Midnight Shadows

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Kowalski didn’t want any part of it.

  The world had taken great big bites out of him and Allegra, with sharp teeth. This was precisely what he and Allegra were here to avoid, the pressures of the outside world.

  This was to be their time out of time, the world on hold. For the next three days of the mini summit he was going to avoid as much of the resort as he could. He’d have their meals catered on their huge terrace, such lush plants climbing the walls it was like being in a secret garden with a sea view. Maybe he’d rent a boat and take Allegra out to sea, spend the day on the boat with a picnic lunch, making sure she slathered that beautiful pale Irish skin with a billion SPF sun block. Maybe they’d go up to that gorgeous little white city at the top of the island with its small buildings tumbling down the hillside like grains of sugar.

  As long as it was away from here and the men who were going to negotiate the world economy.

  He turned his mind to the beauty of the grounds, walking through a rose and ivy-covered archway, turning at the end along a tufa-stoned walkway to the portico of their suite. It had a front porch held up by Doric columns—he knew they were Doric only because Yannis had told him, what the fuck did he know?—great clumps of deep purple and red bougainvillea framing the doorway.

  When the door to their luxurious suite closed behind them, he and Allegra both breathed a sigh of relief. Inside was an oasis of beauty and comfort. The entire back wall opened onto a huge tiled terrace looking out over the Mediterranean. The sound of the heavy door closing at their back left them cocooned in their own space, high over the sea, safe and together.

  Allegra smiled and pointed at the coffee table made from olive wood. “Look darling, Yannis was true to his word.”

  Yannis was always true to his word. He was a former SEAL, after all. Sure enough, a wine cooler with a bottle of rosè retsina rested next to two crystal glasses and small terracotta bowls of green and black olives.

  Allegra kissed his biceps and moved away. “I’m going to shower. Let’s have our wine on the terrace.”

  Kowalski froze, but she didn’t notice. The bathroom door closed behind her and a few seconds later he heard the sound of the multiple showerheads in the luxury shower start up.

  Allegra was always doing that to him. Showing signs of great affection, and it still blew his mind. She was totally unselfconscious about it, clearly a woman who had grown up well-loved, with no problems expressing what she felt.

  It was a kick in the head when they were out. Everyone just assumed he was her bodyguard, muscle to keep the beautiful, famous musician safe. Jaws dropped when Allegra made it clear from the start that they were a couple.

  When she’d been blind, she’d considered herself a burden to him. Jesus. A burden. He had never managed to get across to her that he loved her, that taking care of her was a privilege. If he hadn’t known how much she hated her blindness, he’d have fought tooth and nail against the surgery. It had been risky, experimental. The doctors had made that clear. Explaining the possible consequences, including death, every hair on his head had stood on end, and he wasn’t an easy man to scare.

  He was putty in her hands but he would have put his foot down and said no, no way to the surgery except…the longing in her voice, in her face, when she spoke of regaining her sight unmanned him.

  So she’d had the operation, which had gone relatively well. It was taking her longer to recover than she’d hoped and she still had vision problems though she tried to hide it.

  The surgery had taken about 20 years off his life, but what the hell.

  Allegra was happy, so it was worth it.

  He checked his watch and grinned. Allegra probably had another half hour in the shower to go. He had no idea what she did in showers, he only knew it was time-consuming.

  He’d have time for his own shower in the smaller bathroom and time to set them up on the terrace to watch the sunset.

  Chapter Four

  Douglas was out on their spectacular terrace, leaning on the railing, two glasses of the delicious local rosè restsina on the wrought iron table behind him. Allegra took a second to look at the picture he made, his muscular frame outlined by the huge red sun halfway down the sky.

  He really could be Neptune, she thought. He looked like he could command the seas and all the elements. He looked powerful and invincible and indestructible and yet…he wasn’t. She’d seen him age since her operation. She’d seen him tired and worried. Yet he never complained, not once.

  She walked silently forward on the pretty silk Turkish slippers she’d purchased up in the town of Hagios Nikolaus but you could never get the drop on her husband. He seemed to be aware of everything, always, 360°, 24/7. He straightened and turned and smiled at her, holding out one arm.

  She fit into it neatly. Douglas bent down and sniffed at her, like a dog. “You smell nice.”

  “Thanks.” She sniffed back. “So do you.”

  He gave that surprised, snorting laugh of his. They turned and looked out over the bay together.

  “It’s so incredibly beautiful,” she sighed.

  And it was. The sun was floating just upon the sea’s surface, then slowly dipped below it as they watched. The bay’s arms stretched out, green and welcoming. Behind them the gorgeous white city tumbled over the top of the hill, what had once been the peak of the volcano.

  She breathed in. While blind, her sense of smell had blossomed. She could smell the faint scent of bougainvillea and the stronger scent of jasmine along the sides of the building. Yannis had planted clematis and wisteria along trellises flanking the walkways and huge beds of roses. But above those rose the smells of the countryside. She and Douglas had taken long walks in the countryside of the island. A path leading from the resort up to the town had been cut through the Mediterranean scrub and the scents had nearly made her dizzy—oregano, thyme, mint, rosemary, sage…

  All those scents floated in the air now and under them, the deep notes of sea brine. She’d never smelled anyplace like this before.

  “I’ve decided that Kratior is definitely Atlantis. I’ve been reading up and this place looks as plausible as any other. They say they had tons of high tech that was lost for almost ten thousand years.” She nudged her husband. “You’re a navy diver. Why don’t you go diving and find some high tech?”

  “Right.” His deep voice rumbled. “Dive down a hundred feet and find a rusted iPhone. That’d make everyone sit up and take notice.”

  “But more than the high tech, it seems they were more civilized than us. Atlantis was a real democracy and everyone lived in peace and harmony.”

  Douglas snorted. “Were they human?”

  Allegra was taken aback. “Well…yeah. Not aliens, anyway. Not that I know of.”

  “Then there was no peace or harmony there. Just good policing. We don’t do peace and harmony as a species. Not in our DNA.”

  Spoken like a true warrior. He slanted a glance at her and she saw he was about to apologize for his bluntness. Before he could, she smiled and said, “You’re right. But it’s a great legend.”

  There was some kind of feast-day celebration in the city up above them. Laughter and music floated down, as if from heaven. It might not be Atlantis, but it was truly a magical place.

  Douglas reached behind them for the glasses and off to the side…she saw shadows. Moving.

  No. No. No.

  She was not going to allow this to happen. No shadows, not now, not ever again.

  So when Douglas handed her one of the glasses, she downed it immediately. The wine went down with a little kick, with that resiny taste she’d grown used to and liked.

  There were going to be no more shadows in her life. She gave him a radiant smile and saw him narrow his eyes.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, Douglas. Except that I want to give you your present now.”

  The suspicious look was gone, now it was all interest. “Okay. So you go first?”

  She gave a decisive nod. “Y
ep. But first you have to sit down.”

  “I have to sit to get a present? That sounds intriguing.” They went back into the luxurious living room and he sat down where she pointed, on one of the plush green silk brocade sofas.

  “Now close your eyes.”

  He closed them, smiling. “This gets better and better. Do I get to drink?”

  She poured him another glass and put it in his hand. “There you go, but whatever you do, don’t open your eyes. And don’t spill that drink.”

  “Honey, I passed Hell Week. I think I can drink with my eyes closed without making a fool of myself.” To prove his words, he sipped delicately at the rosè wine, sighed with pleasure, and sat back.

  Allegra went to the huge closet in the bedroom and brought out the kanun, a trapezoidal Greek stringed instrument she’d found on one of the hotel walls. Yannis had been delighted to let her practice on it. He’d even given her two silver filigreed fingerpicks that looked like exotic fingernails.

  The kanun fit on her lap, unlike Dagda. Bless it, Dagda was heavy and cumbersome. The kanun was ideal to play on vacation.

  It had two modes, diatonic and a mode that was all minor scales, very Middle Eastern. She didn’t even try that one. She’d given herself the lowest of hurdles—to figure out the strings enough to play a song she’d composed when she’d first met Douglas, ‘New Love’. The song meant a lot to her and she was hoping that that emotional input would help her with the kanun. She’d practiced and practiced, not always with good results.

  Well, now it was down to the wire.

  She sat across from Douglas who was patiently waiting, eyes closed, every once in a while taking a sip from his retsina. It was one of the many many things she loved about him. His patience. She’d have tried anyone’s patience these past four months, when even walking at first was beyond her. He’d been by her side for most of it, completely patient, as if he had nothing better to do besides helping her relearn things a four year old could master.

  Allegra settled cross legged, the kanun in her lap. It was much more intimate than the harp. It felt like playing something that was a part of her.

  Please God, don’t let me mess this up. She sent the silent prayer up to the god of formerly-blind harp players. She had no idea why this was so important to her, but it was. She had to do this, she simply had to. She had to do it well and she had to do it for Douglas. To thank him for everything he did for her.

  The instrument was tuned. She slipped the fingerpicks on, strummed a moment.

  Douglas wasn’t expecting that. He sat up straighter when he heard the notes sound.

  Okay. It was never going to get easier.

  Now.

  Allegra closed her eyes and began to play. She played the entire song instrumentally first. She’d written it as a ballad, simple but with a complex counterpoint. The kanun allowed for both—for the top notes of the melody and the deeper underlying contrapuntal music.

  She remembered every moment of composing it. She’d just met Douglas at a presentation of antique jewelry. Her friend Suzanne Huntington, the wife of Douglas’s partner, a man his friends mysteriously called Midnight, had designed the cases. She’d begged Allegra to play at the opening. Allegra hadn’t played since the night her father had been murdered and she’d been beaten so badly she’d lost her sight.

  She’d felt out of place, sad and lost, when she’d met Douglas. It was his voice—that delicious basso profundo—that had attracted her at first. Then the jewelry show had been attacked by armed thieves and Douglas and his friend Midnight and another friend, a homicide lieutenant named Bud Morrison, now married to her friend Claire, had saved the day.

  Douglas had been beyond brave and then he’d insisted on driving her home. They’d made love all night and it had been the very first happy thing to happen to her since she lost her sight. She hadn’t been able to compose any music since the beating. But after that magical night, the best night of her life, while Douglas had gone for a run in the snow, she’d started composing ‘New Love’. Because something as special as the night she’d spent in his arms needed celebrating.

  The music had come literally welling up in her soul, happiness written in notes.

  She remembered all that as she played, the incredible joy she’d felt with him, the surprise that such joy could exist in her world of the blind. The miracle was that that original happiness had been real, and had grown every day she spent with Douglas. She must have intuited that from the beginning because ‘New Love’ had that in it. Light at the top, profound at the bottom.

  She lost herself, hands now moving of their own accord over the strings. The strings no longer individual things but part of a whole, like a tapestry. She swayed slightly as she played and when the first instrumental rendering of the song was over, without thinking about it, without having rehearsed it, she sang.

  Of the hundreds and hundreds of songs she’d sung in concert halls and recording studios, many of her own composing, this was the song closest to her heart. She was scarcely aware of the words. Like the music, it became one whole to her, endless and complete. She was barely aware of herself, knowing herself only as a conduit for the music. It flowed in her, through her, true and crystalline.

  When it was over, when the last note shimmered in the air and dissipated, she rested her hands on the edges of the kanun and savored the moment, because this was the moment her life came together again.

  It was back.

  The music was back.

  And with it, her soul. From that moment on she knew that she was going to make it, that the surgery had done its work, that she was whole again. Weak, but whole.

  She smiled and opened her eyes. Douglas was sitting across from her, silent and immobile. His eyes were glassy.

  “Was I that bad?” she asked, her voice shaky.

  He shook his head. Words fled him when he was moved. She was moved too because she would never have come to this point without Douglas. She’d still be mired in weakness and despair. They’d come this far together.

  “Douglas,” she whispered and held her hand out.

  Never once, in the time she’d known him, had she held her hand out to him and he hadn’t taken it. This time, too. He stood, lifted away the kanun with one hand and lifted her up out of the sofa with the other.

  She looked up at him, at her incredible husband, grateful for everything. For the music that had come back into her life and for her husband, who would never leave her as long as he was alive.

  “Love me, Douglas.” Like the music, the words welled up in her, irresistible.

  He didn’t resist. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

  Chapter Five

  Kowalski carried his wife because it was the fastest way to get to the bedroom. After four months of abstinence, he didn’t want to wait a second more.

  It wasn’t that he was a saint. Hell no. He’d been a soldier all his life and he’d done things he could never tell Allegra about. And it wasn’t that he didn’t desire his wife. Every single night he’d gone to bed with a hard-on. And she’d encouraged him often enough.

  But…God. She’d spent her days since the surgery putting herself back together again. How could he forget the first time she tried to stand up and her knees buckled? Good thing he’d been there to catch her.

  Her eyes were bruised with fatigue in the evening. Each day for her had been like climbing a mountain. She’d looked so fragile, like she’d break if he touched her.

  He’d desired her but he hadn’t had the heart to make love to her. And much as he knew it pained her when night after night he simply held her in his arms, he also knew it was the right thing. For a long while, Allegra had been hanging by a thread.

  But not now. God, not now. These days on Kratior had put the flush of health on her skin. She’d gained a few pounds, too. Pounds she needed. But above all, she’d gained in self-confidence. She moved easily and well.

  And just now—God, he thought his heart would b
urst open when she played as magically as she had before the surgery. Music had been cruelly snatched away from her these past four months but now it was back, and now he had his Allegra back, whole.

  And so beautiful he thought his heart would stop every time he looked down at her in his arms.

  The room was perfect for them to start having sex again. He wasn’t susceptible to atmosphere—as long as they were naked and together and alone, they could be anywhere. But Allegra was a woman and women liked this sort of thing. Silk cushions and silver bowls with dried petals in them, and silver mirror frames and curtains so sheer they floated every time a breeze blew in.

  Oh yeah. Allegra took a look around the room through half closed eyes and he could see that it pleased her. And then she looked at him and he saw, against all the odds, that he pleased her. It still baffled him, but by now he wasn’t questioning it. He’d been born big and ugly and growing up hadn’t changed anything, except he got uglier with each passing year. The big knife scar along his left jaw was just the icing on the cake, so to speak.

  The women he’d gone to bed with looked at him from the neck down and he hadn’t known better so he’d accepted it as simply the way life was. Hadn’t known what it was like to be seen, the way Allegra saw him. And loved, the way Allegra loved him.

  She smiled up at him as if he were George Clooney and Brad Pitt rolled together, and reached up to cup his face. Right over the scar, dammit, as if it weren’t there. He huffed out a breath, started to bend down but stopped at her hand on his chest.

  There was no way Allegra’s hand could stop him. He outweighed her by 120 pounds. He’d spent his entire life training for combat. Maybe if she shot him, she could stop him, but certainly not with a touch.

  But she did. She wanted him to stop so he did. No question.

  “Not so fast, sailor.” Her face with alive with humor. “I gave you your present. So where’s mine?”