by Finn, K. C.
Lily had never seen a face so at peace in all her life. The woman had a patient smile and a serene look in her eyes as they fell upon Novel in his crimson finery. As she watched him, those pea-green eyes suddenly changed to an amber hue. Lily stared, only barely remembering to close her mouth, as the woman’s eyes revealed a spectrum of shifting colours. Her skin glowed faintly golden with some old Hispanic heritage and her two-toned hair fell in perfect ringlets from the knot at the back of her head. The ringlets seemed to float in idyllic peace with one another, not a single hair out of place. There was something so good in the energy around this woman, something that made Lily want to stay beside her and never, ever leave.
“Ugarte,” Novel said, taking off his hat and giving her a bow.
The woman’s eyes transitioned slowly back to their previous green colour. She gave him a little curtsey.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said in a flighty tone. “You’ve saved me from the gossips.”
Novel glanced beyond her to the chattering girls, who hadn’t even noticed that Ugarte had left their party. They all stepped away from them a little more, Lily’s eyes almost always trained on the woman before her. Ugarte gave her a kind smile and when her look fell upon her, those eyes shifted in colour yet again, this time a burnt orange hue, for just a few moments.
“This is Lily, my new apprentice,” Novel said.
Ugarte wasn’t listening. There was something far off in her gaze and she began to smile.
“Lily,” Novel began again, “Ugarte is Edvard’s widow.”
“No way.”
Lily clapped a hand over her own mouth. The incredibly peaceful woman before her didn’t seem as though she had just lost her husband. Ugarte gave her a small laugh and smiled at Novel again.
“I’m sorry,” Lily stammered, trying to start again. “It’s just that-”
“No matter dear girl,” Ugarte said in that same lilting tone. It was as though Kindness herself was speaking. “We have much to discuss after the service. There’s so much Lemarick won’t have thought to tell you.”
With that Ugarte wove her way back through the crowds of talking people, headed for the far end of the space where the seats had been arranged. Lily watched her go, fascinated by the glow that seemed to follow her.
“Is she a shade?” Lily asked. Novel gave her a nod. He too was watching her journey. “But she’s something else too right? Something different?”
“You’re very astute tonight,” Novel remarked.
Lily tried not to be annoyed by the ‘tonight’ part, taking the praise for what it was. Ugarte called the gathering to attention and asked them to take their seats. Lily and Novel joined the back of the crowd, heading for the rows of chairs.
“Ugarte is what we call a lightsider,” he added as they awaited the shifting of the crowd. “They are marked by the sacrifices that they make for the good of others.” Two seats became free in the middle of the rows as people shifted, and Novel and Lily took them. “Ugarte, years ago, performed the ultimate act of a lightsider: she gave her powers up, to imprison another shade who threatened us all.”
Lily looked again at the serene woman presiding over events.
“She gave up everything to save other people?” she repeated in wonder.
“Oh it’s not without its rewards,” Novel added quietly. “Lightsiders have abilities of their own, though don’t ask me for the details. Ugarte keeps those very close to her chest. But it will take decades, perhaps even centuries, for her shadeskills to return.” Novel’s head dropped down to look at his knees. “Edvard was always there to protect her, but now things are no longer so secure.”
Lily frowned. “Protect her from what?”
Music began and Lily looked to the instruments, distracted from her question almost as quickly as it had arrived in her mind. She was surprised to find that no musicians had appeared to operate the orchestra. Instead, the violins and other strings emanated notes without even being touched. Ugarte smiled at them before raising her peaceful voice above the strains.
“Tonight we commit Edvard Schoonjans, our Son of Topaz, to the ground. But we do it in his own way, with his music and his words.”
The music got louder, as though it knew Ugarte had finished speaking, and the vibrato of the strings struck hard against Lily’s heart. Novel still had his head bowed, and his pale blue eyes were slowly closing. Lily thought once again about taking his hand, but the last thing they needed was an explosion of rogue elements to disturb the beautiful notes. She shifted in her seat, suddenly surprised to hear a voice accompanying the tune. It was a young, male voice and when Lily looked around the crowd of bowed heads she realised that no-one here belonged to it. It too was coming from the magic within the instruments, and its words were clear as day, as though the singer crooned right into Lily’s waiting ears.
When the light leaves my eyes
And the fire my heart,
No breath on my lips
When my life is complete.
Carry me home to the march of the drum
And the sound of your laughter so sweet.
As the violins built into the chorus, Lily found herself taking a deep breath that she wasn’t in control of. Everyone assembled was doing the same, and when the time came for the next words of the song, everyone sung them without even knowing what was going to come from their mouths. Despite the language, Lily knew what they meant, as if some great power had implanted them into her mind.
Requiem [rest]
Requiem [rest]
Somnum dilectione mea [sleep my love]
Requiem [rest]
Requiem [rest]
Dormient somnum sempiternum [sleep evermore]
The collection of voices was melodious. Lily felt a great heavy weight in her heart at the mourners’ chorus. When she listened carefully, she could hear Novel’s low-sung notes beside her, his eyes still closed and his voice broken by his pain. She realised then that the young male singer, whose voice came from the instruments themselves, had to be Edvard. It would be like hearing an answerphone message from someone you knew would never speak to you again. Ugarte still stood at the front of the collection, swaying a little as she listened to her husband’s words, smiling all the while at the sound of sheer love in his tone.
When the sunset is come
And the shadows are long,
And my spirit breaks free
Its maker to meet,
Sing me a song from the halcyon days
When the taste of your lips was so sweet
Requiem
Requiem
Somnum dilectione mea
Requiem
Requiem
Dormient somnum sempiternum
When my hour is struck
And you must live on,
I beg you my sweet one
Your will to set free.
Fear not for my soul for I know I belong
In spirit
In heart
And in thee
Spiritu [spirit]
Corde [heart]
Et Vos [and you]
The Wake And The Warning
After the service, the other shades returned to their little groups for conversation. Refreshments appeared and the chairs were cleared away, but the unmanned instruments kept playing happy tunes, though Edvard’s voice did not return to them. When Novel excused himself for a moment, Lily found herself at a loss, sipping a glass of wine in the corner and trying not to look conspicuous in her bright white gown amidst the flurry of colours everywhere else.
“Oh, you’re new,” said a sultry American voice behind her.
Lily spun to find that she was looking at a tall, curvy girl about her own age. Although, when she thought about shade ageing, that could mean absolutely anything. The girl was dressed in the same crimson colour that Novel’s suit had turned, though her neckline would have been far too low for a human funeral. She had long brown hair falling in wide curls and huge eyes that surveyed her quarry
like an inquisitive cat, wondering if it should pounce. The girl held out a hand covered by a thin black glove that reached up to her elbow.
“Alexa Cross,” she said boldly, “but call me Lex.”
“Lily Coltrane,” she replied, shaking her hand quite firmly.
Lex quirked a dark brow. “Coltrane? That’s not a family name.”
Lily did her best not to squirm for an excuse. “Yeah, we’re not quite sure which family I belong to yet.”
“We?” Lex repeated playfully. “Who’re you here with, sweetie?”
“Lemarick Novel,” Lily answered, finding it strange to use his full and proper name.
Lex threw a hand to her mouth with a delighted gasp that Lily didn’t like the look of. She took Lily’s arm and forced her to put her drink down with a disturbing winning smile.
“Oh then you simply must come and meet his father!” she exclaimed.
Despite her growing reservations about Lex, Lily couldn’t help but be intrigued. Mother Novel had spoken most unkindly about Novel’s mysterious father, and any enemy of hers could likely be a friend of Lily’s someday. As Lex led Lily over to a large gathering of chunnering men, they acquired two other girls who Lily quickly learned were Lex’s younger sisters. It was hard to tell how young exactly when they all looked the same age.
“Ooh, who’s this?” they crooned immediately.
“Lily, she’s Lemarick’s guest,” Lex replied, pulling her through the men with a total lack of grace.
“Lemarick’s here?” one sister said. “I didn’t see him.”
“He’s avoiding us all, as usual,” Lex added.
Lily liked the sound of that even less than the way the American sisters were yanking her this way and that. If Novel didn’t like these women, he probably had a good reason for it. But Lily was stuck now in the crowd as Lex raced her towards a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a sea-blue coat with tails.
“Lily Coltrane, meet Salem Cross.”
Salem Cross was hard to take in all at once. The first thing Lily caught sight of were his eyes, pale blue like Novel’s, and cut like cobalt crystals into a glowing, porcelain brow. If she hadn’t been wise to the truth about shade biology, Lily would have placed him in his late thirties, making it odd to think he was the father of her two-hundred and sixty-nine year old mentor. An immaculately groomed swathe of black and grey hair was accompanied by a square and smoothly-shaved jaw. As he smiled, Salem bared a collection of sharp, pristine teeth that would have given any resident of the Hollywood Hills a run for their money, and when Lily was finally able to tear her gaze from his enchanting face, she found him holding a walking cane topped with a huge gemstone in the same incredulous blue colour as his creaseless suit.
“Lily?” he said.
His voice spun out the words like silk as his eyes flashed from the ladies he knew to the one that he didn’t. Lily found her throat was suddenly dry, but Lex and her sisters were there to fill in.
“Daddy, this is Lemarick’s guest.”
Daddy?
“Ah, the new apprentice,” Salem remarked with a nod. He too had his daughters’ American drawl but it was muted, mixed with other refined tones that made it hard to assess where he’d really come from. “A pleasure.”
Salem dropped his head and took Lily’s hand to place a gentle kiss upon her skin. As his brow rose again, she found him looking at her sparkling dress.
“A diamondchild too,” he said. “You’re quite something.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Lily replied instantly, and without a clue what he was talking about. She decided not to reveal her ignorance, in case it embarrassed both her and her mentor, wherever he had got to. She would ask Novel what a diamondchild was later.
“Oho Sir,” Salem said, his tongue flashing out over his lips for a half-second. “I like this one. You see that girls? She called me ‘Sir’. That’s respect for one’s elders right there.”
“Emphasis on the elder part, Daddy,” one of the sisters giggled.
“Away with you all,” Salem said with a swat of his hand. “I want news of my son. Come this way, my dear.”
He slipped a strong arm around Lily and led her away from the sisters and the men he had been standing with. In his grip, she felt so at ease that she was a little disappointed with herself, especially at the loss she felt when he let her go. Salem produced a cigar, grinning at her all the while as he clipped and lit it.
“Novel,” Lily began, immediately cursing herself, “I mean, Lemarick. He has his mother’s name?”
“He prefers to be associated with her house rather than mine,” Salem explained. “The name’s a bastardisation of the French ‘nouvelle’, as in something new. The House of Novel likes to think that they are related to the original shades who first set foot on the planet, what with them being the oldest house on record and all.”
“Then Lex and the girls are his sisters?” Lily added.
Salem gave an impossibly charming nod. “Different mother, many, many years later. They usually reside with her in the States. I’m not what you might call a family man.”
That much was already apparent from the flirtatious glint appearing in Salem’s shining eyes. But if Lemarick was two centuries old, then that had to make Salem a lot older by default, and Lily didn’t even want to know the number. She tried not to think about the look he was giving her as she fished for conversation topics.
“I don’t know much about the shade names and the houses,” she said quickly. “Is Cross an American house?”
“English originally,” Salem replied, “but we moved out there with the first settlers in the early sixteen-hundreds and it’s been that way ever since.”
Lily rather thought the way he said ‘we’ indicated he was probably one of those settlers at the time. When he spoke at greater length, Lily noticed something bright flashing occasionally behind his teeth, but she couldn’t quite decide what it was, and it wasn’t like she could get any closer to his mouth without giving him the green light that the shameless flirt was clearly waiting for. Salem’s tall body was quite near to her own as he continued to speak.
“The Schoonjans, they’re Belgian by birth-right, though Edvard’s branch were always more Germanic. And poor Ugarte, well, she’s the very last of the Spanish contingent, the civil war saw to all that years ago.” Salem puffed his cigar smoke out above Lily’s head before grinning down at her again. “But you… we have no idea where you belong. It’s been quite a hot topic tonight, I can tell you.”
Lily didn’t like the thought that the other shades were discussing her, but Salem made it sound like she was something of interest rather than ridicule.
“We might be related,” Lily challenged him with a smile.
“I hope not,” Salem replied, that silver something flashing in his mouth once again.
“Oh God, it’s you.”
Lily turned sharply to see Novel glaring at his father. He took Lily’s hand immediately and she noticed he was without his gloves and crimson jacket. She stepped away from Salem a little, but she couldn’t help giving a glance back to see his face. He was a picture of smug amusement as he viewed his son.
“Good evening Lemarick,” he said with a bow. He looked like he was holding back a schoolboy snigger. “Having a nice time are we?”
It wasn’t the right thing to say at a funeral, nor did Novel take it well. He pulled at Lily again until she was completely beside him, with a clear gap between them and the blue-suited charmer who was still trying not to laugh. Novel gave Salem one more hard stare before he turned to Lily.
“The dances are starting,” he said seriously, “we’ll go and join in.”
He all but dragged her away then, into a floorspace where other couples were starting to line up. She saw Salem flash her a wink and a grin before Novel could turn her away from him.
“Will we indeed?” Lily said in a panic. “I don’t know what you think an Essex upbringing is like, Novel, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to know
the steps!”
Novel put one hand firmly around her waist and made her grip his shoulder all the same. His eyes were less hard than they had been a moment ago, but his stiff jaw told her that something more than just his father was troubling him.
“Trust me,” he whispered as the music began to play.
Just as the chorus of strings had forced singing from the mourners earlier, now the invisible players of the instruments inspired every movement that the dancers took. Lily marvelled at her feet as they swept about on their own, her body pulling itself close to Novel’s as he too stepped in perfect time to the bright and happy rhythm filling the room. Lily found herself smiling vividly as she twirled amongst the other dancers, wishing Jazzy could see her now, after her many fumbled attempts on the Guttersnipes dancefloor. It reminded her of the perfect syncopation that Novel had had with Dharma on the stage of the Imaginique, and she suddenly realised that she had never so much as seen a musician enter the orchestra pit there either.
“You have instruments like these back home,” she said, amazed that she wasn’t out of breath from her flighty motions.
“Edvard’s proudest invention,” Novel answered, his face close beside hers. “We worked on the dancing together, but the melodies were all his.”
“It’s genius,” she exclaimed as he spun her into a new position, narrowly yet perfectly missing the couple behind her.
“He was,” Novel corrected. His body felt relaxed but his face was nowhere near to matching it. “I’ve been talking to Mother.”
Lily felt her stomach give a lurch, but the music prevented her from stopping in her shock.
“I didn’t know she was here,” she said, trying to look around as the room swirled by, hunting for any signs of the veiled figure.
“She was too late for the service,” Novel explained, “but she brought important news.” He pulled Lily close as the music grew slower, his lips at her ear. “Edvard didn’t die by accident. He was killed. By a shadehunter.”
The music pulled them back apart as Lily circled him, her eyes widening.
“Whoa, whoa,” she said, shaking her head against the melody’s wishes. “You didn’t tell me that there were people hunting us down!”