The Hourglass Door (15 page)

I nodded, surprised to realize that my nerves tingled with anticipation, not fear.

The girl on stage finished an Emily Dickinson poem to scattered applause and darted into the darkness.

I pushed back my chair before I could change my mind.

My heart pounding, I took the stage. The Dungeon looked different from up here, the room longer and wider, filled with more people. The hot lights burned my skin, drying my eyes and my throat. I swallowed once, twice. I wished I’d brought my soda with me.

“Hi,” I said into the microphone, wincing at the sound of my amplified voice. I saw Dante, his eyes glittering in the dim shadows behind the lights. “My name is Abby Edmunds and I’ll be reciting an original poem. I call it ‘The Sands of Grief.’”

I pulled a square of paper out of my pocket and unfolded it with trembling fingers. I’d written the poem a month or so ago after a particularly vivid dream. I’d been lost in a dark fog and it was hard to breathe. I was looking for something important and if I didn’t find it, terrible things would happen. But I couldn’t remember what it was; I could only hope that I would recognize it when I saw it. And then the fog parted and I saw a figure standing on a hill in the distance. In the fluid logic of dreams, I recognized him without seeing his face. He was a stranger, yet somehow I knew and loved him. The words had seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling my dream to the edges. When I woke, I wrote them down before they disappeared with the dawn. I hadn’t shown the poem to anyone. Part of me couldn’t believe I was going to present it in public; the rest of me couldn’t wait to begin.

In the darkness of night,

Demons strut, taunting, goading.

In the light of day,

Angels sing glorious songs.

In the time in between,

We live our lives alone and searching.

And sometimes, softly,

We understand damnation.

All is forgotten, all is lost,

All but forgiveness

And the memory of her kiss.

The sound of my blood pounding in my ears drowned out the applause from the crowd. I caught a glimpse of Valerie’s grin as she stood up and cheered. Dante leaned against the bar, a thoughtful expression on his face. Leo turned away, his shoulders hunched and guarded. In the back, Zo clapped lazily, his dark eyes watchful and hungry.

I nodded my thanks to the crowd and hurried off stage.

“That was great,” Valerie gushed.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “Your turn.”

“I think I’ll have to wait my turn,” Valerie said, nodding to the stage.

Turning in my seat, I saw Dante stride onto the stage, the white lights lining his body in silver.

He stood at the microphone, his stillness spreading out from him over the stage and the audience until it filled the Dungeon completely, demanding our attention. The silence breathed with him.

Dante brushed his hair out of his eyes, his gaze sweeping the crowd, starting with Leo standing behind the bar, lingering for a moment over Zo and his friends, and coming to rest at the table where I sat with Valerie. I felt that familiar slowing down of time, the strange thickening in the air, the heightening of all my senses.

“Ciao,”
he said, his accent thicker than usual, richer and deeper. “My name is Dante Alexander and I’d like to share an original work this evening. I call it ‘The Angel’s Envy.’”

He shifted his weight and his fingers tugged at the backs of his gloves, restlessly, incessantly. I wondered if he was even aware of his actions.

Then he opened his mouth and all my wonders and worries were carried away by the sound of his voice.

I didn’t understand a word of his poem, but the music of his native tongue wove its way into my heart. I felt the rolling vowels along the edges of my fingertips; I resonated with the thrum and throb of the rhythm of his words. Sharp consonants prickled under my skin. Liquid vowels dripped over me like honey. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the emotions Dante summoned inside me.

It reminded me a little of how I had felt after Zero Hour played, but with the band’s music my emotions seemed to run wild, a tsunami of energy crashing through me. Tonight Dante’s words filled me with a gentle ebb and flow, like a midnight tide rising under the moon.

I looked around the room, seeing the same emotions reflected on the faces around me. Valerie cradled her chin in her hands, her eyes half closed, utterly relaxed.

Dante’s last word lingered in the room, holding us captive. It wasn’t until he stepped back from the microphone and out of the spotlight that the spell was broken and I was able to catch my breath.

We didn’t applaud. It seemed wrong somehow to break the spun silence with something so crass as clapping or cheering. Dante didn’t seem to mind, though, and as he stepped off the stage, he caught my eye and inclined his head in a formal bow, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Wow,” Valerie breathed, tracking Dante’s progress through the crowd. “I can see what you see in him. Oh, he’s coming this way.”

Indeed, Dante had changed direction, veering away from the bar and heading for our table.

“May I join you?” he asked, his deep voice ringing through the silence that swirled around him like a cloak. If he was aware of the number of eyes trained on his every move, he gave no indication of it.

“Of course,” I said.

As he sat down, I heard a ripple of disappointed sighs run through the room. I had to suppress a happy grin at the thought that of all the tables in the Dungeon, he’d chosen to sit at ours.

No one dared take the stage after Dante’s performance. After a few moments, Leo flipped the spotlight off and the house lights on. He watched Dante, a troubled look on his face.

“I loved your poem,” Valerie said to Dante, reaching out to touch his forearm.

“Thank you.” Dante deftly moved his arm away, clasping his hands under the table. “I enjoyed your poem as well, Abby. I especially enjoyed the middle lines—‘Sometimes, softly, we understand damnation,’” he murmured. “A powerful truth.”

Somehow the lines sounded even better coming from him, deeper and more melancholy.

“I’m glad you ended it with a kiss, though. It’s important to hold on to your memories. Sometimes they are all you have left.” Dante’s eyes drifted out of focus as he looked into the distance between us. He licked his lips, placed his hands back on the table, and pressed the palms flat against the wood.

“Are you okay?” I asked. I’d never seen him this twitchy, this anxious and unsettled.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He offered me a smile I didn’t believe. “It’s been a long week. I just need some time alone.” A tick jumped along his jaw. He curled his hands into fists and swept them under the table again.

I exchanged a glance with Valerie.

“Would you excuse me?” Dante said, suddenly standing up, almost knocking over his chair. The feverish look in his eyes worried me. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked away, his steps awkward and lacking his usual grace.

“What was that all about?” Valerie wondered out loud.

“I don’t know,” I said. I watched Dante weave his way through the crowd, not back to the bar, but to the door marked “Employees Only.” He disappeared into the darkness. “I hope he’s okay.”

“He’ll be fine,” Zo said, sitting down in the chair Dante had recently vacated. “He’s probably just under some pressure and needs to blow off some steam. It happens to everyone, right?”

Tony sat down next to me, and V pulled a chair from an adjacent table to sit next to Valerie, who immediately leaned closer to her chosen target.

“It seemed a shame for two lovely ladies to remain unaccompanied; I hope you don’t mind.” Zo’s presence filled the space between us, his grin sharp and angular. He had folded back the cuffs of his shirt, displaying his black chain tattoos proudly.

“We don’t mind, do we, Abby?” Valerie purred, smiling at V.

He smiled back hesitantly. V was shorter than Zo, stockier and thicker through the chest. Dark eyes dominated his narrow, serious face. He scratched at the back of his arm and I noticed the same tattoos chained around his wrists. Glancing at Tony, I saw he wore them as well.

“No, of course not,” I said, though I couldn’t stop myself from glancing again at the closed “Employees Only” door.

“So tell me, Zo,” Valerie said, “when are we going to hear the new lyrics you promised? I thought for sure tonight was the night.”

“They’re not ready yet. Soon, though. I promise. It’s been a while since we’ve played a live show. Maybe we’ll debut the new song next Friday.”

“You won’t have much of a crowd next Friday,” I said. “It’s the Valentine’s Dance and we’ll all be at the school. At least, those of us with dates,” I added under my breath for Valerie’s ears only.

She glared at me before turning her attention back to V.

“Is that so?” Zo said, arching an eyebrow, a lazy smile playing around his mouth.

Tony grinned. “Maybe
we
should go to the dance, Zo. What do you think? I could use a night out.” If V was shadow, then Tony was sunshine with his blond hair, fair complexion, and a bright gold lining his chestnut-brown eyes.

I saw my chance. Valerie would owe me big-time for this. I took a deep breath and dove in. “You can’t go to the dance unless you’re a student.” I looked from V to Valerie and smiled. “Or unless you’re dating a student.”

Tony was the first to pick up the hint. “But certainly you both have been snatched up long ago, no?” he asked, his eyes dancing.

“Well,
I’m
going with Jason, but Valerie . . .” I shrugged eloquently.

“I understand,” Zo said, playing his part. “You’ve merely been waiting for the right man to come along.” He patted the back of Valerie’s hand, looking pointedly at V.

Valerie blushed, glancing under her lowered lids at V. I had to swallow a giggle. She was a natural.

“I
was
hoping,” Valerie said, trailing her fingers along V’s arm. “I mean, if you aren’t doing anything else . . . ?”

When V finally realized we all were staring at him, his eyes darted around the table from Zo to Tony to me, looking for some kind of support or escape.

“V, are you going to be a gentleman and ask the lovely lady to the dance, or not?” Zo murmured.

V cleared his throat. “Um,” he said.

“I’d love to.” Valerie squeezed V’s arm, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad that’s settled.” Zo clapped his hands and rubbed them together briskly. “V and Valerie will go to the Valentine’s Dance—how appropriate. Do you think anyone would mind if we offered a free concert that night? What do you say, boys? Are you both up for a dip into the river?”

The three members of the band looked at each other, an electric current charging the air between them. Tony laughed out loud. Even V’s normally stony face cracked into a grin.

“You’d really play at the dance? That would be fabulous!” Valerie said. “I’ll talk to Lily tomorrow—she’s on the committee—and we’ll get it all arranged. Just think, Abby, Zero Hour playing at our dance!”

“Fabulous,” I agreed as a chill shivered on my skin and a small headache wormed its way into the base of my skull. I felt like something important had just happened but that I’d missed it. “I need another soda.” I grabbed my empty glass and turned to the bar. “Would you excuse me?”

As I left the table, I couldn’t help but think to myself that Valerie had been right yet again—V still didn’t know what had hit him.

~

It was close to closing time at the Dungeon and Valerie still sat with V and the band. I sighed, stirring my straw through the melting ice in my glass and leaning my elbows heavily on the bar top, bored and alone. Valerie was my ride home and it didn’t look like she was in any hurry to leave.

“Can I get you another soda?” Leo asked, whisking away my empty glass and wiping down the countertop with a white towel.

I shook my head. “No, thanks.”

Leo smiled, showing all his teeth. A mane of white hair framed his round face and his blue eyes were the color of faded denim. There was something about Leo that made me feel comfortable and safe around him.

“It looks like you could use a Midnight Kiss.” He laughed at my expression. “No, no,
mia donna di luce,
it is nothing like that. It is a special drink. I’ll make it for you.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t—”

“On the house. For a good friend of Dante’s.” Leo flipped the towel over his shoulder and, as he did so, his sleeve pulled up a little over his wrist.

I blinked. I could have sworn I saw the faded pale lines of what looked like a chain circling his wrist. I rubbed my eyes. It must have been later than I’d thought.