Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) (22 page)

I smiled, “No reason to apologize. Your mom is really nice, maybe a little overly flattering.”

Mrs Sanders laughed dreamily, dazed by my magic, “Oh, hardly!”

“Mom,” Will said quietly, “why don’t you go to the office and spend some time with Dad?”

She grinned, giving him a quick hug. “Alright, honey, alright. Have fun, whatever it is you’re doing.”

Will chewed his lip. “I was expecting you a little later,” he said. “Sorry, I just got back from a workout.”

“Oh!” I felt self-conscious. “I guess I didn’t let you know. I don’t have any extra lessons tonight.”

He gestured back towards the loft, “I can run up and grab a sweater if Stacie is waiting for us—”

I shook my head, finding myself grinning. I knew it didn’t matter in the long run, but I was still excited to spend time with him alone.

“Actually, she had something else to do. We’re on our own today.”

“Really?!” He sounded excited.

I nodded, “Yeah. I’ll need to keep it within a few hours, of course, but otherwise—”

He burst into a wide grin. “So we can finally—” He shook his head, “Sorry, I’m getting more excited about this than I should, probably.”

His enthusiasm was sweet. I smiled shyly, shrugging. “So what
do
you want to do? We could go somewhere else, or—”

“I…” he hesitated a moment, “can I play for you?”

His guitar. I doubted I wanted to hear it. “Will,” I said slowly, reluctantly, “um…”

Will smiled at me, “It may seem like a huge sacrifice… I promise that I’ll try my best to make it bearable. If you have suggestions to help me improve, I’m open to it.”

I shrugged. Most girls would probably be jumping all over this, even if they thought he would be terrible. With my siren ears and mind, it was the worst idea imaginable. Clumsy human hands trying to play chords and notes and scratch out a primitive melody… how pretentious I sounded, even in my own thoughts. I nodded, “Sure.”

“Great,” he said. He hesitated a moment and grabbed my hand, leading me upstairs to his room in the loft.

“Which one are you going to play?” I asked, settling down on his enormous bed. My heart began to beat hard in my chest, and I wanted suddenly to lay down on the soft fabric again and smell it. But I doubted there was anything creepier, so I refrained, keeping my hands clasped together.

Will’s eyes grazed over the wall of guitars, and he looked thoughtful. “Hmm… that’s a good question…” He grinned, “I’ll tell you what. How about I grab us something to drink—” I gave him a look, and he almost laughed. “We have bottled water, okay? I’ll grab some.” He continued, “And you can pick one out. Whichever one you want… except…” he strode over to the corner and tapped on a black case, “that one.”

“Why not that one?” I asked.

He smiled lopsidedly, “Well, it’s my favorite. But don’t peek at it. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

I felt a temptation to launch myself to the case and unclasp it, but I didn’t know him well enough to be teasing or prying or overly personal. So I nodded, “Okay. Fair enough.”

He strode back down the loft steps with a bounce.

My eyes hovered over the guitars on the wall. There were a few that were gorgeous. Even to my overly critical siren eyes, I could tell they were crafted exquisitely. If nothing else, Will’s inevitable shortcomings with his playing could not be blamed on the instrumentation.

It didn’t really matter which one he played. The outcome would be the same. I pulled a red acoustic from the wall, my fingers brushing over the strings carefully. I itched to play it myself, truthfully, but instead I set it on his bed, appraising it. A good size, the bottom rounded quite nicely, the hole the optimum shape to echo and reverberate the tone of the strings. It was brilliant in color, and polished, a sunburst pattern at the center darkening into a deep blood shade. The strings were silver and popped against the cherry coloring.

I leaned back onto his bed, enveloped again by the spicy smell of the bedding. I wondered if it was what his mother used to wash the linens— then again, looking at his house, he probably had a housekeeper lurking somewhere.

“Sarah?” I heard Will call from downstairs.

I popped up, “Yeah?”

“I’m heading to the garage for a new flat. We’re out of water down here in the main fridge.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling some relief. For a second I felt like I’d been caught doing something wrong, or strange.

I heard the door close, and I leaned forward, letting my eyes wander the room. Will’s watch was sitting on his nightstand. I picked it up and turned it around in my hands. It had a good weight to it, and I could see where he might find it comforting on a first day at a new school.

I replaced it on the table, an envelope catching my eye. It was labeled

William Anderson

That’s weird,
I thought.
Will’s last name is Sanders…

I couldn’t help it. The envelope wasn’t sealed, and I dug into it, pulling out the contents.

I inhaled sharply as I looked at it. Four pages, in neat scrawl. Scrolling designs, over and over and over again. The same as on my dulcimer, the same that was on my music box, the same that I’d seen dutifully transcribed in Aldan’s book… siren writing.

My hands shook as I stared at the pages.

I heard the steady rhythm of his steps as he ascended the stairs, his eyes fixed on the bottles in his hands. “Well, they’re room temperature, but still sealed and—” he glanced up at me, seeing the note in my hands. He sighed, his eyes falling, “I guess we should talk, now.”

I stared at him wordlessly, setting the letter back on the table top.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Score

My head was spinning. Will— or whoever he was— wasn’t what he seemed. My heart hammered hard in my chest. My breaths came out in short pants, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I had an impulse to run, to get as far from him as possible.

He knew something about sirens, that much was certain.

“Did you read it?” he asked.

I stared at him, my lower lip trembling. “No!” I said harshly. “Of course not.”

His brows raised doubtfully, “But you saw it…”

My shoulders shook, and my stomach tumbled around over and over again. “Are you hunting sirens?” I whispered. “Are you an extra? Why… why would you have something like that?”

He moved a little closer to me, and I flinched. I didn’t know what to expect from him anymore.

Watching my reaction carefully, he backed up with his hands raised— still holding the bottles. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sarah.”

“Why would you
have
something like that?” I asked again.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

Obvious wasn’t the word I’d use.

My jaw tensed. Maybe sprinting down the loft stairs would be my best option. I took a deep breath, springing to my feet. I started to move, but he caught my wrist and tugged me back. The bottles of water tumbled to the floor with a thud.

“What do you want with me?” I asked, terrified.

“To know you,” he said, frowning. “I told you that before.”

I snatched my hand from him, but he’d maneuvered his body between me and the stairs. I might have been able to push him down, but…

Tears began to roll down my cheeks. Glenn had been right this whole time in his opposition to this relationship. He’d had every reason to suspect Will of something.

Will’s eyes softened. He brushed away one of my tears with his thumb, looking concerned. “Hey...” he started to say. I shrank back at his touch. He ran his hand through his hair. “I’d planned on having a similar conversation tonight, since we’re alone, but…” he shook his head, “not like
this
. Start with the guitar, something easier. Move on to my good one, do it in layers.”

“What are you even talking about?” I moaned. My stomach burned, the acid churning. I needed to get out of here, but he blocked my path. I wondered if I could send a message to Glenn discretely enough that Will wouldn’t notice— maybe pull out my phone and text Marin.

“Why don’t you have a seat?” he suggested, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

With incredible reluctance, I sank back into the bed. The room had felt so comforting and warm earlier, but now I worried it was a trap.

“My name isn’t really Will, of course,” he said matter-of-factly. “My name is Score.”

I shook my head, not understanding. I didn’t care what his name was. “Can I please go home?” I whispered.

“You thought I was human. I know, and I’m sorry. Obviously now you’re aware I’m not, that I’m— but will you at least hear me out?
Please
?”

My eyes widened. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Will… can I go?”

He knelt in front of me. “Sarah, I’m like you. I’m a
siren
,” he said slowly.

I panicked, shaking my head. “No, you’re not! You
can’t
be! They died. They’re all gone.”

He reached up, touching his eyes, removing contact lenses. His irises swirled and whirled in colors as randomly as mine.

The world seemed to rock around me. “It’s impossible…”

“No,” he said, “it’s not…” He glanced again at the letter, “Did you read it? It’s okay if you did…”

I frowned, shaking my head. “No! I can’t read it! Even if I wanted to.”

“Really?” He sounded genuinely surprised, looking back to the pages, “Are you sure?”

Was he crazy? “Of course I’m sure.”

He sat next to me on the bed. His eyes were just as strange as my own, now, orange and bright blue and pale purple. He stared at the floor boards beneath his feet. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

My face felt prickly and hot, and I wasn’t getting enough air.

Another siren? Was it even possible? The council had told me I was the last of my kind.

Will— or Score— tentatively took one of my hands in his. I pulled away quickly.

“Sarah,” he said softly. “Didn’t you wonder at
all
? Why the kids in your classes didn’t so much as breathe a single syllable of gossip after my party, why they’d be captivated by me as much as you, why I’d have a house party with no music, why I’d sought you out before you’d said so much as a word to me?”

I gripped the edges of the comforter tightly. When he put it like that, the pieces did fit together. But no, I hadn’t wondered— I hadn’t thought quickly enough to see the pieces at all.

“So you’ve been… what? Evading the other extras? Hiding for thirteen years now?” I asked with a thin, reedy voice.

“Thirteen years?” He looked surprised. “Of
course
not. I’m seventeen— I only turned a little over a year ago.”

It was almost too much to take. I leaned forward, dizzy, and grabbed one of the abandoned bottles of water from the floor. I twisted it open, taking a few gulps. My throat was tight, and the liquid felt good.

“The note,” he said, gesturing to the letter on his nightstand. “It was part of my inheritance, that’s all. I received that and a few other things from my parents about a month before I turned.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest. This sounded awfully familiar, all of a sudden. “But your mom—” I protested weakly.

“I love her,” he said quickly, “and my dad. But… I’m adopted, Sarah. My birth parents died when I was four.”

I took another sip of water, feeling like I might start crying again. I should’ve been happy I wasn’t alone, but I only felt deceived. This whole time, I’d felt so confident around Will, thinking I’d had the upper hand in every scenario. It was painfully obvious now that he’d been in control the whole time. A heat rose to my cheeks— I was blushing. I felt even more awkward, somehow.

“How is it that you just… showed up?” I asked, looking into his changing eyes. They were forest green at the moment, with a tiny bit of orange on the edges.

He leaned over me, reaching for the nightstand. As his body crossed mine, I could smell the spice from his bed. My stomach twisted. It was Score— how
he
smelled— that’s what I’d liked so much. Was it because he was another siren?

He gripped his pocket watch, leaning back. “My letter had instructions in it, special instructions. This was part of it.”

I blinked, feeling confused, “You can read it?”

“Of course I can, Sarah,” he murmured. “Of course I can.”

“But
how
?” I asked him, desperate for answers.

He shrugged, “I don’t know. It was easier than reading English, practically all instinct. I’m surprised you
couldn’t
read it.”

It didn’t make sense. “What does the watch do?”

“It isn’t a watch at all,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “It’s a compass.” He pressed it into my left palm. I opened it slowly.

Sure enough, a compass with a needle that pointed… directly at Score. I studied his eyes. The colors changed again, blue invading the green. “This—”

“Points to the nearest other siren. Up until a little while ago, it only spun in circles when I held it.” He carefully took it from my hands, and I watched as the needle swung to point at me instead.

I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against my palms. Everything was overwhelming. I was just beginning to feel like I’d hit some sort of stride, regained some normalcy. I’d clearly been fooling myself.

“Why bother?” I asked, staring at the floor. “Why even try to find me?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. I glanced over at him. His eyes had turned a blue-gray for the moment, and he wrung his hands. “I guess I was lonely,” he said, his eyes shifting to a brighter blue.

“Lonely?” I asked with a choking laugh. I shook my head, bewildered. Score had so easily become one of the most popular kids in school. He was constantly surrounded by admirers. He had dozens of friends already— he was hardly alone.

Score leaned forward, resting his chin on his fists. “Yeah, lonely.” He turned to me, “Maybe it looks like I have it all together, but— do you know how hard it is to be surrounded by people you can’t be yourself with? People who have to do anything you say?” He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling loudly, “Even my parents…”