Casting Shadows (The Ash Grove Chronicles)

by Amanda DeWees

  “We operate out of many cities, including New York,” Reed replied smoothly. “You would not be limited by geography. For example, look at the concert we put together for your friend Eric in Franklin. One of the largest such events in the state, and it was my employer who made it all possible.”

  “Including his collapse?” asked Maddie.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Sometimes artists under a lot of pressure will be encouraged to try performance-enhancing drugs,” she said. “It’s pretty weird for a guy Eric’s age to just keel over like that when he’d never had any health issues before. The timing just seems odd to me.”

  Reed’s eyeglasses glinted coldly. “How fortunate for him to have a friend in the field of medicine. You look very young to be a doctor, but what do I know?”

  That silenced her.

  “I’ll leave you to think it over, then,” said Reed to William, and handed him a card. This time William took it. “I can promise you that being sponsored by Amdusias will take your career to heights you could never reach otherwise.”

  As soon as he had left, Maddie asked, “Are you really thinking of signing with him? He rubs me the wrong way.”

  Clark would have made a joke there about rubbing her another way, but he let it pass. “Maybe,” he said. “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “I thought you wanted to spend some time traveling around the world, learning different kinds of music. We used to talk about how after college you’d just kind of wander the globe, going where the music took you. But I guess,” she said, and her voice lost its animation, “if you’re thinking about settling down and starting a family soon, you’ll want a steady paying gig.”

  Before he could say anything, she added, “I’d better be on my way. Eric’s parents are supposed to be flying in today, and I’d rather not be here when they arrive. I don’t want to have to explain to them what our relationship is. Was. But before I go I’m getting a picture of that tattoo. Maybe he got blood poisoning or something.” She got out her phone and moved toward the head of the bed.

  William was thinking about traveling versus settling down. Maybe it was a mistake not to consider the kind of professional boost he could get from Reed’s agency. He already knew that he loved performing, all the more when there was a big audience. He had felt some envy when Eric announced his big concert. It could open a lot of doors for him to have a well-connected agent.

  Maddie’s gasp brought William’s thoughts back to the present. “It’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “The tattoo. It’s disappeared.”

  “What? You’re kidding.” He was at her side immediately. Sure enough, Eric’s neck looked smooth and untouched. There was no sign of a tattoo.

  William’s scalp prickled uncomfortably. “That’s impossible,” he said. “We both saw it, right?” Just on the off chance they’d gotten turned around, he went to the other side of the bed, but that side of Eric’s neck was likewise free of ink. “It’s impossible,” he repeated, seeing in Maddie’s eyes the same shock that he felt. They couldn’t have both imagined it.

  Chapter 23

  Jeremiah returned then with a bunch of balloons tethered to a stuffed animal. “I realized flowers and fruit baskets weren’t good choices for a guy in a coma,” he said. “If he’s out for more than a week they’ll be ruined. Hence, balloons.” He looked from one to the other. “What’s the matter? Did he wake up?”

  “No, he’s still out. I think we’ve stayed long enough, though.” William didn’t want to spend any more time in that room. “Do you need a ride?” he asked Maddie, as an afterthought.

  She shook her head. She still looked unsettled. “I’m covered. But thanks.”

  She was hot on his heels as he left the room. None of them seemed to feel comfortable being there anymore.

  But strangely, as soon as he was out in the hallway his mood lifted, and he couldn’t even remember why he’d been disturbed. Something to do with Eric? Or Maddie? Maybe that was it. He’d probably just felt uncomfortable being with her after the scene she’d made in the snack bar, and then at McCloskey’s.

  What she had said about Eric’s datable qualities made sense. Girls always seemed to go for the really confident guys, and William had never had that going for him. Not until recently, anyway.

  Of course, it didn’t matter now. He was with Sheila, and happy.

  They had arranged to meet at a pizza place off the square in old Hayesville. When he arrived he found her already seated with a handsome dark-haired man of around thirty. The silver earrings and micro-sculpted beard tweaked his memory.

  “Raven, right?” he asked, sliding into the booth beside Sheila. “Melisande’s majordomo.”

  “Very good.” Raven gave him a smile that struck William as uncomfortably intimate. “If you want to kiss your girlfriend hello, by all means do so. Never let it be said that I stood in the way of romance.”

  “Except for Joy and Tanner’s,” William couldn’t help saying. He knew that on at least one occasion Raven had refused to let Joy into Melisande’s house to see Tanner.

  Raven spread his hands. “Alas, not my call. My first loyalty was to my employer.”

  Sheila tucked her hand through William’s arm. Her cheeks were pink with excitement, and she was wearing a coral sweater that heightened the blue of her eyes. She looked beautiful, and William acted on Raven’s suggestion.

  “You dork,” she said, as soon as he released her. “That can wait. You’ll never guess what Raven and I have been talking about. He got me an audition with Joffrey!”

  Even without a dance background, William recognized the name. “That’s fantastic,” he said. “Do you work with them, or something?”

  “No, I’m just well connected. It comes of years working for Melisande.”

  “So this is just you being generous? Man, Raven, that’s really nice of you.”

  “Oh, didn’t I tell you?” said Sheila. “Raven is going forward with the mentoring program Melisande was starting to get off the ground when she got sick. He’s been keeping his eye out for something for me.”

  “Your girlfriend has a great deal of talent,” said Raven. “Not to mention determination. I think sheer force of personality will take her as far as anything I can do.”

  Why did they both sound suddenly as if they were speaking from a script? He looked from one to the other, trying to figure out what was ringing false. “I didn’t realize you two had been doing the mentoring thing,” he said.

  The grin Raven flashed at him was all gleaming white teeth and menace. He brought to mind that phrase a shark in a suit. William didn’t know why he should seem menacing, unless because he had been so close to Melisande, who had been a danger to Tanner.

  “I hope you don’t think that your inamorata and I have anything beyond a professional relationship,” Raven said. “There’s no reason to be jealous.”

  He wasn’t jealous, but… “How long have you two been… um…”

  “Scheming together?” finished Raven. “I approached Sheila as soon as I realized that Melisande would not be recovering quickly from her indisposition. I wanted to preserve what momentum remained from her mentoring program, and Sheila was one of the top candidates. Does that satisfy you of my bona fides, or should I show you some photos of me cuddling puppies?”

  “Nah. These days everything’s faked in Photoshop anyway.”

  “Ah, a young man with a sense of humor. Excellent—you’ll have need of it in the music industry. As I’m sure you’ve learned already, from this ‘Mesmerize’ business.”

  “What do you mean? Is something going on with Blake’s song?” Blake’s original ballad “Mesmerize” was one of their most popular songs, but William hadn’t heard anything about it that would bother him.

  Raven produced a supermarket tabloid and pushed it across the table toward him. “I hadn’t realized you didn’t know. It seems that a sort of grassroots movement has begun to treat your band’s song �
��Mesmerize’ as a tribute to Melisande.”

  The tabloid featured a picture of her and the headline “FANS RALLY TO URGE MELISANDE OUT OF RETIREMENT.” William turned to the article and scanned it quickly as Raven continued.

  “To show their loyalty to her and encourage her to come out of retirement, her fans all over the world will evidently be tuning in to your solstice festival’s simulcast and concentrating their thoughts on her during that number.” His voice held an amused condescension. “I’m sure they mean well in their naive way. The faithful followers have been a bit of a nuisance, frankly; they keep trying to break into the grounds to see her, when I’ve made it clear she’s staying in a private clinic for health reasons.”

  “Isn’t there a way of stopping them?”

  Raven spread his elegant hands. “My dear boy, I’m sure you are more tech savvy than an old man like me, so you tell me: how does one stop a virtual global movement? One doesn’t. Governments have learned this. I merely wanted to bring the matter to your attention so that you may break the news gently to your bandmate.”

  “Yeah. Tanner won’t be pleased.” William couldn’t blame him. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have to, essentially, play a tribute number for the woman who’d tried to kill you. “We could call off the webcast, at least.”

  A dubious pursing of the lips from Raven. “I suppose it might be possible, if you could get all the members of the other bands to agree, and the school faculty.”

  He was right. They wouldn’t be able to stop it. For a second William flirted with the idea of sabotaging the recording setup, but that would be pointless as well; anyone could find a way to broadcast the thing to the web through their phone.

  “It’s too bad Tanner can’t just get past it,” said Sheila. “People break up all the time. He doesn’t need to hold such a grudge.”

  Raven sighed. “Lovers’ quarrels are always the bitterest.”

  William looked from one to the other in disbelief. “It’s not like they had a squabble over the remote. She tried to kill him.”

  “Is that what he told you? I would have said the situation was a bit more nuanced than that.”

  He refused to ask Raven what that meant. He’d take Tanner’s word over Raven’s any day. “I appreciate the heads up,” he said shortly. “Maybe we’ll see you later.”

  Raven took the cue. He slid out of the booth and gave a slight bow. “I’ll leave you two to your dinner, then. Have a pleasant evening.”

  As soon as Raven had left them, Sheila commanded, “Sit across from me where I can see you better. Did you talk to Reed?”

  “Kind of, yeah. How can you say that about Tanner? He wouldn’t lie about something that serious.”

  She cast her eyes to the heavens as if praying for patience. “I didn’t say he deliberately lied, William. But he didn’t exactly have his head on straight at the time. He was admitted into the hospital that night with exhaustion, wasn’t he? He may have been confused and misinterpreted something.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Well then, why didn’t he file a police report, or get a restraining order?”

  It surprised him that she knew so much about it. “How do you know he didn’t?”

  “Ask that reporter, Stan Billups. He knows a lot that no one else is telling.” Before he could respond, she was back to business. “Now, let’s get back to you. What happened when you talked to Reed?”

  Evidently he wasn’t going to find out why she was so certain Tanner hadn’t been in mortal danger. “Nothing happened,” he said. “Why didn’t you ask me before you told him to start peddling his agency again?”

  “Because I don’t think you understand just how talented you are, and how big you’re going to be.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “You’re destined for so much more than little coffeehouse gigs. Someone like Amdusias can make sure you have the audience that you deserve.”

  He sighed inwardly, but he’d known they would have to have this conversation. Better to get it over with.

  “Sheila,” he said, “it’s not that I don’t appreciate your faith in me. I just want to make my own decisions about my career. Please, I know you mean well, but just stop trying to push me.”

  “Push you?” Her voice rose in disbelief. “William, don’t you get it? It’s hard out there for people like us. For every dancer or musician who makes it, there are hundreds who don’t. Maybe thousands. You know how much competition we’re going to have? How lucky we’ll be if we can just, like, make a living at what we do? It’s an amazing opportunity to have someone like Amdusias interested in you. It would be idiotic to throw that away. We’re going to need all the favors we can call in from all the connections we’ve ever made. This guy is interested in you, William. He wants to help your career. How is that a bad thing?”

  He held up his hands to stop her. “Sheila, slow down,” he protested. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just that this is something I get to decide. Not you.”

  “You were happy enough to let me make plenty of other decisions for you. Don’t you trust me anymore?”

  “It’s not like that.” He had been content to let her have her way when it came to clothes and eyeglass frames, but this was different. “I’m not saying I definitely won’t sign with him. There are just a lot of things for me to consider before making such a huge decision. And whatever decision I make, I’m the one who’ll have to live with it. Do you see what I mean?”

  She considered this for a minute or two. “All right,” she said, in a softer tone. “I’ll ease off. But as your girlfriend, I reserve the right to remind you how much you deserve to be rich and famous.”

  He laughed in relief. “You’re sweet. Okay, I think I can concede that much.”

  For the rest of the evening, as they shared a split-topping pizza (veggie with light cheese for her; carnivore’s delight for him) and went to a movie, they avoided the subject. But Sheila, whether intentionally or not, had planted a thought in his head. Rich and famous could mean different things to different people. For him, it would be the clout needed to foster collaborations with the great living musicians and composers; the financial cushion that would permit experimental work that might never earn back production costs, let alone make a profit. Above all, the freedom and resources to pursue all the different musical inspirations that came to him.

  In the darkness of the movie theater he looked at her. Against the haze of light beaming onto the screen, her profile showed ethereal and lovely, her hair a glowing nimbus.

  His being a success would mean more opportunities for her, too, if they stayed together. He imagined her networking with the greatest names in modern dance, or gowned gorgeously for opening nights and gala performances, taking command in meetings of the symphony board. No more worry about the death of classical music: if Sheila put her mind to it, she could single-handedly wrest symphony orchestras back into prominence. He loved that about her: yes, she was bossy, but she was so dynamic when she set herself to achieve something.

  Like a dazzling career for her boyfriend.

  He might just have to put up with being rich and famous. It looked like she wouldn’t rest until she made it happen.

  * * *

  When the front door shut behind Tanner, the sound brought Steven forth from his room. “Forget something?” he was saying as he reached the living room. Then he saw Tanner standing there by himself next to the huge suitcase he’d packed for credibility, and he frowned. “Where’s Joy?” he asked. “You didn’t leave her to bring in her own bags, I hope. Not in her condition.”

  Tanner gestured toward an armchair. “Have a seat, Steven,” he said.

  The house was very quiet. Steven sat down, wary, and Tanner took the chair opposite him. He noticed a spot on his father-in-law’s shirt front where some soup had spattered. He had been there when it happened—before the wedding. Had Steven stopped bothering with clean clothes?

  Focus, Tanner. Get it over with. “Joy and I d
ecided that it would be best for her to go to a safe house,” he said. Steven started to speak, and Tan held up a hand to stop him. “Let me finish, please. There are too many people—and things—interested in whether the baby is supernatural. Now that the succubus has been removed from its hiding place, we’re concerned that whatever stole it may try to reverse the process that channeled its energies into Joy. Obviously, we don’t want that to happen. Who knows what would happen to Joy and the baby.”

  “And how long is my daughter to remain in exile?” Steven’s voice was bitter, and Tanner reminded himself to have compassion for him.

  “Until the husk is retrieved—and destroyed this time, not just hidden—or until the threat has passed.”

  “But that could be…”

  Tanner knew what a bleak prospect was probably presenting itself to Steven at that moment. He was confronting it himself.

  “A long time,” he said. “Yeah. We know. But we hope that once Rose is born and is found to be normal, the word will get out, and Joy and Rose won’t be targeted any more.”

  “So where is she?” he demanded. “Who’s with her? What kinds of security measures are you taking to protect her?”

  Well, he wanted to say, one of the main security measures is not telling you anything.

  “Donna will be meeting up with her at a place that’s out-of-the-way enough to avoid notice,” he said instead. “As for the rest, you’ll just have to trust us. The fewer people know where Joy is, the less risk there is for her.”

  Steven’s hands, resting on his thighs, had curled into fists. “In other words, you’re not going to tell me a damn thing more,” he said tightly.

  Tan couldn’t think of a tactful way to answer that, so he stayed silent. It was every bit as tough as he’d expected it to be, having to be high-handed with his wife’s father.

  His wife. He wasn’t used to thinking of Joy that way yet, and it still gave him a jolt of pleasure—bittersweet now, with her gone. But then Steven got to his feet, bringing his mind back to the moment.