Shadow Music

by Elisabeth Rose

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, stiff and unresponsive—not repelling him but as if she wasn’t there. As though her body was, but her soul had gone. Where? That bastard Piers!

  He ground his teeth then released his grip and peered into her sightless eyes.

  “Nina, darling? Come back. Nina.” He kissed her wet cheeks then carefully wiped her face with his fingers, fought a rising tide of panic. What if she had gone permanently? What could he do?

  “Nina.” He spoke louder. “Wake up.”

  She stirred and a ripple ran down from her head to her feet. A tremor as if…what? Her soul had re-entered her body?

  “Piers,” she murmured. “Oh, Piers.”

  “What happened? Tell me what you heard.” His voice shook with the relief. He sat her down on the couch and almost collapsed beside her. But she met his anxious gaze with a terrifyingly blank look.

  “Nina.” He snapped his fingers in her face. She blinked several times then her eyes focussed. She was back.

  “Martin?” A shaky smile hovered on her lips. He pulled her into his arms, unmanly tears threatening to spill over.

  “My God, Nina. We can’t do that again. It’s too dangerous. I thought I’d lost you.”

  “We must.” Her voice startled him with its strength. She wrenched herself away and went to the shelf where her stereo was set up and began scrabbling about in one of the drawers holding old cassette tapes.

  “What are you doing?” The abrupt recovery was almost as shocking as the zombie-like state.

  “We need a blank tape. Damn! Damn, damn, damn. I thought had some.” She stared at Martin. “We have to record us as well.”

  “No!” The idea shocked him beyond belief.

  “Yes! We do, Martin. We have to help Piers.”

  “The man’s a lunatic. Didn’t you hear him?” His voice rose in a shout of desperation. “He turned you into a zombie, for God’s sake. What if you hadn’t come back? What would I do then?”

  “Yes, I know. But he’s not a lunatic. He’s just desperate, frantic with grief. He loves her. We have to help.”

  Nothing he could say would sway that iron-willed determination. Piers had captivated her, ensnared her. Piers, the monster.

  “We have to find the other part. Did you hear him say that?” Her voice was cold as a tomb.

  “Oh, yes,” said Martin with equal chill. “He made that very clear.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “He sounds like Hitler, Nina. Jasper and Michael are very reluctant, understandably I would think, they think he’s crazy. So do I. And bloody Piers gets really stuck into them. Calls them all sorts of things. I’d punch him…”

  Nina’s face darkened, her breath hissed in and out. She was barely controlling her anger but he didn’t care. Not after what just happened.

  “He’s not like that at all, Martin. He’s…” She hesitated, chose her words carefully. “He’s in love with Mira and he can’t bear to lose her.” She slipped her arms around him. “Can’t you relate to that?” The tone was honey sweet, cajoling. Playing on his attraction to her.

  “Yes, of course.” He kissed her upturned lips but something wasn’t right in the way she kissed him back. An uneasy feeling of dread hovered like a black cloud. He couldn’t, mustn’t, let her talk him into playing it again.

  Nina drew away. “Did you hear the chanting?” she asked. “It fit what we played.” She spoke normally now, the Nina he was used to. She picked up his glass of water and drank.

  “Yes. I couldn’t understand any of it. Must be one of their weird rituals.” He stood up, to distance himself physically, remove himself from the distraction of her kisses. “Maybe we need help with this.”

  “Like who? Serena?” Nina laughed scornfully. “I don’t think so. It’s out of her league. Anyway, we’re doing all right.”

  “I think it’s out of our league too.” Martin’s voice rose as he paced about the room. “What’s happening to you? I don’t understand.”

  He looked at her and Nina shrugged, an infuriating gesture, full of innocent denial. “Look, all I’m trying to do is finish this as fast as possible. We have to go to New Orleans to find the other parts. After that? Who knows? I’ll do it by myself if you’re wimping out.” She stood up.

  “I’m not wimping out, as you put it. I’m trying to protect you—us—from whatever is happening. Piers seems to be getting some sort of hold over you. Don’t you see that? He’s like a Jim Jones or David Koresh. Charles Manson. And you’re not helping at all.” Martin realised he was shouting. Nina turned her back on him and went to the kitchen.

  “Stirfry vegetables for dinner, okay?” she said stiffly. Martin flung his arms in the air and slumped back onto the couch.

  “Fine,” he said.

  The evening passed in a polite chill. They cleared the table, did the dishes, watched TV and then at ten, Nina got up.

  “I’m going to bed. I’ve got work tomorrow.”

  “Good night. I’ll stay up a while.”

  Nina went to the bathroom, pausing on her way back to say quietly, “I’d like to sleep alone tonight, Martin.”

  “I thought you would.” He turned back to the TV.

  Nina watched for a moment then hurried to her room and her double bed. Piers was waiting. She closed the door and leaned against it, safe from Martin’s angry disapproval and his hurt disappointment.

  Meditation was the best means of contacting Piers, now. She couldn’t play for him. Not with Martin in the next room. If Martin could do it with meditation, so could she, and she doubted if she would be capable of sleep and thus dreaming to reach him, in the state she was in. She had the opposite problem to Lady Macbeth who didn’t want to sleep for fear of dreaming.

  Nina cleared some clothes off a straight-backed chair and settled herself comfortably, seated this time with her feet on the floor, back straight and hands resting on her lap. She closed her eyes and forced herself to go through the familiar relaxation sequences. Gradually her muscles relaxed, her breathing slowed. Her mind calmed and the thoughts passing through decreased in number and speed. She sank deeper into stillness and quiet.

  “Open your eyes and look at me.” His voice was soft and caressing. Nina’s eyelids fluttered open. He stood in the room with her just as Martin had reported. She gasped but strangely, felt no fear. She’d summoned him, he’d invited her. She’d expected him.

  He raised his hand slowly. “Be calm. Relax and concentrate on my voice.” He continued chanting in the tongue Nina recognised from earlier. She focussed on the cadence. It flowed through her mind like honey, thick, rich and invasive, smoothing out the questions, seducing her soul. She devoured every inch of him with her eyes as he intoned the strange words in his dark, resonant voice. A white collarless shirt open at the neck and black trousers with shoes dusty and worn. The handsome face was gaunt and lined with fatigue, but the dark eyes glowed with unearthly intensity and passion. His dark hair brushed his collar, his hands were long fingered and unmarked by physical labour, his body was well defined under the shirt and trousers. She knew exactly how exciting and sensual it was to touch, knew exactly how his hot skin felt against hers, longed to reach out her hands and touch him, ached to feel his fingers play her, bring her to fever pitch. The yearning in her body became unbearable. She wanted him, desperately, but the chant dulled her physical movements so she sat drugged but with all her senses on fire.

  “Who are you?” she managed to whisper when the chant eventually died away.

  “You know who I am. I am Piers. I am the one you have been waiting for. I have waited for you.”

  Hypnotised by his voice and his glowing eyes, she yearned for him to come to her and kiss her as he had in her dream, make love to her. Her body throbbed with longing. She tried to raise her hand to reach out to him but couldn’t move.

  “What do you want me to do?” His eyes locked on hers, a snake charmer and she was the snake, powerless in his thrall.

  “Y
ou know I want you. I want you and you want me. I need you, my darling.”

  Nina barely breathed as he came toward her. His arms slid around her and his breath fell lightly on her cheek as he lifted her off the chair and held her tightly clasped against him. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck as he carried her to the bed and laid her down gently. Then he began to kiss her and transported her to places she never dreamed existed…

  She woke early, before dawn, lying alone in the bed. She stretched out an arm gingerly and felt about but she was definitely alone. Piers had gone but he’d left behind the vague memory of his presence and the overwhelming desire to do whatever he asked. He wanted them to go to New Orleans. He wanted them to find the music and he wanted them to go to England. How did she know that with such certainty? After he’d begun to kiss her he hadn’t said anything about the music, had he?

  The details of the night, his passion and his lovemaking had become a jumble of impressions and emotions. She remembered his first explosive kiss and the anticipation of indescribable rapture but after that—nothing. Until now. Was it real? Had she dreamed it? Him? All of it?

  She turned over and pulled up the tangled sheet. Had she and Piers done that or had she, alone in her dreams? Whatever had happened, the fact remained that the path ahead was clear. They had to go to New Orleans and then England.

  England? They’d never discussed going to England, she and Martin.

  Martin. With a pang of remorse she remembered the fight she’d engineered. Why had she done that? She’d set out deliberately to push him away, which was the last thing she wanted to do. She didn’t want to fight with him. He didn’t deserve the way she’d spoken to him. He wasn’t a wimp, far from it. He was her anchor and she needed him to help her get through this.

  A cold shiver ran down her spine. If he left her…she couldn’t begin to imagine what she would do if she was on her own again. They needed each other. Besides he loved her and she…Nina threw back the covers and sat up in the darkened room. Had he left?

  What if he was so angry he’d packed up while she was in bed…with Piers? If he’d had enough of her anger and her insults and disappeared? He was capable of spontaneous action based on strong emotion. Look at the way he’d come to Australia. He was the type who would pack and go without a farewell scene.

  A rush of intense fear that he may have deserted her made her stumble to the door in the dark, grope her way to the spare room and switch on the light. Martin groaned and buried his face in the pillow. A sob of relief burst from her throat. She turned off the light, leaning weakly on the doorjamb for support.

  “Nina?” Martin’s groggy voice came through the blackness.

  “I thought you might have gone.” Nina sniffed back her tears.

  “Come here.” She made her way across to the dim outline of the bed. His hands grasped her and pulled her in, cuddling her and soothing as she clung to him and cried against his chest.

  “I’m sorry I was so mean,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Sshh. Don’t say anything, sweetheart.”

  ****

  Martin slept as Nina lay watching the dawn light gradually increase. His arm lay across her, leaden now, but protective and comforting. They hadn’t made love when they switched to her bigger bed, just lay wrapped in each other’s arms whispering reassurances and forgiveness until sleep came.

  Piers—words couldn’t describe Piers and the effect he had on her. Lying here now next to warm, loving, flesh and blood Martin, it seemed impossible, unreal. It must have been a dream. Except that Martin had seen him too. Nina turned over, shifting the heavy arm in the process. Martin stirred.

  “Sweetheart?”

  “I saw Piers last night.”

  He opened both eyes. “How? I mean, how did you see him? In a dream?”

  “No. He was here in the room.” She couldn’t tell him how desperately she’d craved his embrace, how heʼd made love to her. If he’d made love to her…She wouldn’t able to hide the effect Piers had on her.

  “What happened?” Martin, wide wake now, propped himself on one elbow, studying her face. “You must have been terrified. Poor darling. No wonder you were in such a state.” He touched her cheek softly.

  “No, it wasn’t scary at all.” She smiled. “I’m getting used to him. He doesn’t want to hurt me, he needs our help. He needs us. He wants us to find the other part then go to England.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “Sort of. I know that’s what he wants.” Nina held Martin’s face between her hands and searched his eyes. “We have to do it, Martin. We have to.”

  “Where in England does he want us to go? Was he a bit more specific?”

  He had that sceptical expression again. She lay back on her pillow. “I don’t know. Perhaps he’ll tell us later.”

  “Good God. This is too…weird, bizarre, crazy.” Martin rolled onto his back and spoke to the ceiling.

  Nina sat up. “I have to go to work. I’ll find out about getting a passport today. I think I can do it through the post office.”

  “I’ll check out flights. When do you think we can leave? January?”

  “Probably not before Christmas. I want you to meet my Mum and Dad.” She leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you, Martin.”

  “What for?”

  “Staying with me.”

  “I’m not going to leave you alone in this. Piers might need us but we need each other.”

  She smiled and kissed him again before heading off to the bathroom. She knew he wouldn’t desert her. So did Piers. He wanted them both, together.

  Martin lay on his back and stared at the ceiling trying to make sense of Nina’s increasingly frightening behaviour. Some weird new thing was happening. He knew Piers acted differently with her but it wasn’t that she just felt sorry for him and wanted to help, she was totally enthralled by the man. He clenched his fists and slammed them impotently on the bed. The bastard had her hypnotised. Christ, he wasn’t even real. He was long gone. Must have been dead for at least sixty or seventy years. He couldn’t be seducing a living, breathing girl in the present.

  But all indications were that Piers was, or had done, exactly that. And Martin was powerless against the force of that attraction.

  After Nina had gone he showered, dressed, did yoga stretches and had a leisurely breakfast in the back garden. He loved the fact he could sit outside at Nina’s small, outdoor table, reading the paper with Soda at his feet, the morning air fresh with just the hint of the warmth to come later in the day. He could very happily live in Sydney—with Nina. There must be freelance work for a highly experienced flute player, and he could always teach.

  Dream on, there were things to be done first. His girlfriend had to be freed from the seductive clutches of a ghost, for starters.

  He took his plate and mug to the kitchen, washed them, put them away, went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, staring at himself in the mirror.

  “Get on with it, you coward,” he growled at his reflection. “Stop dithering about. You wimp.”

  He went to the spare room, sat cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes and began to slow his breathing in preparation for meditation. He deliberately thought of the melody and as he sank deeper into the relaxation Piers voice sounded faintly, as if from a vast distance.

  “You mustn’t hinder me. I am the leader, I have the power and the knowledge. I will succeed in this and you must help me in every way. I’m stronger than you know. I possess the knowledge of the universe.”

  He didn’t sound desperate as before. The tone rang with confidence and certainty as if he had achieved what he had set out to do, things were going his way. He was pleased. Martin concentrated on the voice and willed himself to stay calm, allow the voice to flow over him.

  “The music must be complete. You will do this for me. She’s already mine. You will do what I ask. For her, for me. Look at me.”

  The voice wa
s close, in the room, and Martin’s eyes flicked open as he sensed another presence. Piers stood before him once more, clearer and more solid and substantial than the first appearance. His handsome face was stern and the eyes glared out with obsessive passion, boring into Martin’s, forcing him to meet the gaze and hold it. “I need you to help her. You will help her. Promise me this.”

  “Yes, I will,” Martin fought down the panic rising in his chest, threatening to choke him. He had to control himself. He had to do what he planned. “What’s your name?”

  “You know who I am. I am Piers. I am the leader. I control you.” The expression didn’t relax in the slightest, the penetrating eyes held him captive.

  Martin struggled against the searing force to ask his next question. “What is your full name? Where are you from?”

  “I am Piers de Crespigny. I am from…nowhere.” He lost his certainty, sounded weaker and trailed away to silence. The intensity of the gaze wavered, the bedroom wall appeared through his body.

  Martin asked quickly, “What do you want?”

  He closed his eyes and tried to regain the concentration but it was gone. Piers cried in one last wail of despair, “I want…Mira.”

  Martin opened his eyes again but the vision had gone. He closed his eyes, remained motionless breathing deeply for several minutes, regaining his equilibrium. His mind settled, his focus deepened.

  Piers spoke again. “The music must be complete. The music of the spheres, the Shadow Music. Music is the key and you must find it.”

  “Where?” asked Martin.

  “Search. It has a place. It will find you when you are near. The Shadow Music.”

  “Why is the music the key?” asked Martin.

  “It is linked to the powers and to the universal force of life. We can do this. We can make her live again.”

  “How? I don’t understand how.”