Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (13 page)

He smiled, “I’ve been awake for a long time. No, you didn’t disturb me.”

I shrugged and gathered my things for school. My old backpack had been replaced with a shiny new book bag. Marin had insisted on it after we’d packed my things. I quickly assessed what I needed and slid it all into the bag, snapping it shut. Hesitating, I grabbed my dulcimer and slung it over my shoulder.

“You’re taking an heirloom with you?” Glenn asked.

I shrugged. “It’s one thing to leave this here when Marin is around, but…” I bit my lip. It was a siren artifact. Of course, the music box and ring were, too— but the ring was too big for my finger, and the music box was broken. I didn’t know how valuable siren artifacts were until last night. The instrument seemed precious to me. While the thought of losing any of my inheritance bothered me, the idea of losing the dulcimer completely unnerved me.

“Your call. Just don’t ask me to carry it for you when you get tired of it.”

I smiled. Getting tired of the dulcimer would be like getting tired of oxygen. It just wouldn’t happen. “So when we go,” I asked, slinging my book bag over my vacant shoulder, “the people at school— the human people,” I amended quickly, “they won’t notice that you’re… well, definitely not human?”

He shook his head, “Not one little bit.” He paused. “You want to know the trick of it? It’s a game we play when we’re kids, but you’ve never been able to see clearly until recently. What you do, if you want to see how humans see, is unfocus your eyes first.”

I sighed, following his instruction. The background became clear as I shifted my focus, and Glenn sort of blurred. He still looked like an elf to me, though.

“Now, unfocus your
mind
.”

“How do I do that?” I asked irritably.

“Just stop thinking about magic. Think about the little things: the grass, the carpet— anything, really.”

Not thinking about magic was going to be hard. It was practically all I
could
think about the past couple days. I sighed again and tried to think about my book collection, how nice it was to have it here. A couple moments after my thoughts had shifted, I began to notice that I was indeed seeing Glenn differently. My focus returned to him, but the visible changes held fast.

Glenn’s tunic, which had looked so different from any human fabric, appeared to be a green t-shirt. His pants were now blue jeans. His boots had been replaced by sneakers. His bow and quiver looked like a backpack slung carelessly over his shoulders. Everything was baggy, and he looked slender despite looking
human
. But the outfit was only part of it.

His hair was platinum but still blond, rather than the true silver it normally was. His eyes were a soft green, and his ears looked like they’d been lopped off and rounded. The elongation of his limbs, fingers, neck and other features was still there, but instead of having a look of elvish grace, he was awkward, imperfect, gangly. He looked like an average teenage boy.

He laughed out loud then, breaking the spell. He’d returned, bow and quiver, grassy tunic, silver white hair, his features graceful. “I could tell the moment when you started seeing me the way a human would. You studied me like I was an exhibit in a museum.”

“Why does that work? Why is it so easy to shift it over?” Because, really, it was easy— with proper instruction.

Glenn shrugged, “It’s better for us if the magic is simple. So most of it is based on ignoring magic entirely… something the average human is really good at.”

“What happens when someone can see through it?” I asked. With so many people, it had to have happened on occasion.

“They keep silent about it or become lunatics, generally.”

I shivered. We headed downstairs where Marin waited by the door. She looked good, she always did, but her face was screwed up in irritation. “Ugh. Monday mornings are the worst.” She tugged at my arm impatiently, “Let’s get going. We need to get there a little early today.”

I looked at her, eyebrows raising, “Why?”

“Damage control,” she said with a grin. I recognized her expression from every time she’d played a particularly nasty trick. “You’re going to give an announcement to the whole school.”

I felt the blood drain from my face and land in the pit of my stomach, a hard knot forming. “I’m not doing anything at school if I can help it!”

“The beauty of this,” she said, looping her arm through my own and leading me out the door, “is that it
will
help you in the end. I just get to watch you squirm, too.” We headed out to her convertible, and she clicked the buttons on her key-fob. The car made a chirping noise, and the doors unlocked. She nearly pushed me inside the passenger door, but Glenn stared at the vehicle with a tight frown.

“Get in,” Marin huffed irritably.

His eyes met hers. “I think… I think you both need girl-time. Some privacy. I’ll walk. I’ll probably be there before you arrive.”

She rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

With a push of a button, the ignition started. Pop music blared from the speakers. It was awful, drilling a headache between my eyes instantly.

I cringed, “Ugh! Turn it off!” I whipped my hand towards the volume knob, twisting it sharply down.

Marin’s mouth twitched, “It’s not
that
bad—”

“It is!” I protested, “It’s worse than nails on a chalkboard—” In fact, thinking about it, I could probably create
real
music from nails on a chalkboard, given the proper time and— oh, god. It was because I was a siren. No wonder my mp3 player had seemed broken.

Marin just laughed, “Okay, no human music for Miss Fancy-Tastes, I guess.” She shifted the subject back, “You have to do an announcement asking people to leave you alone. The teachers can’t call on you, everyone needs to just ignore you as much as they always have. Say something about humans not speaking to you unless spoken to.”

I blanched, still not keen on the idea. Siren or not, the idea of talking in front of that many people sounded awful. Sixteen years of life avoiding these kinds of scenarios was difficult to erase. Despite this, Marin was right. It was a simple, elegant solution to an otherwise irritating dilemma. “Okay,” I muttered under my breath, “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will,” Marin said, a triumphant smile on her face as she shifted gear, “and I get to watch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

True to his word, Glenn was waiting for us when we pulled onto campus. He leaned against the side of the building, facing the student parking lot. It was fairly wasteful, truthfully, for Marin and I to be driving, but Glenn still had to have been moving pretty fast to arrive before us.

The announcement turned out to be less entertaining than Marin had hoped. In the few minutes of time I had in the car before school, I ran-through and re-ran-through the speech. When I sat before the microphone, I was careful with my wording, hoping to avoid problems. I stumbled a little on the “don’t speak to me unless spoken to” bit, but otherwise it flowed from my mouth smoothly.

After the announcement, the day was routine. Glenn— or perhaps the council— had pulled some strings to ensure we shared every class together. Most of the time the elf even found a seat next to mine. The latest gossip, at least for all the human students, had shifted from my inexplicable appeal to the new kid.

In our first class together, Glenn mumbled out something about how we were childhood friends, that we practically grew up together, that he moved with his parents into town recently but hadn’t settled. The lies he told the class were all plausible, and while he said them smoothly, he kept his head ducked down a lot.

After that first explanation, he never had to do much more than introduce himself and wave before taking his seat. The reaction of the class was more or less to scrutinize him, the boys and girls both sizing him up for differing reasons. Glenn stuck to reading, quite quickly, the texts placed in front of him. He seemed to enjoy the learning process.

When the boys in the class had decided he wasn’t a threat to their alpha status, and the girls decided that he was perhaps a little awkward for their tastes (not nearly so handsome as the string of guys Marin tended to date), they settled down. It took the entire day before I noticed that the eyes of the students were steadily drifting from him.

It was a relief. At least my classes were back to normal. Relatively.

When the last bell had rung in PE, I was in the locker room, changing out of my gym clothes.

Marin asked, “So you want a ride, or are you walking with Captain Hot of the No-Fun?”

I shrugged, “I don’t care.”

“Good. Then take a walk,” she said, “I have swim practice, then a date.”

I chuckled, “Do you have a date every night, Marin?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, pursing her lips and staring up out of the corner of her eye before she grinned. “Yes. Pretty much.”

I shook my head, laughing, “Well, have fun.”

I tugged my sweater over my head and slung my backpack onto my shoulders. Glenn was already outside the door, propped against the wall and waiting for me to emerge. I nodded at him.

It had rained in the morning, but this afternoon was gorgeous. A few fluffy clouds broke the sky and helped take the chill out of the late September air.

Glenn was silent as we walked, and I found myself looking at his bow and quiver curiously. It was a fantasy staple, of course— swords and bows and axes— but it didn’t make sense to me, in this day and age. “Glenn?” I asked thoughtfully.

His head rolled towards me, “Sarah?”

“Why the bow?” He raised a silver brow up, questioning the question. I clarified, “I mean, why not just use a gun?”

He smiled, his eyes falling on the wet asphalt below us, “Too complex.”

“Oh. Okay,” I said, not really understanding the answer.

Glenn was silent for a few seconds, as if he was trying to figure out a good way to explain himself before saying, “It’s not effective against magical creatures because it’s too complex. That’s what I mean. There are hundreds of ways to foul up gunfire with a spell or charm, but fewer ways to manipulate the arc of an arrow, or the swing of a blade.”

“What kind of spells would affect it? Isn’t there a way to make it worthwhile? I mean, that just seems really…” I didn’t want to be rude, so I didn’t finish the sentence.

Glenn ended the phrase for me instead, “Primitive?” He smiled. “Okay, for example, take a simple pistol. There’s several potential problems: the actual trigger can be stuck; the bullet can be caught in the chamber; the bullet could be missing; the gunpowder could be replaced by something innocuous; the gun could be caused to misfire; or a hundred other things could be tweaked. Worse if it’s less simplified— more parts, more ways to stop it. Add in safeties, automatic pieces, moving parts, and it ends up being far more difficult to avoid a proper arrow than a bullet in the magical world.”

That made sense to me, at least. I sighed, realizing we’d arrived at Marin’s massive house. I had most of Aldan’s council law book to get through tonight. I wasn’t looking forward to it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Wraith

That night, I awoke in my bed with a strange, unsettled feeling, despite the light in the room. The moon waned gibbous, sending silvery beams through the cross-hairs of the window panes. I glanced over the covers. Glenn was nowhere to be found. I pulled the comforter up to my chin, snuggling beneath it nervously. Something felt wrong.

The hair on my arms stood up as the shadows in my room slunk up and down the walls. If I’d been in my room at Susan and Rick’s house, I’d have thought it was the headlights of a passing car, but that was impossible here. The windows in Marin’s guest room all faced west, towards the ocean.

Scrape…

The sound was like a knife dragging across the side of the house. My eyes were wide, darting around the room, as I tried to make sense of it.

I attempted to call out to Glenn, but only a whimper emerged from my throat.

Scrape…

It was coming from the window closest to me. I shifted my gaze to the sound, afraid of what I would see.

A humanoid shadow stood casually outside. My stomach clenched. My room was on the third story, at least thirty feet above the ground. Long, claw-like fingers reached out to the window.

Scrape…

My lower lip trembled. My breaths came harsh and quick, sounding ragged.

The dark silhouette’s fingers tapped the glass lightly. It pulled away hastily, as if it was surprised to find the interference of the window pane. The shadows slid again, the light contorting. For a split-second, I could make out a wide, jagged grin from within the darkness.

The figure placed its hand to the window. I watched in horror as the glass rippled, the pane melting into a thick liquid. It hugged the frame like honey, dripping down in fat, opaque drops.

Terror froze the blood in my veins. The glass no longer obstructing it, a clawed hand poked through the hole.

I wanted to run, but my legs refused, remaining motionless in the bed. I wanted to scream, but my voice was lost to me. I felt a tear roll down one of my cheeks. I was trapped, helpless.

The creature entered the room, sliding its lanky body through the window frame, gliding into the light.

It was hideous. Leathery gray skin stretched over an emaciated body. Its eyes were a bright yellow, huge and round and open widely. Its pupils were large and dark, and the whites were not white— instead a sickly jaundiced color. I could see the ribs, defined enough that I could count them as they stuck out from the gaunt frame. They hung from the creature’s spine like a coat. Below the jutting ribcage sat a round, fat, distended belly. It had a long, thin, hooked nose. Its mouth was still wide and grinning with many teeth all filed into sharp points. A few straggly strands of greasy white hair hung off its skull. It was floating towards me, the feet hanging limply in giant bird-like claws.