Page 8 of O Holy Spite

That shocks him and I grin. This is a truth I haven’t shared with anyone else, not even Fitzy. It’s difficult to understand for those who don’t feel this connection with music, and it sounds cheesy. But lyrics, a chorus, even a small snippet of a song always trigger emotions for me. Now I know that Rennie understands—it was written all over his face when I sang the old song.

I don’t know where it took him, but I know how.

“Frisson isn’t common, ma petite, nor is synesthesia.” His brow furrows and I shrug. “It seems you have secrets, too.”

“Nope. But I get it—why you’d learn instruments or cooking? It makes sense why you enjoy decorating and dancing. I even understand poetry and botany now. All of that allows you to immerse yourself in the effects.”

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he blinks, then plays a riff from Beethoven like a precursor. “This is why you’re so good at understanding Fitzgerald. You learned to mask yourself and how to wrangle the effects on your own.”

“As if I could tell Lucille that I can smell sounds and hear things in my mind when I touch them? No fucking thanks. I could barely keep her from sending me to have my body ‘fixed’ to her satisfaction, much less what might have happened if she thought my brain was fucked up.”

“There is nothing wrong with your brain, Dolly. No more than mine or Fitz’s, anyway,” he says adamantly. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, then he leans over the keys to look into my eyes. “What else have you figured out, my darling detective?”

Flipping over again, I put my face in my hands. “Aubrey has an eidetic memory. He tries to hide his corner of the rainbow spectrum, but if I move one of his treasures a centimeter to test him, he knows. It’s spooky.”

“Very good, ma petite. Flames has been alive long enough to know how to hide his intense gifted abilities when he chooses. It’s why he’s down there translating everything but the High Fae on his own, but pretending he’s consulting with colleagues.”

Rennie plays another riff, this one from Mancini. It evokes the picture of the pink cartoon cat sneaking around and I giggle. “Perfect. That’s exactly how I feel.”

The tune of a quiz show theme song is next as he grins. “Go again.”

“Chessie can learn anything you teach him after a few lessons. That’s how YouTube made him a better cook. He has to see it and do it, but it doesn’t take him long to pick up whatever he’s doing. It’s why his studio at Apex was so chaotic—all the different hobbies he tries until he gets proficient then drops. He only keeps what he enjoys, but part of the enjoyment is mastering things.”

A finger bops my nose as he plays the chorus from a Kinks song with his other hand, making me wiggle in delight. “On the nose. And our fearless leader?”

I snort. “You mean his massive control issues? They come from anxiety, Rennie. His shithead father spent most of his life threatening his grandmother, his twin, and his adopted brother. He used fear to control the prince so thoroughly that the one time he asked for something he wanted, Felix allowed him to punish them all for the offense.”

His fingers roam over the keys to play Requiem as he nods. “I knew that you saw it all the moment you got Fitzgerald to enjoy reading. The connections you made with his mind were so instinctual, yet gentle. And I realized it came from experience when we watched you perform. You cannot hide how the music affects you when your body and voice work together.”

“So we’re a big bunch of freaky, difficult people then?” I chuckle when he moves to the chorus of Seize The Day from last year’s talent show.

“Not at all—well, okay, perhaps, but not because of those reasons. I believe our eccentricities make us a perfect family.” He switches to Ain’t That A Kick In The Head and I laugh harder. “Your natural perception makes you the glue that holds us all together and makes us better people.”

Turning bright red, I wrinkle my nose. “Stop it. You know I struggle with praise that isn’t… during sexy time. It makes me squirmy because I don’t know what to do or say. And I feel bad for liking it because I don’t?—”

“Nope.” His hand is on my mouth and he’s giving me a reproachful look. “Don’t finish that sentence. Our job is to help you unlearn that shit your mother filled your head with. And that means you’re going to hear us wax poetically—or in Fitz’s case filthily—about the things we love. Get used to being a tomato, Dolly Drew.”

Not fucking fair at all. I can’t even complain now. Bastard.

“Cheater.”

“Non, ma petite. Not a cheater, simply as observant of you as you have been of us.”

I can’t argue with that, either.

For the rest of the afternoon, Rennie and I played and sang, sharing a gift I’ve never been able to before. Rufus and Cori sing, but neither play, and while I know all of my boyfriends would listen to me whenever I wanted, this is different. Joining me at the keys to make music together is indescribably intimate—it’s like he touched the special part of my soul that only he can.

That hasn’t happened with all of them, which may be why I haven’t taken them up on mating yet; I need the final piece to feel secure.

I have that with Fitz, and have since the minute he brought that hand in a jar. But I won’t move forward with one until I’m ready for all of them. It doesn’t feel fair in my heart and I want everything about that moment to be as perfect as possible. Realistically, I know my life is so messy that any big plans are likely to be smooshed by some bullshit, but a girl can hope, can’t she?

“Where did you go, ma petite?”

My gaze snaps to my gargoyle’s and I flush a little. “I was thinking about how close to you this makes me feel. And how happy I am that you brought me here today.”

His lips curve and he bumps my hip with his. “Now we have our special thing like you and Fitz, mmm?”

I blink. “You’re not reading my mind, are you? Gargoyles can’t do that, right?”

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