Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet)

by A. M. Hodgson

  The world still lacked its clarity, but—

  I’ve been drugged.

  My eyes widened, and I gripped the blanket in one clawed hand, feeling unsteady.

  I drained the glass of water, the edge of the drug haze fading. I still felt like I was looking at the world through a blurry lens, but the water had helped a lot.

  “He didn’t… do anything, did he?” Will asked, staring at the wood planks beneath his feet.

  I shook my head, finding my voice. “No,” I said thickly. “No, he didn’t. You made it… you stopped him before he could…”

  Will closed his eyes, “I am so, so, so sorry, Sarah.”

  A long silence surrounded us. I fell back into the bed, exhausted by the effort of sitting up. I wanted to sleep, wrapped in the soft blanket with its safe feeling and comforting smell. I grabbed for one of the pillows, curling up with it clutched in my arms like a teddy bear. I’d been so worried about the threat of a magical attack, I’d forgotten how terrible people could be sometimes.

  I think I drifted out, at least half-way. I could feel his hand stroking my hair. It was more comforting than I’d have expected, not invasive like Conner’s touch. Will didn’t try to move me, and he didn’t leave my side. Instead he was quiet as I sobered from whatever had been slipped into my drink.

  Eventually, I rubbed my head and asked, “Where am I?”

  He smiled, “My room. The loft of my house, that’s all.”

  My head was finally finding its clarity, and he handed me a second glass of water. I guessed he’d grabbed two when he had left me before. Smart.

  I sipped on it, taking in the room. It was neat and organized. His bed was enormous— it had to be a king size at least. A little indulgent for one person sleeping alone. The walls were covered with guitars, some in cases, some more decorative. Several acoustic, a couple electric, even some expensive looking amplifiers in one corner. There was a huge wooden desk against a wall with a sleek looking computer on it. It had two monitors and a laptop next to it. To the left of the room, I could see an open door leading to an enormous bathroom with the same navy blue decor.

  “You said no one was allowed into the house tonight.”

  He smiled softly. “Under the circumstances, I made an exception.” Then he sighed, his eyes growing a little darker. “I can see that throwing a party was a mistake.” He rubbed his forehead thoughtfully.

  I shook my head, “No! I think most of your guests are having a great time!” I still felt a little dazed. “I just… I didn’t want to come— I shouldn’t have, bad things tend to happen around me, and...”

  Will just laughed, “You’re not what I’d expected you to be.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, “I mean, this whole party was for you.”

  I raised a brow, “To impress me?”

  He shook his head, “Not exactly. More to… give you a chance to see me without any pressure. To let you get to know me, to let me get to know you, and take it from there.” He looked thoughtful, “But in the end, it was a complete disaster. I can see now you’re not the kind of girl who would’ve enjoyed a party.”

  “You should stop trying so hard!” I blurted. Then I flushed. I didn’t want to encourage him, after all.

  “Is that so?” he asked, staring at me. It was always so unsettling when he looked at me. I wondered what he saw within the depths of my eyes. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “You have a lot of guitars,” I said awkwardly.

  His smiled widely. “I do. I’m even pretty good. Maybe someday I’ll play for you.”

  I frowned, still feeling the effects of the drugs, and said, “I hope not. You’re not as good as you think you are.” I clasped my hand over my mouth, staring at him with wide, guilty eyes. It was exceptionally rude. He couldn’t help that I was a siren.

  Will just laughed and gave a good natured shrug. “I disagree, but anyone would. Who knows, though? Maybe I’d be surprised by your opinion.”

  My heart began to pound harder as I stared at him. He really was gorgeous, exactly the kind of guy I’d have pinpointed as my ‘type’ if I had one. But more than his looks, I found myself attracted to his personality. He wasn’t what I’d expected a handsome, popular boy to be like. He spoke to me in a way that was genuine, like he really did want to know me, that he really did care about my thoughts. It seemed like he didn’t take school or popularity too seriously, either.

  He leaned forward, looking at my face carefully, as if he was searching for something. He tucked a stray piece of my hair behind one of my ears lightly. I wondered, for a moment, if he was going to kiss me.

  I didn’t know if I wanted him to or not.

  “Would you understand me? Would you give me a chance?” He said it in a voice so melancholy it was practically heart breaking. A desire consumed me. I felt such a pull to him, but… was it ethical? I chewed on my lower lip softly, wondering how to respond. “Don’t over think it,” he said, staring into my eyes. “Just give me an answer. If you say no tonight, I’ll leave you alone. That’ll be the end of it… I think you want to, though.”

  And there it was. It wasn’t exactly an ultimatum, but putting it that way clarified my own feelings. If I said no, it would be over. We’d be done. But I didn’t want to be. I did want to know him, with or without my siren compulsion.

  I laced my fingers together carefully, taking a few deep breaths before I responded. “I… I think I do want to. I mean, despite everything.”

  “Good,” he said, relaxing, “because it would be a shame if after all this—” He shook his head, “Never mind.” He stood up, stretching, “I think you should probably head home. I’ll see you in class on Monday. I’ll walk you out.”

  I nodded, but I was reluctant to leave the shelter of his room. I blushed. What was I thinking? This was the epitome of awkward. I couldn’t believe it’d taken me until now to realize how embarrassed I should be. I had to be hauled into his bedroom to get over being roofied.

  We walked slowly down the steep stairs that led from the loft. When we reached the bottom, I took a moment to glance at the rest of the house. The majority of the main floor was open. I could see a posh living room and kitchen that bled together, a dining nook off to one side. The back half of the house was more enclosed, the doors shut.

  A vague memory floated to the surface of my mind. I paused, gnawing on my cheek for a moment before we left the safe privacy of his home. “Will,” I said softly. He turned back to me, his eyes expectant. Expecting what, though? I gestured to the closed doors, “I’m sorry if I disturbed your parents.”

  He stared down at his hands through his dark lashes. He smiled playfully. “I promise you, they didn’t miss out on much sleep.”

  I hesitated again, reluctant to leave him. Why? I stared at his beautiful face— the strong jawline, straight nose, dark lashes, full lips. In the short time we were together, I’d felt right. I knew almost nothing about him, yet he had successfully ensnared me. I didn’t want to leave.

  I glanced at the clock on the microwave, and a shock went through my spine. It was almost one in the morning. Want it or not, I needed to go home.

  Without saying a word, Will somehow read my reluctance. He reached over, ever so slowly, and grabbed my hand in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, holding it for a few seconds. He looked into my eyes as he held my hand, “I’ll see you on Monday, Sarah,” he said, dropping it.

  Will gestured to the front door, opening it like a gentleman. A stream of cool fresh air hit me, and I bounded outside onto the porch. Will trailed a few feet behind me.

  This late in the evening, a mist had rolled in. It could be worse. It could’ve been raining like it normally did in the autumn. I shivered. Even the light mist was cold and damp on my bare skin.

  Marin sat with James Finnegan’s arm over her shoulders, leaning towards the bonfire and laughing. The party had wound down s
ome, but it looked like at least half of Will’s guests were still enjoying the free alcohol and nice scenery.

  Catching sight of us emerging from the house, a couple began to cat-call out. Ryan Anderson even cackled, “Ooh, Will! Getting lucky!”

  Will shot him a poisonous look. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks and stared at my feet. I’d forgotten my shoes, but I was way too embarrassed to retrieve them from Will’s bedroom now.

  I rushed quickly away from him, down the sand to Marin. I stared at her expectantly.

  She eyeballed me, “What?” she asked. “It’s barely past midnight. The night is young.” I frowned, folding my arms across my body to fend off the cold.

  “Really,” I said quietly, “let’s go.”

  Her gaze flickered from me, then to Will, then back at me. She smirked, “Why? It looked like you were having a good time.”

  I flushed again, digging my bare feet into the sand and closing my eyes tightly. I wished that everything had been a dream since turning sixteen. I was really at home, in my own bed. I’d wake up and be anonymous and invisible, plain old ordinary Sarah Mills. My foster parents would be safe and well.

  Since I doubted that would happen, I would accept the warm bed at Marin’s house instead, with the luxurious blankets wrapped around me. I could probably even light a spicy scented candle, but it might be difficult to find a fragrance that smelled as comforting as Will’s bedding.

  Will was at my back, his arms folded across his chest. He sidestepped past me and crouched low, looking directly at Marin. “She had a rough night,” he said in a low voice to her.

  Marin giggled, “I bet she did!” But his expression quickly silenced her. Sobering, Marin said, “Is she okay?”

  Will frowned, shrugging. “I think so. She probably wants to go home and forget this evening happened. To be honest, I can’t blame her.”

  Marin pulled away from James— who protested slightly— and nodded. “Yeah, we can head back.”

  She stood up and dusted the sand from her dress, digging inside her clutch purse, retrieving her car keys.

  I turned to Will, “Thank you. For everything… really.”

  He smiled, staring at his feet. He scratched the back of his head, “It was nothing, really. You don’t need to thank me.”

  I nodded awkwardly and took a deep breath, striding towards Marin’s car. We slid inside. I was grateful for the shelter from the wind and mist.

  As she buckled her seat belt, Marin turned to me, “What happened?”

  I sighed, leaning into the door. I gazed into the glittering tide, collecting my thoughts before Marin backed up and turned us around. “Conner Hathaway happened.”

  “He left pretty early, though. I heard that Will punched him in the jaw. Twice.”

  I raised my brows. I didn’t know Will had hit Conner a second time. I could vaguely recall one punch thrown, but I’d been pretty out of it.

  Marin pursed her lips, “No one really knew why. The most I’d heard was from Ryan, and he said one minute Conner was talking to you, the next Will was swinging a fist at him and telling him to get the hell off his property.”

  “Well…” I said, considering my wording carefully, “Conner tried to drug me. No, that’s not right. Conner did drug me. He just didn’t get any further with his plan than that.”

  Marin’s mouth dropped, and she pulled the car into park along the shoreline. We were still a ways from the house, but she clearly wanted to talk in private before we were sharing the space with Glenn.

  She stared into my eyes, “Are you okay, Sarah?”

  I nodded tightly, “Yeah. Conner is a jerk, but—”

  “He’s more than a jerk,” Marin said angrily. “I’m glad he got his ass kicked. You know, I dated him all of once. Once,” she muttered, “and he never tried anything like that with me, but he did come across as a pressuring creep. And I’m easy.”

  I blushed, “I’m sure you’re not—”

  She shook her head, flapping her hand at me, “Humans don’t matter, Sarah. I keep telling you that.” She looked into my eyes, her mouth screwed up tightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. Will… he let me sleep it off, got me some water. I—” I hesitated to ask this, because I didn’t know if I wanted to know the answer. No matter what, it implied something about Will. “I don’t think he actually left me that whole time. Did he come back to the party?”

  Marin shook her head. “Not until you guys both emerged. We all thought you were just in there, you know,” she added.

  I did know. I blushed furiously, leaning into my hands and groaning, “everyone is going to think that we—”

  Marin rubbed my back with the flat of her palm and made a sympathetic whimper. I appreciated the comfort, but it wouldn’t really matter come Monday, when the gossip was flying.

  “You had a tough night. I’m sorry…” Her mouth turned up just a little, “But… you and Will?”

  I stared at her, almost incredulously. “We didn’t do anything!”

  She shook her head, “I know, I know. I just meant— you don’t seem to hate him, do you?”

  “I never hated him.”

  “No, but you seem like you kind of sort of maybe like him a little. Like, maybe you’re giving him a chance… like…” She leaned in, grinning openly now.

  I knew what she wanted me to say. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, though. I slumped into my seat. She was right. Dammit.

  “I can wait all night,” she said, pulling the seat back at an incline, closing her eyes.

  I sighed, “You were right, Marin. I needed to give him a chance, okay? I even told him I would. So can we please, please, please go home?”

  She popped the seat back up, nodding with satisfaction. She punched on the ignition. “Perfect.”

  “We can’t tell Glenn about what happened,” I told her, mortified. If the elf knew, I was certain I’d never be allowed to go anywhere alone again.

  She snorted, “Obviously.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  In Flux

  I was having trouble falling asleep that night. It could have been an after effect of the drugs, or maybe it was something else. The room was hot, humid, and uncomfortable, but I wasn’t willing to open the window to let in a fresh breeze. The blood wraith attack made me skittish about leaving things open to the outside world, especially at night.

  The darkness felt unsettled. The shadows on the walls didn’t slither around as they had during the blood wraith’s attack, but a few of them seemed to flicker.

  I nervously glanced at Glenn. He sat dutifully in the corner, his eyes closed, legs spread wide with his palms resting on his thighs. I wondered what he did in these still hours— did he really sleep, or was it all a ruse to make me feel more comfortable?

  I pushed the thick comforter off my body, wadding it into a heap at my feet. There, that was a little better.

  I was only wearing a camisole and some flimsy cotton shorts, but even that was stifling. Perspiration began to bead on my forehead. Why was the room so damp? The air was thick, hard to breathe. I rolled my tank top up to let some heat off of my stomach.

  I hoped I would cool off soon.

  The room was dark tonight, without even a moonbeam to help illuminate the space. I sighed loudly, wondering if maybe I should give up on sleep and ask Glenn to play cards with me or something.

  I stared at the ceiling. It looked... strange.

  The shadows slid languidly across it. The heat and moisture in the room appeared to be condensing into something tangible above me. Slowly, the droplets coalesced into fat beads. In the light, it looked like water except it was black and shiny like an onyx.

  A drop fell down, striking me on the bare stomach with a harsh, wet sound. It didn't feel wet, though.

  A skittering— my stomach muscles writhed at it. I twisted my neck down to see what was assaulting me.

  Making its way up my torso was a shiny black spider, the size of a silver
dollar. Panic seized my throat, and I flung my hand out, slapping it from me.

  I hated spiders.

  More drops fell, each containing an arachnid. The spiders ranged from dime-sized all the way to the size of my palm. They were on my arms, my legs, my torso. I kicked out, trying to fling them from my body as quickly and violently as I could.

  I was screaming, wheezing, but still they crawled. Hundreds, now thousands of them covered my body in a swarm. They were everywhere— between my fingers, the creases of my thighs, in my hair, on my cheeks.

  Then they began to bite.

  The first sting came from my right thigh. The venom hurt so badly, I curled my body up. My arms cramped when I tried to remove it, stopping me.

  The bite was a precursor to the real terror. Even with the searing sensation burning through my quadriceps, I could feel each individual leg crawling across my skin. The horror escalated. The spider burrowed into my flesh, traveling beneath my dermis in a ripple. Powerless, I could only watch. It moved towards my stomach, its legs casting a dull ache as they passed.

  I had a moment of panic. Then, another searing bite forced a harsh breath from my body as a second spider dug into my flesh. Then a third. Then a fourth.

  Agonized, my body contorted, my teeth gritting together. I cried out roughly. I looked to the corner, wondering why Glenn hadn’t noticed that it was raining spiders— horrible, flesh-dwelling spiders.

  I could feel them— ten, twenty, fifty, hundreds— crawling inside of me, burrowing into my stomach and feet and hands. The first one to bite my face nearly took my breath away. An explosion of pain made my vision swim. I shook violently, hoping to throw off as many of them as I could, but they smothered me. The spiders writhed and stung, crawling from the outside in, the inside out.

  I took a deep breath, preparing to scream. They climbed into my open mouth, down my throat, up my nose. I thought I would suffocate. Their legs felt like needles pressing against my esophagus.

  Slowly, slowly, the spiders’ numbers on my body thinned. It would have been comforting, but I could see the ripples beneath my skin. I could feel them individually as they twitched inside of me.