Corporations don’t like being told what to do. They ignored them, and the house answered in its own way. The lawsuit followed. Bankruptcy. It has sat empty ever since.
They should have listened to her.
I want to listen to her.
She’s become an obsession. I swear I hear her even in sleep, following me into my dreams, but the song is gone when I wake.
I walk the aisles of crypts, letting my thoughts loosen. If I stop chasing the music, maybe it will come to me.
I pause at a large marble crypt. A bench sits in front of it. I lower myself onto it and lean my head back.
Clouds obscure the sky, their edges faintly tinged by moonlight. The world feels suspended. Neither dark nor light.
My eyes drift shut. Thought thins. Sleep finds me before I can resist it.
In my dreams, notes drift past me. I catch them, write them down, and watch them disappear seconds later. Frustration spikes. I slam my fist down, pain flaring through my thigh.
I wake.
I’m not dreaming.
I’m surrounded by her music.
I fumble for my phone and hit record. The sound winds around me, and slips inside. There’s a yearning in tonight’s song. An edge beneath it. Something almost jealous.
The melody presses meaning into me, insistently, until words surface.
My voice joins it without conscious thought.
Only you can find me
You need to care enough to try
Your mistress, a demanding taskmaster
I don’t know if I’ll let her survive
She wants to take you from me
Make me share you with the world
I want us safe and protected
No prying eyes to judge
As my voice draws out the last word, a note slips sharp. Wrong.
The music falls silent.
A small sob reaches me, raw and unguarded.
I spring up from the bench, searching the dark. “Angel,” I call. “Come back to me. Angel.”
That’s how Remy finds me.
He grabs my arms. “Erik, stop.”
I wrench away. I need to find her. Soothe her. She’s already suffered enough.
