“Goodnight Maren, thanks!” said one of the tenors as they headed up the unlit staircase from the rehearsal room.

She smiled back, and began to gather her music. Rehearsing with the tenors was infinitely more fun than rehearsing with Miss Poulan, though no less demanding. After she stuffed her music back in its case, she took a few moments to stretch her arms and fingers.

The pure note sang in the quiet.

Maren froze, holding her breath.

Another sweet piano note rippled through the night, then the gentle strains of a song Maren recognized as Beethoven’s Sonata Pathetique, the Andante Cantabile in C-minor.

She was out of the chair and tip-toeing up the stairwell.

The piano looked like a square blob of darkness along the wall. Maren hid in the shadows for a moment, watching as the keys played themselves. As she looked on, the piano took on a silver glow that coalesced into the shape of a man.

Maren blinked, then rubbed her eyes. What the Hell? Men don’t glow…

He was still there when she looked again, only, he looked solid. His skin was so pale it seemed to shine like a murky mirror, reflecting his surroundings in a surreal manner. The black and white of the piano keys made the oddest pattern across his torso, and she blinked, almost unable to separate the instrument from the man in front of it.

The music quit abruptly and he turned around, his weird silver gaze finding her with no hesitation. “I know what you want,” he said, his soft words reaching her with no difficulty.

Then, he was gone, and the piano rested — normal and unassuming — against the wall.

* * *
This is part of an ongoing serial story. Catch up on the tale via the Serials page!

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