“It’s me,” Victor said. “I was asleep and you weren’t there, so I came to find you.” His voice sounded pained, but masked in softness.
What was he doing? He was going to get hurt like the others.
“Let her go,” Victor said calmly.
“She’ll tell on us,” Muriel said. “She’ll hurt you.”
“She can’t,” Victor said. “She won’t. I’ll protect us. Come on. We can get out of here. But you have to put her down first.”
I fumbled, stuttering, unsure. This didn’t seem possible. Victor was making wild promises and acting crazy. I wondered if it was the after-effects of the drugs.
But the moment he stepped close enough, I could tell. His eyes were a little dull from the syringe of whatever she had plunged into them. His hands were spread out as he inched closer. He completely avoided my eyes and focused on Muriel. Somehow, still, I could tell. He was coaxing her for a reason. I had to trust.
Muriel’s allowed some slack in my hair, but she still held firm. “You’ll come with me?”
“I’ll go anywhere you go,” he said. “We’ll find a place we can be together. Just the two of us. I’ll even play your favorite song.”
Muriel’s hands tightened in my hair again, shoving me forward. “We need to make sure.”
“No, wait,” Victor said. His footsteps came closer. He was so close, that through my tears of pain, I had to fight the urge to reach for him. I thought I’d tell him all my secrets. Victor, so understanding and kind, who didn’t make fun of me when I’d admitted I was afraid of the shower. He understood me. He did so much for me.
Muriel’s fingers pulled tighter, causing me to release a cry. “I need to make sure. For us...”
“Let her go,” Victor said, his voice lighter than before. Soothing. Almost similar to how he’d talked to me in the bath. “If she dies, they’ll hunt us forever. We’ll never be free. She won’t follow us if you let her go.”
Muriel’s voice broke, and it sounded like she was sobbing. “Victor, help me.”
Victor stepped forward. That’s when I saw it. The syringe in his hand that he tried to keep hidden. “Muriel. Trust me. Let me take her...”
She reeled back. Muriel’s hands grasped me again. “No!” She cried out, tugging at my head. “Don’t touch her. Don’t ever...”
I found my opening. I struck out, hitting her in the stomach. Her hands seized me harder and pushed forward.
I careened toward the stairs, but stopped short. Arms wrapped around my waist, catching me before I could crash to the bottom. The overwhelming scent of spring soap filled my nose.
“I’ve got you,” Mr. Blackbourne said, drawing me in and away from the stairs, away from Muriel.
Muriel flew beside me, hitting the stair rail hard. Her hands released me, but Victor caught her.
At the same time, he plunged the needle into her arm.
“No,” she cried. “Victor...”
“I’m sorry,” he said. He drew her back until she was safe from toppling down the stairs. She fought him, crying, pleading with him to release her. Soon, her voice slurred. Her body went limp. Victor laid her on the floor.
I gasped as arms threaded around my body. I found my face pressed against a bare shoulder.
I held on to Mr. Blackbourne, trying to find comfort.
“Victor?” I whispered quietly, shaking.
He raised his eyes, meeting mine. The fire returned. “You’re safe, Princess.”
WE ARE ALWAYS
The Memminger Auditorium in downtown Charleston was packed with over seven hundred people. I hid behind the red curtains to the left of the stage.
Victor sat behind a black grand piano. Lights overhead shined only on him. He wore a tuxedo, picked out by Gabriel, that featured a silver tie and other silver accents. I thought he never looked more refined. Whatever he might have said about hating concerts, it was clear he loved the music. His head swayed with the rhythm. He played with his eyes closed most of the time.
When he opened his eyes, he stared off across the piano. I wasn’t sure if he could see me, but I met his stares. I wanted to be there for him.
Only my heart wasn’t totally focused on this concert at the moment. The events of the night before rolled over in my mind. Mr. Blackbourne had insisted that I leave the area with Victor. Dr. Green and the others were called in for emergency assistance. I wanted to stay to help and figure out what was going on, but Victor forced me out. We retreated back to Nathan’s house.
“We need to maintain our appearance that nothing is wrong,” Mr. Blackbourne had said. “Especially Mr. Morgan. This is the last place we want this kind of attention.”
I shifted from one foot to the other on the stage, wearing a pair of flats that were hard on my feet, but Gabriel said they were the only things in Nathan’s closet he could find at the last minute. The skirt and blouse weren’t really acceptable for the black-tie affair that this was, but since I was behind the curtains and no one could see me, it was good enough.
I didn’t think, at first, that this should be happening. I thought Victor would need more time to recover. When Gabriel and Luke came by the house and told us Victor was supposed to go to his concert as planned, I insisted on going and no one argued. In fact, they seemed to encourage it.
Victor started up another song, flowing into the music. I was lost in his melody and almost missed the footsteps that drew close behind me.
I turned, finding Mr. Blackbourne looking past my head out at Victor.
“Mr. Blackbourne?” I said, staring at the dark gray tuxedo with a matching gray tie. The cut of it was stunning, nearly putting to shame everyone else in the audience who had dressed up for the night. It wasn’t a surprise to me. I simply admired it. Perfection was who Mr. Blackbourne was. “What’s going on? Is everything—”
His hand drifted up, hovering in the air. His steel eyes locked on mine, as assuring as his words. “Everything is taken care of.”
“Where’s Muriel?”
“Inside the Academy hospital. We’ll see that she gets treatment. She’s a very ill little girl. If any of you had been severely hurt or killed, this would have escalated to involving the police and if that were the case, she’d face years in prison. She’s lucky you arrived.”
“How’s North? What about the house?”
“He’s fine. Luke and Gabriel are cleaning up the rest of the house now. They’ll call security back once they’re finished. Apparently Miss Addison had confused the schedules on purpose. Mrs. Morgan had left her in charge for the night while they were away. Miss Addison knew all the security codes and procedures to do so.”
“How did she manage to do all this?”
The corner of his mouth lifted, it was only a millimeter, and full of expectation. “I think you know that one.”
“She had my phone, the one I thought had broken. When she saw I had it, she acted like I stole it from her. She had access to his office. So she might have taken one of the boys’, too.”
“Mr. Morgan relies too heavily on trusting other people in his space. I appreciate the sentiment of him collecting our broken toys, but from now on, all items turned into him either need to be recovered completely, or destroyed. She was able to discover much more about us by lurking around his things, including the location of a stun gun, and other equipment. She used our own tools against us.”
“What about his computer? What about Volto?”
He frowned. “After you left and Muriel checked on us again, I had to get North out of the way so he wouldn’t get hurt if she returned. When I heard you getting Muriel to chase you, I went to Victor and helped him down the stairs, hoping he could talk some sense into her. When I got back to the office, the dragon desk had been opened.”
I gasped. He’d been in the house the whole time? “Did he find something?”
“We need Victor to do a trace to see what he was interested in, but from what I’ve seen, he copied the history files. He wanted to see what Victor ha
d been doing.”
I pressed a palm to my cheek. “So he really was after his computer.”
“I believe he was working with Muriel, although I’m not sure in what capacity. From what I’ve gathered from her, she was promised she would get Victor somewhere they could be alone. She followed Volto’s instructions. He was guiding her, and she let him into the house. He may have orchestrated this entire ordeal.”
“But I took my phone from him.”
Mr. Blackbourne pursed his lips. “I’m proud of you for it, but I believe it was planted. I think he wanted you to take it.”
“He did?”
“Luke mentioned you weren’t very good at pickpocketing.”
He had told me that. “He wanted me to find it? He wanted me to go to Victor’s house?”
“I don’t think he ever planned to fulfill the promises he’d made to Muriel. Muriel herself may never have pursued her overzealous feelings for Mr. Morgan. I believe she was lured into it by this Volto. He saw an opportunity and pushed her into it to get to what he wanted.”
“Victor said there wasn’t anything important on his computer.”
“That might be true,” he said. “But Volto may be able to piece together a few things. There might be a few clues.”
“Academy secrets?”
Mr. Blackbourne pursed his lips. “Maybe, but he doesn’t seem interested in the Academy itself. He seemed focused on our group. There are much easier Academy targets if he really knew his way around like he says he does.”
“He almost made it sound like he was in the Academy before.”
“I doubt it. He’s not our type.”
“He’s smart.”
“He’s manipulative and dangerous. He’d never get past registration. Whatever he thinks he knows, he’s picking up from outside sources. He’s stringing together bits and pieces and possibly coming to the wrong conclusions.”
I wanted to ask something else, but the tempo to Victor’s song changed dramatically. I turned, and his head was lifted, his eye caught mine. Now I was sure he could see me. He started to smile now.
I sensed Mr. Blackbourne stepping up behind me. “Miss Sorenson,” he said, the authority and command stripped from his voice, replaced by something much softer. “How did you know it was me in that room? I could see you turn when you wanted to run. You paused and called my name. How did you know?”
My cheeks heated. I hoped he wasn’t close enough to see my cheeks from where he stood. “I could smell you.”
“Smell me?”
I nodded. “Spring soap. It was on top of everything else, like you were right there. I could have been wrong, but I was pretty sure.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
I watched as Victor lost himself into the music again. His head swayed back and forth, similar to the way he often walked beside me, drifting to the beat of music in his head. “Victor said he asked you guys not to come to his concerts.”
“He did ask, but we show up anyway,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “We attend them all, when possible.”
I knew the answer to this, but I asked anyway. “All of them?”
“We never really leave one of our own. Mr. Morgan rejects the idea of seeking out any pleasure in the concerts he performs. He didn’t want to enjoy the same music his father forces him to play.”
“He’s okay with me being here,” I said quietly.
Fingertips brushed my arm soothingly. “Maybe you’ve finally shown him. He doesn’t have to do it for them. One day, his parents won’t be able to control his life like he allows them to now. One day, his parents will fade away, and all that will be left is the music he really does love.”
Another scent caught at my nose, something stronger above the soft musk Gabriel had placed on me earlier and Mr. Blackbourne’s spring soap. It took a moment, but when I recognized the heady rose scent, I turned.
Mr. Blackbourne held a bundle of stemmed Chrysler Imperial roses. Offhand, I thought there were a dozen, thinking that’s how they were sold. When I checked again, I counted nine.
“I’ve been told you didn’t want any gift,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “I hope you’ll forgive this one exception for your birthday. We didn’t want you to think we’d forgotten or that it wasn’t important.”
I wanted to say something, anything, but the tears choking my throat threatened to take over.
Mr. Blackbourne said nothing, but passed the flowers to me. I curled my arms around them, surprised by the weight. My fingers found the petals, touching each flower as if doing so was touching each of them.
The music changed. Caught off guard, I didn’t recognize it at first. I turned again when I recognized Winter by Vivaldi, a song I once told Victor was one of my favorites. It had been so long since that day, the day I first met him. But he remembered.
And he looked right at me as he played, his fire eyes an inferno.
“Thank you,” I said, to both Mr. Blackbourne and to Victor, even though I knew Victor couldn’t hear me.
“You’re always welcome, Miss Sorenson.” I felt Mr. Blackbourne’s hand touch at the base of my neck, warming my skin.
That tiny touch, that soft turn of affection, was the last straw for the tear that slid down my cheek. It was the first time that I felt it. It was the first time that I was sure. That special link that I had been looking for.
Mr. Blackbourne seemed to understand me completely, reading my thoughts. “I tried to deny it before, too. I can’t any more. You belong with us.” He reached out, his finger catching the tear on my cheek, cleaning my skin. Mr. Blackbourne, the perfectionist. He leaned down, his voice a soft whisper in my ear. “Stay with us. Always.”
~ A ~
When the concert was over, Victor hustled into the dressing room. This was the worst part of the evening. He’d already gotten word that Sang had to be escorted out of the building. He was glad for it, but sorry he couldn’t see her before she left. He would have liked to have held her one more time before having to hobnob with the snobbery-elite. It probably would have calmed his nerves a lot more. It couldn’t be helped. Sang had to avoid being noticed.
Playing concerts wasn’t really the worst part of these soirees. It was being forced to put on a smile and behave in front of a crowd that wanted nothing more than to wait for you to mess up so they could tear you to pieces. Gossip was highly sought after. The rich were bored and gossip was a temporary relief for it.
Having Sang attend had actually been more pleasurable than he could have imagined. He smiled into the mirror at the thought of her sweet eyes, and that incredible look of surprise when he started playing “Winter.” It was way too early in the season to be playing such a song, and he was sure to hear it from his father. There would be an argument later about following the set list. Victor didn’t care. He did it for her. He’d do it again. He’d play all her favorite songs next time.
He hummed a few bars of “Winter” as he slipped out of his stage tuxedo. When the doorknob to the dressing room rattled, he didn’t flinch. His life had always been under a microscope. People walked in on him all the time. It was usually Gabriel, wanting to tell him what to wear next or how to style his hair in the latest trend. Victor didn’t really care, but Gabriel did, and he knew his stuff. When he stepped out for the after-concert party, he got plenty of praise on both his playing and his style. This appeased both the press and his parents most of the time. As long as Victor Morgan appeared to be perfect, that’s all that mattered.
“Mr. Morgan,” Mr. Blackbourne’s familiar voice drifted to him. Victor had once thought Mr. Blackbourne could have trained his voice for singing, operatic perhaps. Mr. Blackbourne had complete control of his tone. While he played the piano and the violin, though, Mr. Blackbourne never hummed and never sang. Victor thought it was a real shame.
“Weren’t you driving Sang back?” Victor asked. He opened the closet, finding a pair of black slacks, his usual white shirt, and a tuxedo coat. Gabriel never seemed too busy to put his wardrobe in
to place.
“She’s with Kota,” North’s voice hit Victor, and Victor flinched. North was usually the last one to show up after one of his concerts, but given the crazy happenings, he probably shouldn’t have been too surprised. Mr. Blackbourne wouldn’t be traveling alone anywhere for a while, not when Volto had targeted him, too.
Victor looked over at them as he started changing into different clothes. North stood by the door, his arms crossed. His shirt and pants were the usual black. At least he was clean instead of grungy from motor oil and sawdust. North could have passed for a security escort for Mr. Blackbourne, but he hoped North wasn’t going to join them for tonight’s after-concert required hobnobbing. His father usually made a scene if one of his friends showed up, and Victor had little patience tonight. “Sang’s going home?”
“She needs sleep,” North said.
“Where’s Muriel?” Victor asked. Despite what she’d done to Sang, him, and the others, he still felt responsible for her. He’d found it unusual when she called, and showed up at odd times upstairs and in his bedroom. He had dismissed it because she was usually so very observant and obedient, more so than any other maid his family had hired before. Most maids they hired were pretty strict and maintained the discreet distance his parents usually required. The help was supposed to be invisible.
Even when he returned to the house, and asked for her help in setting up his ruse, she’d complied, for the most part. She agreed to it probably too quickly. There were other things, too. Avoiding the other guys. The looks she gave him that made him uncomfortable. How did he not notice her oddness before? It seemed so apparent now.
“She’s gone,” Mr. Blackbourne said. “She won’t be back.”
Victor nodded solemnly. If there was one thing the Academy could do, it was see to it that such threatening people were removed completely. She was too dangerous to leave in town. He wanted to ask where she went, but he knew the answer to that, too. Most likely, after she was hospitalized for any injuries, she’d disappear into one of the many recovery facilities connected with the Academy to get over her obsession. She would be treated well, but she’d never be allowed near their team or him again. She’d probably never return to the state. “What about the other guy? This Volto?”