the end that should be connected to the case. “A bolt must have come loose. This was not a cheap cello case. You can bet I’ll be calling the company in the morning.”
Griffon rushes back up the stairs and thrusts a bag of ice in Dad’s hand. I wince as Dad holds it gently up to the bump. I’m at that point where I know ice will make it better, but right now it’s making my head hurt even more.
Mom leans down in front of me. “Let me see your pupils.”
I glare up at her. “Now? Seriously?”
“She’s okay, Sofia,” Dad says, and for once, she backs down.
I glance down the stairs, and the foyer seems to be emptying. Now that my part of the show is over, I guess it’s time for everyone to go home. I hope to God nobody got it on video.
“I’m going to head out,” Veronique says. She puts one hand on my shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m sure. Thanks.”
Griffon is kneeling a few steps down and won’t even look up as she speaks. I’m shocked that nobody else can see the waves of hatred coming off him.
“Nice meeting you, Griffon,” Veronique says as she passes him on the stairs. He nods, but says nothing. She seems totally clueless. She must just think he’s an ass.
After a few more minutes, it’s determined that I’ve been immobile long enough, and they let me get back on my feet. Dad carries my cello and the slightly bruised bunch of tulips, and Griffon gets my bag so that I can keep the ice on the giant knot on my head that’s getting bigger by the second. It takes everything I have to convince them not to call an ambulance, and I know that Mom’s watching carefully to make sure I don’t go into convulsions or anything as we head for the door. The cold night air hits us as soon as we get outside; it must have rained during the concert, because the streets are wet and give off that sharp smell that happens after a downpour.
“Why don’t you sit here,” Dad says, pointing to a bench just outside the doors. “I’ll walk your mom to her car and then get mine so that you don’t have to walk to the parking garage.” Even when they’re going to the same place, Mom and Dad never ride together.
“Sam—” Mom starts to protest, but Dad gives her a look.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he says. He tilts his head toward Griffon. “I’m sure Griffon won’t mind staying here with Cole until I get back.”
“I think I can manage that,” Griffon says. “Again, I’m so sorry about the cello. If anything’s wrong with it, I’ll be happy to get it fixed.”
Dad holds up his hand. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you have your priorities straight. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Dad hands the case to me, and I prop it up against the wall.
“How are you feeling?” Griffon asks, as soon as my parents are out of sight.
“I’ll survive.”
Griffon looks into each of my eyes carefully. “Your pupils look okay,” he says.
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a medical expert too?”
He shrugs. “I was a doctor once. I know a few things about head trauma.”
I have no answer for that. Reach far enough back into his fantasy and he’s probably been just about everything. “I wish you could tell Mom and Dad that,” I finally say. “They’re going to be waking me up all night to make sure I’m not concussed.” I look down at my feet. “Thanks for catching me. What a crazy accident.”
Something flashes across Griffon’s face. “I don’t think it was an accident,” he says, traces of anger returning to his voice. He reaches over and pulls out the strap to the cello case. “I think one of the bolts was loosened.”
“Oh, come on,” I say. He has the same look he did when he met Veronique. “It must have just worked itself loose. Why would anyone do that on purpose?”
He scowls. “Someone who’s out for revenge would have no problem messing with a bolt to make it look like an accident.”
I stare at him. “You seriously think Veronique had something to do with this?”
“She had the opportunity. She was in the practice room when we came up the stairs. I don’t know exactly what it is, but I’m guessing she has a motive. If all goes according to plan, your cello is sent flying down the stairs or over the railing. Having you almost fall after it must have seemed like a bonus. If it wasn’t Veronique, then it’s a pretty big coincidence.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in coincidences,” I say.
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t.”
We sit in silence as I replay him meeting Veronique in my head. Everything changed when Griffon shook hands with her. And he won’t even touch me. “How can you tell?” I ask. “I mean, I know that you said there’s some kind of vibration or something.”
“Sometimes you can just get a sense of it. Other times, you actually have to touch the person to know for sure.” He stops, like he’s searching for an easy explanation. “Basically, once you get used to it, you can see things in someone’s essence. You can see whether they’re Akhet, and sometimes you can see if you’ve ever been connected in any way.”
“Essence?” I ask. “You mean like the soul?”
Griffon shrugs. “Some people call it that. It’s the part of you that you take from one lifetime to the next. Once you have a physical connection, you can get a sense of their essence, usually enough to know something about them.”
“I’ve never felt anything,” I say, then remember what happened with Veronique the other day when I had the vision of the concert. “At least, I don’t think I have.”
“When it’s still new to you, recognizing someone’s essence isn’t easy. And even if you do recognize Akhet you’ve known before, your relationship can change from lifetime to lifetime. In one life, you might be siblings; in another, business partners. Sometimes you’re a boy, sometimes you’re a girl. Sometimes you’re wealthy, and sometimes you die in poverty.”
“What about cockroaches?”
He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “Cockroaches?”
“Yeah. Like, I’d hate to come back as a cockroach or a snail. A bird might be okay.”
Griffon laughs out loud, and it’s nice to see the anger leave his face. “I don’t think so. I only remember human lifetimes. I’ve met a lot of Akhet, and so far, they’ve all been human.”
I feel the same stab of jealousy as I picture him holding hands with Rayne outside of the movie theater. “Is that why you always put your hand on someone when you meet them? To try to figure out if they’re one?”
“Is it that obvious?” he asks, looking embarrassed. “It’s mostly habit now, but yeah. It’s like you get even more information through touch than you can with your eyes.”
I look away, knowing that if I ask him the next question, there will be no going back. “So why won’t you ever touch me?” I ask quietly.
“I’ve touched you,” he answers, a bit defensively.
“Not really,” I say. “When you helped me up at the Tower. And just now on the stairs. But never any other time.” I watch his face to see if I can figure out what he’s thinking, but his emotions are well hidden.
He doesn’t look me in the eye as he answers, just keeps his gaze firmly on the street. “It’s complicated. There’s a lot that you don’t understand…”
“Then tell me!” I say quickly. “I can take it. You want so badly for me to believe you, but then you won’t be honest with me about everything. It’s okay if you don’t like me … like that.” I realize too late that that it actually
At that, Griffon raises his head and looks right into my face. The sight of his eyes intently on mine makes my heart beat faster, and I know that I sound a lot braver than I feel.
“It’s not that, Cole,” he says. His voice is strained. “You’ve got to believe me. I just don’t want you to get too involved in something … in something that might get difficult.”
Involved? A flash of annoyance rushes through my body. He tells me crazy stories of past lives, looks adorable while he’s apparently saving my ass three flights up a rickety staircase, and then expects me not to get involved? I lean toward him almost imperceptibly. “Newsflash. I’m already involved.”
Griffon doesn’t say anything for a long moment, just nods slowly. “Do you want to feel what it’s like?”
