Glittery

Delores

I climb onto the closed lid, my lips curved in a mischievous smirk. It's practically sacrilege to plant my ass on an instrument this coveted, but I didn't pay for it. The Shirdals won't know unless someone tells them and everyone should get to live out their movie moment fantasies occasionally, right?

If I keeping telling myself that, the musician in me won't cringe about rolling around on a six-figure piano—I hope.

"Shall I play something jazzy, then? Maybe a show tune in that oeuvre?" Rennie asks as he watches me sprawl out on my belly. "Even a modern throwback?"

I shake my head, putting my cheek in my hand as I look at him. Softly, I sing, "Stars shining up above me…"

His grin grows as his fingers dance over the keys, picking up my choice seamlessly. We drift through the song slowly, drawing out the lilting jazz standard while I luxuriate on the top of the piano. I love how the acoustics in here combine the dulcet tones of my voice and the expensive instrument, but more than that, I love hearing my gargoyle humming along under his breath. I think Renard Laveaux can sing and it's yet another secret he's been cradling inside of himself.

As the last chords ring out, I flip over, looking at him upside down as the vibrations on my back make my skin tingle. "I know what you're hiding," I sing song. "I just don't know who you're hiding it from."

"You do? Please elaborate, ma petite lapin ." His brow arches as he watches me loll around, not missing a single inch of my skin on display.

"I know you can sing," I whisper dramatically. "You're not just a piano man, my broody gargoyle. That's why music is always your backdrop in your room and the towers. There's a real musician here." I point to my heart and give him a soft, knowing smile.

For people like us, life is filled with a constant symphony of sound that runs like a soundtrack.

Renard doesn't respond and I continue as I rub my palm over my breastbone. "You feel it here all the time; your memories, emotions, thoughts… everything is attached to the swell of a crescendo or dip of a pianoforte . The things you play allow you to relive the moments in your head like they're happening again."

That shocks him and I grin. This is a truth I haven't shared with anyone else, not even Fitzy. It's difficult to understand for those who don't feel this connection with music, and it sounds cheesy. But lyrics, a chorus, even a small snippet of a song always trigger emotions for me. Now I know that Rennie understands—it was written all over his face when I sang the old song.

I don't know where it took him, but I know how.

"Frisson isn't common, ma petite , nor is synesthesia." His brow furrows and I shrug. "It seems you have secrets, too."

"Nope. But I get it—why you'd learn instruments or cooking? It makes sense why you enjoy decorating and dancing. I even understand poetry and botany now. All of that allows you to immerse yourself in the effects."

Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he blinks, then plays a riff from Beethoven like a precursor. "This is why you're so good at understanding Fitzgerald. You learned to mask yourself and how to wrangle the effects on your own."

"As if I could tell Lucille that I can smell sounds and hear things in my mind when I touch them? No fucking thanks. I could barely keep her from sending me to have my body ‘fixed' to her satisfaction, much less what might have happened if she thought my brain was fucked up."

"There is nothing wrong with your brain, Dolly. No more than mine or Fitz's, anyway," he says adamantly. His tongue darts out to lick his lips, then he leans over the keys to look into my eyes. "What else have you figured out, my darling detective?"

Flipping over again, I put my face in my hands. "Aubrey has an eidetic memory. He tries to hide his corner of the rainbow spectrum, but if I move one of his treasures a centimeter to test him, he knows. It's spooky."

"Very good, ma petite . Flames has been alive long enough to know how to hide his intense gifted abilities when he chooses. It's why he's down there translating everything but the High Fae on his own, but pretending he's consulting with colleagues."

Rennie plays another riff, this one from Mancini. It evokes the picture of the pink cartoon cat sneaking around and I giggle. "Perfect. That's exactly how I feel."

The tune of a quiz show theme song is next as he grins. "Go again."

"Chessie can learn anything you teach him after a few lessons. That's how YouTube made him a better cook. He has to see it and do it, but it doesn't take him long to pick up whatever he's doing. It's why his studio at Apex was so chaotic—all the different hobbies he tries until he gets proficient then drops. He only keeps what he enjoys, but part of the enjoyment is mastering things."

A finger bops my nose as he plays the chorus from a Kinks song with his other hand, making me wiggle in delight. "On the nose. And our fearless leader?"

I snort. "You mean his massive control issues? They come from anxiety, Rennie. His shithead father spent most of his life threatening his grandmother, his twin, and his adopted brother. He used fear to control the prince so thoroughly that the one time he asked for something he wanted, Felix allowed him to punish them all for the offense."

His fingers roam over the keys to play Requiem as he nods. "I knew that you saw it all the moment you got Fitzgerald to enjoy reading. The connections you made with his mind were so instinctual, yet gentle. And I realized it came from experience when we watched you perform. You cannot hide how the music affects you when your body and voice work together."

"So we're a big bunch of freaky, difficult people then?" I chuckle when he moves to the chorus of Seize The Day from last year's talent show.

"Not at all—well, okay, perhaps, but not because of those reasons. I believe our eccentricities make us a perfect family." He switches to Ain't That A Kick In The Head and I laugh harder. "Your natural perception makes you the glue that holds us all together and makes us better people."

Turning bright red, I wrinkle my nose. "Stop it. You know I struggle with praise that isn't… during sexy time. It makes me squirmy because I don't know what to do or say. And I feel bad for liking it because I don't?—"

"Nope." His hand is on my mouth and he's giving me a reproachful look. "Don't finish that sentence. Our job is to help you unlearn that shit your mother filled your head with. And that means you're going to hear us wax poetically—or in Fitz's case filthily—about the things we love. Get used to being a tomato, Dolly Drew."

Not fucking fair at all. I can't even complain now. Bastard.

"Cheater."

" Non , ma petite . Not a cheater, simply as observant of you as you have been of us."

I can't argue with that, either.

For the rest of the afternoon, Rennie and I played and sang, sharing a gift I've never been able to before. Rufus and Cori sing, but neither play, and while I know all of my boyfriends would listen to me whenever I wanted, this is different. Joining me at the keys to make music together is indescribably intimate—it's like he touched the special part of my soul that only he can.

That hasn't happened with all of them, which may be why I haven't taken them up on mating yet; I need the final piece to feel secure.

I have that with Fitz, and have since the minute he brought that hand in a jar. But I won't move forward with one until I'm ready for all of them. It doesn't feel fair in my heart and I want everything about that moment to be as perfect as possible. Realistically, I know my life is so messy that any big plans are likely to be smooshed by some bullshit, but a girl can hope, can't she?

"Where did you go, ma petite ?"

My gaze snaps to my gargoyle's and I flush a little. "I was thinking about how close to you this makes me feel. And how happy I am that you brought me here today."

His lips curve and he bumps my hip with his. "Now we have our special thing like you and Fitz, mmm?"

I blink. "You're not reading my mind, are you? Gargoyles can't do that, right?"

"Some may be able to, but I've not met them. Mythicals have a large variety in their power set. There are basic things a species can do, and then some special talents different clutches or family groups can do. I suppose I never considered what that might have to do with lineage."

"And magic?"

He nods, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Indeed. Legends about how each species came about are… murky. There are species like griffins that present as though they inter-bred. The Shirdals act as if that's why there aren't more now. But I've never bought into that because many of us aren't simply a wuzzle of other creatures."

"Like gargoyles or dragons." I say as I slide my fingers over the keys to play the theme to the popular TV show Aubrey hates. "Don't they teach your kids that when they're little? That's what Cori told me—shifter families tell their kids things the schools don't."

Rennie snorts. "Of course, but that goes as far back as ‘the first gargoyle clutch,' but not whence they came. To be truthful, I never heard anyone ask. History is simply accepted how it's relayed in the groups."

"Dumb. This is all dumb, Rennie." I stop playing to kick my foot against the wooden floor. "Everyone is hiding shit and apparently has been since the treaties. Now we're facing the consequences of pretending bad shit didn't happen so we can feel better."

I hate knowing the Council and the other shifter groups have used time and controlled knowledge for nefarious purposes. Their greed and fear has put everyone in the shifter world in trouble now that the rebels are striking out. There was room for renegotiation and perhaps even peace, but old prejudices made them raise generations of people who now can't defend themselves.

It's stupid as fuck and I'm smack dab in the middle of it for some reason.

"Rennie?" He looks at me curiously, and I lick my lips before I ask him the question that's been bothering me. "Do you think they're hurting or killing all the missing students?"

"Killing? Probably not. They could have done that right away rather than risk moving them to another location. Hurting? Maybe. We don't know why they still want those kids. No ransoms, no demands, not even a whisper about them has leaked online or to their parents. They're prisoners, but not… hostages, I think."

I frown, looking at the keys in frustration. No one who has gone missing is a great person, so I'm not exactly mourning their loss. It's interesting the magic users haven't kidnapped any heirs or rich kids that aren't shitty… unless they have boundaries about who's innocent and who deserves their fate.

Seems like a stretch, right?

"I should feel worse about that. Knowing they aren't taking them for money or to bargain isn't good news. Like, it means the missing people are probably being used for experiments or sacrifices or something equally dark, right?"

Sighing, my gargoyle nods. "Most likely. But, ma petite , you can't let that get to you anymore than you can the dead students. There are a lot of bad people involved in this brewing war, and you sure as fuck didn't start it."

" Yeah, but my guess is I'm going to be involved in finishing it."

Renard stays quiet at my words—he knows that I'm right.