No.
They’d promised each other they wouldn’t drink like their fathers. They’d promised. Thomas wouldn’t have broken his vow unless he truly was defending his word. There was nothing more important to the Scot than his word. He was telling the truth.
The men danced around Liam on top of the tables and chairs. The door slammed as Thomas exited the room.
It was real. The Bridegroom Killer really was back.
His best friend was telling the truth.
Liam slid to the ground and pressed his head against the cool brick wall, having no idea what he was going to do next.
Chapter Eight
On the Loose
* * *
Red stared at the music box.
It stood out on her nightstand like a red leaf on a barren tree. She took in the finely carved roses and vines that circled a clocklike symbol on the front of the wooden box. Her fingers itched to open it, but she wouldn’t. If she did—if she heard the music—then curiosity would overcome her and she’d have to know what the shadow man wanted, and she’d end up “following the music” or else “Nathan would pay the price.”
Not that she believed Nathan was in danger. Or that there’d be music to follow.
She shook her head.
As much as the shadow man frightened her, she was terribly intrigued by him. Red groaned and pulled her wool blanket up around her. When she was around him, she believed every word he said. The intensity around him was palpable. But now, away from him, it was as if every word he said was crazy.
She peered at the music box again. He’d said the melody was one she would recognize. She licked her lips, then shut her eyes.
She couldn’t do this.
Red hopped off the bed and threw open the window. She flexed her fingers and peered down at the dorm rooms where Nathan slept. The white stone building seemed to glow in the late evening air. Next door, a few ballerinas exited the studio, bags slung over their shoulders, walking across the courtyard.
Nathan’s voice still seemed to reverberate in the room from earlier that day.
He’d been frantic.
“Meg, you should’ve seen the body. It was just like Dad, lying lifeless on the ground, eyes open. With the white veil on his face and everything! And then when I heard you were here. How could you not tell me you were here?”
Nathan ran a hand through his ragged red hair. “I raced up here as soon as I could. I mean, you’ve been gone for three years! Without a word! Leaving me all alone to visit Mom in that mental institution. Do you know how hard it is to handle that by myself?”
“Nathan—”
He paced back and forth. “But then it ended up being a big joke. They were just pranking me. Who would do that? Seriously wrong. And after I thought Liam was trying to befriend me. I mean, we spent all week together. He took me to the pier, the museum, the citadel. I thought it was strange, but it was all just part of a ruse—just one big. Sick. Ruse. Seriously messed up.”
Red slammed the window shut.
She knew Liam was an entitled man-child who didn’t know the hardships of life, but she didn’t think he’d resort to something like this—pranking her twin brother so cruelly.
Red put her hands on her face and scrubbed. She needed to get back down to the States and back to her climbing. Now.
She couldn’t handle being here another second longer. She had to leave tonight. She knew Nathan would hate her for leaving again, but being around anything that reminded her of Dad was too much. And being around the other girls today had done just that.
She was done with brothers who reminded her of her dead father. She was done with the dance world that reminded her of her failure. She was done with strange men who confused her, intrigued her, and threatened her.
And she was done with music boxes.
Red marched over to her bag and began stuffing in everything that would fit. Every pointe shoe, every climbing shoe, every scrap of clothing and piece of gear. It was late, but she didn’t care. She needed fresh air, trees, and an open sky. If she needed to hitchhike her way down to a crag, she would—anything to escape the claustrophobic walls of this theater. She’d find a way to make it work financially.
Red marched to the door, the moonlight casting dotted shadows on the wooden floor. She paused and slowly spun around. The ornate object on her nightstand seemed to pulse in the space between them. It seemed to beckon her, speak to her. Her fingers curled tight before relaxing.
Red glanced between her backpack and the box. She didn’t know what the shadow man would do if she took it, but it would sell for a pretty penny. And it didn’t matter what he thought—she’d be gone before he found out. Sucking in a quick breath, she snatched the music box and headed for the door.
Chapter Nine
Fear of Flying
* * *
Liam ran his fingers up and down the keyboard, playing every kind of scale. Melodic. Harmonic. Chromatic. The simple math of music kept his head clear—clear enough to get through the task at hand.
Thomas wasn’t speaking to him. He’d lost control of the theater crew to Don. And he’d caught Nathan briefly outside the dorm rooms, but he wouldn’t give Liam the time of day. Liam didn’t blame him. Perhaps it was best. The poor kid didn’t need to know the man in the alley really had been murdered like his father.
Dancers warmed up onstage. Today, they were in the theater to mark Giselle. They’d rehearsed with the old director, Liam’s father, for months, but now it was up to him to make the production sparkle. Liam would prefer to push back the performance, but tickets had already started to sell—and financially, he couldn't afford not to move forward with the show.
The piano sat stage right, near the wings. Rows of red velvet seats stretched out in front of him like one long blanket. A chandelier hung from the top of the vaulted ceiling, the center like a large golf ball, white and circular with faded diamonds barely glittering on the surface.
The chandelier was as old as the theater, and Liam wasn’t surprised with how the solid gold frame—now tarnished with a brown hue—looked more like a decrepit spider stretching in a thick layer of dust. At the end of each leg sat an unlit candle, and he wondered what it must’ve looked like a century ago, fully lit, when ladies dripping with diamonds used to pay homage to the art of ballet.
Liam remembered accompanying his parents here as a young boy, watching the ballet from the corner balcony suite. Now he was running the company.
He pressed a knuckle into the center of his forehead. Not exactly what he had planned for himself. He wanted to be composing. Orchestrating. He’d already dropped out of the composition program in Moscow. He wondered if he’d ever get back to the life he desired.
He certainly didn’t want to end up a cowardly drunk like his father.
Madam Benée tapped her stick. The sound echoed into the audience.
“Let’s begin. Ladies, the start of Act One, the village scene, where Giselle first meets Prince Albrecht in disguise.”
Liam held up a hand. “Actually, I’d like to start with the Wilis scene in Act Two, where Giselle first joins the ghost women.”
Madam Benée paused. “Excuse me?”