250It was a rare thing for him to leave the house. Even as he put the keys in the ignition, even as he started down the deserted road that led him farther and farther from the safety and isolation of his home, he couldn't quite explain what pushed him. Uninspired and frustrated by his inability to compose even a single decent note, he had simply stormed out. After a few minutes of driving, his mind had cleared a little, but the restlessness had not lessened; the thought of turning around and going back felt unbearably stifling. It was enough to make him just a little careless—just enough that he didn't feel compelled to return home just for the security of it. So, with a sigh, he resigned to go to the only place he could.
Erik had been to the little café only a handful of times over the past few years, and always at Nadir's insistence. While not exactly comfortable, the Nightingale was, at least, less uncomfortable than any other public place. Despite being in a particularly active part of town, it was an inconspicuous little place, tucked away down a glorified alley and situated on the second floor of an old building above a perpetually empty restaurant. The café was a maze of small rooms with quiet, discreet corners where Erik could sit undisturbed, and it was staffed mostly by exhausted university students who never spared a glance up from their phones and textbooks when he entered. He went completely unnoticed as he slipped inside and took a seat at a particularly secluded table. There he sat for a few minutes, studying the grain of the wooden table and doing his best to fade into the background. The sound of a chair scraping across from him made him look up sharply.
"I didn't expect to see you here," Nadir said, looking at him with a mix of suspicion and interest.
"You are the one who claims I should get out more," Erik said.
"Is anything wrong?"
"Only my own lack of ability," came Erik's dry reply.
Nadir relaxed a little at the knowledge that there was no emergency, though that didn't make Erik's presence here less surprising. "Would you like some coffee?"
"Fine."
Erik had turned away and watched from the corner of his eye as Nadir stood to go to the counter. It was a few minutes before he returned, and Erik noticed that the sound of chatter in the café had grown louder since he'd come in. Leaning over to peer into the next room, he saw a microphone being set up at the opposite side of the room, and the tables surrounding it were quickly filling up with students. Erik sat back, shifting nervously at the thought of the crowd forming so close by. But he was separated from all those people, he reasoned, and he didn't really want to return home just yet…
Nadir returned before Erik could decide on what to do. He nodded his thanks for the proffered cup of coffee and sipped it obligingly as Nadir watched him.
"I still don't understand why any of this is appealing to you," he said with another cautious glance toward the adjoining room as there was a burst of laughter over the growing chatter. "You should have picked a quieter line of business."
Nadir shrugged, unbothered. It had been a long time since Erik's tendency toward brusqueness had done more than mildly annoy him. "It keeps me occupied. Stay for a while—it's good for you, and you might find open mic night entertaining."
"I don't know if that would be a good idea," Erik said hesitantly.
"It's up to you," Nadir told him. "But I need to get back to work." He moved to stand but paused, looking at Erik. "I'll be around if you need something," he added, and Erik nodded in acknowledgement. As much as he hated to admit it, Nadir's presence was a comfort—at least there was one person around who he didn't have to be wary of.
He sank back into his chair and watched the rooms around him for a minute after Nadir left, still unsure whether to go or stay. Returning home to his stunted composition was unappealing, and he seemed to be tucked away enough here that people weren't taking notice of him. And perhaps that self-destructive part of him wanted to test how long he could remain in public before some sort of disaster struck. Maybe he would find this interesting. At any rate, it would be something different, and that was apparently what he was craving. One of the staff approached the microphone and announced the beginning of the night, and Erik watched from his partially concealed table. He might as well give it a try.
The first few acts weren't terrible, but they were nothing exceptional, and the diversion quickly began to lose its amusement. Erik sighed, deciding that it was time he tried to slip out. At least this had killed some time, and now Nadir couldn't pester him about never leaving the house. Perhaps he would be able to regain his focus by the time he returned home and would be able compose enough to be somewhat satisfied. He started to stand, but a glance up made him pause.
He didn't know what it was about the girl that caught his attention. She seemed entirely ordinary—meek, even—as she stepped up to the mic. Her wide, dark eyes darted nervously over the crowd in front of her. The beat-up guitar she held was cheap and bulky, and Erik wondered how she managed to wrap her fingers around the neck. When she mumbled a quiet introduction, she was barely audible over the dull noise of the café. She hesitated, glancing around her again, before seeming to reach some measure of resolve and plucking out a few opening notes.
It was her voice that made Erik sit down again. He had never heard a voice like hers; he'd hardly imagined that this voice could even exist. Pure and light, but strong. The girl began a little shakily, but even her nerves could not conceal the quality of her voice. There was something about it that struck him—that spoke to him on such a core level that though he couldn't quite understand or articulate it, he could feel it. With a bit of training, she could be extraordinary. Maybe she could even rival him someday.
She gradually grew more confident as she continued, her voice growing clearer and her face relaxing out of its pinched, frightened expression. Erik's eyes never left her as she sang. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as incoherent excitement coursed through him, every note sending a ripple of electricity up his spine. And then the song was over and Erik remained perfectly still, feeling like the entire world had shifted beneath him. He could hardly breathe.
He watched as the girl returned to a table where a pretty blonde girl and an exceptionally clean-cut boy congratulated her. His fingers tapped restlessly on the table; he was unsure what to do with this rush of energy. He couldn't talk to her, of course. He'd never be able to teach her. But, even when he finally tore his eyes away from her and forced himself to go home, he couldn't get her voice out of his mind. He knew he had to do something.
This hadn't been the kind of disaster he had been expecting, but he suspected that that was exactly what it was.
In the days that followed, Erik found himself hanging around the music building at the university. It wasn't entirely unheard of for him to visit the building—following the activity there and offering guidance occasionally was a kind of hobby for him, he supposed, and when he felt particularly bored or restless, he might even watch a rehearsal there—but he wasn't exactly in the habit of lurking around, especially in the middle of the day when classes were in session. Fortunately, the old building had its share of tucked away rooms and disused halls, so he was at least able to wander discreetly.
He absolutely wasn't looking for the girl.
It would be absurd, he knew, to spend his days stalking the halls, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The music department wasn't massive, but it was large enough to make a chance encounter with a specific person somewhat unlikely (and he was only assuming that she was a student there to begin with). Besides, even if he did somehow happen to come across her, what could he possibly hope to gain from such an encounter? So, no, he stubbornly insisted to himself. He definitely was not looking for her.
That didn't stop his breath from catching when he heard her. It was early in the morning as he had been meandering through the mazelike—and, at this hour, mostly deserted—halls of practice rooms. He'd paused when he noticed the light flick on in a room at the end of the hallway, and a moment later he'd heard her voice. He could have recognized it anywhere. After he'd left the Nightingale a few nights ago, Erik had attempted to convince himself that his memory was playing tricks on him—that her voice wasn't what he had initially thought and that his mind exaggerated it even more in the hours and days after. He'd been looking for something to hold his interest and had simply manufactured this after she'd caught his attention. But now, as he stood transfixed by the voice that he hadn't been able to shake from his thoughts, he knew he had not misremembered.
Wanting to listen more but feeling quite exposed where he was, Erik ducked into the practice room next to hers. If he'd been a student, it probably would have annoyed him that the walls were thin enough that he could hear her so clearly, but it suited him perfectly now. He let his eyes drift closed as he listened to her practice; her voice was incredibly soothing after days of seeking it out. She would truly be a force a nature if she just had some training, he thought when he heard her falter a little. She paused for a moment before starting again, and faltering again.
"Breathe after three," Erik said before he could stop himself. His mind immediately caught up, though, and his blood ran cold at the realization of what he had just done. He desperately hoped for her to continue, not having heard him, but there was only silence from the other side of the wall.
Hardly a second more passed before Erik was on his feet, bolting from the practice room. Around the corner, out of sight, he paused for a moment. He heard the girl come out of her room and glance into the now vacant one beside it. Another second passed in uncertain silence before she called out.
"Hello?"
Erik didn't dare to even breathe until he heard her return to her practice room. She quickly resumed her practice, and a small smile formed on his lips when she did as he'd suggested. The idea of teaching her, even realized in such a small way, was proving irresistible. He knew he couldn't do it like that, though—teaching her from another room would severely limit how he could help, and he doubted she'd be open to taking lessons from a disembodied voice. No, if he wanted to teach her, he'd have to do it face-to-face. The thought of it made his stomach churn. It could so easily go so wrong. There was a very good reason he'd made it a rule to avoid contact with people unless it was absolutely necessary.
But as he stood there listening to her, it didn't feel like he had a choice. Besides, it wasn't like he had anything to lose, was it? Perhaps if he just offered, she would turn him down and that would put an end to this crazy, reckless notion that he couldn't seem to shake. He wasn't sure if the possibility of her accepting filled him with more hope or fear, and he quickly pushed the idea away.
Finding a forgotten pen and notebook in one of the practice rooms, he quickly scrawled a note with a brief explanation and his phone number. Then, before he could change his mind, he slipped the paper under her door and disappeared down the hall, finally allowing himself to indulge the impulse to escape. In a daze, he rushed back to his car, his heart hammering. He climbed in and sank back into the leather seat, grateful for the privacy of the heavily tinted windows. Leaving her that note had been an impulsive decision, and he was already regretting it. It took a few moments for him to begin to calm down enough to think rationally again. It would be fine, he told himself. He'd never hear from her and this whole thing would amount to nothing. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Erik reached over to start the ignition.
His phone rang.
"I can't believe you're actually doing this," Meg said as the climbed out of her ancient car. "I wouldn't even have called the guy."
A cool breeze whipped Christine's dark curls across her face and she brushed them away, taking a deep breath of the morning air to calm her growing nerves. Meg was right—what was she thinking?
"He sounded normal on the phone," she defended halfheartedly.
"Ted Bundy seemed normal," Meg replied.
"I think you need to find some different podcasts to listen to. You're getting paranoid," Christine teased. "It'll be fine. I told you, we're just meeting for a trial lesson. Just see if we'll work well together. If it doesn't feel right, I can just leave and I'll never have to see him again."
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Christine shook her head. "No it's fine. You have class. Besides, we're meeting in a public place with plenty of people around. Even if he does turn out to be a creep, I'll be fine."
Meg still looked skeptical. She'd had the same look on her face when Christine had returned to their apartment last week and told her about the incident in the practice rooms. When she'd turned and found the note that the man—Erik, he'd said his name was Erik—had slipped under the door, she'd been skeptical too. It was just so weird. And even if it hadn't been, she couldn't afford private lessons. She'd tried over and over to figure out some way to make it work, but she simply didn't have the money, especially not on top of her mounting student loans, and she'd resigned herself to do the best that she could without them. Still, she had to admit that she was curious. It couldn't hurt to call, right?
The man had sounded uncertain when he answered, and even more surprised when she introduced herself. But there was a musical quality to his voice that struck her; she recognized it even from the few words she'd heard spoken through the wall. He'd told her that he happened to hear her singing in the practice room and thought that she had a lot of potential. Christine had asked if he was faculty and he'd hesitated a little, saying that he was a kind of advisor to the department. She'd then explained that, while she appreciated the offer, she couldn't afford to pay a private teacher, thinking that that would be the end of it. But, much to her surprise, Erik had quickly offered not to charge anything.
"The opportunity to hone a voice like yours," he'd said, "would be compensation enough."
Christine knew that this should probably raise a red flag, but she couldn't deny that she was a little intrigued. After considering for a moment, she'd suggested they meet for a trial lesson, and Erik had readily agreed. She'd figured that if it didn't work out, then today would be the end of it, and at least she'd have given it a chance. And if it did go well and she had the opportunity to receive some serious instruction, that might be something to consider, right? Now that she was here, though, she wondered if this had all been a mistake.
"Hey," Meg called back as they entered the building and turned to go their separate ways. "If you need anything, text me. And you're right—I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Thanks," Christine smiled. "I'll let you know how it goes, okay?"
"Sounds good. See you tonight." With a wave, Meg turned and walked down the hall. Christine lingered for another second and then headed toward the practice rooms.
Erik had suggested that they meet in the practice room she'd been using last week, and as she made her way there, she focused on calming nerves. Most of the rooms this far down were empty, at least first thing in the morning like this. She'd chosen the room for its privacy, but now she wondered if she should have suggested a more central room for this first meeting. When she reached the short dead-end hallway, her room was the only one with a light on. She paused when she reached the door, peering in through the narrow window. Inside she could see the slim figure of a man, turned away from her as he adjusted a music stand. She knocked on the door timidly, pushing it open as she did.
"Erik?"
Christine wasn't sure what exactly she'd been expecting, but the man who faced her when she entered was definitely not it. She very nearly turned to leave, an apology about being in the wrong room forming on her lips, when the man spoke.
"Christine." It was his voice that made her stop—that distinct, melodic voice that was even more beautiful in person. Even tinged with uncertainty like it was, it sent a little shiver through her.
"Yes," she managed. The overhead lights glinted off the black mask that left only his chin and the thin line of his mouth exposed. Her eyes were immediately drawn to it, but she forced herself not to stare. The way his intense, golden eyes watched her without any hint of an expression unsettled her, and the imposing figure he cut—dressed all in black and standing a good foot taller than her—didn't help.
She could just go. That would probably be the most sensible thing to do. She could say that her phone had died and she had only come to tell him that she'd changed her mind, that she appreciated the offer but was just too busy for lessons. That was a polite enough excuse, wasn't it? But somehow, despite being a little intimidated, she didn't feel unsafe with this man. Maybe it had been the gentleness of his voice when he'd spoken—that slight tremor of nerves that mirrored her own. Maybe it was just her own reckless curiosity. She took a step forward and let the door swing shut behind her.
"Yes, I'm Christine," she finished. "It's nice to meet you." She held out a hand to him, and he eyed it for a moment before hesitantly taking it. His hand was cool and bony, the fingers long and elegant, and he pulled it from her grasp abruptly as if startled by the contact.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," he said, straightening and addressing her with surprising formality. "I have a number of pieces I would like you to run through so I can get a better feel for your strengths and weaknesses." He picked up a small stack of sheet music that had been sitting on the piano bench and held it out to her. "If you're ready to begin."
Christine smiled and accepted the music. "Absolutely."