Transcendence

Veronique, who is standing silently off to one side sipping a bottle of water.

“Oh!” I say, knowing I’m going to get a manners lecture later. “Sorry. Griffon, this is Veronique.”

“Nice to meet you,” Griffon says. As he takes Veronique’s hand, a shadow seems to pass over his features, and his easy smile is replaced by a more serious expression.

“Nice to meet you,” Veronique says, with an emphasis on “you” that is impossible to ignore. I shoot her a look and hope that she doesn’t go on about it. “Cole has an amazing talent, don’t you think?”

“She does,” he says, with a short tone I’ve never heard before. He seems to be studying Veronique, and I notice his jaw muscles tighten like he’s upset about something.

“I, um, have to get my stuff out of the practice room,” I announce, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I can’t imagine what’s wrong with him. He’s usually so polite, but there’s a hardness in his eyes right now that freaks me out a little.

As if he’s working at it, Griffon’s features seem to soften, and he smiles at me, finally taking his eyes off Veronique. “I’ll help you,” he says. He turns back to Mom and Dad. “If that’s okay?”

Dad glances at Mom. “Fine with me. Saves me from having to carry the heavy stuff back downstairs.”

Griffon and I walk up the stairs in silence. He seems to be lost in thought, staring off into space as we climb. At the top, he looks back toward the group and leads me to one side.

“How do you know her?” His voice has an edge to it that makes me nervous.

“Who? Veronique? She’s one of my students, remember?”

“No, I mean, how did you meet her?” he demands.

I put my hands on my hips. In one quick second, he’s gone from sensitive and funny to serious and demanding. “I don’t even remember how we met. Why does it matter?”

“It does matter,” Griffon says, his voice low and his eyes angry. He goes quiet and looks away as another couple passes us at the top of the stairs. He steers me into an empty classroom.

“Try to remember.”

His intensity makes me stop protesting, although I have no idea what’s going on.

“I … I’m not sure.” His eyes are riveted on my face as I search my brain, trying to remember how we met. “I think she was at one of the conservatory concerts last year. She came backstage and shook my hand, met my parents, and all that. Then a few days later she contacted me through the group saying that she’d heard I was giving lessons.”

He takes a step closer, glancing toward the stairs. “I don’t think you should see her anymore. Can you make up some excuse—say you’ve stopped giving lessons, or you need a break?”

I shake my head. “Why? That’s crazy. I’m not going to drop one of my students.” Forget about the fact that I’m not going to drop the only student who ever pays me on time.

“I can’t explain it all now, but you have to trust me. She’s not just a regular student. There’s more to it. There’s a reason she’s in your life now.”

I think back to all he said in the park. “Wait,” I whisper. “You think Veronique is … you know …?”

Griffon doesn’t touch me, but I feel his urgency all the same. “She is, but not like us. Some Akhet come back only for revenge, to right the wrongs they feel have been done to them in the past. I got a sense of that from her essence. I don’t think she’s just another random cello student.”

I can see the anger in his eyes, and a shiver runs up my spine. At this point I’m not sure if anyone is who I thought they were, especially Griffon. His face is still beautiful, so beautiful that it makes my heart ache to look at him, but everything that comes out of his mouth makes him seem more distant and paranoid. His words are having an effect, just not the one he thinks. “You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

“Good,” he replies, not dropping his eyes from my face.

I push the door open, the air in the room suddenly thick and foreboding. I need to be around other people. As we reach the practice room, Veronique is just coming out. “Hey there,” she says cheerfully. “I was just looking for the bathroom.”

I glance at Griffon. His face is unreadable. “It’s back downstairs,” I say. “Just to the right of the main hall.”

Veronique smiles warmly. “Right. I should have asked. I’ll see you down there.”

I duck into the room, put my sweater on, and grab my things. I rush around, pretending to be distracted by looking for stuff, because the last thing I want is to make small talk with anyone here. Griffon stands outside waiting, and by the time I get back, he’s more like his regular self.

“Let me carry that for you,” he says, reaching for the cello case.

“It’s okay,” I say. I like carrying the good cello myself. Even Dad has stopped asking to help. It’s not that I don’t trust people, it’s just that if anything happens, I don’t want the blame to be on anyone but me.

Griffon seems to read my mind. “I’ll be careful,” he says. “I know it’s expensive.”

I hesitate.

“Now you don’t trust me enough to carry your cello?”

“It’s not that,” I say. I look up into his amber eyes. The funny thing is that I do trust him, despite all of the things he’s said, and all my conflicted emotions. I hand him the cello case, as if to prove it to both of us. “Thanks.”

He slides the shoulder strap over his arm and points to the steps. “After you.”

I change places with Griffon so that I can walk near the wall. I hate looking over the railing straight down three stories to the cafe on the ground floor. Even glancing down from this high up makes me feel woozy. We start down the stairs, but Griffon seems to lose his balance on the third step and lurches for the handrail just as the cello begins to fall.

“Oh my God!” As soon as I realize what’s happening, I lean out and try to catch the cello, not thinking about how high up we are, not thinking about anything but stopping it from tumbling down the stairs.

“Cole!” Griffon yells. In a blur, I feel someone reaching out for me and grabbing my arm, but not before I twist and my head hits the railing with a crushing thump. Pain explodes in my right temple and my vision is filled with bright spots as I’m lowered to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Griffon stands over me as my head clears.

I try to shake it off, but that only makes the pain worse. “I think so.” I start to stand up but Griffon holds me down.

“Stay there, you might have a concussion,” he says, looking around for help.

I put my hand up to the pain in the side of my head and feel a lump already starting to form.

The stairs shake as people swarm around me. It looks like everyone in the place saw me fall. Just great.

“My God, honey, are you okay?” Dad asks, kneeling down.

I sit up on the edge of the step. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he says, looking into my eyes. “You hit really hard.”

“I’ll go get some ice,” Griffon says. “The cafe’s still open.”

Looking through the crowd of people, I watch Griffon take the steps two at a time. When he gets to the bottom, he rushes by the cello’s case, which is shoved against the railing at an awkward angle. “My cello!” I try to get up, but the pain in my head makes my knees buckle. “Is it okay?”

Dad glances down the stairs. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he says. “The main thing is to make sure you’re not hurt.” That’s sweet of him to say, but we all know the main thing is that my insanely expensive cello is currently lying at the bottom of the stairs.

Mom opens the case and lifts the cello out gently. “Looks okay,” she calls up. “The case is a little banged up, but otherwise it’s fine.”

I relax a little, enough to accentuate the pounding in my head.

“What happened?” Veronique asks, slightly out of breath from climbing back up the stairs so quickly.

“I’m not sure.” I look at Dad. “Did Griffon drop it?” I should have gone with my instincts on this one.

Dad brushes some hair off my forehead. “Griffon let it fall so that he could grab you,” he says. “I saw the whole thing from downstairs. If he hadn’t been there, you would have fallen down the whole flight.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “It could have been bad, Cole. Really, really bad.”

Mom sets the case gently on the step next to me. “Looks like the shoulder strap broke,” she says, holding up