The Shadow Prince (34 page)

“Sounds good to me,” he says, but I detect a hint of apprehension
in his voice. I remember what he said about music having been forbidden to him, and I realize I’m about to take a virtual musical virgin for the ride of his life.

“So what do you think?”

Haden is quiet for a moment. “Can I use the word
beautiful
to describe music?”

“Yes, of course.”
What an odd question
.

“I can’t think of another word for it.”

“That’s okay. Music is hard for just about anyone to describe, let alone for someone who hasn’t developed a musical vocabulary.”

“I’m not used to being at a loss for words.”

I believe him. This is the eleventh song I’ve played for him and he’s stayed mostly silent during all of them—verbally anyway. I noticed that by the fifth song, the sphere of silence that normally surrounds Haden had started to wane. It was like when we sang together for the first time, and I had heard a soft, resonating pulse of sound coming off him. And now with each musical number I played for him since then, his inner tone had grown ever so slightly. It is like no other inner song I’ve ever experienced before.

“It might be easier to describe how it makes you feel.”

That hesitant, uncertain expression crosses his face. Has no one ever asked him to talk about his emotions before?

“Sad,” he says. “It’s a sad song. But optimistic, too.”

“Optimistic?”

I’d played him a song called “I Will Follow You into the Dark” from the Death Cab for Cutie album he’d picked out. It is a simple song, just a singer and a single guitar, but it seems to have had a strong impact on Haden. His inner tone beats twice as strong as before. It almost sounds hopeful.

“I don’t know if
optimistic
is quite the right word. But it’s about two lovers,” he says. “Yes?”

I nod.

“They’ve been together for a long time. They’ve seen many things and loved deeply. But she’s about to die. And he’s telling her not to cry or worry. Because she won’t be alone. Because he’ll follow her into the dark. He’s telling her to have hope. Yes, that’s the right word for it.”

“I guess so. But who would do that? It’s kind of a ridiculous notion, don’t you think? Can he really promise that he’s going to die right after her so she won’t be alone?”

“I think it’s less about death and more about a willingness to follow someone into the unknown. For love.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you ever do something like that? If you loved someone enough, would you follow him into the dark?” He looks at me with those jade green eyes and, for the slightest of moments, I think I see dark amber fire rings dancing around his pupils.

My impulse is to look away, but I don’t. “No,” I say. “I’m not a follower.”

“Hand in hand, then?”

I do look away now. “I don’t think I’m capable of loving anyone that much.” I turn my back on him and move to the stereo.

“Even if it was your destiny?”

I give a short laugh. “Destiny? I don’t believe in all that fate mumbo jumbo.”

“How can you not believe in fate?” His question sounds like he thinks I’m being blasphemous.

“I believe in goals, and working hard for what you want. And choices. I make my own path; nobody else chooses it for me.”

Haden’s hopeful tone disappears. That sphere of silence returns, surrounding him and stretching to the corners of the booth. I can’t stand it.

I remove the disk from the stereo, and look for a new one to replace it.

“What about to save the person you loved?” he asks.

“Maybe,” I say, thinking of my mom. I’d come here to save her—in a way. Well, to save her from losing her shop and her livelihood. But it had been
my
choice, in the end. “Depends on the person, I guess.” I find the disk I’m looking for and put the new CD into the player. “Let’s try a modern song without lyrics this time. This is by one of my favorite bands, Stars of the Lid. Just concentrate on the music. Open yourself up to the emotion it evokes.” I press play and let the music fill the silence in the booth. “It’s a beautiful song, one of my favorite pieces of modern music, but it also reminds me of a discordant lullaby. Like something’s broken or missing in the music—but in a very deliberate way.”

My back is to Haden as the song plays, but I can feel his warm presence only inches away in the tight booth. The air grows heavy, hot, electric, and a new strain of notes fills the booth. But they’re not coming from the stereo.

I turn to Haden. His lips are partly open. A red blush paints his pale yet olive cheeks. This new sound is coming off him.

It’s the sound that sorrow makes.

“What … what is the name of this song?” he asks, with a tremor in his voice.

“ ‘Requiem for Dying Mothers.’ ”

He purses his lips. His nostrils flare. A wet sheen fills his eyes. “Turn it off. Please. Just turn it off.”

“Okay.” I turn and hit the stop button. When I look back,
Haden is gone. The glass door to the booth swings shut, and I see him heading out the front of the store.

I find Haden outside. He leans against a wood railing that overlooks the beach, his face buried in his arms.

When we drove to this store, it was the first time I’d glimpsed the ocean in my life. The first time I’d heard the song of the sea. It’d been mesmerizing even through the windows of Haden’s car. Hearing it now, so close, mixed with tones of sorrow coming off Haden, it sounds like the ebb and flow of throbbing, raw pain. Like from a wound that can’t be closed.

“Haden?”

“Go away. Please,” he says. “Don’t look at me.”

I ignore his request. “Did something happen to your mother?” It’s the most intrusive question I’ve ever asked him, but I have to ask it. The sound of his sorrow is too overwhelming not to. “Did she die?”

“Yes,” he says softly. “In my arms. She died in my arms. When I was seven.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. I can’t help imagining myself in his place. “I shouldn’t have played that song.…”

“You didn’t know,” he says into his arms, which cover his face. “I try not to allow myself to think about her. But that song … it sounded like … 
felt
like … I don’t know how to describe it. It reminded me of how I felt when she died.” The tone that comes off him changes, warps from sorrow to something else. At first, I think it’s helplessness. No, I’d almost say it sounds like shame. He stands up straight now, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “You must think I’m disgusting.”

“For tearing up? No.” I reach toward his face, then stop, not sure what I was going to do. I place my hand on his shoulder instead. “It’s a perfectly human reaction.”

His face reddens slightly. “That’s the problem,” he mumbles, and places his hand over mine. His skin is hot, but it’s a welcome warmth against the breeze, which carries in the salty cool air from the ocean.

My arm tingles and I feel the hairs on my forearm stand on end as if with static electricity. Haden lets go of my hand. I look up at the darkening, cloudy sky. “I think a storm is coming. Should we go?”

“Yes. I think that would be wise.”

I head back to the store to gather my things from the booth, but as I look back at Haden before opening the door, I notice that it sounds like the storm is raging inside of him.

Haden parks behind Joe’s red Porsche in my driveway. His car is so silent, I don’t notice we’ve come to a stop until he clears his throat.

“Thanks for the ride,” I say, picking up my tote bag.

“Thank you for the education.”

“I’ll send you some more songs tomorrow. We need to settle on something for the festival.”

“We?” he asks. “So you’ll do a duet with me?”

“Yes.” I open the door. He looks at me.

“Daphne, do you have plans tonight?”

I blink. Is he asking me out? “Um. No …,” I say tentatively.

“Then if I were you, I’d take your father up on going to see that telescope.”

“I don’t think that’s—”

“I know I don’t really know your father, but it sounds to me like he’s
trying
to make a connection with you. Hades knows that my father has never even cared to try with me … and my mother …” He trails off heavily. His fingers tap on the steering wheel. “What I am attempting to say is that perhaps you should give your father a chance while you still can. There might come a day when the option is no longer available to you.”

chapter thirty-nine

When Daphne is gone, a hollowness fills me that I cannot explain.

I drive. Out of Olympus Hills. Out onto the open road. Faster and faster. Trying to outrun the storm that chases me from the inside.

I don’t know where I am going until I find myself outside the music shop again. I go inside, bells jangling as I let the door slam behind me.

“Can I help you?” the man at the cash register asks, startled.

“I want it all,” I say. “I want to buy a copy of every album you’ve got.”

The man raises his eyebrows over his thick-rimmed glasses. “Everything?”

“Yes,” I hiss. Is this human an idiot? “That’s why I said
every
album.”

“Um. Okay. Uh. CD or MP3? I’m assuming MP3, since you can’t fit the whole store in your trunk. You probably don’t even have a CD player in a car like that, huh?”

I shake my head.

“We’ve got more selections on digital recording anyway. It’ll fill up half a dozen of these MP3 players,” he says, pointing at a
row of devices, which look similar to my iPhone, in a display case.

“Then give me six of those, too,” I say, and set the credit card Dax gave me on top of the glass case.

“Are you sure about this, man? Your parents aren’t going to freak when they see the bill or anything, are they? And I’m going to need to see some ID.”

“I don’t live with my parents.” I set the driver’s license that says I’m twenty-one next to my credit card. “Don’t forget anything. I want every single song you’ve got.”

The man glances from the ID to the card to my luxury car, which sits in the parking lot, and then back to me. “Sweet,” he says, a huge grin overtaking his face. “You are in for one wild time, my friend.”

Hours later, I sit in my car on the beach. Waves crash outside, and wind from the approaching storm pounds against the roof and windows. One of the MP3 players is wirelessly connected to the stereo. I play song after song, trying to open myself up to each one. To feel the emotion they evoke like I did with Daphne in the booth. Some of the songs make me cringe, but others conjure emotions I have spent most of my life trying to bury: sadness, anger, awe, fear, joy, desire.

Love
?

Daphne didn’t mock me when I cried in front of her. She didn’t think I was disgusting. She didn’t tell me to stop before I embarrassed her. She seemed like she genuinely cared.

She cared about
me
.

The hour nears midnight, but I’ve barely burned through a fraction of the music I bought. The car’s control panel warns me that I’ve let the battery get too low. Just as the music starts to fade,
I jolt the car with a burst of electricity, restoring it to full power. I turn up the volume. Louder. Louder. But no matter how high I turn up the sound, no matter how many emotions I let flood through me, I cannot drown out the thought that has clung to me since Daphne played me that last song in the booth.

I’d known it all along. Pushed way back in my mind so I wouldn’t have to think about it. But opening up to her like that—letting her see one of the rawest portions of my soul—and her not rejecting it, I cannot deny reality any longer. The truth is, if Daphne eventually agrees to come with me, if I am victorious in my quest, if I get everything I’ve ever wanted—whether she’s a regular Boon or this Cypher who the Oracle spoke of—she will die.

Just like my mother.

Just like every human who has been brought to the Underrealm—most barely making it through the first two years. Humans cannot survive without the sun.

They
all
die.

And so will she.

chapter forty

It’s nearly midnight, but the restaurant Joe takes me to in LA is packed. Despite the cold wind and the spattering of rain, there’s a line wrapping around the side of the building. Joe leads me past the waiting crowd to the front doors. People scream his name and he stops to sign a couple of autographs. Flashbulbs go off, and reporters shoot questions at him.