“You erased their memories?” I ask.
“Not me. I was with you. A host of Cherubim most likely performed the task, putting things back together and making things right once more. The underground bar probably looks the same today as it did before Valentine’s friends crashed through it to pluck you from it.”
I think about all the things I may have witnessed but cannot possibly remember. I have a key to all of it now. It’s in Reed’s hand. I’m just not certain I have the courage it takes to face my past.
“You spent a lot of your time here before coming to Crestwood?” Reed asks. He picks up another framed picture of Xavier and me. It’s from Homecoming our sophomore year.
“Yeah. I spent a lot of time here, mostly as Xavier’s friend. We were friends before we were anything else.”
“Just like in Heaven?”
“I don’t know. I can’t remember that part of it,” I admit. “Do you need me to hum the notes again?”
Reed shakes his head. “I know it. Do you trust Atwater?”
“Not completely, but what choice do we have? I need to know what happened so I can figure out how to kill Emil. He holds all the cards. I want some of my own.”
“I’ll be with you. I’m always with you. Are you ready?” he asks.
“I’m ready,” I whisper. I look at the pictures that line the table next to us. They’re all of Xavier and me. Reed places the boatswain between his lips. The first note sounds like a scream. It raises goose bumps on my flesh. The world around me fades. The next few notes break apart the room, opening it up to pure sky. The final note from the whistles makes the sky collapse in on me. I’m lost in darkness. I fall. The only sound I hear is Reed’s strong heartbeat, until it is replaced by beautiful, mournful sounds from a solitary piano as gunshots ring out in the air.
The smooth ivory-colored piano keys beneath my fingertips are cool to the touch. Forlorn notes float in the air while I play Cannon in D for the monster standing behind me. Emil’s ever-present, oppressive shadow looms nearer, darkening the keys. The scent of his flowery shaving soap is enough to make me physically ill. With it, I smell the acrid odor of smoky gunpowder in the air. Terrifying rapports of guns and bullet shell casings rain onto the floor above us. They taper off as I come closer to the end of the song until the only sound is the achingly beautiful fade of the final note. Then…stillness. The silence is even more frightening then the noise.
My mind is buzzing with thoughts of Xavier. He should be somewhere close. I’m supposed to meet him by the bridge. My scattered thoughts and prayers hurtle through my mind, making me flinch as Emil’s fingertips brush my hair away from my nape. He bends and presses his lips there. I don’t move, but my pulse races with fear and loathing.
Emil lifts his lips and sits beside me on the piano bench with his back to the keys, facing me. “You play so beautifully, just like an angel, Simone.”
“Do you believe in angels, Emil?” I ask. I can’t even remember formulating the question, but it’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“Of course. I have one beside me.”
“I mean real angels.” I shouldn’t be speaking. It will upset him.
“Do you?”
“No.”
“Why not.”
“If there were angels, you wouldn’t exist.” The truth I never meant to say.
“The world needs me to rid it of its imperfections.”
“Who are you to judge anyone?”
“I’m the one with all the power.”
His hand rests against my skin, rubbing my cheek. He moves his hand downward. My fingertips touch the fabric of his trousers. I glide them up the length of his thigh, watching his pupils grow larger until my fingernails bump against the supple leather of the holster of his sidearm. Emil’s hand cups my breast. A soft gasp whispers from me before I swallow back the bile in my mouth. I skim my hand over smooth leather, feeling the transition from warm hide to cool metal. My heart hammers in my chest.
Emil reaches to the back of my dress. He deftly slips the ivory top button of my collar through the eyelet. I feel sick. Our eyes are locked on one another’s. I touch the handle of his gun. The second button on my dress springs free of its eyelet. I ease my arm back, heavy gunmetal slithers against leather. With my shaking thumb, I push the safety off. Finding the trigger with one finger, I use my other hand to pull back the toggle of the pistol. It slides back into place.