Paranormally Yours: A Boxed Set

by Alisha Basso

  When he returned, he held his sax and her leather flute case.

  Her breath sucked in. “My flute,” she whispered, opening the case, taking out the three pieces that apprised her flute—the head joint, body, and foot joint. She put them together in seconds.

  He sat down, holding his tenor sax, and she smiled at him, the brightest he’d ever seen her smile. It could have been because she held her instrument as if it were another appendage. Or it could have been because he wanted to play with her.

  Either reason was good.

  “Make music with me,” he said. Taking a deep breath, he put the sax to his mouth, and blew into it. The song that came out was “Say Something” by A Great Big World. It wasn’t his blues nor her jazz. He normally thought before he did anything, except for the times when he was with Lila.

  This time he hadn’t needed to plan; the music spoke for him, the lyrics unsung but loud in his head.

  He played by himself for the first full verse.

  For the second verse, the higher pitch of her flute joined him. Hers could have been a light white wine, and his could have been honey-laced whiskey. After that, they played a jazz song, and he put a little blues in his, and she followed him with her flute.

  His heart lifted, his throat opened, and the knot in his belly untied. As he played, there was a mental image in his mind of himself blowing fire into the sax, an undulating ribbon of fire coming out of the sax. And cool water rippled out his mother’s flute.

  At the end of the song, he looked at the egg, and he saw a movement that stopped with his last note.

  He blinked, and the movement was gone. The egg was still.

  They sat in contented silence for a moment before he spoke slowly. “Without music, I would have had no reason for living. Not until I met Lila. Is it the same with you?”

  “Not music, though I enjoy it.” Her voice sounded calm, even distant, as if she was thinking of something far away. “At first, it was watching you whenever I felt too alone.”

  He swiveled to look sharply at her, but he only had her profile with her blue eyes flecked with gold as she gazed at the egg.

  “But then I discovered wine, and it became my passion. Music is just ... joy.”

  With a frown, he considered her words. She was wise, his mother. His passion was Lila; she was his heart. The love that flowed through his veins.

  Music was his breath. His heartbeat.

  “What’s Hamish to you?” he asked.

  * * *

  Noah’s question shattered the peace the music had brought Jin. She didn’t want to answer, and when she did, her voice was harsh to her own ears. “My lover.”

  He nodded at the egg. “I know that much.”

  She closed her eyes and stayed like that for five slow breaths, pulling her thoughts together, slowing her too-fast heartbeat before she opened them, looking at her son, who had the face of an ascetic. “He’s not just the man I make love with. He’s the man I love.”

  “Ah.”

  “He’s special.” She switched her gaze to the egg before speaking again. “He’s so calm. Good with his hands. He doesn’t get angry over little things. And he’s steady, like a cave floor.”

  She stopped. There wasn’t much more she could tell him. Not with words. The truth of Hamish was in her heart. He was like the sun. He was young and so handsome, but many men were young and handsome, and she hadn’t fallen in love with them. In the beginning, they’d both been passionate about the wine ... and then passionate about each other.

  When they had first made love, he’d kissed her small breasts as if they were the breasts of a goddess. And then he’d rained kisses on her flesh down to her navel. And lower than that.

  Remembering, she grew warm.

  She’d told herself it was going to a brief affair. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything more than that ... but it had turned out to mean everything.

  “Then why are you unhappy?” he asked.

  Her hands clenched on her thighs, and she looked at him again. “I’m worried what he’ll say when he realizes I told him the truth.”

  His head tilted slightly, giving him a quizzical look. “You said he knows about the egg.”

  “He knows I’m pregnant with his baby.”

  He paused, and she could see in his face that he was thinking hard. As he should. This thing that went on between men and women was very hard. And that’s when they were both humans. Throw in a few things like never dying and changing her beautiful scales for skin and this thing seemed impossible.

  “I thought he knows about the dragon part.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to go on, but after all these centuries of silently watching Noah, she owed him the words that no fully human mother would likely say to her son. She knew this now because of her humanity. It had been a slow emotional growth for her. And she still had a long way to go.

  “I don’t know if he completely believed me.” She dipped her head. “And I didn’t mention the possibility that I might have an egg.”

  “He’ll see it when he gets here.”

  She turned her gaze back to the egg. “I don’t know if he’ll believe even his eyes.”

  “There’s one other way to show him that you’re a dragon.”

  “Fire?” She frowned. “I’m not sure if I can do it anymore.”

  “If you have to do it,” Noah said, the words coming out hard, like nails pounded into a coffin, “you will.”

  She closed her eyes for a second. Perhaps she was too human. Of course she’d wanted to use that fire during her years on earth. But with every century that passed, her mind grew cooler and so did her belly.

  Nothing mattered very much. Not enough to use the fire.

  And then Hamish had come into her life. And suddenly, she’d cared deeply.

  “You think he won’t accept the baby?” Noah asked.

  “I think”—the words stuck in her throat, and she forced them out—“that he might be freaked out.”

  “Freaked out?”

  She nodded. “Frightened.”

  “I understand what the word means, but I didn’t think you understood.”

  She raised her eyebrows and, for a second, felt amused that he thought she didn’t know American slang. “You would think wrong.”

  “My error. Go on.”

  She didn’t want to go on, but of course she did. Humans said they felt better after talking about whatever was bothering them. So far, it didn’t feel better to her.

  “If he freaks out, what will you do about it?” Noah asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.” Her voice cracked, but her eyes, watching his face, remained steady. “I can’t force acceptance. Either he accepts this or he doesn’t.”

  He nodded then turned back to look at the egg. “Do you want to make more music? I think the baby liked it.”

  “A blues song,” she whispered. Right now, a blues song would fit her mood.

  Without any more talk, he picked up his sax, and she picked up her flute. Then he put it to his mouth and began to play the sweet notes of “Georgia on My Mind.”

  She embraced it wholeheartedly, concentrating with the musician brain that was a match for their dragon brains, both of them embracing the preciseness and the patterns and the discipline and exalting in the beauty and the glory of the music.

  Her worries slid away ... except for a tiny corner that whispered, They’re coming soon.

  And she didn’t know if that whisper warned her about Claude or about Hamish, so she pushed it aside for later and closed her eyes and played her flute while Noah played the sax. And for this short time, the music connected them in a circle of love with the egg that swayed with the beats.

  Chapter 18

  Lila carried plastic bags bulging with packages of meat up the stairs. Through the door, she heard the sax and flute music, so she didn’t bother knocking. When Noah was playing his music, he became lost in it the way he became lost in their lovemaking.

  Well,
not exactly lost, more like found. Wonderfully found. He had high levels of concentration that she was never going to complain about. Normally the door was unlocked, but considering the possibility that this Claude might be dangerous, she’d locked the door when she left. Now she had to set the bags on the hall floor and unlock the door. Then she picked up the groceries, pushed the door open with her butt, and stepped inside.

  The music stopped. Noah and Jin stared at her, and she could tell she’d surprised them. With their sharp hearing, they should have heard her. Since they had been playing music, she understood the lapse.

  But it was a good thing she was home. Someone had to pay attention.

  “We’re all set for the baby.” She nodded to the two, and Jin laughed softly while Noah gave her a lidded look that, if Jin weren’t in the room with the egg, would’ve made Lila dump the bags on the kitchen table, throw her clothes anywhere they landed, and tell him she was his hoochie coochie mama. Which would’ve made him laugh and hopefully do a few other fun things.

  But his mother was there, so she swept her hand out and told them to carry on. And they did, a jazzy number that made her hips sway as she put away the groceries, rearranging things and putting food items on top of one another to fit in all of this extra food.

  While grabbing a package of ground sirloin, she glanced into the living room and saw the egg tipping slightly from one side to another.

  Her breath sucked in. She blinked, sure that she must be imagining this.

  But no. The wobbling in time to their music continued.

  Noah and Jin continued to make music.

  Her hands trembling—her whole body trembling—she left the bags and the food items she hadn’t put away yet on the table, and she stepped into the living room. She didn’t hurry, ignoring the panicked thought that she should run and scream. But she had a sense that the baby inside the egg would hear her. If she panicked, it would panic, too.

  So she approached the two players, and she could see they were lost in their music again. She stood halfway between the two, not knowing what to do.

  The crack on top of the egg had zigzagged down farther.

  And was it widening a tiny bit?

  She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting the temptation to grab her phone and film it. That might be the dumbest thing she ever did, but, oh, she wanted to. This was a miracle.

  And were they ever going to finish the song to notice what was going on?

  Or would she have to tell them?

  Interrupting their playing would be like shaking a sleeper out of the best dream of his life. That’s what playing his sax was to Noah. It took him to another place.

  But right now, she needed him in this place. Needed him here badly.

  The two instruments played long, happy notes together, their instruments lifting. And though she didn’t know this song, she could hear that it was reaching an end and that it was a happy ending.

  Only what they didn’t know was that it was a beginning.

  A happy beginning, she hoped.

  The last notes lingered in the air, the sax deep and full and the flute higher and purer. Like a sexy, experienced woman and her shy, virgin friend. Lila wanted to stand and listen, but the egg was still moving, and that scared the yolk out of her.

  She took two steps to Noah and grasped his shoulder.

  He gazed up at her, and she could see the music dancing in his eyes.

  She bent and murmured in his ear, “Honey, the egg is cracking.”

  * * *

  His gaze snapped to the egg, the sweetness of the music wiped out by a spurt of panic.

  He stood, and so did Jin. Realizing he had the sax in his hand, he held it out, and Lila took it.

  Jin’s flute fell to the rug, bouncing a little. Lila picked it up. As if Jin were hypnotized, she walked slowly to the egg.

  Following her, he was aware of Lila hurrying away with the instruments while he and Jin stopped four feet from the egg.

  “What now?” he whispered.

  “We wait,” she said.

  Lila returned. He was aware of her standing a few feet behind them and watching. He wanted her close to him, but he didn’t know how long this would take.

  For the next twenty minutes, nothing happened. Lila returned to the kitchen to put away the groceries. Though he remained standing in front of the egg, he twisted his head to watch her put raw meat in bowls.

  Knowing Lila, she’d bought more than they would need. He suspected this need to prepare came from a childhood in which she’d taken care of her wheelchair-bound mother and her needy younger sister.

  Yet they’d both died.

  Not her fault, but it had left a stain on her soul, and some nights, he held her tightly and whispered that she hadn’t broken her weaker-minded mother or sister. Those were the nights when only making love to her, rocking her beneath him and on top of him or standing or in any place at all, would make her feel. And with the feeling, she would release the darkness and accept the light.

  The groceries put away, she returned to the living room and stood beside him.

  The crack in the egg and the membrane beneath the thick shell hadn’t moved.

  “Maybe you’re the reason it moved,” he said.

  She laughed softly. “Not me. It’s the music. The egg was swaying in time to your music.”

  He stilled for a second. “Can you—” He stopped. She was already on her way to the couch where she’d set down their instruments.

  Seconds later, she handed him his sax and his mother her flute. “I think the baby swayed more to the blues,” she said to Jin. “It’s the rhythm.”

  Jin frowned, but she raised the flute and nodded at him to take the lead.

  He filled his lungs with air, then put the sax to his lips. His eyes half-closed, he breathed life into the sax, and the first sweet notes of “Summertime” oozed out. His eyes wanted to close all the way, but he forced them open. Another time, he could lose himself in the music. This time, he needed to watch the egg.

  He couldn’t tell for sure if the egg was moving. It seemed to be swaying, but that could have been him. Then the flute notes began, and they sounded like the musical rays of the summertime sun. Pride for his mother’s playing filled him, and he was sure that if George Gershwin could see into this room, he would nod his head in approval.

  He shifted his attention to the egg and saw it was moving. The motions tiny, but it was definitely swaying.

  Lila laughed softly while he and Jin continued to play. He couldn’t stop. Not now.

  The song ended, and Jin lowered the flute, and he lowered the sax. For one second, he breathed in the amazement of the moment as the egg’s movements slowed.

  Then he lifted the sax again. Holding it in the air, he glanced at his mother. She nodded, and he once again took in a deep breath. This time, the first heart-sweet notes of “Georgia on My Mind” oozed out like melted dark chocolate. In his head, he heard the late Ray Charles singing it and smiling and wishing the baby a good life and good music, whatever it turned out to be.

  So did Noah.

  When the music was done, he looked at the front of the egg and saw that the crack hadn’t gotten any longer. Next to him, Jin gasped and touched his arm. “The top,” she whispered. “There’s a new crack.”

  He raised his gaze and saw the beginning of another crack crosswise. If both cracks split all the way down, the egg would open in jagged quarters.

  “What next?” Jin murmured.

  “‘Come Away With Me,’” he said.

  She stared at him blankly, and he chuckled, though he didn’t know where the humor came from, because part of him didn’t know what the hell was going to happen—and he was a man who liked to know what was going on.

  “I was hoping Hamish would make it in time for the hatching,” she said.

  “Some things can’t be stopped.”

  She stared at him, and her face worked. Moisture welled up in her eyes. More emotion than he’d ever
seen on her face. He turned away, feeling uncomfortable. This wasn’t the mother he knew.

  “It’s good.” Her hand lifted to touch the side of his face. “It’s good.”

  He nodded at her, though he wasn’t sure how good it was. Yet his heart felt like it was full.

  Jin turned to the egg and lifted the flute once again.

  He turned to the egg as well, the sax up as he inhaled. Then the pure notes of the flute shimmered, and the sultry wails of his tenor sax filled the room, their sounds bouncing off the walls, tangoing around all three of them. Four, including the egg.

  And the song... It wasn’t a song he recognized, and he didn’t know where it came from. Not from him. He played music; he had no skill in creating it. Yet he knew music, and this wasn’t one he’d ever heard before. So it was odd that he knew what this one meant. That it was a yearning for a new beginning.

  They’d just finished the last note of the introduction when the shop bell rang downstairs.

  They both halted. Jin looked at him, her eyes wide, as the last notes of music still lingered in the air. “Hamish. It could be Hamish.”

  “Or it could be Claude,” he said.

  An unfamiliar ring trilled. Jin was turning toward the hall, but she stopped and pulled a cell phone from her pocket. Looking down at the display, she swallowed then put the phone to her ear. “Yes,” she said.

  Standing so close to her, Noah easily heard an alto voice say, “Jin. It’s me. I’m downstairs.”

  “Hamish,” she said, and there was joy in her voice. “Hamish.”

  As she laughed with a rush of relief, Noah stepped back to Lila’s side. She beamed up at him. Though she wasn’t a soft woman, she had her romantic moments ... and when he was with her, so did he.

  His mother clicked off the phone and said she was going to get Hamish, who was on the sidewalk in front of the shop. “I’ll go with you,” he said.

  Right now, he didn’t trust anyone outside of this room.

  As if she read his mind, Mystic meowed plaintively from the living room.

  Except the cat, he amended.

  And the egg.