Nightfire by Alyson Burdette

Author:Alyson Burdette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Musa Publishing
Published: 2012-05-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

I force myself to wait until late afternoon to go see him. He asked me to come over after I got enough rest. I try to figure out how long I would sleep for, if I could sleep, and how long it takes a normal person to eat and shower. Most of the time waiting I spend thinking of him. I think of the way his hair looks in the afternoon sunlight and the way his breath sounds. Being away from him is much more difficult than I anticipated.

When I decide that enough time has passed to be believable, I walk my usual path across town. To my surprise, several of the townspeople smile in my direction. Apparently being associated with William makes me more trustworthy in their eyes, or at least less of a threat. A friend of William’s could never be a killer, or so they think. I try not to smirk at them. When I get to his place, I knock on the familiar door, waiting to be let in.

The maid, whose name I finally learned, lets me in.

“Hello, Emily.” I smile at her as gently as possible.

She tries to force a smile back at me, but it comes out distorted and unnatural. I don’t think she will ever trust me.

William comes down the steps smiling. The deep, brooding face I’d studied so carefully vanishes, replaced by something whimsical—happy, even. He throws his arms around me without hesitation. Without doubt. There’s no one here to see us but Emily, and she’s already vanished from the room.

“Come upstairs,” he pleads.

I follow, happy to be going anywhere but the basement. Happy to be going anywhere with him. I let him lead me past the giant portrait, and I follow him into the room I’d been drawn to the first night we met. A case, which I assume contains his violin, rests precariously against a wall in the corner. Several chairs are staggered artfully around the room. He looks uncomfortable as he begins to speak.

“I haven’t had much of a chance lately to practice my music. I thought maybe…well, I hoped you wouldn’t mind watching me play for a little while.” He wrings his hands uncomfortably. “We don’t have to, though, if there’s something that you would rather—”

I cut him off by placing one finger up to his lower lip.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do than be here with you.” I smile at him because I know, for once, that I’m being completely honest with him.

He returns my smile and goes to get his instrument. He sits and lifts it into place, resting it against the corner between his neck and shoulder. The moment he begins to play, it silences all the thoughts in my head. If his voice is a bird in song, his music is the sound of a thousand angels. It reverberates through the nearly empty room, covering every surface with soft, sweet vibrations of sound.

I stay captivated under the spell of his music for at least three compositions before my mind begins working properly again.

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