by Tasha Black
Tabitha stepped into Le Sucre and looked around for Sara.
She had dropped Tristan off at Sara’s place a few minutes ago so he could speak with his brother.
Sara was already off at work for the day, but had promised to meet Tabitha at the café.
“Tabby the cat had many a story to tell, but it was a rare occasion, such as this, that she did,” the barista sang out speedily.
“Hey, Carl,” Tabitha said. “Was that Primus?”
“Not too many Tabitha songs,” he admitted. “So I had to improvise. Cappuccino?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “And a grilled cheese with hot sauce.”
They hadn’t stopped for food on the long drive back, and it was getting close to dinner time.
“Long day?” he asked, sympathetically.
“Long everything,” she said, thinking about the long, lean King of Light and how endless their silent drive had felt. “You haven’t seen Sara, have you?”
“Well, she was here this morning, on her way to meet an inspector, I think,” Carl said. “But not since then.”
“Okay, no worries,” Tabitha said.
She headed over to their favorite table and swiped her phone to unlock it to find about twenty texts from Sara.
“Holy crap,” Tabitha breathed as she scrolled through them. She must have been driving through an area without any phone service when Sara was trying to reach her.
Tabitha scanned the texts quickly, glad to see that everything was okay. Her friend had apparently uncovered the identity of the secret buyer who was purchasing the mansion.
Before she could finish reading all of the messages, the bells over the door jingled and Tabitha turned to see Sara dashing in.
“Sara, Sa-a-a-ra—” Carl began to sing.
“—just a latte, please, Carl,” Sara interrupted as she pulled out the chair opposite Tabitha’s.
“So who is it?” Tabitha asked, forgetting to say hello.
“We don’t have his name,” Sara replied. “But I have the name of his assistant - Miranda Cannon. She’s a little older than us, but not much, originally from Tarker’s Hollow.”
“Sounds familiar, but I can’t place her,” Tabitha said, shaking her head.
“She would have been a couple years ahead of us, and I think maybe she dropped out of school to work for this guy,” Sara said.
“Wow,” Tabitha said. “That’s…weird.”
“Well, she’s meeting us here in a few minutes,” Sara said. “So keep your opinion on that to yourself.”
“She’s meeting us? Here? In a few minutes?” Tabitha echoed stupidly.
“Hey, let me see your finger,” Sara said with a knowing smile.
Tabitha shoved her hands into her lap.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Sara told her softly. “They’re amazing guys.”
Amazing, except mine hates me.
She didn’t exactly know why he was pulling away from her, but he couldn't have made his feelings more clear. Tabitha had come up with an excuse to turn in early last night, just to get them into bed, and he hadn’t even tried to touch her. And then he had barely spoken to her the whole way home.
Maybe he was mad that she hadn’t done a good job fixing the violin. Maybe her magic wasn’t up to his standards. Or maybe it was something else.
She wanted to talk to her friend about it. Sara would understand. She always did. But everyone else in the little café was so happy, it felt childish to moan about Tristan.
Besides, she had never wanted a serious boyfriend. Why should she start now?
The bells over the door jingled again.
A tall, curvy woman with porcelain skin and brilliant red hair done up in a tight bun stepped inside.
Her steps were accentuated by the clicking of her heels. They had to be at least three inches high, adding to her already impressive height. A plain, steel-gray suit with a white blouse managed not to undercut her Valkyrie-like appearance.
The woman paused to take in the whole café, and when her eyes landed on Tabitha and Sara, she turned on her heel and headed over.
“Oh, wow,” Sara murmured.
“You must be Sara Mason,” the woman said crisply. “Miranda Cannon.”
Sara took the woman’s proffered hand and shook it.
Miranda turned to Tabitha.
“Tabitha Barnes,” Tabitha said, offering her hand.
Miranda shook it firmly. Her hand was cool and dry, and she maintained eye contact for just the right amount of time before letting go.
Tabitha had always heard that having a good handshake was important for first impressions, especially in the business world. But up until that exact moment, she had no idea what a good handshake even was. Now she had a shining example that made her wonder just what kind of impression she’d been making on people her entire life.
“Please, have a seat,” Tabitha said, indicating the third chair.
Miranda sat beside Sara and leaned in. “Listen, you both seem like smart women and I don’t have a lot of time for this meeting, so I’m going to keep it short and sweet.”
Sara met Tabitha’s eyes. This wasn’t what either of them had expected.
“The three of us are not enemies,” Miranda went on. “I understand that the history of this area is important. I know there are a lot of people who will be very disappointed if that house is torn down.”
“Yes,” Sara said, sounding relieved. “Has your employer identified any alternate sites? I would be happy to offer my services, pro bono—”
“—However,” Miranda went on, “my employer is not concerned about those particular details. The site in question suits his needs, and he is already committed to the project.”
Sara bit her lip as Tabitha clenched her fists under the table.
“Although he acknowledges that you could slow things down for him,” Miranda said. “But the fact of the matter is that you will never outspend him when it comes to lawsuits. I am not at liberty to divulge his identity, but please believe me when I tell you that he will wear you down. He will not only win, he will ruin you. I’ve seen him do it before.”
Miranda paused, and Tabitha was amazed to see that despite her ultra-professional demeanor, there were tears brimming in her brown eyes.
“I am not supposed to be meeting with you,” Miranda went on. “But since I’m from Tarker’s Hollow, I felt honor-bound to warn you off. It’s what I would have wanted someone to do for me.”
She pressed her lips together and gazed at each of them in turn.
“It’s very important that you know you’re dealing with someone unusual, and very powerful,” she said softly. “Whatever you’re imagining, whatever you think you’re up against, this isn’t it. Just walk away. Find another cause. I’m sorry, I really am. But getting in his way is a non-starter. Do you understand?”
“Listen, Miranda,” Tabitha said, placing her hand on the other woman’s wrist. “We appreciate the warning. But I’m a Barnes. My family has plenty of resources to deal with stuff like this. Your employer isn’t going to ruin me. Maybe you should warn him.”
But Miranda’s brown eyes had widened, and her lips were slightly parted as she looked down at Tabitha’s hand on her wrist.
Tabitha pulled her hand back.
It was odd that Miranda was so taken aback at a simple, friendly touch, but something about it must have been triggering for her.
Miranda’s chair screeched in protest as she stood up swiftly.
She marched to the door, her heels clicking loudly. But when her hand was on the handle, she stopped and turned back.
“I know exactly who you are, Tabitha Barnes,” she said. “And it doesn’t matter. Call it off while you still can.”
The bells jangled violently as she stormed out.
Before Tabitha could process any of what had just happened, Sara’s phone rang and she answered it.
“What?” Sara asked. “Where?”
“What’s wrong?” Tabit
ha asked.
“The banshee,” Sara whispered. “The boys have been watching the glass. It’s on the move.”
Tabitha knew that Dorian and Tristan weren’t familiar enough with the local area to make sense of any landmarks they were seeing in the mirror.
She and Sara had to get back to them.
Fast.
20
Tabitha
Tabitha was up with her bag in her hands and heading for the door before Sara even finished explaining.
They hopped into Tabitha’s car and then sped to Sara’s house, pulling into the lot across from the mill houses in a spray of gravel.
Tristan and Dorian were already sprinting across the street to get to them.
The sight of the two big kings running was breathtaking - their long hair lifted in the breeze and their generous muscles tensed and released like a pair of big cats on the prowl.
Tabitha ripped her eyes away, looking down at the vines around her finger.
She had almost wondered if they would fade now that it seemed Tristan was losing interest.
If anything, they seemed darker than before.
The men flung open the door and piled into the backseat.
“Let me see it,” Sara said.
Dorian handed her the shard of glass.
Sara and Tabitha studied it together.
“Oh my God,” Sara murmured after a moment. “That’s the elementary school.”
She was right. Tabitha recognized the old green and cream checkerboard floors and the candy apple red lockers.
“The End of Year Talent Show,” Tabitha breathed.
“Shit,” Sara moaned.
Tabitha pulled out of the parking lot, putting the Audi through its paces as they tore onto Rosethorn Valley Road and headed toward the elementary school.
“What’s happening?” Tristan asked from the backseat.
“All the youngest students in Rosethorn Valley go to the elementary school,” Sara explained. “Tonight they have a school-wide talent show to celebrate the end of the school year.”
“All the students will be there,” Tabitha said through gritted teeth.
“And their families,” Sara added.
“This is a very bad place for a banshee,” Dorian said firmly.
“Agreed,” Tabitha said.
“But I can see why she would like it,” Sara said. “All the music would draw her in.”
“She likes sad music,” Tristan pointed out, as Tabitha swerved onto the road that led to the school. “Children sing happy music.”
“It must be so pleasant in your realm,” Sara said. “With children singing only appropriate songs and all.”
Tabitha swung into the school parking lot and turned off the car. She grabbed the bag with the violin as she slid out and sprinted for the big front doors.
The others were right behind her. She could hear their footsteps.
And she was a little horrified that she could feel Tristan’s presence at her elbow, as if they were linked by an otherworldly bond.
They arrived in the lobby. The doors to the auditorium were already closed, signifying the performance had begun.
A horrible wailing drifted to them from under the closed doors.
“We’re too late,” Tristan said.
“They will have all gone mad by now,” Dorian said sadly.
“Wait, no,” Tabitha said. “I think I recognize that. It’s an Adele song.”
They all stopped and listened for a moment.
Sure enough, it was just a terrifyingly awful rendition of a popular break-up ballad.
“The banshee probably hasn’t made her move yet,” Tristan said. “Where do we have to be to have the best possible view of the whole room?”
“We’d be able to see everything from backstage,” Sara said. “Come on.”
They all took off down the hallway, past the office and the art room.
Tabitha couldn’t resist peeking in the doorway of the music room as they flew past. She had spent plenty of time in there as a kid playing the violin. Much as she had resented it then and wanted to be a drummer instead, she was glad now if there was any chance that she could get a noise out of the bone violin that would slow or stop the banshee.
As they approached the stage entrance to the auditorium, the sound of more singing could be heard.
Much better singing, from a much older, more familiar voice.
“Mr. White,” Sara and Tabitha said at once.
The beloved Rosethorn Valley Elementary School janitor had been middle aged when Sara and Tabitha were students here. By now he must be considerably older.
But his sweet, mellow singing voice was familiar to anyone who stayed after school for activities.
Mr. White always carried an iPod and when the school day was done, he put on his headphones and sang while he cleaned the floors until they shone.
Tabitha sped up until her thighs burned and she gasped for breath.
Mr. White was a Rosethorn Valley treasure. She would not let the banshee harm a single hair on his head.
Not on my watch, you bitch.
She slid and nearly fell when she took the corner that brought them into the hallway behind the auditorium.
Sure enough, Mr. White was pushing his floor polisher.
Tabitha could see that he now had ear buds, not the bulky headphones he’d worn in her day.
But, true to form, he was polishing the floor within an inch of its life, while singing Man of Constant Sorrow beautifully enough to make her heart ache.
He was headed in the same direction she was, so she couldn’t get his attention from behind between the ear buds, the polisher, and the caterwauling sound of the kid on stage that bled through the backstage doors.
Between them, the banshee floated slowly toward her prey. Her tattered cloak and long, dark hair fluttered backwards in the breeze that was kicked up by the floor polisher.
“Mr. White, run,” Sara screamed from behind Tabitha as they barreled toward the banshee.
But Mr. White did not hear her. He paused to polish the trouble spot near the boys’ bathroom, just as he got to the best part of the song.
The banshee, however, did hear her.
She spun in the air, arms up, face a study in rage as she beheld the invaders who were interrupting her meal.
“The violin,” Sara cried.
Shit.
Tabitha realized she really should have had it out by now.
She opened her bag and unwrapped the thing from the old sweater she’d used to protect it.
The banshee opened her mouth and the same horrid warbling emerged as before.
Sara was already singing a counter song to protect them, but Tabitha could hear the strain in her voice.
Beside Tabitha, Tristan held a growing ball of yellow sunlight in his hands.
The happiness coming off that thing should have been enough to send the whole town into a bacchanal.
But the banshee’s sad song seemed to suck away any thought of happiness, like an emotional black hole.
It was all Sara and Tristan could do to keep her from driving them all mad with rage and grief.
Tabitha looked down at the wounded violin in her hands.
It was impossible to play it the way it was.
And if she tried to repair it…
She remembered the agony of the man who had come to her, his ghost suffering so acutely that it pushed through the fabric of time itself to break her heart.
Madness would be a gift compared to that pain.
She glanced at her friends.
A tear was running down Sara’s cheek as she sung with all she had to counter the monster.
Tristan’s Light trembled and pulsed with his efforts.
Dorian grasped the shard of mirror, calling Midnight around himself with such force the fluorescent lights above them flickered.
She would have to risk everything for a chance to save them.
They’re worth it, she told herself
as she clutched the violin to her chest and closed her eyes.
21
Tabitha
Tabitha felt the ghost the moment her eyes closed.
He howled into the night, wild with grief for his lost love.
Help me, Tabitha tried to ask him.
He appeared not to hear her. Instead, he picked up the violin and ran his hands over it.
The whole world seemed to double, like two identical images overlaid in a way that didn’t quite match up. In one version, she still held the broken violin.
In the other, the ghostly version of the violin was smooth and perfect.
Tabitha tried to study its curving surface so she might have a chance of teasing back the proper version of it.
The man lifted it to his chin and began to play.
The sound cut through her like a razor, and she had to hold onto her mind to avoid being bound helplessly by his pain. But it was too much. Too much darkness. Too much grief. There was no way she could stand up to it.
From somewhere outside herself, she felt the warmth of sunlight on her face. It spread through her, pushing back the darkness just enough for her to find some hope within herself.
Reaching for the last reserves of her mental strength, she called to the ghost again.
Please help me, she’s doing it again. She’s going to harm the children. Just like she took your wife.
At that, the man turned and lowered his instrument.
He gazed at Tabitha with huge, haunted eyes.
It’s broken now, and I can’t fix it, she told him.
She held out her version of the instrument so he could see it.
He nodded to her and moved closer, his own instrument held up as well.
She stepped forward and the two violins merged into one.
A perfect instrument, whole and beautiful, in Tabitha’s hands.
When the man stepped back his hands were empty.
Find your love, Tabitha told him. Be free of your sorrow. You have saved my whole town. Your job here is done.
He stepped backward again, and a young woman stepped toward him from the shadows.
Her hair swirled around her head as if she were underwater.
But they smiled when they saw each other.
