“They tried reopening, you know. After the professor fell from the gridiron in front of a full audience. It wasn’t until the people watching saw his feet twitching that it hit them, and well… you know. People soil themselves when they die.” He swallows. “That’s when everyone panicked. They stampeded.”
“Everyone who reads the Times-Picayune knows that,” I say. “What else?”
“I’m getting to it,” he says. “Like I was saying, they tried to reopen. Cast some girl as the lead. They got a note. Something like, don’t elevate someone of such cruel character. I remember it because it was so formal. They went with her anyway.”
He pauses, rubs the back of his neck, looks around uneasily.
“Sandbag dropped on her,” he continues, lowering his voice. “Nearly killed her. Hit her shoulder instead. Broke it.”
He exhales. “There was other stuff too. But it always followed ignoring a note.”
My jaw sets as I tap the envelope against my thigh.
“Don’t seal it up,” I say. “Put a door there. For now, don’t send anyone in.”
I turn and head toward the sound of piano drifting through the house.
I need to talk to Erik about his ghostly music.
Chapter six
Remy
I pause on my way toward Erik, the fading notes of the violin drifting past me. When I find him, he’s at the piano, scribbling frantically, humming under his breath as he writes.
It’s haunting. Possibly the darkest thing I’ve ever heard him put to paper.
As I approach, I realize I’m humming along. It lodges in my chest, refuses to let go. I cock my head, trying to see what he’s written.
My song was stripped from me
My voice no more
The dark that entered me
Gave shame its hold
And though I dream of what should have been
My rage has strengthened me
A fire within
I don’t interrupt him when he’s like this.
Then his writing stops.
His shoulders slump, dark hair falling over his forehead. I clasp his shoulder as he starts to turn toward me, blue eyes unfocused. He’s still half lost in whatever space the music dragged him into.
I give him another second, then say it quietly.
“We need to talk."
He gestures toward the piano.
“No. When was the last time you left the building?”
He pushes back from the bench and stands.
