We Own the Sky (The Muse Chronicles Book 1)

by Sara Crawford

  Everything is moving. Am I skydiving? Am I flying? It’s an exhilarating feeling.

  I think of Wendy and Peter Pan soaring off to Neverland.

  In what seems like seconds, we are in a huge empty theatre, sitting in the balcony.

  I can hear the most striking melody I’ve ever heard being played on a violin, a familiar melody. I recognize the song as part of the score from The Sleeping Beauty ballet by Tchaikovsky. I open my eyes, and there is a woman on stage, a ballerina. She is dancing flawlessly and I realize she’s not alone. A stunningly handsome flickering man dances with her. He is a Japanese man with short, black hair and an incredibly muscular build. The sight of him makes my mouth water a little.

  “Is he her Muse?” I ask, bewildered. Vincent nods. I notice more flickering people. There is magnificent woman with golden hair sitting beside the violinist. She is the best violin player I’ve ever seen. I would assume we were listening to a recording if I couldn’t see her in front of me. The flickering woman—the Muse—beside the violin player touches her shoulder lightly as she plays. It’s hard to see from up here, but it looks like the Muse is smiling.

  “If I focus on them, they stop flickering.” I notice the dancer’s Muse looks almost as solid as the dancer now. It feels good to look at them without fear, to understand, to give them a name.

  The dance abruptly stops as I hear what must be a director calling out some instructions in French.

  “Are we in France?” I whisper to Vincent.

  “Yes. Paris Opera Ballet’s dress rehearsal for La Belle au bois dormant—or The Sleeping Beauty.”

  I am stunned. Vincent brought me to France.

  Whatever issue the director had—I assume it was something related to the lighting, which shifts—is now resolved, and the violin player starts over again as does the dancer. Their Muses are just as important to the performance as they are. And there’s that feeling again. The violin is so soothing, so peaceful, and yet so mournful. I can feel pain and joy rising within me simultaneously. All of that is reflected in the dancer’s graceful movements, and I am captivated.

  Goosebumps rise on my arms. Tears fill my eyes.

  “It’s so beautiful,” I say when the song is over, wishing there was a better word than “beautiful.” I want to applaud loudly, but I don’t know if anyone can hear me.

  “I wanted to show you,” Vincent says carefully, “what we can do.”

  We share a meaningful look. And then he wraps his arms around me, and the world is spinning quickly. And we are back in my bedroom where I can hear The Smashing Pumpkins again. “Tonight, Tonight.” Vincent is inside my room, now, standing at the edge of the bed.

  “How did you do that?” I ask him. “And before. When you disappeared into thin air?”

  “We call it Traveling. Muses are not bound by the same laws as humans are if we do not choose to be.” He pauses for a moment before looking me in the eye. “Sylvia.” My name is a delicacy when it emerges from his lips.

  “I want to be your Muse. I want to give you Art like the art we saw tonight. I want to give you songs that make your blood boil, songs that send chills down your spine, songs that move people, songs that touch people.”

  I am perplexed, speechless.

  “I…” is all I can manage.

  He pulls me to him, and inches his lips to my forehead, kissing it gently. He looks at me one last time.

  And then I am in my bed, waking from a dream, my heart racing.

  SEVEN

  Vincent

  Vincent walked the streets of the Marietta square near Sylvia’s house. The sun was almost up, and the streets were fairly empty. Thoughts danced around Vincent’s head. All he could think of was Sylvia and the dream he had given her. Had she believed any of it? The trip to Paris? His explanation?

  Vincent. He heard Izabella calling out to him mentally. Meet me on top of Constellation Place. Urania wants to talk to us.

  Izabella. He wondered how she had been. He hadn’t thought of her in so long. It seemed odd now. He hadn’t seen her since everything that happened with Amber. As soon as he thought her name, he realized he hadn’t even thought of Amber in quite some time. It was as if he could only think of Sylvia from the moment that he saw her.

  He Traveled to the top of the skyscraper, Constellation Place, in Los Angeles.

  Izabella was sitting on the roof, her legs dangling off the side. She wore her usual 1950s pin-up blood red dress that accentuated her voluptuous figure. Her head was held high as her auburn curls fell to her shoulders. She smoked a cigarette in a long golden cigarette holder. Vincent would never understand why other Muses still wanted to do so the things they liked to do when they were human—like smoking cigarettes or drinking and eating.

  “Izabella,” Vincent said.

  She looked up at him, smiling. She stood and wrapped her arms around him in a warm embrace.

  “Vincent,” she said. “How have you been?”

  He thought of Sylvia, and his lips curved upwards. Before he could answer, though, Urania, the Ruling Muse, who was standing behind Izabella, stepped forward.

  “Thank you for coming, Vincent,” she said. She always had such a tranquility about her. She was dressed in an atrocious bright pink skirt and a purple top. She wore neon green sunglasses, and her long hair was pulled into two pigtails. “How is Sylvia?”

  Izabella raised an eyebrow. “Sylvia?”

  “Sylvia is amazing,” Vincent said. “You were right to show me her. She is more passionate about Art than anyone I’ve ever met. I think she is close to accepting my help. We are going to create breathtaking music together, I can feel it.” Vincent was almost giddy. He looked at Izabella. “Somehow, she can see all of us. I wasn’t even going to make myself known to her, but she saw me. I don’t know how, but she can see Muses. So, naturally, this made me reevaluate my plans with her, and I was going to be her Muse from a distance, but it kept getting more and more difficult. Last night, I entered her dreams. I was going to tell her everything, but I didn’t have to. She guessed what we were!”

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” Izabella said. “You’re acting like a giddy lovesick schoolboy. I didn’t think you would ever get over Amber and…” She caught herself as a faint blush spread across her cheeks.

  “It’s okay,” Vincent said. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

  They smiled at each other.

  “It’s Sylvia,” he continued. “She’s making me feel differently than any artist ever has. She makes me feel alive. Almost even human.”

  “That’s marvelous,” Izabella said with a grin.

  Urania waited until there was a break in the conversation before she said, “I need to speak to both of you about my sister, Clio. She’s almost awake.”

  “And?” Izabella looked up at Urania.

  “Clio is going to want to make some…changes. It always gets pretty ugly when she wakes up.”

  “What do you mean?” Izabella asked.

  “Last time, she forced hundreds of Earthly Muses to move on. She’s going to be even more upset about all the new Muses I’ve created in the last century. I’m sure it will be much worse this time if I can’t force her to see reason. The unconventional Muses like you two are sure to be first on her list. She’s even forced another Original to move on before.”

  “I didn’t know that was possible. I thought she chose to move on. What was her name again?” Izabella said.

  “Her name was Thalia. And it was a lot more dramatic than that. This was a long time ago before any of you Earthly Muses existed.”

  “What happened?” Izabella asked.

  Urania sighed. “Clio was always very traditional. But somehow, she fell in love with a mortal man—a sculptor in Greece. She tortured herself, believing that the mortals must never see the immortals—that we should never interact with any of them. So, she watched the sculptor from afar, inspiring him to create Art. But she never revealed herself to him.

  “What she didn
’t know, though, is that Thalia was inspiring a playwright to write one of the funniest comedies of the era when she happened upon one of this man’s sculptures. She was so enraptured that she started following him around. Soon, Thalia was also in love with him. But she didn’t hold Clio’s strict beliefs. So, she went to Aphrodite and begged her to let her reveal herself to this man, to be able to touch his flesh. Aphrodite agreed, and Thalia made love to the man and had his child.”

  “Wait…it’s possible for a Muse and a human to have a child?” Vincent asked.

  “Haven’t you ever heard of Hercules? Zeus could never control himself with the human women. There have been stories of half-mortals-half-immortals since the dawn of time.

  “Anyhow, Clio grew angrier and angrier as she watched Thalia’s affair with this man and her pregnancy. Thalia asked the gods to make the sculptor an immortal Muse so that they could be together forever. The gods agreed, he was killed in a violent storm, and he became the first Earthly Muse—a human that was transformed into a Muse after his human death.

  “Clio was so upset by this—in her mind Thalia had broken too many rules—revealing herself to the man, having a half-mortal-half-immortal child, and now causing a mortal’s death just to selfishly be with him—all while breaking Clio’s heart. Clio went directly to Ares, the God of War. She asked him to make her a Dagger that would kill immortals. She told Ares she was only going to kill the sculptor, explaining that he should never have been made an immortal. Ares should not have complied with this, but of course he did.

  “Clio spared the sculptor’s life. But one day, Thalia was in the theatre, watching one of her comedies, and Clio snuck up behind her and stabbed her in the back with the Dagger. Zeus was livid when he heard about it. He forced Clio to sleep for five centuries after that. Zeus also decided that the Earthly Muses must be different from the rest of the immortals. They would be immortal, yes, but they would retain their human bodies and their human attributes would be intensified.”

  Vincent was stunned. He sat up straighter.

  “What happened to the Dagger?” Izabella asked.

  “It’s only used now by the Ruling Muse and only for Earthly Muses who want to move on.” Urania glanced at Vincent. He looked down at his shoes, remembering the last time he saw Urania. She had almost used the Dagger on him so he could move on. The images of Sylvia saved his life. As soon as he saw her, he knew he would have a purpose as a Muse again.

  “So…Clio’s about to wake up?” Izabella asked.

  “She only wakes every five centuries. The rest of us sleep for one century at a time, waking only for the selection of a new Ruler. Every time Clio wakes, many of our Earthly Muses are forced to move on. And yes, she’s about to wake.”

  “Why doesn’t someone make her stop?” Izabella asked.

  “When Calliope wakes, she appoints a new Ruling Muse, and then we all go back to sleep—along with Clio. But Calliope is often the last of us to wake, and the damage Clio can do in that time is great.”

  “What about the gods? Why don’t they do anything?” Izabella asked as she put out her cigarette.

  Urania laughed. “The gods have been sleeping longer than any of us.”

  “Has anyone ever thought to force Clio to move on?” Vincent asked, thoughtful.

  “Oh, no. We could never kill one of our sisters. Even if Clio didn’t show Thalia the same courtesy.”

  “What if Clio got a hold of the Dagger again? Wouldn’t that be a disaster?” Izabella said.

  “I’ve hidden the Dagger somewhere Clio won’t ever find it.”

  “Well, what if she does? Is there another Dagger? Could she be stopped?” Vincent could tell that Izabella was starting to panic.

  “There is no other Dagger,” Urania said. “I suppose someone would have to wake Ares to get another one. And who knows what kind of consequences waking the God of War would produce.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Vincent asked.

  “Well, considering your last project with Amber Morris—having her paint the two of you over and over again like you did—and considering how famous those paintings became, I think she might have it out for you. And I know she’s going to be upset about any Muse having a romantic relationship with his artist.” Urania looked at Vincent again.

  “Are you saying we might be in danger?” Vincent asked.

  “Everything will be as it is,” Urania said tranquilly.

  “Well, things are different now,” Izabella retorted. “There are too many of us Earthly Muses, thanks to you. If we all stand against her, she’ll be forced to reevaluate her position. Or else we’ll force her to move on.”

  “No one will be forcing anyone to move on. The Dagger would be needed for that, and I am the only one who knows where that is,” Urania said.

  “So why bother warning us at all? Just don’t let her find the Dagger and we’ll all be okay,” Izabella said.

  “I only wanted to let you know,” Urania said. “I wouldn’t be getting involved with my artists if I were either of you.”

  “Yeah, schoolboy,” Izabella said with a giggle in Vincent’s direction.

  “Last time Clio woke, she even harmed a few mortals for getting involved with their Muses.”

  “Is that true?” Vincent asked. “Do you think Sylvia would be in danger?”

  “Clearly,” Izabella said.

  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your project with Matthew Morris.” Urania looked at Izabella.

  “Amber’s brother? The actor?” Vincent said.

  “Yes,” she answered simply.

  “Think about what I’ve said.” Urania looked at both of them. “Everything will be as it is.” And then she vanished.

  “Ugh. I hate it when she says that. ‘Everything will be as it is,’” Izabella mocked.

  “What is this project with Matthew Morris she was talking about?” Vincent asked.

  “Well…” Izabella was hesitant.

  “Are you having him paint you again?”

  “Not exactly…” Izabella looked away.

  “Then what?”

  She sighed. “I had him take a bunch of photographs of me to see if I would show up in them to other people.”

  Vincent was a little surprised by this. “And did you?”

  “Yes! I did! I’m not sure how that’s possible. I think if the artist is photographing his own Muse, the Muse will show up in the pictures. Isn’t that amazing?” Now she was giddy.

  Vincent nodded. “What are you going to do with this information?”

  “I was going to have him film me telling everyone about Muses and then share it with the world,” Izabella said quietly.

  “Don’t you think that’s a mistake? Having Amber paint us, even, didn’t turn out very well. And it sounds like we’re both going to be in trouble with Clio for that.” Vincent frowned.

  “Think about it, Vincent,” Izabella said. “If everyone knew about us, Muses would be revered…Art would be sacred again.”

  “Alright, well, I think I would wait until Clio is asleep again to do this,” Vincent said.

  “What about you and this Sylvia?” Izabella asked.

  “What about us?”

  “Oh, please, Vincent. You heard Urania. Clio hates Muses who get involved with their artists. And you’re already in love with her!”

  “No, I’m not,” Vincent said.

  “Well, I would think about it,” Izabella said. “If you two get romantically involved, you won’t be the only one in danger.”

  Vincent sighed. Izabella put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him intently. “Vincent. You’ve got to stop falling in love with your artists. Me…Amber…now this Sylvia…it isn’t healthy.”

  Vincent smiled. “I had almost forgotten I was once in love with you, it was so long ago.” He paused, looking off into the distance. “Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if you had never become a Muse.”

  “Me too,” she said quietly. She looked back up at him. “
Just be her Muse, Vincent. Make music with her. Have that be enough.”

  “I guess it will have to be,” he said.

  “I’m going to get back to Matthew now,” Izabella said. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” She smiled at him. He tried to reciprocate, but he was feeling melancholy again. She touched his face once and then vanished. He sighed and Traveled back to Georgia.

  EIGHT

  Deliberation

  It took me three hours to go back to sleep last night after I woke from the dream about Vincent. It was around 4:00 AM when I woke up, and I quickly went to my computer. I Googled Paris Opera Ballet. Shock coursed through me as I read that they were opening a production of The Sleeping Beauty next week. I was even more surprised to discover the same dancer I had seen in my dream on the front page of their website in a promo photo.

  Then I Googled the word “Muses.”

  It was pretty much the same information everywhere I looked. It seems that not a lot is actually written about the Muses of Greek mythology. I also found other groups who called themselves “Muses,” like choral groups and these women who parade in New Orleans in Mardi Gras, but nothing that looked familiar—nothing that would verify anything I talked to Vincent about last night.

  It had been me who had come up with the theory, but as soon as I spoke it, I immediately dismissed it as being crazy. And yet…that dream…

  Then I opened Mythology by Edith Hamilton and read everything that was written in there about the Muses. One part jumped out at me.

  “He is happy whom the Muses love. For though a man has sorrow and grief in his soul, yet when the servant of the Muses sings, at once he forgets his dark thoughts and remembers not his troubles. Such is the holy gift of the Muses to men.”

  It had been Hesiod who had said that. I let it repeat over and over in my head as I lied down in my bed, my thoughts spinning. Is this the answer? Could Vincent really make me “forget my dark thoughts”?