Page 87 of Rise of the Melody
French Quarter Roast had closed at four, but we sat in the chairs outside watching tourists on their way to dinner reservations and shopping for T-shirts and blueberry preserves. With the sun going down, the warmth seeped from the air, and I wished I had my sweatshirt, though the others seemed completely comfortable in their short sleeves.
Every now and then I caught Chrystamos staring at me, his eyes wide with distrust. I tried smiling, but he grimaced and quickly looked away. I guess I couldn’t blame him.
I picked at my red nail polish. I hated just…sitting here. Being with Aunt Lorna all day had filled me with a need to find out the truth of what happened, and the person who could take the block from my aunt’s mind. Would this kill her? If she stayed in the coma forever, she may as well be dead. My chin trembled and I cleared my throat.
Teague noticed, and pulled my chair closer so he could give me a side hug.
“You okay?” he asked. I nodded. He left his arm around me. His warmth and his scent distracted me for a moment. I wanted to lean into him and forget everything, if even for a moment.
“That guy is super creepy,” Clare murmured.
We all turned and looked where she was staring. An incredibly tall man stood outside of the Irish Pub where a light trickle of fiddle music crept out from the doorway. He was dressed strangely, in baggy sweatpants with an oversized flannel that appeared to be buttoned wrong. His hair was a long, thick scraggle past his thick shoulders. But it was the way that he stood that was especially weird. Kind of hunched. Bowlegged. He openly stared at everyone who passed.
Teague’s eyebrows raised. “That’s a big dude.”
We watched him for a while before a stylish girl with a pristinely round afro stopped at the ice cream shop next door to look at the list.
Chrys shamelessly jumped up and approached her, offering his local opinion on the best of the best ice cream places and flavors on the island. Apparently, he was feeling better. Clare bit her bottom lip as she watched them for a moment, then she looked down at the table.
“So,” I said. “What else do you guys do for fun in the summer?”
“Well,” said Teague. “We used to go to the state park a lot. We’d hike the iron rung trails.”
“What’s iron rung?” I asked.
Shani gave a shiver. “Too freaking scary and high is what it is.”
“And hard!” Clare said. “I nearly sweated to death and could barely walk the next day after I did it.”
“That’s what she said,” Teague fake-whispered. Clare smacked his bicep.
Nora laughed. “There are literally iron rungs bolted into the sides of some of the smoother boulders so that people can climb them. It’s really steep. Crazy good workout. And the summit issoooworth it. The panoramic views of the island….” She sighed.
I smiled imagining it, but from the corner of my eye I saw Chrys exchanging numbers with the girl. Ugh. I needed to distract Clare.
“Did you make it to the top?” I asked her.
“Yeah…” Her eyes bulged and she pressed a palm to her chest.
“Clare?” I said. We all froze, watching as she began to wheeze, pushing back her chair.
Her voice was weird when she said, “I don’t feel good.”
“Is it a panic attack?” I asked.
She pushed her chair back and began gasping, causing us all to jump up. Shani was rubbing her back, murmuring something soothing.
And then Clare threw back her head, beads of sweat across her brow. Her eyes rolled back and she let out a deep sound that pierced the air. A wail, like an enhanced blast of sound coming straight from her soul. So loud that we all jumped back from her. So haunting that every hair on my body stood straight up and I wanted to cry. All four of us covered our ears, recoiling from the sound as Clare stretched to her full height, arms straight at her sides, palms open wide.
The banshee scream.
We all met eyes as we realized what this meant, and our gazes darted around. Chrystamos had run back to us, his teeth clenched against the sound. We all looked around for danger but saw only tourists staring our direction. As Clare’s wail subsided, we heard a woman’s yelp. The man outside of the pub had snatched up the woman from the sidewalk and run with her literally flailing under his arm. And he was fast.
Without thought, our entire group gave chase. We had to push past people who had poured out of restaurants and shops to figure out what was making the awful sound. Children were crying. Another woman was screaming and pointing down the street where the man ran.
“Someone help!”
We were all fast, but Chrystamos was…wow. His cat genes must’ve made him nimble.
