Transcend (23 page)

They hurt you.

 All of them.

The voices comfort me, validating my existence and reminding me of my plans. “I will make you pay. All of you.”

The clouds move over the moon, sending the graveyard into complete darkness.

How long have I been here?

Kiera will be wondering about James by now. I’m almost out of time. Quickly, I replace my mask and stare back to the lifeless body of James. “Goodbye my friend,” I whisper.

He was never your friend.

You have no friends.

Memories reel past the voices—the jokes and confessions I shared with none but James. I clench my jaw and for the briefest of moments I am sad.

Until the voices remind me again that James betrayed me all along.

I walk with the ever-present noise to the house, slipping in through the servants’ entrance. My hands are slick, glistening with blood. I find a sink and wash them. Over and over. The blood keeps coming. I rub them raw. It’s no use. The blood still flows.

My mind swirls on the stale copper scent. “Focus,” I say. “Just a few more minutes.”

I scrub and scrub, my skin peeling away in my hands. Finally, the stains on my hands fade.

“Don’t do this.”

I ignore the soft voice that can’t be here.

“Coward! You are too weak to pull this off.” Mother’s voice surprises me. I turn, thinking I am caught.

Nothing but the dark shadows and sparse electric lights greets me.

Coward. Finish the task. Hurry.

“Stop yourself, Ien, before it is too late.”

You are the weaker brother. I should have lived instead of you.

Hundreds of voices launch commands and accusations. The sound increases as I walk to take my life back. “I am Ien Montgomery. I am 17 years old.” My familiar mantra soothes me instantly, settling the chaos. “I survived the fire, the death trap, everything. And I will have my vengeance and my life. Today. Now.”

I repeat the phrase as I look for the one who will finally end this suffering.  

Take her now.

“Have you seen James?” I hear her before I can see her as she asks everyone about her betrothed.

“He cannot hurt you anymore, Kiera,” I whisper to the shadows. Standing amongst the crowd, I watch as she begins a frantic search of the rooms. I imagine the pangs of fear she must feel when room after room yields nothing. She will assume it was me, assume that I have come to make good on my promises.

One of us should.

I follow her as her pace becomes erratic, knowing her terror is building.

“Ien?”

I freeze where I stand.

“What are you doing here?”

No, you can’t be here. Not now
. I turn, my eyes meeting Jenna’s.

“You shouldn’t still be here.” She grabs my hands, dragging me away.

“Wait,” I say. “I’m just wishing the couple a happy life.”

Jenna stops, glares at me. She knows I’ve lied.

“Please don’t say anything,” I beg. “I want this to be a surprise.”

A big surprise.

“I told you last time, I won’t help you where she’s concerned. “Jenna’s eyes grow cold, her compassion all but gone. “This obsession you have…it’s not right.” She drops my hand and backs away. “I won’t be part of it. Not anymore.”

I grab her arm before she can leave. “You can’t tell anyone I’m here.”

Jenna pulls on her arm, fear forming on her face as I tighten my grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

“Promise me!”

“Ien, let go.”

“Not until I know I can trust you.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“Promise. Me!”

Jenna blinks once, twice. “I promise.” Her eyes fill with tears. Horror floods her expression. I’ve crossed a line with her—one I can never repair.

My heart drops. She fears me now. Just like everyone else.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I release her arm. “I’ve no choice. Nothing can fail tonight.”

“Whatever you’re planning, don’t. I’ll keep your secret for now. But, if anything happens to either of them, I’ll tell the police myself.”

Jenna’s words cut through me. To her, I’m now the monster I’ve feared.

~~

Where are you, Kiera?
I think as I sit behind the piano and wait.
Are you ready for me?
I look like the other musicians just coming back from their break. Same black clothes. Same masks.

Kiera shyly steps in front of the crowd, her eyes flicking to Mother. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Mother says. “Ien used to speak of your playing. He said there was no one better than you. We would all love to hear you, wouldn’t we?”

I cringe at Mother’s words. She never once appreciated my taste in music.

You’re next Mother. You’re next.

“Yes,” I quietly say to Kiera. “Please play.”

The room fills with ‘yes’ as Mother’s sycophants cheer. I watch Kiera, her face flushing. She recognizes the false flattery, no doubt. I want to whisk her away from Mother and this world. Protect her.

Kiera brings her violin to her chin, playing first Mozart and then Bach. Her fingers fly in rhythm with her bow, drawing music that lightens the room. Eyes closed, she rocks, fully absorbed in the sounds she creates. The music peaks, ends. She is greeted by applause as her mini concert ends.

‘Encore’ and ‘bravo’ echoes throughout the room and I can’t hide my smile.

“Play another,” I say.

Kiera turns toward me, her face hard. Her eyes travel across the mask and for a moment I tense. Her face flushes for just a moment before she looks to the floor, embarrassed by the attention.

“Please. Just one more.”

A slight nod from her and I know it is time.

“Perhaps you know this one. Your fiancé, James, I think he said his name was, he said it is your favorite.”

“Oh yes, Kiera. Play something James would like.” Mother’s voice carries a familiar this-is-not-a-request tone.

“What song is it?” she asks me, her eyes boring through me.

“Oh, you’ll recognize it, I’m sure.” I stretch my fingers, warming them on the keys. The vibrations travel up my arms. My body quivers with excitement.

I finish the arpeggio and look at Kiera. A small trickle of sweat dots her brow. She is nervous. Unsure.

“Are you ready?” I ask.

She looks around the room, searching.

“Are you ready?” I ask again.

The question startles her and she smiles at me, nodding her head.

“Um…sure. Yes.”

Perfect.

I start to play. “Join in whenever you are ready.”

She smiles.

Haunted notes emerge from the piano’s harp. Kiera turns and stares too long. Her eyes dampen briefly before she concedes to the music. Lifting her instrument, she begins to play, echoing the rhythms I’ve produced. She takes the lead from me and starts a new conversation in the music. The song is sad as she shifts into a minor key. Note for note we continue, my eyes never leaving her. She sways to the music, still thinking it is hers to command.

Slowly, carefully, I take the melody from her. I shift it into the duet once more, introducing more complex patterns to the music. She slows at first, hesitates. Until finally she wrestles back control and a musical argument begins.

Melodies and countermelodies collide as we each try to establish our dominance. Measure for measure the tension mounts, our music nothing like the notes that once lay on the page.

She opens her eyes as the fury continues, pinning me with her glare. Her gaze reaches into my soul and I spin the music back to the simple melody at its core—our melody. A moment of recognition washes over her, followed by regret, fear, terror. An entire kaleidoscope of emotions exists within a single heartbeat.

Refusing to relinquish herself to the truth I know she sees, she plays faster, harder. I match, changing the tenor once more. Our chests rise and fall in perfect unison as we race on and on. My heart beats out of control. I have only moments before the song ends; moments until I must make my move.

Time is measured in a series of rhythms marking the climax. I push through it, locking the guests and Kiera into a musical trance that is both promising and haunting. The air seems to stand waiting as we play the last note.

Inhale.

No one moves. A gasp breaks through the trance, pulling my attention to the back of the room. To Jenna watching from the distance, tears streaming down her face.

Exhale.

The world opens up in chaos. Jenna drops a tray of glasses and screams. The crowd breaks, not knowing how to respond. Some applaud. Some attend to Jenna, helping her pick up the pieces of shattered glass.

Inhale.

Jenna stares through me, shaking her head. Kiera ignores the crowd pressing in around us.

Exhale.

She closes the distance between us and yanks the mask from my face.

“Ahhh”

The scream sends the room swirling as everything goes black.

Inhale.

I grab Kiera’s arm, muffle her voice and shove past the grabbing hands of the now-invisible crowd.

Exhale.

We run.

Run.

Run.

The crowd thins, startled by the darkness. More screams. More confusions. I push Kiera through the hall and darkened servant’s pantry, desperate for a way out. The screams end as I reach the door and we spill into the

      empty 
                                               

                 
night…

31.

“No man chooses evil because it is evil;

he only mistakes it for happiness,

the good he seeks.”

~Mary Shelly

~~

The sounds of a hundred voices surround me as I push through the darkness toward my future. I have little time. Kiera squirms against me, crying out. I pull the needle from my coat and shove it into her arm. She quiets instantly and I carry her to the stables.

It is silent here, calm. So different from the chaos I imagine still lingering at the house. I light only one candle, afraid of being discovered. I need time alone with her, time to make her remember everything we promised to each other, everything we shared.

Quickly, I cover the windows with the old horse blankets left in the barn. I open the doors and listen.

One.

Two.

Three.

Nothing. No voices, no dogs. I am safe.

For now.

I walk back into the stables as Kiera stirs, her breath coming in a steady rhythm despite the sedation. I hated giving it to her. I know what she felt when I plunged the syringe into her arm, the river of fire that flooded her veins as her mind went blank. I know she was afraid. Terrified. But I had no choice.

She stirs again, pulling against the bindings I used around her arms and legs.       

“Shh. It’s okay, my love. You’re safe.” She settles with the sound of my voice. “I will always keep you safe.” I stroke her hair.

My hands are still bloody, too bloody. Every stain once gone has returned, like a permanent mark of the sins I’ve committed.

I walk to the basin, pumping the water again and again. Grinding the soap into my hands and arm, I scrub until my skin is raw.

More lye, more scrubbing.

More scrubbing, more lye.

I clench my jaw, inhaling the pain as I attempt to erase my crimes and ease my conscience. But the stains remain, sticky and warm.

Why are they warm?

The fresh metallic smell of blood sends my mind spinning. I grab a wooden post to keep from falling as the basin, filled with the tainted evidence of all I’ve become, crashes to the floor.

A soft moan escapes Kiera’s lips. She slowly opens her eyes, a mixture of confusion and terror coloring each line and crevice. She pulls hard against her bindings, tugging until her skin is angry and raw.

Just like her.

“Why did you bring me here?” she hisses, looking at me for the first time.

“Please, Kiera, don’t be angry with me. Everything will make sense soon.” I go to her side, leaving the bloody remnants of my guilt on the floor.

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Her feistiness excites me.

“I brought you here to save you.”

“Save me? By holding me against my will?”

She opens her mouth to scream. My hand clamps against her mouth, cutting off the sound. “Shh. You have to be quiet. No one can know we’re here.”

She stares deeply into my eyes. The haze leaves her gaze, replaced by recognition. “Ien?” she whispers. “It’s you, isn’t it?” Her voice quivers and I wonder if she is ready for the truth.

“Is that what you think now?”

She leans in, looking over the whole of me. “I don’t know. But you are the one from last night. At the theatre.”

“Yes.”

She is so close. I take a sharp breath, allowing her scent to fill me.

“But you can’t be him. He’s dead.”

I remain quiet, unwilling to move.

“You left the letter for me.” She waits for my response.

I have none. She must figure this out on her own. Without James’s influence she will remember what we were to each other.

She has to.

She stares at my uncovered face, no longer flinching at the sight. “You do look familiar, though.”

“How so?”

“Your eyes.”

I reach for her, only to see the blood seeping down my arms. I retrieve the basin and try once more to wash it away.

“You’re hurt,” she says. “Untie me and I let me help you.”

I consider her request.

“Please, I won’t leave. You can trust me.”

I shouldn’t, can’t.

“Haven’t you always been able to trust me?”

I have. “Do you know who I am yet?”

“Untie me and after I tend your wounds you can help me figure it out.”

One heart beat passes.

And another.

The stain spreads again, relentless. Why am I still bleeding? My stomach clenches. I need help. I untie her arms only.