Penumbra (The Midnight Society #2) (31 page)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Aria

By the time Beau had shov
eled the last mound of dirt over Delilah’s body, the sun was peaking up over the horizon. He had taken off his suit and shirt, leaving only his dirt-stained tank top on.

He wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand as he plunged the shovel into the ground.

I handed him a bottle of water, which he devoured.

“I’m surprised the cops haven’t come,” I said. “It sounded like the entire swamp was a warzone.”

Isadora knelt down and placed her wedding bouquet on top of the mountain of earth blanketing her lover’s body.

“The cops will never come,” Isadora replied. “This has always been how the Secret Societies worked, whether it’s the Midnight Society or the Revenants. There is no law or justice when it comes to these organizations. Someone will come and dispose of all these bodies, and no one will know any better.”

“I think we best be gone before the cleanup crew comes then,” Beau said. “You’re one crazy bitch, meant as a compliment, but we’re still only three against an army. We need to find Shadow and regroup.”

Isadora placed her hand gently on top of Delilah’s grave.

“I love you, my beautiful, beautiful bride,” she whispered. The warm light of the rising sun washed over us, casting long shadows from the house and the trees, down onto the earth.

Isadora’s voice cracked as she spoke her words. “Though your body is gone, I long for your spirit to return to me. I long for us to be together again,” she finished.

“God rest your soul. Amen my friend,” Beau added.

I had no spiritual words to give to Delilah so instead, I gave her my tears.

Isadora rose to her feet and turned to the two of us.

She walked over to me and wiped away the wetness from my cheeks with the soft pad of her thumb.

“Let’s be gone then.”

#

Chapter Thirty-Four

Aria

Just as the plane landed at Moral City’s airport, it started to rain.

Was it an omen of things to come when I finally saw Shadow again?

The entire journey back from New Orleans was a blur, a collection of fragmented memories I tried piecing together.

After leaving the island, we headed back to Beau’s antique shop first. He forged us all new passports in the span of a couple of hours, constructing them while I sat in front of the piano—the same one Lincoln and I shared our intimate moment together—and filled the room with somber music. My melodies were a reflection of all my thoughts and memories over the past month.

I played a song for Abraham first, my precious and dear friend who had welcomed me into the Midnight Society with the same kindness and sensitivity that a father would welcome a child into this world. It was played in the lower octaves, a slow and melodic tune that was filled with nobility, using majestic sounding baseline chords. It was fitting for Abraham. Near the middle of the song I introduced an interlude, a sad melody that was threaded into my song as I recalled the memory of how frail he felt while I cradled his lifeless body in my arms. It was a memory that always ripped open the seams of my heart.

When his song was over, I transitioned quickly to a lighter melody, one that was filled with mirth and merriment. It was a melody constructed with trills and staccatos that hopped across the full range of the upper octaves of the keyboard. I played this song while thinking of Justin and remembered him as the happy-go-lucky and always looking-on-the-bright-side person he was. The memory of him burning alive seemed like a distant thought now, a terrible dream that was best forgotten. My true memories of Justin shall, and always be, of the innocent boy who woke up every morning falling in love with the world.

And then there was Lincoln. His tune was dark, exotic, and full of passion. It was an enigmatic melody, inspired by the mysteries of the universe and the man who kept them locked away in his heart like Pandora’s Box. However, despite the wickedness of the tune, there were stanzas filled with warmth and comfort—a lullaby for the wild at heart. Wherever Lincoln was, right now, I prayed he was safe.

Don’t worry my friend, we
will
save you. Just keep on surviving until then.

I thought of Shadow, and was tempted to play the song I had written for him—the one that I had named “Shadow’s out of his fucking mind” after he had announced that I would be taking over Abraham’s seat on the Midnight Society council.

But there were too many things unresolved between us. I couldn’t play a song inspired by him with a clear head until I talked to him again.

I loved him and I hoped he still felt the same way about me.

I lifted my fingers off the piano and breathed.

Beau, who was sitting at the circular table, crafting one of the passports, looked up from his work and began clapping.

“Bravo sweetheart, bravo,” he said. “That there was possibly one of the best concert set pieces I have ever heard.”

“It was very lovely,” Isadora chimed in, who had been lying on her side on the bullet-holed sofa bed, her back facing both of us. She turned and sat upright. “Delilah finds it beautiful as well.”

“
Would
have found it beautiful, you mean?” Beau said, correcting her grammar.

Isadora shook her head. “
Finds
it beautiful,” she repeated, her eyes narrowing, clearly not appreciating being corrected.

Beau shrugged. “Okay lady,” he said. “You say tomato, I say ketchup.”

Isadora turned her attention towards me. “You have a brilliant gift. Thank you for playing, and filling me with some happiness today.” 

I smiled, though not a true genuine one. There was too much on my mind to allow my full enjoyment of the compliment.

“Don’t worry,” Beau said, reading my concerns like a book. “We’ll get Lincoln back. He’s an asshole, but an asshole I don’t mind being around. I made a few calls this morning.”

“To who?” I asked.

I suddenly felt nervous.

Beau smirked. “I got connections myself you know,” he replied. “Someone owes me a big favor, so I decided to finally cash in on it. If we can figure out what direction Lincoln is heading, then my guy will find him.”

“Can we trust this person?”

“We should,” Beau said. “He is my brother, from another mother, after all.”

#

Six hours later, I was convinced my heart was going to explode inside my chest. I was sitting in the passenger seat of the black Honda Accord, rented under a fake alias and driver’s license by Beau. I was overwhelmed with anxiety as the car pulled up onto the side road, leading to our destination: The House at the Edge of the World; Shadow’s house.

I tried to imagine how it would play out in my head, all the potential scenarios that could occur. I even came up with “Aria emotional contingency plans” for every one of them.

If Shadow insisted on continuing to treat me like shit, then I wasn’t going to stand for it. I would stand up to him and deliver a punishing kick to his scrotum.

If he said he loved me and missed me, I would probably still do the same just for treating me like crap over the past couple of weeks.

He sounded like he missed you
, Lincoln had said, shortly after our impromptu sexual experience on Beau’s priceless antique piano.

As good as it had felt at the time, I was filled with remorse for what transpired between Lincoln and I, especially since things were left unresolved with Shadow at the time. To hear that Shadow still cared for me; to hear that he missed me, made me feel like a lowlife for that one moment of pleasure.

I felt like I had betrayed Shadow.

But what’s done was done. It was best to leave it buried, wasn’t it? It would never happen again and it was something Shadow didn’t need to know about it.

It would only serve to hurt him.

We drove up the winding road, past the rows of solid oak trees and around the European inspired stone fountain, displaying two lovers locked in an eternal embrace. Finally, the car stopped in front of a large iron gate. The mansion was just beyond it.

From where I sat, I felt the aura of extravagance radiating from the modern architectural masterpiece. The elegant look of the building was inspired by an underwater paradise, an Atlantis embedded into an ocean cliff, with smooth white curves reminiscent of a coral reef.

The large glass windows, along with the milky smoothness of the mansion’s concrete walls, gave the building an organic feel. It was an entity in itself.

Beau whistled. “Wow, this is one sexy house,” he said. “What do you girls think?”

Isadora didn’t seem impressed.

“It’s just another rich boy’s house,” she said from the back seat of the car, ambivalent to the extravagance of the mansion. “It lacks personality.”

“Oh, I dunno sweetheart. I think it’s got plenty of personality,” Beau replied.

Suddenly there was a low humming sound as I watched the iron gate open up for us. “Well, looks like Shadow’s expecting us,” Beau said as he drove on through.

Eventually, we stopped at the foot of the mansion. I opened the car door and stepped out into the rain.

“You ready?” Beau asked.

“For what?” I asked.

“Oh, you know what,” he said as he exited the vehicle and opened up the backseat of the car to allow Isadora out. “The magnetic pull of two distant lovers is a force of nature in itself.” He pointed to the grey sky as beads of rain drifted down from it. “You see, even the heavens are getting all misty eyed.”

I took a deep breath.

Isadora looked at me, and laid a hand on my shoulder. “His spirit was with you all this time,” she whispered into my ear. “Now go see him. Time should not be wasted when it comes to love. One day, you may end up alone, regretting those moments that could have been.”

She was right.

I walked up the steps, shoving all the anxiety I felt deep into the pit of my stomach.

I opened up the large double doors, only to be greeted by a large, muscular black man in a tank top.

He was eating rolled up pancakes with his bare hands.

I wasn’t expecting that.

“Are you Aria?” he asked.

I nodded.

“I’m Cairo West. Brevin was my dad,” he introduced himself. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I’m sorry about your father,” I said sympathetically. “He was a good man.”

Cairo looked at me thoughtfully, as if trying to think of the right words to say. Eventually, he said, “You hungry? I made pancakes. Try them with peanut butter. My girl says I’m a freak for eating them like that, but hey, fuck it. You love what you love, right?”

“I’m not hungry,” I replied. “But thanks.”

There was another moment of lingering silence between us.

It was the voice of a woman which broke the awkwardness between us.

“For God’s sake Cairo, let her in already.” A pretty Asian girl descended from a winding staircase. She had a gothic inspired style which I found cute. “Shadow got nervous hearing of your arrival, though he’ll never admit it. He’s standing outside on the balcony like some melodramatic fool. Go find him. I can introduce myself later.”

My heart skipped two beats. I nodded, and without another word, I rushed towards the direction her finger was pointing.

Sure enough, through the large vibrant windows of the Oceanside mansion, I saw Shadow, his back facing me, staring out into the endless blue waters.

The idiot
was getting drenched from the rain. He was going to catch a cold.

I opened the sliding door, leading to the balcony.

Shadow turned around and looked at me, a sad gleam in his eyes.

I decided I wasn’t going to be the first one to break. I’d allow him to speak first.

And then I would give him shit for the hell he put me through.

His mouth slowly opened and
I waited for his first words to me in over two weeks.

I mustered all the courage I had to endure what was to come n
ext. Come on you jerk, do your worst. I can take it.

“I can’t live without you,” he said.

Immediately, all the anger I had for him faded away.

Instead, I ran to him and buried my head deep into his damp chest.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into my ear as I felt the warmth of his breath against the top of my forehead. “God Aria, I’ve been such an idiot. I’m so very, very sorry.”

“You were a dick,” I agreed with him, “And you put me through hell. It’ll take some time for me to heal.”

I lifted my head and looked up into his face and was stunned.

“Are you crying?” I asked.

“It’s just the rain,” he replied. “It’s just the rain.”

It wasn’t.

#