Twelve Signa #2
Heavens, how did Blythe deal with this man?
Signa wished she had something to throw at him.
Preferably something very, very hard. But for the time being she’d just have to put up with her brother and his dreadful personality.
She took a seat, hoping she was still capable of playing some light and whimsical tune.
Given how long it’d been since she’d sat on a piano bench, however, Signa immediately struck the wrong chord.
Her own grimace matched Aris’s, but she readjusted her position and tried again with the correct chord, and then the next, slowly but surely.
It was far from her best performance—in fact, it was admittedly rather ghastly, especially if the downward curl of Aris’s lips was any indicator—and yet it was accomplishing precisely what she’d hoped.
The familiar prickle at the back of her neck told Signa that there were spirits near, watching her.
With a quick glance in her peripheral she confirmed that a man in a black suit had wandered into the room, his face contorted as if he’d eaten something dreadfully tart.
It continued to twist with each note until the man looked more monster than human, wiry hair sprouting from the sides of his head as he bared his teeth at her.
His eyes grew darker as she played, to the point where they were almost entirely black.
Signa had seen plenty of heinous or grotesque spirits in her time, inflicted with horrible wounds or sores that had left them dead.
But few people had looked so outright ready to murder her.
She had to swallow her scream, the man’s face so terrifying that her fingers trembled on the keys.
She couldn’t look at the spirit directly for fear of what she’d see, nor could she play another note out of worry for how he might react.
She could only sit hunched over the piano, chest thundering until the sound of Aris’s squeaking chair broke the silence.
“You,” he announced, “are one of the worst pianists I’ve ever had the misfortune of listening to. I would give up my very magic if you swore to never play again.”
Beside him, the spirit made a quiet seething sound that Signa could only assume was his agreement.
“Out of the way,” Aris commanded, and Signa nearly tore free from the bench, grateful to have an excuse to put more distance between herself and the spirit who watched her every move with a grimace so wide that it looked as if the entirety of his face had been stretched out.
Blissfully oblivious, Aris stood and adjusted his sleeves before gliding into place at the piano. His spine was perfectly straight and his hands confident as he settled them into position.
And then, music poured from beneath his fingertips.
Signa had heard many pianists throughout her life, but she did not need more than a few notes to know that Aris put every one of them to shame.
He moved with an inhuman grace as he finished the whimsical melody she’d been playing and quickly slipped into a new, richer song.
It was a familiar Christmas tune, but more beautiful than she’d ever heard it.
The song had Signa relaxing against her will, and a cursory glance at the spirit across the room showed that he was easing as well, his grimace smoothing over.
His hair, too, lay flat again, and his eyes returned to their normal translucence.
Behind him, Signa watched hopefully as two other suited men peered into the room, observing with cautious stares.
She’d hoped that the music might lure them, and was relieved to see that she’d been right and would not need to go hunting throughout all of Wisteria to fetch them.
There was, however, one small problem.
“How dare you begin caroling without me?”
Signa heard Blythe’s hurried steps echoing from the staircase before her cousin came bounding into the room with a fervor that caused Aris to miss a chord.
The vein on his forehead pulsed in his annoyance but smoothed a minute later as he corrected himself and continued.
Beside him, the first spirit did the same.
He had moved closer to the piano, just inches from the bench.
“No one is caroling,” Aris noted, and Signa prayed that he would not stop playing. Not when the spirit was over his shoulder, watching every note. “Your cousin is a terrible musician.”
“She’s not quite so bad a singer, though,” Blythe said cheerily. “We should carol! Oh, it would be so fun!”
Blythe was being gracious with her compliment.
Signa may have been better at singing than she was at playing any instrument, but that was only because Blythe sounded like a dying squirrel any time she dared approach a high note.
Any other night—and with the right liquid courage—spending the next several hours singing might have been the exact sort of fun that Signa yearned for.
Unfortunately, she had little idea how long the observing spirits would be able to temper themselves against the sound.
Even now the other two stood at the threshold of the room, drawn by the music.
“We’re caroling?” It was Elijah’s voice that made Signa realize there would be no getting out of this situation.
He carried a silver tray in his hands, topped with a steaming pot of hot chocolate, four cups, and a plate of warm cookies that looked just the right amount of underbaked, still a touch doughy and precisely how Signa most enjoyed them.
Gundry was at his heels, and Signa hoped with everything in her that Blythe wouldn’t notice the way the hound kept tipping his head at the spirits, ears perked and tail swishing.
When Elijah set the tray on the table, Signa had an idea.
Blythe’s voice might break glass, but Elijah’s was a wonderful, deep baritone full of warmth and clarity.
He’d told plenty of stories about showing it off back in the days of his many soirees, claiming it was one of the ways he’d gotten the attention of his late wife.
“Why don’t you sing for us first, Elijah?” Signa took a seat on the settee, grabbing Blythe by the sleeve and pulling her cousin down beside her. Before Blythe could complain, Signa poured a cup of cocoa from the pot and set it in her cousin’s hand. “You can have the first song.”
And perhaps the second and third if I am so lucky…
Blythe, at least, seemed content with this plan, taking hold of her drink and settling into the cushion. She drew her legs up beneath her and cuddled underneath a plush blanket that she “shared” with Signa by sparing her a solid quarter of it. Just enough to cover her legs.
“Very well,” Elijah said, clearing his throat as he stepped up toward the piano and across from Aris, who kept flashing Signa curious looks.
Just keep playing , she mouthed to him, giving him an encouraging wave when Blythe wasn’t looking. There were three spirits in the room now, the two by the door drawn inside when Elijah began to sing.
“Across the frozen lakes we glide, with dreams of warmth and hearts so wide. The stars above, they hear the sound, of bells that bless the snowy ground…”
The voice that resonated from him was as smooth and rich as honey. He looked so comfortable there by the piano that even Aris seemed impressed, growing more consumed by the music with each chord. Signa sneaked a glance at her cousin, who watched her husband with such longing even then.
For years, Signa had wanted only for Blythe to find her happiness. There beside her, watching as Blythe held her hot chocolate to her chest and breathed a dreamy sigh, Signa’s entire body warmed.
She understood Aris’s dedication. Understood why he wanted this to be the most magnificent Christmas for his bride. There wasn’t much that Signa and her brother-in-law agreed on, but they would both do anything to ensure Blythe’s joy.
“Bravo!” Blythe cheered, setting down her drink so that she could clap.
Aris cracked a rare smile, glancing upward at his father-in-law. “That was impressive, Elijah. Do you know ‘Echoes of Snowfall’?”
He didn’t have a chance to answer before Blythe cut in. “That song is a bore. What about ‘Bells of the Northern Wind’? Or ‘Candy Cane Wishes’?”
She was beginning to stand up, and Signa knew it wouldn’t be much longer before Blythe decided to join them.
The spirits had all finally begun to look placid.
The one closest to Aris even looked as though he was ready to sit beside him on the bench and begin playing.
Signa could already imagine their outcry if Blythe opened her mouth to sing.
It wouldn’t be a pretty sight.
“You know, I think you were onto something,” Signa said hurriedly. “Caroling does sound like a lovely idea.”
Aris’s head snapped up so quickly she wondered how he didn’t injure his neck.
“Caroling? As in singing outside? In the streets?” Like a peasant was the part that Signa assumed Aris wasn’t saying aloud, though he may as well have, given his tone.
“As in performing .” Signa emphasized the word with a thin smile, hoping she might get the message through his thick skull. “You do so love performing, don’t you, Aris?”
He opened his mouth to argue, though his eyes went wide just before he shivered violently. The spirit had taken its seat on the opposite edge of the bench, its hand skimming affectionately over the seat.
Aris all but bolted upright.
“Truly a wondrous idea,” he was quick to say, the words too sharp. “Caroling is one of my favorite holiday pastimes.”
Blythe squinted her eyes at him. “It is? Since when?”
“Since right now.” He forced a smile as he crossed the floor to his wife and wound his arm around her. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”