“Man, I really don’t have time for this,” Matthew said. “I have to go. Just watch the DVD.”
Matthew got up out of his seat.
“That’s my cue,” Clio said, getting up to follow him. “Do you remember what we discussed?”
Norris nodded. Clio rushed off to follow Matthew. Norris stood slowly, a vial in his hand. He smiled, humming an old blues tune he used to play as he walked casually by Peter’s table, slipped the contents of the vial in his beer, and left the restaurant, still humming.
THIRTY
Invisible
After I get a sub sandwich, I sit down at the usual table with Ryan, Bianca, and Cassie. Travis is nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Travis?” I ask.
“He said he needed to run to the library for something. He rushed out of chorus right after ‘Seasons of Love.’ He didn’t even get to hear Mr. King’s ‘ass’ slipup,” Bianca says.
Things are awkward at the lunch table. Cassie and Bianca still aren’t speaking.
“So, Cassie,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “I saw they are having auditions for A Christmas Carol. You should go.”
Cassie shrugs. “Maybe.”
No one says anything in a moment of uneasy silence. I finish my pizza as quickly as possible and get up to go to the library. I still have to write my midterm paper for Greek mythology that is due Friday. Travis is walking out when I walk in. To my sheer horror, he is holding my Lily in his arms.
“Hey,” he says. “I was looking for you. You left this in the chorus room.”
He holds her out to me.
“Did you…” I can’t even finish my question. My heart is beating so fast.
“I may have looked at a few pages,” he says, dropping his chin, his cheeks burning. “Sylvia, you would…talk to me if you…were…” his voice trails off.
“Because I write a lot of fictional things in that journal,” I say quickly. “Sometimes I pretend that things are more magical…and…” I can feel my face flushing.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have read any of it.”
He holds out Lily, and I snatch the journal from him and rush over to a table in the corner where I don’t have to look at anyone, and no one can see me. And for once, I wish I were a real Muse so I would be invisible.
***
At Red Lampposts practice, things are tense. Ryan is trying to keep it light, but there is an uncomfortable energy between Travis and me.
How much did he read? What does he think? How can I possibly explain this?
Relax.
Mariela appears. Great. I really don’t need to be acting like I’m not seeing people Travis and Ryan can’t see right now. I do my best to ignore her.
“Hey, chica,” she says to me. I feel bad ignoring her. It would be easier if I could send her thoughts like I can with Vincent. I let my eyes move over towards her for a moment and look at her in acknowledgement.
We play a few songs to warm up. I feel good about my drumming. There are a few times when I slip up and interact with Mariela, but they are not very noticeable until I accidentally speak to her.
“Don’t you love that new song?” she asks after we finish playing a particularly upbeat song called “Neat-Freak.” “I told you it was going to be amazing.” Travis and I had argued when he first introduced it.
“You were right,” I say out loud. “I should have listened!”
Travis and Ryan look at me like I’m an alien.
“Sorry,” I say. I don’t offer an excuse. “Let’s play ‘Talking’ and ‘April’,” I say, even though we have played both of those songs a million times and we probably don’t need to practice them tonight.
I count us off anyway before they have a chance to ask me about my slip-up.
“One, two, three, four!”
We play the two songs. Something is lacking. I think we have played them too many times. When we finish “April,” I am feeling braver than usual.
“Hey, do you think we could work on one of my songs?” I ask.
Ryan looks like he is up for it, but Travis narrows his eyes.
“Sure…” he finally says. He sounds hesitant, which makes me self-conscious. I am a little nervous about singing lead without Vincent around, but I feel compelled to try it.
“Alright, I will show you the guitar part so you can play it,” I say. I pick up Ani and show him how to play “Nothing Lost.” I wrote this song on piano, but I think with the band, it might work better on guitar. He catches on pretty quickly. It’s a fairly simple guitar part.
I sit down with Charlie and add a drum part to Travis’s guitar. Ryan finds a bass line that works pretty well with the song. When I sing, my voice doesn’t sound quite as good as it does when I am with Vincent, but it sounds better than it used to.
I am half-Muse. I can Inspire myself.
I close my eyes, and my voice gets stronger for a moment, but then I lose it, and it sounds shaky and weak again.
Travis stops playing abruptly, and Ryan and I keep going on bass and drums until we both realize the guitar is absent. We both stop too.
“I don’t know about this,” Travis says. I can feel myself blushing. He doesn’t like my song?
“You don’t like it?” I ask.
“It’s not that,” he says. “I just don’t know if…well, won’t it be confusing if we have two lead singers?”
I frown. “I don’t think so.”
There is an uncomfortable silence. I stare at my shoes. Maybe I should have never brought it up.
“Maybe we can try again later,” Ryan says. “We’re all tired.”
“Yeah,” I say, flipping the switch on the PA system. “I think you’re right.”
“Sorry, chica,” Mariela says, giving me a small sympathetic smile before she vanishes. Travis and Ryan pack up and leave. I walk up to my room, feeling defeated. Does this have anything to do with what Travis may or may not have read in Lily? Ugh. I lie down on my bed, burying my face in my pillow. Where is Vincent?
My phone rings. It’s Travis. Maybe he is calling to apologize.
“Hello?” I answer.
Silence.
“Hello?” I repeat.
There are some muffled sounds. I can hear The Lumineers playing softly in the background and muffled voices.
“I don’t know, man,” it sounds like Ryan. “We asked her to join the band because her dad has connections, and we haven’t even used any of them yet. We can’t kick her out now. Plus, she’s grown on me. And you have to admit, she is a much better drummer than Derek or Shawn.” I freeze. They are talking about me. Travis must have not meant to call me. I know I should hang up, but curiosity gets the better of me.
“You didn’t read what I read today,” Travis says. He sounds worried. “I think she has serious issues. I think she needs help. And haven’t you noticed her looking at things that aren’t there? Or how she just talks to thin air sometimes? I’m telling you, she’s seeing people.”
“So? She’s allowed to be a little crazy,” Ryan says. I can picture him shrugging nonchalantly. “I see things sometimes when I smoke too much pot. Maybe she’s just on something.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Travis says. “I mean, she—”
I hang up, furious. My heart is racing. I feel humiliated. They both think I’m crazy. And they only asked me to join the band because of my father. I throw the phone down.
Vincent. Where are you? I need you.
PART FOUR
November 2012
THIRTY-ONE
Izabella
Izabella appeared in the old studio of Amber Morris. Matthew’s face lit up when he saw her.
“Izabella,” he said excitedly, standing to meet her.
“Hello,” she said. She reached out a hand and touched his face tenderly. “Is the film ready?”
“Yes,” he said. “I have it here.” He held up a DVD. “Do you want to watch it?”
“Yes, I think so.”
&n
bsp; He arranged the small TV that used to be Amber’s where she could easily see it, and he put the DVD in.
Izabella appeared on the screen.
“Hello. My name is Izabella. You probably recognize me from the paintings of Amber Morris. You probably thought that I was her creation, but I can assure you, darlings, I am very real. I’d like to tell you a story about Muses.”
Izabella smiled, watching herself as the Izabella on the screen went on to tell the story. Matthew looked over at her with the adoration of a dog looking at his owner. She stroked his hair.
“That’s all I have, now, obviously,” Matthew said enthusiastically after the screen went black, “but I edited it, and I think that will be a great intro. And then we can travel around and get footage of real Muses inspiring real artists all over the world! And—”
Izabella scooped Matthew up into her arms.
“It’s perfect, Matthew!” she practically screamed. She hugged him tightly and kissed him on the lips. She pulled away from him. He looked at her with so much love in his green eyes, she thought she would burst.
“I’m so glad you like it,” Matthew said.
“Like it? I love it. I can’t believe that worked! You can see me as clearly as one of my old films! Once we get this out there, everyone will know the truth about us and—”
“I’m afraid that I can’t have that,” Clio crept out from underneath the bed and was standing in the middle of the room.
“Who are you?” Matthew asked, crouching defensively in front of Izabella.
“Clio, I presume,” Izabella said. “Don’t worry, Matthew, she can’t do anything.”
“Can’t I?” Clio said. She reached into her robe and pulled out the Dagger.
“Clio, do you really want to kill your own kind?” Izabella asked with a slight twinge of fear in her voice.
“I am shocked at your behavior,” Clio remarked. “The whole business with Amber Morris and now this? We can’t have this getting out there.”
“Who is this woman?” Matthew asked.
“She’s one of the Nine…an Original Muse.”
Before anyone could say anything else, Clio lunged at them. Matthew tried to push her away, but his strength was nothing to hers. Clio pushed Matthew hard, and he flew across the room, smashing into the TV, hitting his head.
“Matthew!” Izabella shrieked. She turned back to Clio angrily, slapping her in the face. Clio edged the Dagger towards Izabella. Izabella grabbed Clio’s wrist to get the Dagger away from her throat, and then she threw her knee into Clio’s stomach, which got her off her for a moment, forcing Clio to drop the Dagger. Izabella snatched it quickly and pointed it at Clio’s throat, but Clio slapped Izabella’s arm away and grabbed the Dagger from her hand, overtaking her with her strength. Clio pushed Izabella down onto the floor, holding her down with her foot.
“I’m sorry,” Clio said. “Muses are not supposed to behave in this way, Izabella. And I have to let the others know that I’m serious about changing the way of things.”
And with that, Clio hurled the Dagger into Izabella’s stomach. The shock and pain in Izabella’s eyes almost made Clio hesitate, but then she pulled the Dagger out and stabbed her once more.
Clio waited a moment. She left the dagger in Izabella, walked to the unconscious Matthew on the floor, and pulled out a syringe filled with heroine. He was barely conscious from hitting his head. Still, she filled his veins until she knew he wouldn’t survive.
Clio walked back to Izabella and took the Dagger out, wiping it off with Izabella’s red pin-up dress.
“Goodbye, Izabella,” Clio whispered. And then she disappeared.
THIRTY-TWO
Vincent
Vincent knew something was wrong as he sat on the top of Constellation Place.
Izabella.
Something was wrong with her, and he knew it. He also knew where he would have to go to see her. He closed his eyes and reappeared in Amber’s studio.
Matthew Morris was dead on the floor and next to him, Izabella lay bleeding.
“Izabella!” Vincent exclaimed, and he knelt to take her head in his hands.
“Vincent…” her voice was weak.
“What happened? How are you bleeding?” If a Muse was cut, their wounds usually healed almost instantly, but Izabella was spilling blood like a human.
“The Dagger,” Izabella choked. “Clio came and…Vincent, be careful.” He could feel the tears rising in his eyes.
“Shhhh. Maybe we can…” Vincent tried to hope as Izabella smiled at him. A memory flashed in his mind. Izabella in the 1950s, picking flowers from the backyard behind her parents’ house like the flowers were the only things that mattered in the world, beautiful and simple.
“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re here…” she whispered. “Are you happy? With your new artist?”
A tear spilled out of Vincent’s eye.
“Yes,” he managed. “I’m in love with her.”
“How like you,” she smiled weakly.
“This is different. She’s a half-Muse,” he said, hoping if he kept her engaged, he could somehow…
“A half-Muse?” she chuckled softly. “Make it work, then. You’ll have your love at last.”
“We were never supposed to have love,” Vincent said as he wept. “We were only supposed to exist for Art. To give them Art.”
“Don’t you understand? Love is the greatest Art of all,” she whispered. “It took me a long time to see it, but Matthew…at the end there…” Her voice trailed off. He bent towards her and kissed her forehead.
She smiled up at him, and then she winced in pain.
“Izabella…” he whispered through his tears, clutching her to him.
“I’ll be alright,” she said, her voice getting smaller. She looked deep into his eyes. “Goodnight, darling…” And she gave him one last smile as she reached her hand up to touch his chest lightly.
She fell limp in his arms. And then, she vanished completely, as if she had never existed at all.
THIRTY-THREE
Immortal
I’m walking to Cool Beans.
I tried to run through my songs after Travis and Ryan left, but I couldn’t focus. And it didn’t feel any differently than it has every time I’ve played music without Vincent. I didn’t feel like I had the blood of the Muse inside of me. I felt like an ordinary, average teenager playing stupid, lonely songs. So, I grabbed a notebook and some books for Greek mythology class and started walking. I’m listening to M83 as I walk, thinking about Vincent.
I wonder what he is doing with Izabella. When I think about the Izabella I saw in those paintings, I can’t help but feel a little jealous. How can I compete with that? A 1950’s pin-up model?
But I suppose I have bigger things to worry about. How am I going to deal with Travis? How am I going to deal with The Posts? And if Travis really knows what I believe…if he tells anyone, it’s over. Everything else in my past has not been that bad, really. So, I used to have imaginary friends. So, I get depressed sometimes. That’s relatively normal in this day and age. Believing in Muses, though, and believing I am a half-Muse myself, that’s literally enough to get me committed to a mental institution for the rest of my life. Isn’t it?
Okay, even if my dad somehow finds out about all of this, I can get Vincent to show himself to my dad. That will be proof, right? And Lydia. My dad had sex with a Muse (but eww). He’ll have to believe in Muses. Why would Travis even tell my dad?
I can’t believe everything he and Ryan were saying about me. What should I do now? Should I quit The Red Lampposts? Work on my solo music? They were just using me for my relationship with my dad. He is a kind of well-known musician in Atlanta at least. How could I have been so stupid?
And Vincent still isn’t back. What does that mean?
I get to Cool Beans. My favorite barista, a really friendly girl with honey brown hair, is working tonight.
“Hey, Sylvia!” she says as I walk up to the counter. “
What can I get you?”
“A vanilla latte, please,” I say.
I glance outside where a young man with dreadlocks is playing his guitar.
“Hey, are you guys still booking musicians?” I ask.
“Yeah, do you want to play?” she is excited as she makes my latte.
“Yeah, I think so…” I say.
“Cool! Let me grab the calendar!” she says. “Oh, do you have your own PA system? We don’t have one here.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Well, my dad has one.”
“Right,” she says, nodding.
She places my latte on the counter. There is a little latte art heart on top, which makes me smile. She grabs the calendar, and I sign myself up for a night later this month.
I sit down at a table with my latte, realizing with excitement that I just booked my first show. Screw Travis and Ryan. I don’t need them. I will play my own music.
I get out all my books and notebook and start working on my paper.
I’ve handwritten about half of it when I realize Cool Beans is closing because they are giving away the croissants for the day. I shove all my books in my bag, grab a chocolate croissant, and head home.
***
I’m lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep feels impossible. I’m listening to my sleep playlist when “April” comes on. I forgot I still had this on here.
Hearing this song makes me feel strange. I feel jealous and annoyed and yet I cannot deny the love I have for the music. And loving it so much makes me irritated. I am in this band. I was in this band. Am I still in the band?
The idea of him reading Lily makes me want to crawl into a little hole and never show my face again. Earlier I thought maybe he didn’t read that much or maybe he really did brush it off as being fictional—the work of a creative person. But now? With everything he said to Ryan? How can I make sure he won’t tell a teacher or my dad?
And Vincent still isn’t back. What does that mean?
We Own the Sky (The Muse Chronicles Book 1) Page 20