Page 3 of The Devil In Blue
“The Blind Coast? You are reading nonsense then,” he laughed.
I’d always hated his laugh. It was wheezy and gruff and made his whole body shake and ripple. And usually, he used it to mock me in some underhanded way. Not that I could do anything about it.
“Nonsense or not, I find the idea of a coast in perpetual mist fascinating. And even more so, a sailor’s spirit who collects souls for—”
“Why don’t you play me a song,” he said with a yawn.
I had a bite of food on my fork and, looking down. I hadn’t even finished half my meal, but Lucien was bored and he’d devoured every bit of his food so quickly.
In the corner of the dining room was a cello. It was a gorgeous piece. Its red wood was inlaid with gold flecks and it was polished to glossy perfection. Lucien had it made special for me, for the moments that he wanted to hear music. He had me learn many instruments. The harp. Violine. Piano. But the cello was his favorite. I had to admit, the deep, haunting sound sang to my soul in a way no other instrument did. It pulled me into a familiar darkness.
I stood from my chair, walking slowly toward the beautiful piece. Pulling up my skirts, I sat down and propped the thing between my legs, poising the bow over the tight strings. I’d memorized every piece of music Lucien had in his manor and sifted through my mind to find one that suited me that day.
Lucien lounged back in his chair at the dining table, lighting his ivory pipe. He began to puff on the scented smoke, staring off into empty space as I slid the bow across the strings. A deep, slow melody took form and echoed through the large chamber. Closing my eyes, I let the music coil around my bones and soak my muscles. That particular song always pulled me under the waves into a place where I was drowning. A place so dark, I couldn’t see which way was up. But in that place, I always felt like I was close to something. I reached out, my fingertips just barely skimming some unseen shadow in the black. An answer. One I could never quite reach.
Somehow, feeling closer to it was addicting, even if I could never unveil what it was.
The music ventured deeper, filling me and plunging me further into that dark maze of mystery. There was so much missing there. Perhaps that was why it was so dark. It was an empty void where something once was.
And as I descended into that void, searching endlessly as I had done a thousand times before, I began to sing.
Elise in a field of thorns.
Her steps made red with blood.
She wails in fear, her dress is torn.
But on and on she walks.
The mist doth veil her eyes.
The dirt doth flood her ears.
The night is thick and the field is vast
But on and on she walks
Elise is far from found
Her heart and breath silent
She bears the cold beneath the mound
But on and on she walks
The night is very long
The trail does not appear
This is the maze, there’s no way out
But on and on she walks
By the end of the song, I nearly forgot the music was coming from me. I opened my eyes to a silent, still dining room that smelled of Lucien’s tobacco and carefully placed the cello and the bow aside, letting my reality come back to me. My stagnant, empty reality.
“Why do you always choose that song?” Lucien said, keeping his back to me.
“Because I enjoy the melody,” I said.
