Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet)

by A. M. Hodgson

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

  Overwhelmed

  Late that evening, when Marin asked me how my date was, I wasn’t sure how to respond. I just shrugged.

  “You’re not getting bored with him, are you?” she asked. “I probably would be. Especially if he was falling all over me as much as I’m sure he’s falling all over you.”

  I shrugged again.

  “Come on,” she pressed, “you have to at least give me some details to go on! I’m dying here!”

  I chuckled, “Okay. We talked. He played his guitar for me.”

  “You should have picked it up and shown him a thing or two!” She giggled, “Well, that sounds pretty good, though. What’s the problem? Did your ears begin to hemorrhage at the humanity of it? You’re definitely acting more subdued than usual.”

  I leaned back on my bed, the book I picked up from Aldan open across my torso. “I don’t know,” I said, struggling to find an answer that wasn’t a total lie. I landed on something that didn’t give away too much, “I guess I’m just wondering where it’s going,” I said.

  Marin flapped a hand dismissively, “Seriously? That’s what’s got you bent out of shape?” She laughed, “The answer is nowhere. That’s the best part of it!” She narrowed her eyes, “Unless you’re falling for him or something stupid like that.”

  I laughed, “Yeah. You’re right.” I looked out the window. I could see the waning moon hovering over the Pacific, the reflection of the light giving the impression that someone had dumped silver glitter on the world.

  A clap of thunder erupted outside, real thunder this time. I jumped, startled. It was late in the year for this type of storm.

  Worry etched itself on Marin’s face. A tight frown formed on her lips. She raced to the window, then made a soft strangled noise, like the air was catching in her throat. “Glenn?” she asked shakily.

  “Already on it,” he responded, gracefully picking himself up from the chair in the reading nook. He was notching an arrow in his bow. He slunk out the door, as silent and deadly as a big cat.

  I scrambled over to Marin at the window. Below my room, surrounding the mansion, was an army.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  It felt surreal. Glenn’s solitary figure strutted confidently forward. He was facing around 250 extras. The moon was gibbous, giving an eerie cast despite the dark clouds that seemed to materialize from nothing. The clouds rumbled ominously above, and the air felt electrified. I wondered if the charge was all the magic at our doorstep.

  The extras who had arrived, simultaneously, were many shapes and sizes, many different races. I recognized a handful from my studies. There were more centaurs— which wasn’t surprising— but there were also gargoyles, pixies, and dwarves.

  From my window, I could make out two elves in the distance. They wore different clothes than Glenn, and their faces were painted fiercely.

  Many of the creatures looked almost entirely human, but their eyes were unnatural shades that proved otherwise. They could’ve been vampires or witches, even mermaids or djinn… I just didn’t know.

  After Glenn stepped outside, a single centaur moved forward to address him. Glenn kept his arrow knocked back, the string drawn so the arrow’s butt rested just below his right eye.

  The centaur raised a hand, showing he was unarmed. He called for all to hear, “We just want the siren.”

  “Do you know how many of you are breaking treaties you have with her kind?”

  He snorted, “We’re willing to accept the consequences. It seems worth it.”

  Glenn’s eyes shifted around him, taking in every single soldier he could see. “I don’t want to have to kill you all.”

  The centaur laughed, loud, booming. “Trust me, you’d never get the chance.”

  I pulled away from the window, my heart beating loudly in my ears. I had no doubt of Glenn’s capability, but going against hundreds would ensure he’d be slaughtered. The centaur wasn’t being arrogant— he was being realistic.

  My feet moved practically of their own accord. I needed to go outside, to give myself up. Marin grabbed my wrist, her eyes shining brightly as she stared at my face. She shook her head, mouthing the word, “No.”

  I jerked my hand away, stumbling from the room and running down the stairs. As a clap of thunder echoed behind me, the power in the house flicked off. I felt my way as I descended, moving as quickly as I dared in the dark. Bright flashes of thunderbolts lit my way. To my left and right, the shadows writhed menacingly— a product of the magic or my imagination, I didn’t know.

  I flung the door open. I willed my feet to move as fast as they could to carry me towards Glenn. He was easy to spot— the entire crowd tightened around him like a noose. Despite the fact that I was the targeted goal of tonight’s attack, I blended easily into the fray. I made my way to him, weaving in and out of the extras around me, ducking my head to avoid anyone’s gaze.

  The air was humid. Though the storm raged, there was no rain. The energy was frantic— the crowd a gnashing maw which only got worse as I neared the epicenter. The closer I got to Glenn, the more the crowd churned in the fray. Extras dropped around me, swallowed up and trampled by the masses, spawning a writhing pit of pain. Elbows and all manner of limbs struck me, the crowd a living obstacle course.

  A blade swung towards my head. I felt my knees buckle until I was squatting. The instability of my legs had saved my life. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I wove through the crowd, jumping and stepping over the fallen, wading through those stumbling around.

  While I tried to avoid the jostling bodies around me, I had the occasional glimpse of my bodyguard from this vantage point.

  He was magnificent and brutal, his hands a flashing blur. He interchanged his bow and arrows for a small silver knife I didn’t even know he had. A living gargoyle clawed at him— Glenn drove the knife into its eye. He notched an arrow, taking out an approaching centaur, and fluidly grabbed the knife from the dead gargoyle’s skull. The creature’s corpse hadn’t even hit the ground yet.

  The waves of extras thinned. Those who were dead or wounded fell to the ground as quickly as the arrow or blade struck them. Finally, after pushing as hard as I dared, I made it to the inner circle where I could more clearly see my protector.

  He’d done well so far. The crowd had condensed by perhaps a third, which was more than I’d expected.

  But he was tiring. His arrows were notched more slowly, his blade plunged into his opponents a fraction more sluggishly. Not only that— his quiver was almost empty, and the little knife wasn’t going to help against most of these enemies.

  I watched, feeling helpless, as he struck at an extra to his right— a vampire who hissed and clawed at him. Glenn sunk the dagger into the monster’s heart. He withdrew it quickly, leaving nothing but ash in his wake.

  As he pulled the knife back, I caught sight of the centaur who’d addressed the crowd. I knew now, looking at his face, it was council member Aristos. He raised his battle axe in a wide arc, swinging it towards Glenn’s head. But my guard was unsuspecting, fighting the groups of extras to his right, his left, and before him. Glenn was going to die unless someone did something.

  I pressed as hard as I could, breaking through, tumbling into the fray. I knocked Glenn to the ground and sang out a wordless three notes, the first thought that formed.

  The sand surrounding us exploded. Walls formed around us with a high, slatted ceiling. The beach closest to us had transformed into a small fort, protecting us from the extra army outside.

  Glenn’s eyes frantically took in every detail, then my face. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, sounding genuinely terrified. A hint of anger was laced within the fear in his voice.

  I sang another two notes, wishing for a safe window to observe the outside. The sand within the wall directly before me melted into glass. The window looked thick, but was transparent. Outside, the extras stopped fighting, realizing their prey was beyond their grasp. The army was still, st
aring dumbfounded at the large sandstone fort that had appeared from thin air.

  Aristos approached the window. “This. This is part of the problem,” he said, pointing at the fortress. He spat, “Unbalanced power. That should take a skilled magician hours.”

  I shook my head, “You were going to kill him.”

  He nodded, “We were. You’re right.” He smiled at me nastily. “And it would’ve been your fault.”

  I glared at him, “I haven’t done anything to you!”

  He blinked, unimpressed. “You exist. Believe me,” he said impassively, “that is more than enough.” He jerked his head towards the army around him, and they slowly disappeared. I didn’t know where they’d vanished. He brought his attention back to me. “You can’t stay in there forever. Sooner or later, we’ll find you, little siren. Next time, you get to watch him die before I kill you.” He turned from me, his hooves beating out a soft rhythm on the sand as he faded into the night.

  CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

  Decision

  It was a couple hours before I felt comfortable enough to pull down the walls on our fort. We were silent at first, my muscles taut. I was paranoid that the extras would return as soon as we made a single noise. As we sat, I became aware of a wide scrape along my stomach, rubbed raw by the sand when I’d tackled Glenn. My arms and legs were throbbing, too. The jostling of the crowd had left its share of bruises. I’d be feeling them in the days to come, when my adrenaline was no longer at its peak.

  Glenn was a bigger mess than I was. He was slumped against the sand walls of our tiny fortress, exhausted. A long, thin cut ran across his right arm, the skin severed by a dagger or sword. The joint of his right ankle was swelled, probably broken by blunt trauma. His left wrist had a small, crescent shaped bite mark. It began oozing pus several minutes after he sat. It was the last of these injuries that prompted me to pull myself out of my fear, moving my paralyzed muscles.

  “You’re hurt,” I mumbled, grabbing his arm and gently feeling the skin around the wound.

  “Pixie bite,” he grumbled, his face beaded with perspiration. “In my belt, there’s a small bag. Left side.” I found the bag without trouble, unlacing it to free the pouch from his belt. Inside were vials of leaves, berries, and twigs. Around them were larger leaves, like the one I’d seen him use on his shoulder after the first attack.

  “What am I looking for?” I asked.

  He laughed, sounding delirious, but answered, “Small purple leaves, red star-shaped berries.”

  There were several red berries, but only one vial that contained star-shaped ones. The leaves were easy to spot, the only purple ones in the bag. “What do I do?” I asked.

  “Usually, a healer would use a mortar and pestle to crush them up and release the oils inside,” he said, his head lolling to one side. “We’ve no additional aid, so it’s mercenary style, instead.”

  He snatched the vial from my hand, pouring the berries into his mouth, gnawing on them. He made a motion at me to do the same with the leaves. I shoved several into my mouth and chewed. They had a sweet, lemony flavor. He spit the wad of red into his hand, then held it open to me. I spat the purple mess onto his palm, crinkling my nose.

  Glenn coughed a harsh laugh at my reaction, folding the two mashes together. He slapped it onto the bite. His face contorted with agony. I watched as his muscles contracted, trying to escape the salve as it drew out the poison and the pain. After a few moments, he sighed, slumping down. Glenn’s head rolled towards me. “Now one of the bigger leaves, like you saw before. That’ll keep the medicine in place and clean until I can wash away the poultice.”

  The tincture wept a clear fluid, drawing out the venom from the wound. The sweet smell of berries and infection made my stomach writhe. I fought a gag as I carefully wrapped the large green leaf around his wrist.

  I motioned towards his arm, “What about that?” then his leg, “And that?” I knew those were just the injuries I could see. There were probably a hundred more wounds hidden beneath his clothes.

  He shifted, the color returning to his face. Glenn shrugged, smiling. “Neither will kill me, so I can deal with them later.” He gave me a questioning look. “What was that, Sarah?” he asked, his eyes skimming the walls of our little fortress.

  I looked out the tiny window. “I don’t know. It just came to me,” I lied.

  “Well,” he sat up a little straighter, “I guess I’m glad it did.”

  I chided him, “You should never have gone against them. There’s brave, then there’s stupid. This was a case of the latter.”

  He winced, though I couldn’t tell if it was from my words or his wounds. “I had to…” he said, “it’s my job.” He got really quiet, “I’m supposed to be willing to die.”

  I brushed the sand from my jeans futilely. It had invaded them at this point. “You’re supposed to help me when it’s not completely stupid of you to do so.”

  “More of them died than me tonight,” he pointed out. “As you can tell, I’m still here.”

  I glared at him, “Because I saved your sorry behind.”

  He turned from me, unwilling to respond to that.

  I sat for over an hour with my knees pressed against my chest, thinking about my options. Score’s proposal was suddenly much more reasonable. So far, I’d only managed to essentially end Rick and Susan’s lives, and almost got Glenn killed. If I stayed, those looking to destroy me would ultimately get to Glenn, and probably Marin, too. Score wasn’t safe while he openly associated with me, either. Maybe the kids at school weren’t even safe, maybe the whole town if it escalated far enough. I already brought destruction in my wake. I wasn’t willing to let anyone die for me.

  Could I handle losing my friends? Yes, if it meant saving their lives.

  If I accepted Score’s offer, then I wouldn’t really be any worse off than I was now. We’d both go, disappear into a sea of humanity, searching for the answers on our own. I’d already memorized all of the knowledge that Aldan, that the council, had on sirens. Not only that, but Score could help me adapt, hide away, evade the extras. If they went after him, I’d have the comfort of knowing they’d have done so with or without my presence. If we found a way to cure my foster parents, I could come back, briefly, to help them. If we didn’t, Susan and Rick were better off without me already.

  My hands were surprisingly steady and I exhaled slowly, feeling my shoulders relax. I’d made my decision. I was going to leave, and the sooner the better.

  When we finally, timidly, left our sand fort and made our way up the stairs, Marin was waiting for us. She wrapped her arms around me, tears streaming down her face. “I thought you were dead for sure!” she cried. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, you idiot!”

  I squeezed her, reassuring her of my soundness, that I was still living and breathing. She shook her head, “The council won’t stand for that. I already sent my father a message, showed him what was happening—” she furrowed her brows, “he’s deeply upset that the attack was so bold, especially on our property!”

  I smiled tiredly. “It wasn’t his fault. How could he have known?”

  “How did you two survive, anyway?! One minute you were in the middle of that army, the next this building was—”

  I sighed, lying, “Emergency siren reflex, I think.” I didn’t want to go into specifics. It would lead to too many questions. Questions I couldn’t answer, questions about Score. I gestured to the bed. “I’m exhausted,” I said, “and I know Glenn is. I just want to sleep.”

  Marin nodded, wiping her eyes, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I smiled gratefully at her. I shuffled into the bathroom, pulling on some pajamas and staring at my reflection. I was still beautiful, but I looked haggard, exhausted, and worn. The expression on my face aged me.

  I turned from the looking glass, soured at the sight. I trudged to the bed, tugging the sheets down. “Lights,” I muttered, crawling under the blankets. Darkness washed over the room. I rol
led to the far side of my bed, tapping at my phone to unlock it.

  I found Score’s number, then jotted down a quick text message.

  Need to meet with you tomorrow. Noon, usual spot?

  I hit send, feeling a pang of guilt at how late it was— 2:17 a.m. It would almost certainly wake him. A moment later, my phone lit up. I tapped at it before it could so much as chirp.

  One word in response.

  Yes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Flight

  In the morning I had huge bruises on my arms and legs, and my jaw was lightly swelled. My torso was still scraped up, raw. The camisole brushing against my skin was like fire on my stomach.

  I looked better than I felt, though.

  The house’s staff had allowed me to sleep late that morning. When I awoke, I was surprised to see Glenn snoring lightly in his chair. The battle had worn him down enough that he’d needed it.

  I took the brief moment of privacy to empty my book bag and stuff it full of clothes, underwear, toothbrush, and hairbrush. I tucked my parents’ broken music box into the bag, then sat my dulcimer on top. Finally, I added a single book from my collection: Andersen Fairy Tales. I sighed wistfully, stroking the cover. It hadn’t been long since I turned sixteen, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

  The morning shower felt extra delicious as the warmth eased my aching muscles. I dressed in a sweater and jeans, then pulled my hair back into a low ponytail.

  I scrawled out a note for Glenn and Marin:

  Thanks for everything you two have done for me. You’re the best. I wish you both happiness.

  I just can’t stay anymore. I’m only endangering you both— that attack made it obvious. I’m leaving Whitecrest. Please don’t try to find me. I love you guys.

  -Sarah

  P.S. Glenn, you can have my books if you want them.

  I slipped the note beneath my pillow. When the maids changed the linens this afternoon, they’d find it.