Chapter 8: Static & Stars - Hunger & Harmony

“I don’t like him!”

Staring back at me is one frazzled woman. Her strawberry-blonde hair is a damn mess, and her brown eyes are red and puffy. The bathroom lighting isn’t doing her any favors, either.

“Ugh,” I groan as my hands rub down my face.

I’m running on fumes, and they’re not even coffee-flavored. When my back presses against the wall, I realize how hard I’m breathing.

Gravemont’s nightmares weren’t finished when we left the hotel. At some points, I’m not even sure the bus was still moving. After an hour or more of crawling through traffic and shouting crowds, we broke free onto the highway. Not that the six hours since have proven much better.

Wrong notes ricochet off every corner in this bus. Ryel and Ezren have been exchanging tense murmurs across the table since the journey started, while Selene and Lorelai have been pacing between the built-in seating and the doors Niko closed hours ago.

Being alone in the bathroom is barely any relief. Sleep has been nonexistent, too, even when Lorelai offered me to rest in one of the bunks. I’m pretty sure it’ll already be dark when we scrape into New Lure.

My first time in Aurea’s biggest, most beautiful city, and I’m falling apart. Not exactly how I imagined this tour would feel three stops in. Between Niko, Viola, and my parents . . .

Do I rip the band-aid off? The phone in my back pocket digs against me, like it’s daring me to check. I mean, could it get any worse?

Somehow, the lack of new notifications answers that question with a resounding yes. Usually, my parents would be blowing up my phone, and my mom especially would’ve already sent a hundred more messages. A chill slinks down my spine as I swipe up to view the older notifications, her three messages from two days ago waiting like a death sentence.

Am I being dramatic? Sure. I think I’ve earned it as I shakily open her chat. I always have read receipts on, and my lungs tighten at the thought of her knowing I’ve seen.

Life Giver

Where are you? This is serious.

Please. We saw the footage.

The third message she sent is a short video. A sick dread lurches in my stomach when I play it. While only twenty seconds long, it’s damning evidence of me trailing after Arteria, undoubtedly a staff member amongst a sea of security and fans. That was the Sunveil kick-off, and when I think about it, isn’t it obvious the media would catch clips of me?

There’s nothing I can say to defend myself. There’s also nothing I want to say. I can’t shake the feeling that if I do, the spell will be broken. Back to rags, pumpkins, and deafening silence.

I’m sniffling and attempting to fix my sorry appearance when the sway of the bus slows. It’s only been an hour since our last break. Why are we stopping?

Collective grumbling worsens the wrong notes when I step out of the bathroom.

“What happened?” I ask as I approach the sitting area.

Even Ezren can’t fake a smile in my direction. Everyone, including Niko, stares at the sound guy in the middle of the room. Impatience and irritation stick to the already suffocating air.

“Everyone’s here, so listen up,” Cam says, adjusting his black-rimmed glasses. “The bus broke down.”

“What? Why?” Ezren asks.

Variations of frowns and crossed arms portray the morale perfectly. I hug myself, eyes drawn to the tinted window. The sun is already setting, and outside is nothing but dense evergreens and browning grass as far as I can see. Will we ever get to leave this damn vehicle?

“Hell if I know,” he admits. “Roadside assistance is already on the way, and none of our other buses are having issues. This shouldn’t affect our schedule too badly.”

“So . . .” Lorelai trails off.

Selene fills in the blanks.

“We’re stuck.”

I almost miss the frequency of wrong notes just a moment ago. Almost.

Ever since that fatal night, I’ve heard them. Ominous humming from nowhere, and the occasional flat notes that accompany. Now, the wrong notes take a sharper turn. Faster. It has my teeth grinding, my body wincing even as I try to hold it in.

It’s not just off-pitch and echoey. This is different. This is worse. Like a broken song, each note is off-key and jumbled. My hands itch to cover my ears as the near syncopated music replaces the air.

My gaze darts around. No one else is reacting like they hear it. Their frustration doesn't crescendo to distress like me.

Only Niko catches my eye for a moment. I sharply turn from him, trying to contain my reactions.

Whatever Cash is saying to us is lost to the chaos. There’s almost no point in sticking around.

Without anything but my fraying sanity, I dash towards the door and throw myself into the crisp twilight.

Immediately, the painful static dampens. I manage to close the door behind me, and that helps further. I can’t stop to worry about what everyone thinks. Frantically, I glance around for somewhere to hide out for a bit.

Fading daylight sparkles against something to my right, up near the end of the bus. My eyes widen when I see the metal ladder, and it clicks.

After pulling myself up onto the roof, my shoulders drop. Up here, I let the scent of pine and damp earth envelop me. It slows my heart rate as I settle onto the frigid metal surface, legs crossed and eyes gently closing.

I don’t know how long I remain still. The last calls of birds and wildlife settle into a deep quiet, and the descending temperature relieves my flushed face. When I open my eyes again, the emerald evergreens are silhouettes against the deepening sky. Even twilight is fading. So has my acute panic.

No music. No wrong notes. I don’t have to hear everything that’s broken. I’m just . . .here.

Shivers run up and down my body. My long-sleeved Henley shirt and jeans aren’t cutting it like a coat or indoor heating would. I’m not ready to go back, though. I hug myself tightly and look to the sky.

Full and bright, the moon shines on me gently. There’s not a single cloud in the way, and the stars twinkle like a sea of admirers surrounding her. Unlike Sunveil, there’s no light pollution; each constellation is perfectly visible. The cold is a little more bearable as I take it all in.

Impressions of a memory surface. A crackling fire battling the autumn air, and a moon like this one peeking through a canopy of gnarled branches. My parents always loved camping, way more than I ever did. Not that I had any choice when they decided the upcoming weekend would be spent in a forest.

I must’ve been fourteen or fifteen. Like always, I was sulking while failing to read by firelight. Anything to avoid my parents.

It felt so . . .boring. No music, whether from speakers or singing, was allowed. It was just us, the rustling leaves, and distant wildlife. I hated it. I made sure to hate it, at least. No choice and no escape from family time was a personal hell.

As I shiver under the stars, that’s not what returns. It’s the good moments. Hysterical laughter as marshmallows went from perfect to charred in mere seconds, learning the cards and beating my parents at their favorite games, and pointing out constellations or the rare owl sighting.

Maybe it wasn’t always as quiet as I thought. Not like right now. Fleeting as it was, there were good moments when I allowed them. Laughter, stories, and dad’s snoring, too.

Why am I thinking about this? I rub my hands along my arms, wondering if I’m gonna have to face the wrong notes again.

The moment that thought sours my peace, something wraps around me. A spiced vanilla and bourbon cover shields me from the cold, and I gasp when I realize a leather jacket engulfs my shoulders.

“Niko!” I quickly clap a hand over my mouth. “I-I mean, sir! No, uh . . .Your Majesty,” I mumble into my palm.

Like a shadow, he moves closer. Our previous troubles don’t matter as much when he holds up a flannel blanket. I can only watch in dumbfounded silence as he arranges it on the cold metal rooftop and then gestures for me to get on it.

After I ease onto the comfy blanket, I huddle into his jacket more. While I think he’d be cold to the touch, my own warmth is captured in his jacket and takes off that edge. If anything, I’m cozy as he takes his spot next to me.

I’m also a little flustered. That’s it? No comment, no explanation? My face feels red for an entirely new reason.

“Aren’t you mad?”

Wow. Did I seriously blurt that out to a man who just helped me?

My anxiety eases as a half-smile pulls at his lips. That’s the closest I’ve seen to a real one.

“I’m not doing this for your approval,” he says, and I raise my brows at him. “I’m avoiding the HR nightmare if you freeze to death up here.”

When he glances over at me, I swear, the moonlight reveals a dash of mischief in his eyes.

“Don’t tease me,” I whine, unable to help the laugh that follows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, and for the first time, I sense something real in him. Normal, even.

Shouldn’t the silence be more awkward? It’s honestly not. When I sneak a glance, he’s staring up at the sky. His hair is pushed back by a headband, and a comfy ensemble of sweats, sneakers, and a t-shirt adds to that sense of ordinariness. Only the moonlight highlighting the red of his irises and the short fangs poking out when he opens his mouth, remind me that this is a king, not a camp crush.

“Warmer?” he asks.

I’m transfixed by him for too long, and when I forget to answer, he glances over at me. While I should look away, I don’t. I want to get lost in his eyes and know exactly why his presence is so calming, despite everything. What spell has he cast on me? It’s not his voice, so why am I stuck to him like honey?

“I’ll take your red face as a yes,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh.

“It’s the cold, actually,” I defend, gesturing to him. “Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes and no.”

He offers his arm to me, and I tentatively place my fingertips on him. While strong, his arm is pale as moonlight and colder than the night. A black crescent moon formed of swords, thorns, and stars is tattooed onto his inner forearm, but I don’t dare let my fingers near it. After I’ve confirmed his wintry temperature, I pull away.

“Both high heat and freezing cold don’t bother me. As long as there’s no daylight to weaken me, I can withstand any temperature.”

“Lucky,” I say. “Is there even a downside to being a vampire?”

I stiffen. What a dumb comment to make when we just barely escaped Gravemont!

He doesn’t miss a beat.

“Food.”

“Huh?” I blink at him.

“You mortals make food look so enticing.” He shrugs. “I’ve started to wonder what it would feel like to consume for pleasure, not survival.”

That takes my breath away. I look at him in awe, etching every detail of this Niko into my mind. How relaxed his broad shoulders are as he leans back on his palms, how his lips flirt with the idea of a smile. The wrong notes just below us seem so, so far now. His blood supplements, protestors, and the Court, too.

“What’s something you do for fun, then?” I ask, settling closer to him.

He doesn’t move away. In fact, our bodies are turned to each other, close enough that my knee nearly brushes his side. I loop my arms into his jacket, fully toasty and blanketed in his cologne now.

“Hmm . . .”

His eyes find the sky again. I follow with mine to the blanket of stars.

“Stargazing,” he says. “My mother loved constellations. Thought humans were . . .adorable, I guess? She admired how even the stars, as far away as they are, weren’t allowed to be lonely.”

I tilt my head at him, fascinated.

“Something so distant and foreign, that won’t ever respond or know . . .” He chuckles so softly I almost miss it. “Yet, the furthest stars to the deepest depths of the sea are all part of mythos and legend. They’re important to humans, despite not being human at all.”

I’m stunned. More than that, I’m so endeared I can’t help but smile. He catches me grinning, and he turns to point upward.

“Right there, do you see that bright star? The reddish one?”

“Yeah!” I say, and he traces his finger.

“That is the heart of it, and just below, you’ll see a ‘hook’ pattern. The tail of the scorpion.”

“Ohh,” I say, running my gaze along the cluster. “The Scorpius constellation?”

“That’s the one.” He relaxes back again. “When I was born, the sun was in that constellation. So, my mother pointed it out whenever it appeared.”

“You’re a Scorpio, then?” I ask, running a quick calculation of my hazy knowledge. “Is your birthday coming up soon?”

“The eighth day of the eleventh month,” he confirms, and I gasp.

“That’s just next month!”

“It is,” he says, like it’s the most unimportant thing.

Perhaps it is to him. Even a lot of humans regard any birthday after adulthood as a chore. When you’ve got countless birthdays to your name, the excitement must dull. Still, I jot down a mental note of the date.

“Well, that’s really cool,” I say as I suppress a yawn. “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything musical.”

“Music . . .”

He trails off.

“I guess doing it for a living complicates things, huh?”

“You could say that,” he says. “Stars don’t make you feel overwhelmed. They make you feel seen.” He shrugs. “That’s what she used to say, at least.”

Cute. He really is cute.

This time, I can’t help but yawn. Having only snatches of sleep for the past forty-eight hours is not cutting it. My sleepiness lowers my embarrassment as I snuggle forward, making a pillow out of his bicep.

“Are you tired?”

“Hey, some of us are human,” I mumble, and his short laugh warms my heart.

I’m not sure when the night sky disappears behind my eyelids. My heartbeat and breathing even out, and at some point, I swear I hear singing. Soft, low, beautiful.

His voice caresses my dreams, and I hold on as long as I can to hear him. It’s an unfinished melody that dips into simple humming. So gentle.

This can’t be the vampire king whose voice brings mortals to their knees. I don’t believe it. No matter what Viola warns me of, there’s an inherent trust in him that I can’t shake.

The last thing I registered was his hand adjusting my head to be more comfortable on him. I drift off with a smile and two hopes in my heart. That he won’t retreat into coldness once I wake up.

And that, even if we explore whatever this is, New Lure won’t destroy us entirely.