A smirk flicks across his face before he continues. “Yes. A note. It’s got the contractors freaked out. And between that and you following this violin music around…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’ve put security cameras everywhere. They’re always disabled or fried, and I have to rewire them.”
He sits beside me. “I’ve never caught more than a shadow. Someone else is here, and you’re oblivious.”
He hesitates.
“Maybe we need to…” He stops. “If you were fully present, I wouldn’t be worried. But you’re not taking care of yourself. And if this thing gets pissed, I don’t want you hanging from the gridiron.”
I hold out my hand and read the note. Hmm. I would have thought whatever, or rather whoever, plagued the house seven years ago would have moved on.
“You think the music is tied to this.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“I think I don’t know.” He exhales. “Do we hire security? There’s a guy in the Quarter who could hook us up with a solid group. I want to be ahead of this. And I haven’t even started on the ticket side or setting an opening date.”
“I want to open with the new piece.”
“I know you do.” His voice tightens. “But it’s not finished. It’s not cast. We haven’t hired anyone. And you’re not in the headspace for it.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I can’t do it all. I need to hire vendors, security, set up the ticket booth, deal with printers, find sponsors…”
“I have a few sponsors already,” I cut in. “They’re in my email. I just haven’t answered them yet.” A flicker of remorsetugs at me. “Maybe for this project we need an assistant.” I pause. “Or two.”
I think for a moment. “Realistically, the house will be ready before I am.” I glance back toward the opera. “I’m still hungry.”
I look at him. “Let’s go somewhere and hash this out.”
Chapter eight
Remy
Thank fuck, he’s back. I feel the relief course through my system.
“I’m going to grab the keys and touch base with the foreman. Stay out here and enjoy the sunshine.”
Chapter nine
Dark Angel
The first haunting notes trail quietly across the cemetery.
Her loneliness pours out of the hidden speakers. The acoustics of the mausoleums make it impossible to tell where the sound is coming from.
I close my eyes. Her violin tells the truth no one heard.
Chapter ten
Erik
My head snaps up, searching for where the melancholy is pouring from. As much as I need to know who’s playing, I need to capture it first.
I pat my pockets frantically, find my phone in my back pocket, and pull it out to hit record.
Dead.
I close my eyes and open my arms, letting the feeling wash over me.
Lyrics swirl in my head as I’m consumed. I don’t notice when the violin stops. I’m too busy repeating the words, reshaping them as they settle.
Remy returns. I grab his phone straight out of his hand. He’d been texting, the screen still unlocked.
I voice-text myself immediately.
