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PART XI

HEATHER

She felt it.

The magic.

The music moving through her body.

And as the opening line from Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade spun up into the rafters, she felt her mother's warmth at her back.

It was a visceral memory for her.

Sitting in her mother's lap and listening to music while the rain pounded against the windowpanes.

Her mother would tell her the story of the Kalendar Prince as they listened to the music. She imagined dancers on stage in their opulent costumes made of silks and satins. Ostrich and peacock feathers gently waving over their heads. Precious gems winking in the lantern light.

In those minutes, Heather traveled thousands of miles away and an untold number of years into the past.

The pace of the music picked up and Heather felt her feet moving.

The warmth of the stage lights left her face and found it again.

With her eyes closed, she moved, danced across the stage, using the voice of the violin as her own.

She told the story to the audience as her mother had told her the story. She wanted them to feel the magic with her.

It was a little bit of trick, turning the sound of a bow on strings into a kind of brass section, pulsing into the air, but she did it.

On the stage of her mind, the characters danced for her, whirling and twirling in circles, leaping into the air and flying across the stage as her fingers flew across the strings.

Her heart marched along with the rhythm, finding the high-stepping pace of the melody before pulling back into a single tremulous line of melody. First echoing through one half of the performance space.

And then the other.

Creating an echo once and again.

The whole room seemed to absorb the music like a dry sponge set on the surface of a pond, greedily drinking it down. She swayed side to side and then danced this way and that.

She'd never felt more physically connected to the music than she did in that moment.

Her body moved like water, ebbing and flowing over the rocks under the ocean, making waves that rose and rushed down over the sands.

Heather knew that she'd changed. Knew that her music had changed.

There was so much more to feel and so much more to give than she'd ever felt before.

And she knew why.

She knew that her heart had opened up again.

The same husk of a person she'd been when she'd taken up the violin was now alive and playing with a vigor she'd never been able to produce. Air flowed through her lungs and every inch of her skin warmed with life.

The piece was coming to an end and yet she knew that this was just the beginning.

Planting her feet lightly on the hardwood surface she spent the last of the musical notes in place, letting the bow coax the notes up and into the air until the piece ended with a gasp of sound from the very throat of the instrument.

The sound kept traveling for what felt like a lifetime and when it began to fade, she opened her eyes and saw the crowd on its feet.

A standing ovation for the first piece of music in a concert?

Unheard of.

But as she looked out into the audience, she could see their faces alight with joy. She felt like she was looking into a mirror.

She took a step back and lowered her head in a bow, giving the crowd her thanks for their welcome.

She was preparing for the next piece of music while the crowd was still settling back into their seats.

Heather wasn't worried about the performance anymore.

She knew what she was going to do. What she was already doing.

Performing for people. Being the music. Sharing her love with everyone in the room.

Finally, she felt like she knew what she was meant to do.

This.

Heather lifted her bow and felt the music well up inside of her.

As soon as she touched the bow to the strings, she felt the vibrations of joy trembling along her arm and wrapping her in its tender embrace.

This was going to be the best performance of her life, she knew it.

Nothing was going to sour this night, not with her stalker in custody.

She played the mezzo line of Delibes' Lakme and heard her mother singing the soprano line along with her in a strange other-worldly duet and wondered for a moment what the audience would think.

Heather knew she'd find out soon, but until the song was over, she leaned into her mother's ethereal embrace.

MARK

Another straggler had to be rescued from a dead-end corridor. Gunny had found this one.

The walls of the old power station were incredibly thick concrete reinforced around the performance space with metal panels. It kept cell phone signals from reaching outside the building. That's where things were going awry. [Spacing issue here. Fyi]

Their communication inside of the space worked as long as they were in the main hallways and spaces in the most forward section of the building. Anything in the smaller offshoots that had been added to the building in the later years was like a crypt.

As soon as Gunny's com activated again, Mark was able to take another full breath.

"Two ushers looking for somewhere to neck." Gunny's wry tone of voice almost brought a smile to Mark's face. "I'm taking them back to the lobby area and find them something constructive to do."

"Thanks, Gunny. Keep an eye out for more looky loos."

"Will do, Ares. How is the show?"

Incredible.

Heaven.

There were just too many words to describe what he was feeling.

"Ares?"

"Good," he answered back. "Everyone focus. We'll enjoy everything later on recording."

Everyone confirmed that they'd heard his message and the coms went silent.

They knew what they had to do.

Guard and protect.

There was no intermission, and he was grateful for it.

He couldn't leave his space and chance someone seeing him emerge in one of the less traveled hallways.

Along with the excitement and buzz of Nix' performance, he'd seen buzz online of people determined to search the space for remnants of its old incarnation as a power station.

The lack of an intermission would curb the curious adventurers, but it wouldn't entirely stop them.

People with a need to snoop would find a way to do it. And he hoped they did.

It would keep her watch dogs busy.

Just where he wanted them to be. Distracted and traipsing after people into the bowels of the building.

It would keep them from finding him.

Keep them from centering their protection around Heather.

Where they should be.

Where his focus was.

The lighting in the room shifted, blue rather than gold and it had a cooling effect on her skin but heated his. He remembered her by moonlight.

She began another piece, and he sat forward to listen. This one was different.

He could feel it.

He could feel her.

Feel the talent coursing through her veins.

The elation in her face illuminated the space around her and he felt it like a physical touch.

The music was an original piece.

He'd heard all of her previous pieces and knew what she liked to play, but this didn't sound like anything else she'd ever played.

If felt like it was coming straight from her heart and her soul.

He leaned forward and watched her, feeling like a hawk peering down through the treetops to the forest floor below and seeing the plump little mouse sunning itself amongst the wildflowers.

A tasty, delicious morsel.

The music continued, climbing higher and higher as if she was reaching out to him.

Lifting her song toward the sky.

He leaned forward and something clicked.

The control panel that had been dead for weeks and weeks clicked on. The light that he'd pushed down across the desk, straightening out the old gooseneck so it wouldn't distract him or interfere with his vision, flooded the desk with light.

He reached for it, tried to turn it away from his face, but the metal burned, and he yanked his hand back, hissing at the pain.

"Shit!"

The music ended.

And he looked out through the observation window.

He looked right at Heather's face, and it seemed like she could see him, too.

The light.

The glass.

It was meant to shield the overseers from the employees when the light in the main room was on.

But the light wasn't meant to be on when the lights in the main room were off.

"Fuck."

He clenched his teeth together and pounded his fist against the desk.

"Fuck!"

He wanted to yell but had to hold it back. He had to hold things together to do what he needed to do.

And that, he sucked in a breath that burned his lungs, was going to happen in minutes if Evan did his job.

He better.

Standing up, he gathered the few things that he'd brought with him.

He'd paid a great deal of money to the building fund. To the contractors who had made the necessary changes to the structure. And Evan, whose greedy little heart was likely shriveling to the size of his balls.

Evan was a tiny man in many ways, but everything about him was minuscule in contrast to his desire for money. Men like that were easily led astray.

And he, himself, was a man of willpower. He'd done the impossible.

He'd built himself up to a place where few men could move against him without dire consequences, but there was one person who still held some control over him.

Not a man, but a woman.

And tonight, he was going to end that once and for all.

She was either going to bend to his will, or she would cease to exist.

There was no going back.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

HEATHER

When she left the stage, the applause was still at incredible levels.

Heather was having difficulty believing the warm reception the crowd was giving her performance.

She wanted to head back to her dressing room, but the stage manager was waving at her to return to the stage. "Can you hear that?"

"Yes," she nodded, but her gaze moved past the stage manager at Badger who was standing in the wings watching her. "I hear it."

"Well," the stage manager stepped into her path, gesturing out to the stage, "go on! Get back out there!"

Another wave of applause surged through the space and Heather turned her head.

At any other time... any other performance, she would have gladly returned to the stage but this... this was different.

Fear was riding her.

She looked down at her hand holding the bow and saw it quivering visibly.

She couldn't hold back the physical effects of shock.

But what had she seen?

Had it really been him?

The man who'd shot her?

The man who'd been the cause of her father's death.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she shook her head and moved further into the wings.

"Nix?"

The distinctly British accent in the voice told her it was Badger at her side.

She looked up at him and asked with her eyes what she didn't have the voice to say.

"Ares has been babysitting Evan Margolis."

Evan?

Badger shrugged as if he'd heard the question aloud. "Come, let me get you up to your dressing room. Gunny cleared the hallway between the stage door and your dressing room. You'll be safe."

Safe.

What did that mean anymore.

She had a whole group of highly trained bodyguards around her. Men who had searched the venue from top to bottom.

And yes, she'd seen a man who was dead.

He was dead.

Dead.

She had to being seeing things.

What else could it be?

Her foot slipped and Badger took hold of her elbow. She clutched the violin to her chest and shook herself inwardly. She could lose her mind later. She had a responsibility to care for the violin. Heather knew she had to put her manic thoughts out of her head and focus on what was before her.

"You okay?"

She looked up at Badger and put a smile on her face. "I'm... I've got this. Let's go."

He didn't let go of her arm, but he loosened his hold. Heather didn't think it was because he didn't trust her. It felt like he was supporting her.

Heather was grateful for his help and his gentle manner, but she wanted... needed Mark.

She knew that she'd have to see Evan before she could go back to their rental home, and she could do that. She could do anything knowing that Mark would be there.