The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3) (25 page)

Violin Strains

Novel was keeping secrets again. As the end of the month of April drew near, and after everything he had promised Lily, she found him increasingly unreachable and fearfully tight-lipped. He was always whispering to people when she found him, and ceased all conversation the moment she entered the room, which made her feel strange and awkward everywhere she went. Worse even than this was the fact that Novel was thick as thieves with Baptiste again. The MC had been floating on the periphery of Lily’s universe for quite a few weeks since their big fight over Jazzy’s mysterious bleeding episode, but now he was back in place at his master’s side. So much so that Lily could hardly get a word to Novel without Baptiste hearing it.

It was nearing midnight on the eve before Lily’s birthday when she thought she heard whisperings in the theatre foyer. Keen to overhear them without detection, Lily put all of her focus into her gravity skills and walked slowly on a cushion of power through the empty corridor that led towards the public space. She had good reason to think that Novel and Baptiste were who the voices belonged to, for the mumblings she could make out were heated and both made in low, masculine tones. She had almost reached the door that separated the private quarters from the foyer when her floating feet connected with something large and solid.

Lily barely had time to shout out in surprise before she was tumbling to the carpeted floor. A knee, that had not been visible a moment ago, was in her line of sight as she crashed straight into it, and soon a pair of rough hands were slinging her upright again with a yank to her middle. In a hazy spin, Lily found her focus first falling to a golden, spade-shaped locket, and then up to the narrow eyes of its owner. Jeronomie Parnell gave Lily a sheepish look as she let her go, patting her shoulders all too hard by way of apology.

“Nearly got you there,” the potioneer remarked. “I’m awful sorry about that. I was sittin’ here thinkin’, you see, and you were so darned quiet coming up the walkway.”

“No harm done,” Lily answered brightly, though in truth she knew the whispering voices on the other side of the door had stopped their conversation. “I keep forgetting you can do the whole invisibility thing.”

“Well I don’t like to boast about my talents,” Jeronomie answered with a grin, “especially since your fella doesn’t have a use for them anymore.”

“Oh, right,” Lily said, suddenly understanding the potioneer’s brooding fit. “Novel’s taking you back to the States when we travel out there, right?”

“That’s right, Ma’am,” Jeronomie replied, sighing. “I didn’t achieve what I came here to do, and that’s mighty regretful. I tried to ask the Monsieur about giving me a little more time, but he’s too busy.” At this, Jeronomie hooked her thumb in the direction of the foyer door. “Reckon he’s got something important happening tonight.”

“Really?” Lily asked, her interest growing. “What have you heard?”

“Aww, that’s not important,” Jeronomie said, totally missing the pout on Lily’s face as she rubbed at her neck and sighed again. “I just would’ve liked to carry on my work with Jazzy and Salem whilst youse two were off up Boston way.”

Lily frowned at that.

“Salem’s coming with us, Jeronomie,” she revealed.

The potioneer’s spirit seemed to lift in that instant. Jeronomie’s dark eyes twinkled with a new fervour, and she straightened out her waistcoat as her frame took back its usual proud stance.

“Well, I reckon I’ve got something to keep me busy on the way home after all, then,” she surmised. “Thank you Lily, that’s mighty good news.”

Lily observed the strange human with a confused sort of smile. She put her hands on her hips as the potioneer began to walk away, and when Lily spoke, it stopped the woman in her tracks again.

“I don’t know what it is about Salem, but you’ve really taken to him, haven’t you?” Lily asked.

Jeronomie seemed to consider the words carefully, and her voice was level when she replied.

“I guess you could say that. He’s one heck of a project.”

Lily chuckled, and she was about to readdress the subject of Novel’s big plans when the man himself opened the door behind her. At the sight of him, Jeronomie gave a little nod and backtracked, weaving past the illusionist to get out into the foyer beyond him. A moment later, Baptiste was in the doorway too, and Novel whispered something to him right in front of Lily before the MC turned and left as well. Lily felt lost and insulted that she was deliberately out of the loop, but there was one thing that prevented her from flying off the handle at the man before her.

Novel was smiling.

It was a true smile, and one that she rarely saw, despite the fact that Novel’s facial muscles now had a little more exercise than the previous year. The illusionist never showed his teeth when he beamed, but there was something in his pale eyes that glimmered so warmly that Lily couldn’t help but be drawn to him. Novel held out a hand in a leading fashion and Lily took it, stepping up into the doorway with him as the vague chill of night made her shiver. He put one arm around her and led her towards the auditorium, where a strange, warm breeze seemed to hit her skin.

“Something’s going on,” Lily said warily.

“And how do you feel about it?” Novel replied with a question of his own.

He placed Lily before the double doors that led into the theatre proper, and she took a deep breath as she felt around for her instincts. There was a tremble in her nerves, but it suddenly felt as though all her suspicion had fallen away, and a kind of excitement had replaced the trepidation she’d been feeling for so long. She stepped forward, waving an enthusiastic hand to push the doors open wide with her magic, and the sight she beheld was enough to make a little gasp escape her lips.

“What we’re embarking on may be dangerous,” Novel said, close to her ear, “I thought something like this was appropriate, to help us forget, for tonight at least.”

The words
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIAMONDCHILD
were daubed in fine golden ink on a banner that was raised across the whole height of the Imaginique’s stage. Beneath it, on the boards themselves, the ragtag troupe of performers gave a cheer when they saw that Lily had arrived to discover them. A spontaneous chorus of the birthday song broke out seconds later, and Lily saw that even Baptiste was singing along to the traditional words. Each face that Lily recognised was bright and merry, from Jazzy and Lawrence at the stage’s edge, to Dharma and Zita, who sat father back in the cavernous space, shouting to make their shrill voices heard.

Tables and chairs were laid out on the stage for a kind of party, and the smell of Lady Eva’s cooking soon wafted across the room to enter Lily’s nose. Everything was cheerful and perfect, perhaps most especially the man who took Lily’s hand again to lead her towards the one good surprise she’d had that year. Novel was a picture of happiness, and when Lily noticed exactly where he was leading her, she gasped again. She spotted the structure when she and Novel were just a few steps shy of it, and pointed.

“This is the arch!” she exclaimed. “I remember this.”

It was a simple wooden arch decked out in white petals, and it had been laid very carefully over one aisle that led up to the stage. With another glance, Lily could see that everyone up on the boards was dressed in all their finery, for even Jeronomie’s beige waistcoat had suddenly turned a brilliant shade of green. The arch was one that Lily had stepped through before, at the unusual funeral of her relative Edvard Schoonjans, and now she would step through it once more for a much happier occasion.

“I may have made one or two modifications,” Novel admitted, even as he led her through the archway.

Lily felt the little white petals fall upon her as she and Novel paused. A moment later, she found herself looking at Novel in a suit she hadn’t seen him wear for a while, one which the arch had turned garnet red by its enchantment. A top hat had joined the ensemble from one of the illusionist’s modifications, and it wasn’t the only piece of clothing that appeared in those magical few seconds. Lily looked down at herself to see her dress – the shimmering white dress of the Diamondchild – and looked back into her true love’s eyes with a sheen of tears.

“Sorry,” she said at once, “it’s stupid to cry about a party, isn’t it?”

Novel shook his head, then leaned in to kiss her cheek softly.

“It’s been a hard year for all of us,” he told her, “and I feel like we haven’t danced in centuries.”

There came music, and food, and plenty of dancing. When Lily felt Novel’s arm cradling her back, and his fingers tightly wrapped around hers, it was as though a moment of impenetrable calm had fallen into place on the stage of the grand old theatre. The illusionist merely gave a nod of his head, and the instruments collected in front of the Row Below sparked themselves into action. Lily felt their magic, now hundreds of years old, as it coursed into her limbs and lifted them into the effortless rhythm of a formal dance. There was nothing to concentrate on when her feet moved by that magic, save for the deep, warm swirl of Novel’s oceanic eyes as he watched her, smiling still.

“What the-?”

The exclamation came seconds after the dance had begun, and it was from Jazzy. Novel turned Lily with a flourish and she came face to face with her petite friend at her once-full height. It seemed the music was working on everyone who had graced the stage, and Jazzy and Lawrence were no exception. The tall voodoo boy craned his neck down as his hands and arms took up their proper positions at Jazzy’s back and waist, and Lily’s best friend looked utterly stupefied as she watched her own legs moving with grace and strength. She sunk her head into Lawrence’s chest, where no-one could see her face, and Lily felt her own chest welling with a strange combination of happiness and woe as she watched the other pair dancing to the strains of violins.

“Whatever happens after this,” Novel said, his cheek resting softly against her temple, “remember that I love you.”

Lily swallowed hard, her tears threatening to burst free once more.

“I love you too,” she answered, “and that’s exactly why nothing’s going to happen. We’ll be all right in the end. You’ll see.”

They twisted to the music, and the lift in the bridge of the song took them both a few inches into the air. Novel held Lily tighter, their bodies closer than a hair’s breadth, and simply said:

“I hope you’re right.”

*

Lily was not the only one to cry that night, despite all the wonderful laughs and surprises of her party. It was nearing four in the morning when she stepped out into the foyer to catch some air, and found a small, sobbing figure sitting in a chrome and pink wheelchair beside the double doors. Jazzy was near to silent in her tears and motionless as a statue, the silver streams pouring down her cocoa skin like trickling brooks with minds of their own. Lily knew that Jazzy had felt her presence by the way she let her head droop just a little, and by the tiny, pitying smile that crept into one corner of her lip.

“I can’t dance with him like that,” Jazzy said quietly, “not on my own. And I
want
to, Lily. I want to so badly.”

“I know,” Lily whispered, slowly crossing the room. She bit her lip, her chest tight with guilt where she placed one hand over her suddenly shuddering heart. “If I’d known what that monster would do to you… I should have fought harder, I should have-”

Jazzy shook her head, and Lily broke into the proper tears that seemed to have been waiting to emerge all night. She fell to her knees beside her best friend’s chair, resting her chin on Jazzy’s knee as she sucked up a shaking sob. Jazzy put out a hand, patting Lily’s auburn hair before she too inhaled deeply.

“Salem’s been telling everyone about this Gifter you’re off to see,” Jazzy mused thoughtfully. “She gave him that songspinning power. It sounds incredible.”

“It is,” Lily agreed, remembering the sight of Michael just before the djinn had invaded Guttersnipes. “It’s magic like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

The hand in Lily’s hair slowly moved back to Jazzy’s own thigh, where she poked at her flesh, like she was trying to feel something there.

“I want to come with you to the States,” she said.

Lily looked up, finding her friend’s sorrowful face suddenly resolute, if terribly fearful. Jazzy reached down the side of her wheelchair and pulled out a little white book which Lily recognised at once. The Tales of the Glassman rested on Jazzy’s lap, and she tapped at the cover thoughtfully before she spoke.

“You remember I was going to read the story of the Blood Caster in here?” Jazzy asked. Lily gave a nod. “Well, I did. He made a deal with a djinn too, the Glassman, to get the power to craft magic from blood. The legend says the skill was passed to his descendants, but the catch was how it inspired them to do dark things. It was a powerful skill, but a wicked temptation too.”

“It’s like a deal with the Devil,” Lily said, nodding again. She wasn’t sure if she ought to be trying to dissuade Jazzy from her line of thinking, or supporting her decision purely out of her own sense of guilt for causing her disability. “You could get a lot more than you bargain for if you ask the Gifter to give you your movement back.”

“I don’t care,” Jazzy replied, shaking her head. “There’s so much I was going to do with my life, and I can’t do any of it stuck like this. Tell Novel we’re coming with you, Lawrence and I. I’ve made up my mind.”