Chapter 1
Chapter One
D espite the cool, brisk autumn air outside and the changing color of leaves, the concert hall was sweltering inside. It was loud, dark and suffocatingly warm. The combined body heat of a mass of people pressed together kept the temperature high while the overworked air conditioning system blew out cool air in vain. I could feel each bead of sweat rolling down my back, plastering my shirt to my skin underneath my jacket. The only thought that ran through my mind was how much I'd rather be at home with my cello.
"Is there a coat check?" I yelled into Natalie's ear. The concert hadn't started yet, but music was already blasting from the speakers. Seventies disco. I assumed it was to pump up the crowd and not a preview of the band we were going to see.
The band my friends wanted to see, that is. I'd been dragged along unwillingly to a rock show and didn't even know the name of the group they all seemed crazy about.
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Call me a classical snob, a purist, but I just didn't understand how thrashing around on stage, screaming into a microphone and playing the same four chords could be called music.
"Coat check's five bucks," Nat shouted back. "We just cram our coats into a corner."
Five bucks shouldn't have been make-it-or-break it, but our private music academy was expensive and most of us were on scholarships. Five bucks each meant the different between real groceries or eating ramen noodles for a week.
"I'll keep mine on, thanks." If I couldn't afford five bucks for coat check, I certainly couldn't afford to buy a new fall jacket if mine got stolen. I'd just have to suffer through the concert a sweaty, sticky mess.
"I wish we'd gotten here earlier," Jennifer sighed, despondent. "We're so far back we'll barely be able to make out their faces."
"Does that matter?" I asked. "We'll still be able to hear them."
Nat and Jen swung their heads around with matching expressions of disbelief.
"Are you kidding?"
"The whole reason to go to a concert is so you can see the band in person."
"What's the point otherwise? You can just listen to their CD at home."
"I thought you guys were here because you like the music?"
Four eyes stared at me, uncomprehending.
"Never mind," I muttered. "Let's see if we can squeeze to the front."
Despite our best efforts, the crowd wouldn't budge. The three of us were stuck at the back, just close enough to see the instruments on stage waiting for their performers, but too far away to see the faces of the band's crew as they did sound checks. There was a drum set at the back and two microphones standing tall, one front and center and the other off to the side.
"What a waste," Natalie huffed.
"If it's such a waste, why don't we just leave?" I suggested. "It's still early enough for me to get a couple more hours of practice in before bed."
"Absolutely not." Jen shook her head and linked arms with me, as if to keep me from slipping away. "You've been shut away working your fingers to the bone for long enough. You need to get out and live life once in a while."
"My cello is my life."
"And that's why we're dragging you out."
I knew my friends meant well, but crowds, loud noises, being in public…none of it was really my thing.
Scanning my eyes across the pages of music notes, drawing my long bow across my cello's strings, pressing my fingers against its neck in smooth strokes, listening to the low, mournful wail that came from its hollow body —that was my thing.
Playing my cello was the only time I could shut down my brain, turn off my thoughts and just feel .
The lights dimmed and hysterical cheers swelled in the concert hall.
"They're starting!" someone cried.
The crowd called out for the band with a rhythmic chant. I listened closely, trying to make out the words, but they were indecipherable.
Several long minutes passed. I grew impatient, silently willing the band to just get out on stage already. Did they enjoy making the crowd scream and cry and wait for them with bated breath? What show-offs.
The stage lights winked out and the cheers exploded. I thought I saw a few dark shadows take their places in front of the instruments. When nothing happened, the cheers slowly died down into a low, hushed rumble.
In one boisterous split second, noise blasted from the speakers and lights flashed on, illuminating the stage. I jumped at the suddenness of it. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands against my ears, fighting against the combined force of the band and its screaming fans.
"Oh my god, it's them!" Jen shrieked. I opened my eyes and lowered my hands to find her beaming face grinning at me. "It's Feral Silence!"
"You guys ready?!" the lead singer cried into the microphone. The audience shouted their enthusiasm. He grinned, wide-eyed and manic, then turned to the drummer and nodded. The drummer brought his sticks down with a crash and the concert began.
It was just as loud and noisy as I'd feared. I resisted the urge to plant my hands over my ears the entire time. My friends were grinning and shouting and singing along, clearly having the time of their lives. All I wanted to do was sit down and get a cool glass of water.
I had to admit, though, the band was good. Better than good. The lead singer had an impressive range, going from low and growly to high-pitched screams, then switching to smooth and sexy. The drummer, hiding behind his large drum set, had perfect tempo, his sense of timing eerily accurate. The shirtless guitarist wore only a leather jacket, and despite his penchant for flashy shredding, actually had very well-structured solos.
The bassist intrigued me the most.
Although both have four strings and produce deep sounds, bass guitars aren't technically similar to cellos. Cellos are tuned in fifths while bass guitars are tuned in fourths. I had heard it was possible to string a bass guitar to produce sounds like a cello, but I'd never seen anyone do it before.
I found cellos to have an almost bittersweet sound to them, melancholy yet hopeful. It was one of the reasons I'd been drawn to them as a child. The profound, mournful lows accompanied by uplifting highs ignited something in my chest, something deep and powerful that I couldn't explain.
I never thought I'd find another instrument that could awaken that same feeling inside me—until I heard the bassist from Feral Silence.
Halfway through the set, at the end of a mid-tempo ballad, the rest of the band quieted their instruments and the spotlight shone on the bassist. He was well dressed, almost formal compared to the jeans and leather the rest were wearing. A well-fitting waistcoat over a crisp white collared shirt and a skinny tie suited his tall frame well. I even thought I caught a pocket watch hanging from a chain. Long dark hair covered his face, the distance between us making his features indistinct.
He hunched over his instrument, fingers arranging themselves in complicated positions slowly at first, then with greater and greater speed, the lithe digits of one hand spidering along the fretboard while the other picked at the stings at a rapid-fire pace.
I stood frozen with my heart in my throat as luscious, heavy sounds emitted from the instrument, somber yet oddly thrilling. My breathing sped up in time with the music, my chest tightening with every crescendo.
I'd never been so caught up in a piece of music that wasn't orchestral or classical. I didn't think rock music could evoke that kind of reaction in me. Wasn't it supposed to be all thrashing around and yelling? Truth be told, I'd never actually listened to much rock music to begin with. I did know one thing though—bass guitarists were part of the rhythm section. I didn't know they also played solos like a guitar.
The bassist strummed one final note before the cymbals crashed down and the song picked up again. He stepped lightly to the edge of the stage, pointing and waving at the audience, narrowly avoiding the grabby hands trying to yank at his clothes. He leaned down and slapped a line of high fives, gliding away on deft feet before he could get pulled down into the mob.
When the lead singer introduced the next song, the audience gasped. The mood in the venue changed, turning almost soft and reverent. It started off like a typical rock song. Then, near the middle, something magical happened.
The bassist pulled an electric violin from out of nowhere, tucked it under his chin and drew his bow across the strings.
I thought I couldn't get any more impressed, but I was wrong.
I nearly lost all breath as an almost eerie melody echoed sweetly through the concert hall. His body swayed to the music, graceful yet strong as he practically ripped anguished notes from the instrument. The audience was hushed, not a shout to be heard, until he lowered his head and drew the bow across the strings a final time.
Salty tears stung my eyes. I looked down, letting my hair fall over my face so no one could see, and quickly wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. I was enraptured despite myself by a rock star that pulled off a haunting violin solo mid-song. What other talents did this man have?
"He's. So. Awesome !" Natalie gasped out. She and Jen both had beaming smiles. I examined the people to the back and side of me. Many of them had red-rimmed eyes and were visibly sniffing. I hadn't been the only one affected by that violin solo.
The concert hall was near-silent for brief moments as the crowd collected themselves before the chanting and cheering started up again. Lots of fans were calling out the bassist's name. It was a single syllable, but I couldn't make it out. It almost sounded like the letter N, but that would be a weird name even for a rock star.
"Ivy, are you crying?"
I stuttered a protest, but my wet lashes gave me away. A pair of mischievous grins crossed both my friends' faces.
"Aww, has the loud, noisy rock music touched your heart?" Jen teased.
I was saved from having to reply by the next song starting up. I wiped my eyes one last time to clear away the tears.
The rest of the concert continued in a normal fashion, the heavy beat of drums and the electric buzzing of a guitar assaulting my ears. The last encore song concluded with moans and groans from the audience, but the lights in the venue came back up so we knew it was over.
"That was so fun!" Jen gushed.
I rubbed at my ears to ease the ringing, but everything still sounded muffled, like it was coming from far away.
"Even better than I'd dreamed." Natalie nodded emphatically.
"It was fine."
They both narrowed their eyes at me and I blushed, remembering the tears.
"I guess I don't need to ask which one is your favorite." Jen said.
"It's getting late," I said, changing the subject. "Let's grab your jackets and go home."
"We can't leave now."
"Is there more?" I asked, incredulous.
Jen and Natalie shared a grin before speaking as one.
"It's time to go meet the band!"
I frowned at Jen, confused. "Meet the band?"
"All the hardcore fans wait outside the back entrance of the concert hall to catch the band coming out. Sometimes they take pictures with us!"
"And how long does that take?" I was already dreaming of my warm bed and comfy blankets. I didn't want to know how late it was.
Jen shrugged. "Sometimes they come out right away, other times it takes a few hours."
"Are you serious? I'm not waiting outside in the cold for hours just to get a glimpse of some guys, famous or not."
Unfortunately for me, my two friends were determined and dragged me out back despite my protests the whole way.
"It'll be fun, you'll see," Natalie consoled me. "It's almost like you revert back to your fourteen-year-old self, when everything was new and exciting and you were experiencing puppy love for the first time. There's this kind of emotional high you get when you meet your idols. It can stay with you for months."
"They're not my idols."
"I seem to recall a certain someone crying during a violin solo."
"Not the same," I muttered.
Jen and Natalie chatted excitedly as we waited; I tried not to sulk.
"Kell was so on point tonight," Jen said. "It's like he gets better with every concert."
"You'd think his vocal chords would get tired or strained, but seriously, he's better than ever!" Nat replied.
"Which one is Kell?" I asked.
"The lead singer," Natalie answered. "With the curly blond hair. The other singer in the group is Jayce, but he's only back-up vocals. He's the lead guitarist."
I remembered seeing shirtless leather jacket guy with a guitar and microphone stand, so I figured that must be Jayce. As Jen and Natalie continued to talk, I hopped from foot to foot and exhaled hot air onto my fingers to keep them from freezing.
I didn't know why I was asking about the band members. It wasn't like I really cared. I was just wasting time. I resisted the urge to ask about the bass guitarist. I didn't want them to think I was interested in him. I wasn't some fangirl groupie after all; I just thought he played his instruments very well. He was talented. As a classically trained musician, I admired that.
He made me think maybe rock music wasn't as shallow as I'd thought.
It was only twenty minutes later when the creak of a metal door drew our attention and someone stepped out. I winced as shrieks filled my ears.
"It's them!" Natalie cried, trying to push her way to the front. We had somehow found ourselves near the back of the crowd again.
I wouldn't have said I was short, but I certainly wasn't the tallest person in the crowd. I could barely see over the tops of people's heads. It seemed like a group of men were slowly making their way through the crowd, pausing every few feet to take pictures and sign autographs.
Two of them towered over the crowd with stern faces and thick, muscled necks, most likely bodyguards. After them, I caught the top of a blond head, then two short-haired men.
Glossy black hair came last, loose and flowing like it had been on stage.
My heart skipped a beat. My body began buzzing with nerves, anticipation filling my chest, a rush of endorphins flowing through my veins.
Having that kind of reaction to a complete stranger was crazy. Just because I'd seen him play music on stage didn't mean I should be nervous or eager. I'd had a few chance run ins with movie stars on the street before and although it had been exciting, I'd never reacted like this. I hadn't even known who this guy was three hours ago.
"Oh my god, they're getting closer!" Natalie looked around quickly, noticing that we were too far away for them to reach us. She frowned for a moment before her eyes lit up and she grabbed mine and Jen's arms, hauling us away. "Here. Let's wait here. This is the only path to get to their car. See?" She pointed to an inconspicuous black limo van with tinted windows parked down the street.
"How do you know that's where they're going?" I asked.
"Do you see any other escape routes leading to a limousine?"
She made a good point. We maneuvered ourselves back and to the side. The band members would have to pass us to make it to their getaway car.
"I feel like such a stalker."
"It's fine." Jen dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand.
Some other girls noticed what we were doing and followed suit, but we were still in the best position. The crowd in front of us parted, one of the bodyguards weaving his way through ahead of the band.
" Kell !" Jen cried out. She cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify the sound as the blond haired man appeared between the press of bodies.
He looked up from signing an autograph and met Jen's eyes, then flashed a blinding grin. I thought she was going to faint on the spot. He made his way over to us, just like Natalie had predicted.
"Hey there." The lead singer sidled up next to Jen as she stared at him, open-mouthed. She held her phone up silently, asking a question with her eyes.
"You want a selfie with me?" he asked, grinning. His voice was smooth and almost teasing, just as enthralling as it was on stage. Jen nodded dumbly.
He put an arm around her shoulder and took her phone in his hand, quickly turning the lens to face them and pressing the shutter button, then handed it back.
"Make sure to tag me when you post it online, 'kay?"
"I love you!" she squeaked, but he had already moved on to the next fan in line. Natalie had been right—seeing this guy in person made Jen act like a teenaged girl.
A man I didn't recognize with close-cropped hair followed. He was tall and broad with thickly muscled arms. I thought maybe he was another bodyguard when Natalie yelled out his name.
"Morris! You're awesome!"
I assumed Morris was the drummer, the one I hadn't been able to see hidden in the back. He didn't look like any rock star stereotype I'd ever seen. There was no swagger or cockiness, just a cool and slightly menacing expression. He looked like he should have been a Marine or Navy SEAL.
I was nervous, wondering how someone that somber would react to flailing fangirls, but he approached Natalie and let her babble at him for a few seconds with a surprising amount of patience.
"Your drums solos are awesome and I think you're so cool and I've been to so many concerts and are you ever going to take off your shirt on stage?"
She kept up the chatter as she spun around quickly and pulled out her camera, getting both of them in the shot within a split second. I thought I saw the corners of his lips tilt slightly upwards, but it could have just been the flash.
"Thanks for your support," he said quietly before slipping away.
"I can't believe I got a selfie with Morris." She clutched her phone to her chest like it was a precious treasure.
"Better make sure you don't delete it by accident."
I was joking, but Nat gasped and immediately started tapping at the screen, probably emailing the pic to herself.
Next was Jayce. He'd put on a shirt, a testament to the rapidly cooling weather. Both Jen and Natalie waved to get his attention. He threw them a narrow-eyed, heated stare that almost made me flush, and I wasn't even the recipient of it.
"You three want a photo?" he asked with a deep rumble low in his chest. He didn't wait for our answer before throwing his arms around us. Jen and Natalie both pulled out their phones and snapped pictures. I thought he'd let us go, but instead he whispered into my ear. "I hope you enjoyed the show." His lips were against my skin; my knees almost buckled. He let us go with a lingering caress on my shoulder.
"Oh my god." Jen's voice was weak and breathy.
"Ah." Only a single sound escaped Natalie's mouth as she stared at his retreating back, stars in her eyes.
I took in a deep breath of autumn air to steady myself. That man had almost too much presence. How the hell were these guys able to make us act like giggling tweens?
My friends were still caught up in Jayce's wake, so I was the only one to see the bassist slip through the crowd. His back was to me, long black hair falling over his shoulders. He signed several autographs and took a few selfies with the girls opposite me.
I got the urge to shout his name and get his attention. I was just as caught up in the fangirl atmosphere as my friends. I realized then that I still didn't know his name.
He turned around, a pleased smile on his face.
Time stopped.
My body turned cold, then hot, then cold again. My limbs trembled, going weak. I forgot how to breathe. At that moment, air didn't seem important.
His eyes roved over the hoard of waving and shouting girls, trying to decide who to approach next.
Would he see me, or would he skim over me as if I was one of a million girls, just like all the rest?
His eyes met mine. His mouth dropped, face turning pale. Bloodless lips moved silently, but no words came out.
We stood there for several long seconds staring at each other in shock. My muscles locked up. I couldn't move.
He took a step forward, then another. The fans noticed our staring contest and swung their heads between us, questions in their eyes and frowns on their faces.
He stopped when he was barely two feet away from me. I had to crane my head up to face him. Had he always been this tall?
The spell Jayce had cast on Natalie and Jen broke as they turned back and saw the bass guitarist of Feral Silence standing right in front of me. Jen jumped back, startled, and Natalie brought her hands to her mouth. I saw them gaping at us out of the corner of my eye, but I was too wrapped up in the tall man to care.
Finally, I managed to make my vocal chords work.
"Ren?" I asked, hesitant, not sure if I was making this all up in my head.
"Ivy?" he replied, voice filled with wonder.
I nodded once. The expression on his face melted slowly from surprise to joy, eyes shining brightly, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. He let out a sharp bark of a laugh. I followed suit, bringing both hands to my chest and pressing my palms against my heart. I could feel it pumping madly even through my layers of clothing.
"How… why…?" I started, but couldn't finish a single sentence.
"I just— I didn't—" he started. He couldn't seem to make himself speak in coherent sentences either. He finally just shook his head and asked in disbelief, "What are you doing here?"
"My friends dragged me out to see some famous rock band." I quirked a grin and he returned it.
"I never thought I'd see you?—"
Before he could finish, a bodyguard turned up at his side and began to shuffle him through the crowd.
"No, wait—" Ren protested, but the bodyguard didn't listen and continued to manhandle him toward the limo.
"Sorry sir, we're running late and the crowd is starting to get out of control."
Ren turned back to me one last time before he was dumped into the vehicle. I caught a final glimpse of his pale face, dark eyes still wide and disbelieving, before the door was slammed closed. It took off seconds later.
I stood there, frozen.
Jen and Natalie immediately went into overdrive, tugging at my sleeve and peppering me with questions.
"Ivy! What the hell was that?"
"How did Ren know your name?"
"Have you met him before?"
I nodded without thinking about it. "We… we went to the same music school back home."
"Oh my god, you lucky girl. Why didn't you tell us?"
I couldn't speak. I just stood there in the crowd of fans, staring at the retreating van. Jen and Natalie lost a bit of their exuberance.
"What's wrong? Ivy? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"I have."
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to explain but not knowing how. The looks on Jen and Nat's faces were rapidly changing from excitement to worry with every second. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, finally forcing myself to speak.
"Ren disappeared five years ago."