The tears she had been trying to hold back filled her eyes as she looked at her friend, as those words hit her hard in her heart.
She choked out, “I know that. I just wish he had told me.”
Cass heaved a sigh. “He vowed to protect you and he was doing just that. Or at least he had thought he was. He wanted to shield you from this side of the world and feared something might happen to you if you learned of it… that you might try to find others like you. He worried you’d be in danger.”
And she was.
Marinda pulled down a slow, deep breath to stem her tears, and gathered her strength again. She didn’t want to be miserable, dwelling on the things she wished could be different. She wanted to be strong, just as her father had believed her to be, and to face this danger and survive. She wanted to learn more about herself so she could embrace all that she was, not be constantly afraid of it.
“You look like you need some rest.” Cass brushed her fingers across Marinda’s brow again. “Rest is good.”
She was tired, but too wired to sleep. The fight, meeting Thanatos, discovering what she was. It all collided in her head to keep her awake.
Daimon and Esher returned, and broke apart. Esher headed towards the far end of the room and rounded a corner, disappearing from view. Daimon ran a gloved hand over his white hair, tensed as he glanced her way, and scowled as he stomped through the opening between the two white sliding panels.
When Marinda looked back at Cass, she was staring at the opening to the garden Daimon had just exited through, her head canted to her left and her pale blue eyes distant.
“That one is a bit frosty with me.” Cass smiled at her. “I can’t imagine why.”
Marinda could. Cass had a way of making decisions for everyone, and she had just decided to join the brothers’ team.
Without their consent.
“I feel like some air and the garden looked interesting when I glimpsed it.” Cass didn’t give Marinda a chance to say anything in response to that. She stood, brushed the flowing skirt of her long black dress down, and strode out into the garden.
No doubt going to prod and poke Daimon until he gave her frostbite.
Marinda pushed onto her feet and wandered to the opening. She wasn’t surprised to see Cass trailing after Daimon.
She still couldn’t believe that Cass was a witch. Her friend had explained some things, like the fact she didn’t age the same way as Marinda. That was the reason she hadn’t seen Cass in a decade, because Marinda would have noticed that she wasn’t getting older.
She wished that Cass had told her instead. It probably would have freaked her out, but it would have been better for her, and maybe if Cass had still been around, the necromancer wouldn’t have been able to kill her father.
Marinda stared at the garden, shaking her head as Cass caught up with Daimon and he turned an exasperated look on her.
Her gaze drifted upwards to the sky, her thoughts flowing to the fact her father might have still been alive if everyone had just been more honest with her. What had he foreseen happening today? Had it already happened? Her birthday had been eventful to say the least. She had seen the gate, had visited a god of the Underworld and discovered more about herself, and then she had been attacked by daemons.
And through it all, Cal had been there for her. He had protected her and kept her safe, had strived to discover who was behind her father’s murder, and he had tried to cheer her up. The visit to the gate had been all about that. She felt it deep in her heart. He had wanted to bring them closer together and chase the clouds from her heart, and it had worked. She had felt as if she wasn’t alone and that she had a place in this world.
But now Cass had driven a wedge between her and Cal and was intent on pushing them apart.
She didn’t want that.
“You okay?” Cal’s deep voice coming from behind her warmed her, chasing the chill from her skin as effectively as the heat of his body close to hers did as he stepped up beside her.
She nodded. “Just thinking about things.”
“Looked like you were trying to see the otherworld.”
She glanced at him, a frown knitting her eyebrows. “Otherworld?”
“The Moirai cursed me and my brothers to see the future of this world, the fate of it should we fail.” Cal’s focus shifted to the world outside and his eyes narrowed, his blue irises turning stormy as he stared at the horizon. “Some crap about it keeping us motivated, as if the fact we’ve been banished from our home and that home would be destroyed if we failed isn’t enough to have us trying our damnedest to stop the enemy.”
“You can see the future?” She studied his profile as his pale eyebrows drew down, his expression shifting towards pensive. Or perhaps guarded. He nodded and she couldn’t stop herself from drawing parallels between her father and him.
Only her father had witnessed things that were going to happen to other people, not the planet.
The thought that had haunted her from the moment she had lost him ran around her mind, taunting her.
Had he been able to foresee his own death?
Sorrow built inside her, a cold and heavy thing, as she thought about that and that he might have witnessed it. He could have spent years with her, aware of how he was going to die but not knowing when. Had he seen her there? If he had, had he been watching her growing up, waiting for the day she looked the age she did now?
She wrapped her arms around herself.
“What’s wrong?” Cal placed his hand against her back, between her shoulder blades, and leaned forwards, his eyes locking on her face.
“I just hate that my father and Cass never told me about all these things. I hate that he never told me the things he had seen. What if we could have done something to change the future?”
“It’s possible.” Those words offered her no comfort. “The otherworld changes, growing better or worse depending on the outcome of things we do.”
She sank deeper into despair, into the sorrow that felt as if it might consume her if she let it.
The future wasn’t a set thing.
If her father had seen his death and had told her, they could have done something to change that future.
He might have still been with her.
She needed him with her. She needed him now more than ever, when she was discovering things about herself that were alarming, finding herself in situations that pushed her to her limit.
Everything felt so bleak.
She stared at the sky, watching a bird flit across it, trying to find that strength her father had seen in her.
“I got you something to cheer you up.” Cal’s hand dropped from her back and she felt cold where it had been. He clutched her shoulders and turned her around.
Her eyes widened.
Her cello.
The black case lay in the middle of the golden mats, her backpack beside it.
Marinda turned back towards him and looked up into his eyes, warmth and light flooding her to chase back the grim darkness of her thoughts and fears.
“Thank you.” She peered back over her shoulder at the cello and tried to find the right words to express how much what he had done meant to her, how she was overjoyed to have her cello back within her reach, safe with her. Only her gaze got stuck on her backpack and she frowned as she remembered that she had left both her cello and bag in London. Her gaze whipped back to Cal. “You shouldn’t have gone back there. It was dangerous… reckless.”
“My brothers would tell you that reckless is my middle name.” He lifted his hand and brushed his palm across her cheek, and then feathered his fingers down to her jaw, his touch electric. His blue eyes warmed as he swept his thumb over her chin and rested his fingers beneath her jaw. “You’ve had so much upheaval in your life… you need this sense of normal. Your cello. Your things. Plus, I was quick. In and out. No dallying. Didn’t even grab my own toothbrush.”
She smiled at that, couldn’t help herself.
She tipt
oed, planted her hands against his chest to steady herself and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
He inhaled slowly, gently swept his lips over hers, and when she pulled back, his eyes remained closed.
The faintest hint of a smile curved his lips.
“Thank you. The cello is precious to—”
“I know.” He cut her off as his eyes opened and a hint of colour touched his cheeks. “I know how much it means to you. You need it with you. Your dad got it for you, didn’t he?”
She nodded and tried to think about happier times. She didn’t want the sorrow to ruin this moment. “He worked so many years to be able to afford it. Apparently, he started saving the first day I came back from school excited about an instrument I had picked to play. He paid for lessons with someone local at first, and when he saw how serious I was, he hired someone from further afield who had studied at the Conservatoire. Being taught by Madame Roussel made me want to go there too.”
“You study there?” He blew out a low whistle. “I’m not cultured by any stretch, but that’s a serious school. You must be seriously talented.”
She was the one who blushed this time. “I studied there. I postponed it after my… well… I’m going to go back next year and continue. I have to stick with my plan.”
“You, Mari, strike me as someone who always sticks with their plan.” He gently chucked her under her chin.
Her blush deepened.
Mari?
Only Cass and her father called her that, but she liked the way it sounded when he said it. She liked being Mari to him too.
“I’ll go get some bedding sorted for you.” He glanced at the cello. “You look as if you’re itching for some time alone with it.”
She was.
She smiled as he walked away from her, heading past the cream couches and taking a right, disappearing behind the wall.
Marinda went to her case, opened it and breathed a sigh of relief as she lifted the lid and saw her cello was fine. She carefully removed it from the velvet, and looked around the room for a suitable perch. The dining table was almost the right height.
It was probably rude of her to sit on the end of it, but it would only be for a short time. She would move before anyone returned.
She settled herself and eased the cello between her legs, and began tuning it.
Her thoughts drifted to Cal as she worked. It had been kind of him to get her cello for her. Sweet and thoughtful. Cass wanted her to think Cal was all bad, but there was a lot of good to balance any negative traits he had.
Maybe a few days ago, she would have been easily swayed by the things Cass had told her. Now? Now she had seen the real him, and she was falling for him.
And falling hard.
Her father had once told her that love was important and that she had to be sure about the man she wanted to be with before she did anything. The boy she had liked at the time had tried to pressure her. He had pushed her and she had realised that wasn’t the sort of person she could love.
It had made her notice the way her father’s eyes had warmed and sparkled whenever he had spoken of her mother. It had made her want that sort of love.
She lifted her head and looked at the wall.
Could she have that kind of love with Cal?
She had the feeling he wasn’t looking for love, if what Cass had told her was true. But she also had the feeling sometimes that he was, and something was holding him back.
Cal rounded the corner, looked at her where she sat perched on the dining table and clucked his tongue.
“Esher would throw a fit if he saw you there.” The smile in his voice touched his eyes, and it was nice to see him so relaxed.
To see his guard down.
“Damn, you look good like that. I’m jealous of your cello.” He strode towards her and she rolled her eyes at his lewd remark.
And realised that it didn’t unsettle her. The thought that he wanted to be where her cello was, between her thighs, didn’t make her nervous at all.
In fact, she found she wanted it too.
She busied herself with tuning the next string, hiding in her work.
“I’ll make some food.” Cal paused near her. “Hungry?”
She nodded and then looked up at him with a frown. “I thought cooking was a secret?”
“It is, but I’m beginning to get a bit tired of keeping secrets.” He rolled his shoulders and she realised he had changed into a clean khaki T-shirt that hugged his chest and stomach. “Maybe it’s time my brothers found out they had a world-class chef in their midst all this time.”
He cracked a grin.
She liked him like this. Playful. Teasing. Confident.
“I admit, your cassoulet was rather good.” She teased him with a smile.
He looked horrified. “Only rather good? That won’t do. Next time, it’ll knock your socks off.”
He dropped a kiss on her forehead, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.
As if they were already lovers.
He disappeared into the room behind her.
Marinda closed her eyes, shut the world out and drew down a deep, steadying breath. She positioned her bow and stilled herself, and once her mind was at peace, she began to play.
She instantly lost herself in the piece, in something that felt so solid and real, and dependable.
A tie to her old life.
Her old self.
The notes reverberated through her, each rise and fall, soft sway and powerful crescendo. Her heart and mind filled in response, the emotions the piece evoked matching the subtle calms and the triumphant peaks. She sank into it, leaned forwards and let it take her over, poured everything it made her feel back into it, playing as she had never played it before.
Tears burned her eyes and she swayed with the piece, with each sustained note that had her heart burning inside her, with both love and pain.
She moved to the next section, a softer interlude, and cursed when she missed a note and messed up the following one.
She huffed and sat back.
Opened her eyes.
Esher stood just beyond the nearest couch, his blue eyes bright, swirling with aqua and shimmering with what looked an awful lot like tears.
Her eyes widened and she shot to her feet, careful not to harm her cello. “I’m sorry. There was nowhere else to sit.”
He continued to stare at her as if she had grown an extra head, and then his eyes fell to her instrument and his lips parted as his brow furrowed. “You play so beautifully.”
She was quick to shake her head, despite the shock that ran through her as she realised he wasn’t upset she had been sitting on his table—he was moved by what she had played.
“I messed it up.” Despair was swift to rise inside her, and she was too tired to fight it back. She was just worn down. Hurting. But she still felt like a failure. “It was awful.”
He took a hard step towards her, his face darkening.
“It wasn’t. Your skill… the way you played.” He rubbed the heel of his hand across his eyes. “I’ve never heard Kol Nidrei played with such… emotion.”
She held her cello, feeling stupid that she felt so connected to her father through that piece.
“It was Papa’s favourite,” she said, her voice thick. “He always made me play it whenever I visited.”
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “I intruded.”
It was strange seeing him like this, this other side of him, a softer one that made her feel as if all of the brothers had many facets to their personalities, hidden and secret sides that they preferred to keep to themselves.
Marinda shook her head. “Don’t apologise. Music is meant to be heard. Shared.”
He eased another step into the room. A cautious one. Why?
What had him so uneasy?
He cast his blue eyes around the room.
“Do you know other pieces?” He glanced at her. “Bach perhaps? I lo
ve Bach.”
She smiled and began to feel a little brighter. “One of my favourite pieces is by Bach.”
She thought about it and decided she could play it for him. Bach’s Cello Suite was a challenging piece, but she had always relished that, and Esher really looked as if he wanted to hear it.
Marinda looked back at the dining table. “Do you mind?”
Esher shook his head, causing the longer lengths of his black hair to fall down across one side of his face, and waved her on.
She seated herself again, arranged her cello and poised her bow and fingers, and closed her eyes. She breathed, centring herself and clearing her mind, focusing on the notes that came first.
And then began to play.
Chapter 25
Cal had never been one for classical music, but the sound of Marinda playing had his feet carrying him towards the main room of the house. A shiver washed over him as the piece undulated, rising and falling, a beautiful symphony that she played to absolute perfection, and with such emotion he was sure he would never forget this moment.
When she had said she played the cello and attended the Conservatoire, he had figured she would be good.
But this?
She was incredible.
He drifted into the room, transfixed by her as she played, her eyes closed, fingers nimbly shifting up and down the strings as the bow danced across them.
He stared, dumbfounded. Moved.
Esher looked as taken aback as he felt, his older brother standing in the middle of the room, barely a few feet from Marinda.
In fact, Esher looked absolutely smitten with her.
If his brother had been single, Cal might have had a hard time stopping himself from driving his brother away from her.
Or at least if Esher had been single and not loved classical music as much as he did.
Still, it was strange seeing his somewhat antisocial brother not keeping his distance from someone new and finding it hard to trust them.
A definite first.
Marinda had played her way into his brother’s black heart and his good book.
Calistos: Guardians of Hades Series Book 5 Page 25
