Six days later, Lilly took the clothes out the back door to hang them on the line. It was a glorious sunny spring day. Birds sang. Crickets and bees hummed. And the sky didn’t have a cloud in it. She liked to hang sheets on the line. The smell was so clean, far superior to any dryer sheets bought at a grocery store.
Lilly cleaned the line with a cloth, then set down the clothes. It would have been a perfect day, if something weren’t dreadfully wrong with Jeffrey. He’d been irritable all morning, and he’d tossed and turned all night. She let him know that she knew something was bothering him, but he wouldn’t tell her anything.
And something was stirring within the house, a pulsing that electrified the very air. It felt like a crushing vise that squeezed every nerve in her body, a terrible menacing sensation that made her skin crawl, like that moment before a train crash.
Lilly picked up one of the sheets and shook it, trying not to think of her parents’ death. They had been traveling to Washington D.C. to sightsee. It was her mother’s birthday and her father had promised her this trip. And along the way…
Lilly’s gut clenched and a cold empty feeling settled in her chest. No, she wouldn’t feel sorry for herself at losing them. It wouldn’t do any good. They were gone from her life. They still haunted her dreams, though, but she guessed that would always be the case for two people she had loved so dearly. Sometimes fate could be cruel.
But if her parents hadn’t died, then she may not have had to support her sisters. She might have gone to college and never worked here or met Jeffrey. And that was a good thing, wasn’t it? So why did this house have such a menacing atmosphere. Why did she feel like doom was about to pounce on her happiness and snatch it away?
Lilly jammed the clothespins on the sheet, while the ends flapped in her face. She picked up another sheet. She had her voice, she was the Songbird. She should be thankful for that. And now she had Jeffrey, though he hadn’t said anything about love or the future to her. Future. The word sounded bleak at the moment and she didn’t know why.
Jeffrey was down at the barn, trying to find some tools to mend a fence, so she knew she was alone and it was okay to practice her voice. She spoke a few proper nouns that she had always wanted to say, like Beethoven, Bach, Handel aloud. The names rolled from her vocal cords loud and clear. She grinned at her own success, then sang the “Sound of Music” theme song—something she had always dreamed of doing. Her voice didn’t crackle or waver, but radiated rich and sweet and effervescent, her whole soul feeling the music.
Suddenly a bird landed on her shoulder.
She flinched and stopped singing.
The sparrow flew away.
Had her voice somehow impelled the bird to draw near her. She’d never had wild birds approach, or any animal for that matter, other than dogs and cats.
She began to sing again. The little sparrow swooped down again, hovered near her face, wings flapping, then it landed on her shoulder. She wasn’t afraid this time and didn’t move. And it stayed put. Then another sparrow landed on her head. Then three more arrived on her shoulders and neck.
She stopped singing and the birds flew away, as if her song had hypnotized the fear from them. So the legends that had been passed down of the Songbird had been true. Her siren song could control any being. But she didn’t know exactly how to do that. The stories stated that with time, her voice would get stronger and she would be able to manipulate it at will.
“What’s going on?”
At the harsh sound of Jeffrey’s voice, she wheeled around and looked at him. “Nothing,” she said, and realized too late that she’d spoken. She held her breath and waited for his reaction.
He had already looked annoyed, his eyes glistening, jaw tight, a vein throbbing in his temple. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple working. His expression turned bleak, his gray eyes hardened into empty, abysmal hollows.
“You can speak?” He dropped the hammer and board in his hands and strode toward her. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I just got my voice.”
He recoiled at the sound of her words, as if he couldn’t get used to hearing her speak, then he glowered at her. “Just got it? You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.” Her eyes dug into his.
“What, when you saw me and I was so damaged you felt the need to humor me and make up something for yourself? Was that it? You wanted to bring yourself down to my level?”
She heard the hurt and bitterness in his voice. “It’s not like that.”
“You lied to me.” His expression turned suspicious. “Who sent you here? Are you a reporter? Nice touch with the sisters. You almost had me believing you were a family.” He turned on his heels and stormed toward the backdoor.
“We are. I’m not a reporter. Wait! Let me explain.”
“Leave me alone!”
The door slammed behind him.
Lilly stared after him. She thought he would be happy for her, but she hadn’t considered his feelings, never considered that he would think she had tricked him. She couldn’t blame him for being suspicious. All of Hollywood was hounded by the paparazzi. How could she have been so stupid? And how could she tell him about her power and betray her people and the secrets they held. She had to find a way to explain. She buried her hands in her face and wept. For the first time she heard the sound of her own sobs and hated it.
Jeffrey stormed to her room, his heart pounding, his mouth so dry he couldn’t spit. He began searching her belongings for hidden cameras and cell phones. He couldn’t believe she could speak. Damn her! So this had been her game. Sleep with him. Gain his trust. Sell her pictures and story to the press. But hadn’t Isadora said that white magic surrounded her. A witch and a reporter both? Had she put a spell on him and that’s why he’d fallen so hard for her?
He didn’t think for one moment she was telling the truth. The paparazzi were infamous for infiltrating people’s homes. He could see the headline now: Demetri Braun Rises From the Dead as Frankenstein. He didn’t want to believe she was one of them. She had seemed so sweet and loving. He had jumped right in, hook, line and feminine wiles. Maybe she’d cast a spell over him. Literally. He’d have to give her one thing, she was a great actress.
He found nothing, and when he turned she stood in the doorway. She looked beautiful, her auburn hair pulled back in a braid as thick as his wrist. The lashes over her cinnamon eyes were wet and spiky from tears, and her eyes were deep, hollow pits of misery.
“You won’t find anything,” she said, “I’m not a reporter.”
He still couldn’t get used to her voice. It went right through him. When he heard it, he felt betrayed. “What brought you here then?”
“I needed work. It isn’t easy to find a job when employers know you’re different.” She stepped toward him, her hands out. “Please let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain, other than why you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you. I’ve been mute all my life. If you don’t believe me, ask my sisters and my people. I’m telling you the truth. The other night when I fainted, that’s when I became able to speak.”
“Why now?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“If you’re not going to be honest with me, then why tell me anything.”
“I just want you to know I’m still the same person I was before I regained my voice. Believe me, I am.”
“It changes everything.”
“It shouldn’t change anything.”
“But it does.” He crossed his arms over his chest and his lips hardened to a thin line. He knew he was pushing away the best thing that had ever come into his life. But he couldn’t bear her sympathy, nor could he put her in danger any longer. He knew when he started this relationship that it was for selfish reasons and could only be short lived. A way to end his loneliness, if only momentarily.
“So you can be with me when you thought I was flawed like you, but now, you’re going to throw all that away?” Her voice cracked and tears swam in her eyes.
He found himself unable to look into her eyes any longer, so he gazed out the window. The bright spring morning had undergone a dramatic change. The sun had moved behind clouds and it looked barren and gray outside. “We should never have slept together,” he said. “Where did you think it would lead? Did you think I would declare my undying love for you and marry you? That only happens in sappy romantic movies like ‘The Sound of Music.’”
Tears glistened in her eyes.
He had heard her singing the theme song. She had the voice of an angel, no thousands of angels. Like nothing he’d ever heard in his life. That’s why he’d been so angry. He actually hated himself at this moment. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. It will all be over soon enough.”
“What do you mean?”
Unable to bear her nearness any longer, or fight the urge to grab her and tell her that he loved her and beg her not to leave him, he forced his legs to move toward the door. He said over his shoulder, “You’ve done your job, but you’re no longer needed. You must leave now. I’ll write you a check for six month’s pay.”
He walked down the hall, her silence following him like a dark shadow.
It cut his heart like a knife. She wasn’t a press shark as he first suspected. Deep down he had known it, he just didn’t want to face it. He would have felt a lot less pain in this parting if she had been out for a story.
And why should he explain to her that he was going to die when Isadora claimed his soul, that he knew it would inevitably happen, but he had tried to ignore the foreseeable future. That he hadn’t considered the consequences of sleeping with her, taking comfort in her body, growing to care so much for her in such a short time. It was better this way.
He reached the basement door and heard Isadora’s malicious laughter coming from below.
Very sloppily done, Jeffrey. You’ll spend the last night of your life alone. At the stroke of midnight your time is up.
Her voice clawed down his spine, and he hurried to his office to get the checkbook. He had known Lilly had to leave sooner or later. He just hadn’t had the will to make her leave sooner, until hearing her voice only moments ago. Now he wished he had sent her away days ago…
No, that’s not true.
He would never regret their few hours of bliss together. Never. And he wouldn’t let Isadora make it sordid. As he looked back over the past ten years, it had all seemed meaningless to him. The mansion, the expensive sports cars, the women, the music awards. Fame was an empty pursuit. Lilly was the only truly innocent and pure element that had come into his life. He knew with his last breath he’d lament ever laying eyes on her because of the pain he was feeling in his heart, but by god, he wouldn’t trade the moments he’d stolen with her for anything, not even if he could buy back his soul or his unmarred face to do it. He loved her like he’d never loved any other woman. The realization emptied his lungs of air and made him stagger.
Lilly packed her suitcase, tears streaming down her cheeks. She understood Jeffrey’s anguish at her reluctance to explain about her voice, but why was he sending her away with such a cold dismissal? They could work it out. She might even be able to gain his trust again—if he would let her. And that ominous warning that everything would end. Was he considering taking his own life? She couldn’t allow that.
She slammed her suitcase closed. What was she doing? She wasn’t the type to turn tail and run. She faced challenges head on. Hadn’t she told him what she thought of his wasting his talent here and lying to the world about his death. Had he planned this suicide all along? We’ll, she wasn’t going to let it happen.
She squared her shoulders and left her room. As she passed the basement door, a cold chill slithered down her spine. And she could have sworn she felt an icy breath against her neck. She shivered, rubbed her arms, and hurried past the door, through the kitchen and down the hall. When she reached the living room, she spied the piano where they’d first made love, and she felt more determined than ever to change his mind.
She found him in the library, a small room next to the dining room. She had to enter through a false panel, that didn’t look like a door at all but part of the dining room.
He flinched a little at the sound of her footsteps and finished writing a check. He pulled it from the book with a quick snap. She noticed his shoulders looked wider than the chair, the back of his hair ruffled by the wind, looking seductively unkempt. She remembered running her hands through it and over every inch of his body. Even now, the yearning in her chest for him made her heart ache as she forced herself to breathe.
He turned his good side to her. “Here, take it and leave.”
“No. I won’t.”
“Damn it, Lilly. Take it.” He shook the check at her.
Lilly stood in the doorway, arms akimbo, and took up a stubborn stance. “I will not, not until I know why you said everything will end. What did you mean?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything?”
“But you did. Now tell me.”
He set the check on the desk and ran both hands through his hair, as if trying to pull it out.
Lilly walked toward him and touched his shoulder. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but she knew he’d pull away. She felt his muscles tense beneath her fingertips.
He swallowed hard and refused to look at her as he said, “Please, Lilly, just leave.” He picked up the check and handed it to her again.
She stood there staring at his hand. “You can trust me.”
“It’s too late.”
“Why?”
“Take my word for it.” His voice turned harsh. “Now, do us both a favor and leave. Not another word, please.”
Lilly felt a tightening in her throat, that moved up behind her eyes. Tears blurred her vision and his blue shirt and brown hair ran into a wash of muddy gray. She snatched her hand back and left without taking the check.
Well, she had tried, hadn’t she? There was no swaying him. She ran to her room, blinded by tears, her arms outstretched so she wouldn’t bump into anything. The sobs would start soon. She grabbed her suitcase, her whole body trembling from suppressing sobs.
No, she wouldn’t break down. She wouldn’t.
She pulled on a sweater, picked up her suitcase and headed for the front door. She reached for the knob, a huge black wrought iron contrivance, probably two hundred years old. Ugly gargoyle faces and bodies were carved along the handle.
When she touched the lock, she jerked back her hand. Her fingertips still burned as if she’d just touched boiling water. She gazed at the whole door. It emitted an aura of purple light. What was happening here?
She reached for the door again, this time a force hit her, lifting her off her feet and propelling her backwards.
She screamed, arms flailing as she felt herself being driven back through the air. Her gut ached as if a giant had just kicked her there. A frisson of energy cracked and popped over her skin. Her face felt on fire. She couldn’t breathe, then her spine hit the foyer wall and everything faded into black.