Serenade (The Nightmusic Trilogy Book 1)

by Heather McKenzie

  “Uh huh,” I mumbled, only half listening. I was looking out the window while she dug around for accessories to match the dress, and I was mesmerized by the suspicious-looking people on the street below. “Why’d you choose to live here?” I asked.

  “Some people aren’t as fortunate as you are, Kaya. This is the best I can do right now on my own.”

  Why did I say that? “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you… I just… well…” I stammered as I tried to pry my foot out of my mouth.

  “I get it. You don’t know much about the real world, which makes sense. You haven’t lived in it,” she smiled, holding up a pair of blue stilettos that looked more like death traps than shoes.

  I shook my head, silently agreeing with her assumption of me. No, I guess I hadn’t.

  “Yeah, sometimes I forget what your last name is,” she muttered.

  What? My heart jumped into my throat. I’d been so careful to not let on who I was, and I knew for a fact I had never said it. There hadn’t been a picture taken of me in years, and if you asked most people in town, they thought I was just a myth. Did she know I was Kaya Lowen? I gulped hard and tried to play it cool. “What do mean my last name?” I asked carefully.

  “Listen darling, five minutes into our conversation last night, I figured out who you were. You spilled your guts to me, remember? And your situations are a bit, unique. I may appear a bit, uh… different, but I’m not stupid. Put two and two together and you get… well… Kaya Lowen.”

  My mind raced and the gin came up in my throat. “Oh my God. I’m not supposed to be out on my own, there are people who… don’t like me. You have no idea—”

  “You don’t have to explain anything to me—you already did that. I had to read between the lines somewhat—but honestly, hun, just so you know, your last name means nothing to me. I liked you the first time we met—when you and Oliver came in the bar that night and you tried to order organic fruit. Now I just feel sorry for you. What you’ve got going on is no way to live.”

  She put her hand on my cheek and thoughtfully pushed back my hair, just like Oliver did, only with her it was… nice.

  “Now, quit worrying about nothing, and let’s go out and have some fun.” She grinned.

  I was still stunned as she fussed with my hair. All I could think about was how I had given myself away and put her in danger. I liked her. I didn’t want her to disappear if Henry thought she was a threat.“You look beautiful,” she said as she turned me toward the mirror.

  “Angela, please, just don’t say anything to anyone, okay? Don’t tell anyone you ever met me, or you could—”

  She put her finger to my lips, and then she stood beside me. Our reflections were so vastly different. It wasn’t just our clothes, body shape, hair, or tattooed skin. It was our attitudes. Angela looked strong and fierce, like she could handle just about anything thrown her way, and I looked fragile. Scared.

  “Listen, you have my word, Kaya, as a friend. I promise I won’t tell anyone who you are, or say anything about you to anybody, all right?” She handed me the gin with a sly smile. “More importantly though, we could probably use a mixer for this, yeah?”

  I nodded, and she wandered off to the fridge. As she dug around in the kitchen, I slipped off my jewelry and placed it on the wobbly coffee table. She could sell the earrings and move out of here if she wanted to, and the bracelet would probably be worth enough to buy a…

  “You don’t have to bribe me to keep quiet,” she said, startling me.

  I looked up to see her holding two glasses of orange juice. Her hazel eyes drifted from the jewelry, and then back to me.

  “It’s not a bribe, honestly, Angela. I just realized how stupid I am and how bad this looks. I told the guards I had swimming lessons so I could sneak out, and here I am wearing jewelry. It would be a dead giveaway if they noticed it when I went back, and I didn’t bring a purse, so I really need you to keep this stuff for me. Do you mind?”

  I was rambling, fearful I’d offended her. She set the glasses down, and within seconds the cheap, plastic baubles hanging from her ears were tossed into the garbage can and the gold and diamond doves Henry had given me years ago were fastened to her ears. I helped lock a thin band of gold around her wrist and she admired herself in the mirror.

  “I suppose I could keep these if you really want me too. Maybe they’ll bring me good luck.”

  “Everyone can use a bit of that,” I smiled.

  “Is that why you always wear that weird necklace? Is it a good luck charm? Because it doesn’t match anything I’ve seen you wear, except maybe those hideous yoga pants.”

  I patted the silver pendant on my chest. “It’s special, but I don’t think it’s lucky.”

  “Well then, here’s to friends, faith, zombie movies, and gin,” she said, handing me a drink, “things a girl can really count on.”

  Dan’s eyes bulged when he saw me in the too tight, too short, blue dress, and if it weren’t for Angela’s encouragement, I never would’ve gotten out of the car. Like a proud Mama, she re-introduced me to her friends at the bar, and this time, they paid attention. Too much attention. It was strange being noticed for my body because it was so completely new to me, but it did give me a rush of confidence—something I desperately needed.

  Eight of us squeezed into a booth meant for four while a cocky man named Barry boasted relentlessly. He was tall and sinewy with a rather sinister look about him, and the tip of his nose moved, much like a rabbit’s, when he spoke. He had run The Death Race and wanted everyone to know. I was glued to the conversation.

  “Yep, they blew the whistle at nine in the morning yesterday, and man, I gotta tell ya, I was ready. I trained hard. I didn’t even have beer for six months! I finished at twelve twenty-five this afternoon. I kicked that race’s ass!”

  He threw a fist in the air and whooped. Angela yawned.

  “Only the bravest and strongest can finish a twenty-four hour race like that,” he bragged.

  “Only the craziest and dumbest would even enter,” said a bearded man from across the table. Barry laughed and accidently brushed my chest in an attempt to fist bump him.

  “What about women? Were there any who finished?” I asked.

  Barry scoffed like I had asked a stupid question. “Oh. I dunno—maybe one or two. It’s just not a race for chicks.”

  Angela snapped. “Barry, you are such a pig-headed jerk! Last year, a woman kicked the crap outta the dudes in that race! Alissa St. Laurent from Edmonton finished first. Show some respect!”

  “Yeah, Barry, you pig!” said a blonde I hadn’t even realized was at our table.

  Barry rolled his eyes—I remembered seeing that exact look on Henry’s face years ago when I had asked if I could run in the race. He also told me it was no race for a girl.

  I was eager to know more about the race, so I hurled questions at Barry faster than he could answer them. What gear did he take? How often did he rest? How many people finished? What about bears? How did you run in the dark? I was fascinated by his answers, awed by his injuries. I knew the race was an annual event, but I had never talked to someone who’d actually participated. I was so enthralled I barely noticed the group had dissipated, leaving Angela and me alone with Barry. When he pulled off his shoes to show me his bruised, swollen feet and missing toenails, Angela walked away, completely disgusted.

  “That must be the most incredible feeling, being on your own and making it to the end with so many odds against you, only relying on yourself,” I said.

  “Yep, it sure is. But you want to know the best part?” He leaned in close, flexing every muscle as his eyes lingered on the lowest point of my V-neck dress. “I get to hang out with hot chicks like you afterward.”

  I was interested in what he had to say, but not him. I nervously laughed, not sure what else to do. I wanted him to keep talking about The Death Race, but I didn’t want to lead him on. Thankfully, Angela intervened and dragged me to the dance floor.
Someone gave me a little glass of an amber-colored liquid that tasted like fire.

  “Careful honey, that’ll knock you flat on your ass,” Angela warned, and then she threw her arms up over her head and howled to the music. I did the same. It felt so good to be free and to let loose. The lights spinning over our heads and the closeness of so many bodies—it was a rush. I danced until beads of sweat dripped down my back. Every once in a while, I noticed Barry’s eyes wander down to my hemline, and I remembered to pull down my dress. Music pulsed steadily through the crowed room until a ballad nearly cleared the floor, but Angela and I kept on dancing, giggling, and twirling each other around like arthritic old people.

  “Why do you have pink hair?” I slurred into her ear as we swayed.

  She laughed. “It’s my secret weapon.”

  “Of course. You know, you were my first kiss,” I admitted, shocked how the words just fell out of my mouth.

  A sly smile came over Angela’s face, and her hands moved down my arms and to my waist, and then she gently pulled my hips toward hers. “First kiss, eh? Well, I could also be your second and third. You know, I kinda like you, Kaya,” she said.

  She was about to kiss me again, for real, and I panicked. “Oh. I um… I don’t like girls. I mean, no, I like girls but not in the way you might like… I mean as friends yeah, but not…”

  She laughed, not offended by my jumbled words. “Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said sweetly and then twirled me away, accidentally right into Barry’s clammy hands.

  His breath stunk of beer, and a foul, sweaty odor lurked on his skin. My stomach turned.

  “I think I need to sit down,” I said.

  He pressed his hand into the small of my back, and his mouth grazed my ear. “You’re a very pretty girl.”

  Then his hands wandered toward my butt. I pushed him away. “Listen, I hope I didn’t give you the wrong impression when we were talking back there. I was interested in hearing about the race, but I’m not interested in having a boyfriend.”

  He roughly pulled me back toward him. “And I’m not interested in having a girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fool around.”

  He hand was on my back again, moving lower and tugging at the hem of my short dress, and before I knew it, his sweaty hand was gripping my butt cheek. I shoved him backward as hard as I could.

  “Bitch, you’re not going to get any better than tonight!” He hissed, and then he yanked me toward him like I was a rag doll. I stumbled, cursing the high heels, and fell into him, his arms holding me with crushing force. He pressed his groin against me. “Now, let’s dance,” he ordered.

  I could feel the bulge in his pants, and I thought I might throw up. “Stop it,” I repeated, cursing the booze for making me weak. I could hear Angela’s voice just above the music. She was yelling, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. When Barry turned away in an effort to ignore her, what I saw over his shoulder made my heart stop.

  It was Oliver.

  In a blur, his hands were around Barry’s neck, making the veins in his forehead bulge like skinny worms. Barry was lifted, feet dangling inches off the ground, and now his face had started to turn purple.

  “Let him go, Oliver, please!” I begged.

  Barry’s arms flailed, helpless to stop the assault.

  “Please, Oliver… he’s just a stupid, harmless jerk. Let him go!”

  Oliver shook Barry like a dog might shake a small rodent. His eyes were wild and the muscles in his throat had pulled into tight ropes. Someone yelled for security. The music stopped. The lights went up.

  “Oliver Bennet, you let him go right now!” I yelled. Oliver blinked rapidly as life was being choked out of Barry. “Or I will never forgive you for as long as I live!” I screamed.

  That got his attention.

  Barry was dropped to the floor, and Oliver turned to stare at me, his anger lingering just below the surface like a bomb about to blow.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, fighting back tears.

  He was breathing heavily, raising his shoulders up and down, and his hands were balled into fists. “It’s not your fault this scumbag can’t take no for an answer,” he huffed.

  Barry got to his feet and, quite ridiculously, decided to reclaim his masculinity, but Oliver blocked what was intended to be a punch. He then used Barry’s arm as leverage, slamming him down face-first onto a bar table. As Barry lay semi-conscious, the bar staff surrounded Oliver like a pack of wolves, though wisely cautious about making a move.

  “Guys, don’t worry about him. It’s all good,” Angela said nervously. “They’re leaving, right, Oliver? You’re leaving…” she pleaded.

  But Oliver’s gaze was fixed, and I had never seen him look so terrifying. A horrific smile played across his features as he bent down to hover over Barry—I thought he might kill him.

  “I’m leaving!” I yelled and made a beeline for the exit.

  Once through the door, I ran out onto the street and into the back alley. It was the only thing I could think of to save Barry’s life, and it worked. Within seconds, Oliver’s hand was around mine, his grip crushing my fingers as he dragged me toward the car.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, pulling away, “I’m sorry. Please talk to me.”

  He stopped and began pacing back and forth like a caged animal, pounding his anger into the pavement with each stride. Without anyone else in the alley, the night had become ours alone, and it had started to snow. I counted twenty-six flakes as they hit the ground before he spoke.

  “You can’t keep things like this from me. Sneaking out and going to a bar alone? I should go back in there and kill that guy for putting his hands on you!”

  Where before I felt worried for Barry, I was now worried for myself.

  “No. Come on, Oliver. It’s my fault, I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll kill anyone who hurts you,” he raged.

  “You’re scaring me, Oliver.” My voice was no more than a whisper as I backed up against the brick wall, wishing I could disappear into it.

  “Just tell me what’s going on in your head, Kaya. No secrets. Hell, I would have snuck you out myself if I’d known that’s what you wanted. At least you would have been safe!”

  I gulped.

  “Promise me,” he demanded, eyes still wild.

  I had no choice but to comply. “Okay. No secrets, I promise.”

  His face relaxed, and then his eyes wandered over every inch of the tight blue dress I was wearing. If the wall weren’t holding me up, I would have collapsed under the intensity of his gaze. “You scared the hell out of me,” he said, face softening.

  Yes, I had already guessed that.

  “Kaya,” he said, moving close and putting his chin an inch from my forehead, “look at me.”

  I lifted my eyes to meet his, relieved to see they had returned to reflect the Oliver I knew and liked. Angry Oliver was someone I never wanted to meet again.

  “You have to let me protect you. I would never forgive myself if something happened. And, I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

  Snowflakes landed on his cheeks and lightly dusted his hair. Had he always been this beautiful? “I lied, and you’re the one who’s sorry?” I said. “You’ve always treated me perfectly. Even when I was a kid, you put up with me when I was awful to you. You’ve protected me, you’ve been my friend, and you’ve saved my life. Without you, I…” Then, it hit me like a ton of bricks how vastly important he was to me. I owed him everything. I put my hands on his chest. “Please, don’t leave me. I’ll never lie to you again. I promise.”

  He laughed softly. “Leave you? Kaya, don’t you know? Isn’t it obvious that I’m…”

  It was difficult for him to say what he was feeling, so instead, he tried to show me. Winding his hands through my hair, he kissed my forehead, but he didn’t pull away afterward. His breath was hot as it moved down my cheek and over to my mouth. With his lips barely touching mine, as if waiting for me to pull away, he he
ld my head in his hands, and then he slowly, cautiously, kissed me. I wanted to resist. I wanted to pull away from his body as he pushed harder against me, but the sensation of his pillow-soft mouth parting mine stole all my resolve. Warm and inviting, I found myself kissing him back, growing more eager to know this breath-stealing feeling that was rendering me incapable of all sensible thought. After a moment of pure bliss, he pulled away.

  “Girl, I have wanted to do that for so long,” he said breathlessly.

  The snow was falling harder now and sparkled in the moonlight, melting against him just like I was. When he looked me in the eyes, I knew I was now ready to hear what I’d long suspected.

  “Kaya, I’m in love with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said for the fifth time.

  Stephan was brushing and unnecessarily flat ironing my hair into straight, shiny strands with his lips pursed, nostrils flared, and eyebrows drawn together in a look that meant he was very, very angry.

  “Stephan, please talk to me,” I begged, feeling wretched.

  He put the iron down on the antique desk, knocking over the lotions and potions he’d kept so proudly organized. In addition to his duties as guard and nanny, it was our morning routine to have casual conversation while he groomed my unruly hair and tended to my sensitive skin. The door was always closed, and it was blissful—just me and him. I looked forward to it every day. This morning, though, I wished for any disruption so I could just crawl back into bed and hide.

  “I’m really sorry,” I said for the sixth time.

  “What you did last night was reckless,” he spat, finally acknowledging more than my hair with a voice so icy it felt as if it froze my heart. “You’ve got to be careful. You can’t go sneaking out and wandering around unprotected in public. I thought you were smarter than that!”

  I fought back tears. I didn’t give a crap about how much trouble I was in or who I’d pissed off, but having Stephan upset with me was torture.

  “You’ve gotta understand, Kaya. You put yourself in danger. And you put Oliver in danger, too. So many things could have gone wrong.”