Chapter 3: Friction - Hunger & Harmony

A single piece of paper slaps onto the table in front of me.

“Quit.”

I blink at it before I look up. Ryel looms over me, crimson hair hanging around surprisingly impassive eyes. Is he poker-faced or just that deadpan?

“Huh?”

“I said . . .” He slides the paper closer, past my laptop and iced coffee. “You need to quit.”

Glancing down at the document, I read the words at the top.

“Resignation letter? Why?”

“Because you need to quit,” he says, like he’s tired of stating the obvious. “All you have to do is sign.”

My second day. The last to prepare before Arteria’s rehearsals wrap and the tour officially kicks off. I barely got into bed at five in the morning and tossed and turned until I had to get to work at noon. I’ve been holed up in this staff lounge the entire time. We haven’t even made it to the three o’clock lunch break, and I’m already dealing with this?

Forcing my lips into a tight smile, I gently shake my head.

“No can do,” I say. “We’ve got a lot to prepare, and I’m being onboarded late enough.”

His jaw clenches. My smile widens in response. Lorelai said compliance, but there’s no rule against defying with kindness, right?

“In the best interest of Arteria, I’ll be working diligently!” I poke his arm lightly. “Kind of like you should, yeah?”

A snarl rips from his throat. I suppress a giggle at how serious he’s being.

“If you don’t sign now, I⁠—”

“What did I tell you, Cadence? He really lives up to his family name.”

Ezren leans in the lounge’s entrance, a playful smirk directed at Ryel. The guitarist backs away from me, but crosses his arms. If anything, his hostility heightens.

“We should all get along! Cadence is here to help,” Ezren continues, tone dripping in snark. “She could even give you some pointers with your hair. She’s got that copper . . .kinda strawberry-blonde hair, yeah? You dye yours red. Basically twins!”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ryel says, voice barely above a whisper. “I share nothing in common with this pest.”

My jaw unhinges. First a drink, and now I’m a literal bug? What is wrong with these rock stars?

“You think I’m a pest?” I huff. “Well, maybe you’re just a prick.”

Ezren bursts out laughing.

“Suits you perfectly!”

“Are you my blood brother or not?” Ryel hisses at him.

Still, nothing seems to faze Ezren.

“I like you,” he says to me. “You take no shit, and honestly, you’ll probably last here because of that.”

Lorelai’s warning flashes in my mind. Is taking no shit still compliance? I shrug awkwardly.

“She needs to quit,” Ryel retorts, and Ezren just scoffs.

“Are you experiencing some iron overload or what? We need her, whether you like it or not.”

“This isn’t about me,” Ryel says, sullen gaze fixed on the floor. “It’s His Majesty.”

I stiffen. Niko . . .The man who haunted my dreams last night. I’m still unsure how real that exchange in the meeting room was. Lorelai didn’t seem to notice my stunned silence when we wrapped up, and I’ve been actively pushing those thoughts back. I fear his touch returning to my body.

I fear how much I wouldn’t mind that.

“Come on, as if it’s some human’s fault,” Ezren continues.

“She’s certainly not helping,” Ryel says, muttering something else under his breath that I don’t catch.

Maybe it’s because his voice is too quiet, and he didn’t want me to hear. Or maybe it’s because the humming around him just got louder.

Wrong notes.

They’re not just something I produce on instruments or hit with my voice. As far back as I can recall music, I also remember these strange sounds. It’s not literal music. No one else seems able to hear them either. I got punished for “making things up” as a kid, so I do my best to ignore it when it happens.

Even if I can’t describe it to others, I could hear it through a storm. The static surrounding Ryel is more than just his fury. It manifests in a broken frequency that only I seem to pick up.

That . . . isn’t something I’ll acknowledge, though. I can hear my mom’s voice blending with my thoughts. I’m just anxious. A new place with new challenges means more stress, right? I shouldn’t overreact. It’s perfectly normal.

“I’ll do my best,” I tell Ryel, gesturing to my laptop. “Look, the itineraries and inventory tracking are almost done for all six cities.”

“Yeah, man,” Ezren says, pointedly looking at him. “Just chill.”

A scoff sounds before Ryel promptly storms out of the lounge. Ezren winks at me and follows after his bandmate. The wrong notes fade, too, leaving me in silence.

Oxygen returns to my lungs. Here I thought my freedom was the ticket to 24/7 music. Right now, though, the quiet is welcomed. That thought hasn’t crossed my mind in so long—maybe since the wrong notes were loudest.

I was only thirteen when an old box in the attic drew my attention. I’d gone through it, my excitement growing with each new vinyl and cassette tape discovered. If my parents really hated music, then what were all these carefully packaged keepsakes doing in their storage?

That fight could’ve put active volcanoes to shame. They’d never blown up on me like that, and I matched their intensity. The more I insisted, the more they doubled down. So, naturally, I ran away. Not forever. I just wanted to be alone to process their absurd rules.

Hours later, I came to. The hospital room was spinning violently, and even after I could sit up and speak, all memory of what had happened was gone. Strange bruises and bloodied clothes were my only proof that anything ever did. There were no leads.

Music was not only forbidden, but became a weapon from that point on. My parents didn’t hesitate to remind me of what could happen, what did happen as a result of my fascination.

At the time, silence was better than the storm of wrong notes. Once life continued, though, a special kind of resentment for the quiet overcame me. It's easy to forget the comfort of peace when you’re caged by it.

Still. Maybe I should ease into this new life, instead of throwing away my old one entirely.

I keep that thought with me as my lunch break finally arrives. One of the human coordinators, Jamie, offered for me to join her on the rooftop for lunch. She’s been scrolling on her phone, while I’ve been soaking up the afternoon sunlight. Autumn is in full swing, but Sunveil has much warmer days than my hometown. It’s fun to wear a bright tee and cropped jeans on October’s doorstep.

“Aw man,” she grumbles, and I tear my gaze away from the city view.

“What happened?”

“I accidentally grabbed my roommate’s lunch,” she says, holding up a pack of rainbow sour candy. “She’s the only monster who likes these torture devices.”

My face lights up, and I hold my hand out to her.

“Ooh! I’ll eat them if you won’t,” I say, shameless in batting my lashes at her.

“You’re not Team Sweet?” she asks, incredulous as she hands them over.

The cool breeze blows my hair across my face, and I quickly shake the strands away as I tear open the packet.

“Absolutely not. The more my face puckers, the better.”

“Diabolical,” she says with a laugh.

She winces as I pop three of the sour-coated gummies into my mouth. It’s not even that extreme. Pretty good for an after-lunch treat.

Just as I swallow the last one down, my work phone rings.

“Yes, Lorelai?”

“Grab Selene a drink on the way to the meeting.”

“Roger that.”

“Hurry up, we’re starting early.”

The line goes dead, and I notice I should still have ten minutes left of my break. Oh well. Better than accounting classes.

After saying goodbye to Jamie, I hurry to the elevators. I grab a Type A pouch on the way and make it to the rehearsal studio as fast as humanly possible.

Lorelai wasn’t kidding. I tiptoe straight into an active meeting, catching multiple glares and one fanged grin from Ezren as I deliver Selene her drink. All I’m focused on is avoiding Niko’s eyes and fading into the back of the room.

There are at least a dozen people here I don’t recognize. I can’t even get my previous spot on the couch. The back wall will have to do.

“We’re one sunset away from opening night,” Selene says as she pokes the straw into her pouch. “We’ve only toured twice, and the last was years ago.”

“We’re rusty,” Ezren snickers.

“This is our weaker spot,” she says, tossing him a look before she continues. “I’m not worried about the grueling schedule. It’s that this is our first time touring without glamours.”

“Seven stops across Aurea all know that vampires are coming,” Niko says, his velvet-smoke voice tingling in my ears. “Of course, we’ll be traveling by bus to avoid the chaos of airports.”

I sneak a glance at him. Unlike yesterday, this outfit is modest. How a fitted black shirt and gray jeans are even more enticing is beyond me. His hair is pushed back by a headband, too, and he looks so casual, I can almost believe he’s just a normal rockstar.

What am I thinking? Not only is he the furthest thing from normal, he literally is the frontman of a rock band. My least favorite!

The discussion fades into the background as I watch him. I can’t help it, acting no better than a schoolgirl staring at her first crush. Should I be paying attention? Taking notes? I can’t remember to care as I take mental screenshots of his perfectly broad shoulders filling out the t-shirt, and the quiet authority in his burgundy eyes.

He frowns a lot. Not once have I seen him smile. The strange tension from yesterday is gone; his demeanor is still intense but relaxed. It’s like I’m not even here. Was last night just a dream, then?

My eyes trace his body, shifting my focus to the sole tattoo etched onto his wiry forearm. I can’t tell what it is, but only having one is nothing compared to Ezren and Selene. I stuff down my wondering if he has tattoos elsewhere.

A single note rings through the room and snaps me back to my senses.

“Sancte Noctis is the final stop,” Niko says, as Cass and another crew member gear the band up. The crimson guitar settles into Niko’s hands effortlessly, and a mic is positioned in front of him.

I go through my mental files to remember what Sancte Noctis is. Only vague mentions of a veiled city run by vampires comes to mind.

“Don’t think for a moment the Court won’t politicize it.”

“The Midnight Court watches His Majesty closely,” Selene says, voice low. “While this matter shouldn’t, it does involve anyone working for Arteria. If you fear the road ahead, mortal or not, now is your last chance to bow out.”

I suppress a shiver and glance around at all the strangers with clenched fists and determined expressions. Am I the only one who doesn’t understand? Should I think twice about my new job position?

That would defeat the purpose of everything I’ve done. Even Viola. I’m not tucking my tail and running back to my parents. This is my one shot, and I even dropped out for this opportunity. If I give up, who knows when I’ll next be allowed on my own. It’s do or die . . .

Just hopefully not literally.

“Everyone in agreement?” Selene looks us each in the eye. “Good. Let’s run through some verses.”

Lights dim. Voices hush. Before my brain can catch up, the first note drips from his throat like red wine.

Husky, evocative, but soft, Niko’s voice curls through the room like an unrelenting spell. Even his bandmates go still as he starts.

Hands kept behind my back,

So I can’t reach for what I lack.

My chest tightens. Even if his focus is elsewhere, the buzz beneath my skin mirrors last night. The spotlight doesn’t need to follow as he takes the mic and steps forward, warm silver bleeding into shadows.

Your pulse is pounding through the floor,

And I won’t pretend, I can’t ignore.

Like hunting for prey, he moves through the room’s shadows. Some audibly hiss. Others shudder or hold themselves. My eyebrows slide forward in confusion.

You hum with silence I can’t touch . . .

I swallow hard. He’s nowhere near me, his attention still on others. So how can I feel him pressed up behind me again, his hands burning into my waist?

You’re not enough,

My stomach flips as a familiar sting presses against my throat.

But you’re too much.

Gasps rip through the room as the song bursts from behind him, a contrasting blend of hard rock and eerie vocals expanding in the room. Goosebumps erupt over my skin, and I watch as people fall to their knees or lift their hands like men possessed. Glassy-eyed and swaying, everyone but the band members and myself seem lost to the haunting song.

Hunger. That’s what overwhelms Niko’s voice as he draws closer to me. His phantom touch dissipates with each step, replaced by anticipation.

Danger pumps my heart faster, but I refuse to run. A thirst of my own buzzes through my veins, pushing me to test his restraint. Will he dare touch me for real? Confirm what he’s been acting like didn’t happen?

Don’t come closer, don’t back away.

I meet his gaze head-on when he’s finally in front of me.

You’ll ruin me, either way.

The last lyric echoes like a promise. His glowing eyes widen when he sees me. I catch it regardless of how immediately he buries it.

Just as I reach for him, my fingers grasp air. I whip my head forward to see he’s back in the spotlight, the song fading into powerful silence.

As the lights come back, it’s like the entire room eases from intoxication.

A pout purses my lips. Why did he go right back to avoidance? Was he disappointed that I wasn’t like everyone else? For how alluring the song is, I’m much more interested in this game he’s playing than the music. I’m not here to be a groupie.

Whatever. I should leave it alone. Maybe stewing in disappointment will bring back my professionalism.

“Wow, incredible,” a woman wiping her tears away pipes up.

Agreements sweep through the room. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes.

“Cadence,” Selene calls for me, and I perk up. “Get everyone refreshments.”

I nod, but right before I exit the room, Niko speaks up.

“I’m fine without.”

Pausing in the doorway, I turn to confirm with Selene that it’s okay. All I notice, though, is Niko’s back turned and attention conveniently occupied. He’s right back to pretending. I hold a scoff on my tongue and turn away from him.

Two can play at that.