Page 9 of Little Music of Night

“She will,” I interrupted. “She will. I believe she will.” I had to believe that or else I wouldn’t be able to support Erik the way he needed. I had to be his rock. I had to remain steady.

He shook his head, but didn’t argue.

Christy would be ours. We just had to figure out how to show ourselves to her.

But she could not escape us. For better or worse, she was our angel. Our salvation.

And we were both far too depraved to let her fly away.

3 /OVERTURE

Christy

I’d dreamed abouttwoghosts last night.

Not one. But two.

“Christy? What’s wrong?”

I jumped as my friend touched my shoulder, startled out of my daze. The dressing room was full of chaos, and the mirror in front of me reflected the circus. I’d grown so used to it—the bustle of costume fittings, hair being fixed, makeup touchups, and performer’s egos blowing up.

Lisa sat down on a stool next to me with a frown. When I looked at her, though, I could have sworn the shape of her pupils were diamonds.

“Lisa,” I whispered, staring at her. “Am I losing my mind? That cafe. The one you took me to. What is that place? Yesterday, my date was a disaster.”

“It was?” Her brows shot up, her face flickering. I blinked, and her pupils appeared to be normal. “That’s surprising. The Barista never fails.”

“He wasn’t even there,” I scoffed, picking up my curling iron. I wrapped a strand of hair around the heated bar, meeting myfriend’s gaze through the mirror. “And then, I was humiliated in front of an entire cafe.”

Lisa scowled. “That is so . . . odd. Does this mean he didn’t . . . Oh.” She winced and leaned forward, dragging her chair closer. “My darling friend. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” I said. “We’ve been friends for years. I trust you more than I trust my own family.”

Her eyes softened, and once again . . . Diamonds. And her face . . .

I put the curling iron down and spun in my chair to face her. To really look at her.

Lisa was beautiful. She had long, curling blonde hair that she often wore pulled back into a sleek braid. Grassy green eyes, tan skin, countless freckles. I knew every line of my friend’s perfect face—and something was different.

“Did you see anything odd at the cafe?” she asked patiently.

I heard the stage manager’s voice echo through the back rooms. I swallowed hard, choosing to ignore it. It didn’t matter that we were at rehearsal, this was important.

I trusted her. I trusted her with whatever was happening to me.

“Yes,” I said under my breath, my eyes darting around nervously. I didn’t want anyone to overhear us. “I saw things. I don’t know how to describe them.”

“Did you see . . . monsters?”

My heart pounded in my chest, but I gave a silent nod.

“We are real,” Lisa whispered gently. She reached over, her hand closing over mine.

It was only then that I realized my friend had claws.

Shock rattled me. “You’rea monster.”

“Yes. I’m a harpy,” Lisa said. “I use a human glamour to blend in with this world. I work every day, live a normal life, butthat life is supernatural. Filled with magic and spells and other creatures too.”