Page 6 of Last Note
Holy crap, that guy was smoking hot.
Fastening the seatbelt with trembling fingers, I stare out the window, still seeing those crystal-like blue eyes. His blond hair cut short on the sides and left longer at the top, tasseled up like he’s been running his fingers through it, should’ve looked ridiculous with the way he was holding himself all prim and proper, but somehow it worked for him. Long, thick black lashes framed his too blue eyes that seemed to glow somehow, although it might’ve been a trick from all those swirling lights. The perfect straight nose was set above full lips with a permanent smirk on them that didn’t go away even while he was talking. I know because I couldn’t look away from his mouth and had to grip my violin case tighter, so I didn’t reach out to touch him and see if he was, in fact, real. Ethan, I think he said his name was. I was gawking like a fool, so I might’ve heard him wrong.
His t-shirt was stretched out over firm muscles like a second skin, allowing me to see dips and bumps from collarbone to hips where the jeans were hugging strong, muscular thighs. My mouth went dry then, and it’s dry now just thinking about him. And his voice. That damn accent just added to the whole package, one that should only be seen on TV or in magazines. And if that was not bad enough, the other two carbon copies that stood behind him almost made me slap myself so I’d wake up. Luckily their body shapes were different, one was bulkier, and dressed in black leather from head to toe, his long blond hair fell over his shoulders, while the other was slimmer, like a swimmer, with a wicked-looking scar over his left eyebrow which contradicted the disarming smile plastered on his face.
“Oh, you have it bad!” Vi jars me out of my thoughts.
“Whatever.” Sticking my tongue at her, I push the thoughts of him away. They’ll be back later, I’m sure. “The guy was lost, I’m telling you. He spoke some different language. European, I think.”
“You know European is not a language, right?” Vi, always the one to share her extensive knowledge accumulated through hours of google research, points out proudly. “They have many different ones over there.”
“Thanks, Sherlock, I know.” Drawling, I look out the window again. “I think it was French…well, it sounded like that with the rolling err,” I try to mimic it, butchering the crap out of the beautiful sound he made.
“How romantic!” Vi breathes, and I shake my head, remembering the entire situation in the club.
“Yeah, very romantic. He saw me whacking my violin case across two guys’ heads, dressed like a homeless person in the middle of the trendiest club in town.” Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “He was probably thinking I’m lost and wanted to do a good deed, to save me from my misery by making sure I get the hell out of there.”
“Oh, stop that shit right now!” Turning away from the traffic in front of us, she glares at me before giving her full attention to the road again. “You are beautiful just as you are, and I don’t want to hear you say otherwise.”
Vi is very passionate about supporting women in general, and she never gets tired of reminding everyone she meets that they are beautiful as they are. Since we see each other every day, I’m her test subject for all her new empowering lines.
“I’m a woman, hear me roar.” Clawing the air at her, I make her giggle.
“Hell yeah! Show that motherfucker.” She pumps her fist in the air, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You’re the only motherfucker in the car with me, Vi.” We laugh for good few minutes before she collects herself enough to speak.
“Anyway”—Glancing at me sideways, she takes a big breath—“you ready for tomorrow?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Anxiety overrides my good mood. “You think it’ll be okay if we accept the gig?”
“The ad was clear. Audition, make everyone in the audience dance, and you got the job.” Puffing a breath through pursed lips, her hands tighten around the steering wheel. “We know we can do that.”
“We can also do other things that I’m trying to forget.” My heart is beating in my throat at the memories. “Have you spoken to Harmony?”
“Yes, she said she’s in.” Pulling off the freeway, she flies through the backroads like a Nascar driver, stopping in front of my house with squealing tires. “I have a feeling she’s going through some personal shit, and that her not being around has nothing to do with what happened that night.”
I want to believe her. I want to free myself from the guilt that has been eating me alive for months now, but I know better. We did something. I still can’t be sure what exactly it was, but people died. No, not just died. One moment they were dancing to the music we played, the next they started dropping like flies, shriveling into mummified husks all over the place. By the time we stopped, ten people lost their lives. It was proclaimed that it was a terrorist attack, some chemical weapon, or what have you. But I know better.
It was us.
Me, in particular.Idid something. I just don’t know what. The same shadows that I see swirling in my eyes in the mirror are in Vi and Harmony’s eyes. We all keep our thoughts to ourselves, but we all know.
“I gotta go,” Vi chirps, snapping me out of the sad memories.
“Right.” Grabbing my violin case, I jump out of the car. “See you tomorrow.”
I watch her drive away before I slink inside the house, tiptoeing so I don’t wake my mom. Dropping everything in a heap on the floor, I curl up under the blanket and fall asleep with crystal-blue eyes staring at my soul.
5
Étienne
They easily outnumber us six to one. As I see them forming out of the mist, I wonder if I should be happy that this will be over soon, or if I should be insulted. Shadows twist and turn, embracing the assassins like long lost lovers. A muscle ticks in my jaw at the waste of power when they can be bought easily.
They spread around, surrounding us. The suggestion for the humans to stay tucked inside the club is so thick in the air that not even the bouncer is left standing outside. An eerie silence descends in the empty parking lot, each movement they make is like a trick of the mind that will make lesser males tuck tail and run. They will learn soon enough that they picked the wrong target.
Their leader, I’m assuming by the arrogance and stench of decaying bodies surrounding him, steps forward, facing me head on. The mist parts just enough so I can see his eyes, more like black pools of death, not a trace of emotion left.
