Blood Song: Prelude (Blood Song Series Book 1) by Charli B. Rose

Author:Charli B. Rose [B. Rose, Charli]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-07-01T05:00:00+00:00

12

Celesta

I stood from the chair and rolled my head to release some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. A glance at the time on my cell phone told me I’d been in the same position for hours. After scouring the internet and finding only the barest traces of Toven’s existence, I realized I had my work cut out for me. Mrs. Burkett fixed us a light meal when it became apparent Toven wasn’t coming home for lunch.

Later, I took a break to unpack my belongings and organize my new room. It felt good having a place for my things, even if it was only temporary. There were more drawers and shelves than I had things for, but if Jacque’s packing for a week was any indication of what he’d have ready for me next week, I’d soon have the space filled with clothes.

Happier once I felt settled in my temporary home, I’d wandered back to the office. By mid-afternoon, I’d composed a lengthy list of ideas of how to help Toven. I’d also added a few questions to my notebook of curiosities. To help him, I needed to understand him better. The best way to understand a musician had to be through an examination of his music.

With that thought, I’d grabbed the top leather-bound composition book. The smell of old books filtered into the air around me. I flipped through a few pages, just browsing, not really reading. The pages were yellowed with age. The once black ink had faded to brown.

I’d lost myself in the old pages, reading lyrics about fun and parties, music and women, hell and sadness, loss and loneliness. By the time I finished pouring through that first journal, the sun had dipped low in the sky beyond the windows and my entire body was stiff.

As I stretched, Mrs. Burkett bustled in.

“Dear, you must stop for the day and go get dressed. Toven called and will be home shortly. He wants to take you to dinner at Delicieux de Manger.”

I was dumbfounded. The waiting list for that restaurant was six months long at least.

“I don’t know what to wear to a place like that,” my voice rose in panic.

“Relax, dear. You go up and take a shower. I’ll sort through your closet and pick something out for you.”

“Thanks.” I gave her a little squeeze before I darted upstairs. Her chuckle followed me.

I raced to the bathroom and turned on the shower to let the water heat up. A glance in the mirror startled me. My cheeks were tracked with dried tearstains. When was I crying? A closer inspection showed my eyes to be bright, but not red like they normally were after a crying spell.

My fingers worked to release my hair from the messy topknot as I pondered the mysterious tears. To my knowledge, emotion had never caught me unaware and then snuck away without my knowing.

Shaking my head, I finished undressing and stepped under the hot spray. My mind immediately flashed back to this same setting from the previous night.

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