Page 67 of Hunger & Harmony

This has to stop. Even as his mask falters, and a blend of confusion and guilt has him pushing the woman off to sit up, I still turn. My feet glide over tapestries, willing myself not to be a crybaby this one time.

This ends here. Despite my heart screaming at me to run right back to him, I won’t. I knew well and truly that this was doomed from the start.

Because he’s the king of vampires. I don’t belong in his world. I don’t even like rock music, right?

My throat constricts. I won’t cry. I won’t cry.

Wrong notes chase me through these winding halls, snapping at my ankles like beasts. My sobs catch in my chest as I manage to stumble back to my room and hide in the cold bed, heaving with exhaustion and misery.

Only for something else to come knocking. Dread slips into the safety of the blanket and makes a home in my bones when I realize there’s only one source for the wrong notes left now.

Me.

16

SACRED NIGHT

The sun is setting.

There’s no window to confirm. Only my phone buzzing under my pillow.

I’ve woken enough times in the evening to be used to it. I already know it’s not the time, or even amount of sleep, that’s keeping me glued to the bed.

After a third message vibrates, I bottle up my despair and put my working cap on. It’s not like tonight—the finale of the tour—was ever going to be a vacation.

Sitting up, I swing my legs over the bed and slide my hand under the pillow. Wait. It’s not Lorelai checking in, but my personal phone going off.

My heart stops. The pit in my stomach can go deeper.

Lala

What’re you doing?

Cadence, do you even know what Sancte Noctis is?

Call me. We can figure this out.

I don’t know whether to scoff or cry. Both sound good. She treats me like I don’t know my own job, like I’m not aware of where I’m sitting, literally, as she messages me. Lucky for her, she’s right. Unlucky for me, it’s not for the reasons she’s thinking.

Another message pops up.

Lala

You’re not just an assistant anymore, are you?

The silence crushes me, turning my lungs to lead. I almost miss the wrong notes that followed me into restless dreams. Anything to not be alone with my thoughts.

Did they truly follow me, though?

Or can wrong notes belong to me?

I toss my phone away. There's no point in spiraling over it. There’s also no point in answering Viola, no matter how badly I want to call and beg her to come pick me up. Freedom comes with a cost; independence means fixing my own messes. It’s already six o’clock. Time to do my job and be an assistant.

Nothing more.

When I stand with a sniffle, I’m suddenly blinking at my luggage. My carry-ons sit neatly next to the door, a splash of sky blue amongst the dreary neutrals. While I’m sick of this dress twisted around my body, a chill blows over me at the thought of those guides or even a cloaked figure coming in while I slept. Still, there’s nothing to do but open them up and get ready.

Ready for what, I’m still not sure.