like who I am without it.”
Benson put his chin on his hands. “That is a different problem, Selene. Who you are and what you do are not the same.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” Selene traced the notes on the page, the music taking shape in her mind. That feeling—the push and pull of passion and the overwhelming need to be part of her art—consumed her. “You’ve had a life outside of this.”
“Are we going to talk about it?” Benson’s voice was gentle.
Selene stilled. ‘Talk about what?”
“That doesn’t work on me, Selene.” Benson reached for her hand. “This must bring up a lot for you.”
Selene exhaled. Benson had no idea how much, though he clearly sensed it. Selene’s mask must be slipping. “It’s a lot for all of us.”
He gave her a look too close to pity.
“Now, off to bed with you.”
“I need a few more minutes.” Benson tapped his page. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Selene rose and paused at the door. “It’s already morning.”
By the time she reached the top of the stairs, she was out of thoughts. It took all of her will to drag her feet the remaining steps to her room.
Dawn crept up through the scattered rooftops and buildings, shattered into fractals until the light broke through her window. Gigi’s snores were soft and elegant. Her foot hung over the side of the bed, bandaged, like any dedicated dancer’s.
Selene wrapped herself in her quilt. She was so tired, the exhaustion almost crushed her.
Sleep was quick and heavy, the pull of a curtain, and into dreams.
Chapter 12
The street was shadowed with afternoon by the time Selene awoke. Gigi was long gone. She’d attempted to make the bed, throwing the down comforter over the rumpled bedsheet. There was a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon on their shared table, with a note beside.
Today is anew day
