Unsung Requiem: The Ghost Bird Series: #13 Read online

  And Sang.

  Thinking of her, he sent her a quick text, despite knowing she was probably still on her Academy job with Mr. Buble.

  Victor: You doing okay?

  Minutes passed. No answer. Of course. He chewed at his lower lip, a bit concerned. It’d be simple to track her phone, but it meant opening up opportunities for others to do so, after he’d put in a lot of effort to make their lines untraceable lately. Especially after Volto started getting more dangerous…

  Should he check on DepthCrawler? Check on his progress?

  He debated doing so. DepthCrawler would let him know if there was any new information to share.

  Victor left his phone on his bed before heading into his bathroom. He needed to freshen up and head downstairs before his mother sent people to fetch him. He told himself Sang would be there tonight. They all would be. Silas was waiting for him, and that was at least one of them here, enough to give him some breathing room from his mother so he could stop feeling like a puppet.

  Tonight, he’d do what they’d like. Tomorrow, and for days after, they allowed him to do as he wished.

  And maybe one day he’d have the guts to tell his mother to back off.

  Sotto Voce

  (In an undertone)

  Sang

  Outside of leaving the Taylor compound, I had no idea where we were going when we left. I wasn’t sure I should ask. I thought I’d check my phone if it took much longer and have the map show me where I was.

  The neighborhood we arrived in was a single cul-de-sac off a road with an empty field on either side before there were more single homes on larger lots of land. The cul-de-sac had small homes sitting close to each other. Single-story modest homes. Some had chain-link fences. Some of the lawns had bicycles and toys. Few cars were in the drives. Some homes had a single-car garage in the back or a carport alongside the house.

  It wasn’t until Mr. Buble parked in front of a particularly small house at the end of the lane that he spoke. “This is it.”

  I swallowed, nervous. It was the middle of the day, and there was a car parked in the drive, a small, blue four-door Accord. While there was a carport, it had collections of bins, a lawn mower, and a few toys underneath which blocked access to parking inside. The thin porch at the front of the house had just enough room for the baby stroller to sit next to the front door. The lawn had a short white picket fence, easy enough to walk over if one wanted.

  Mr. Buble turned off the car engine, examining the front of the house. “Mrs. Ruiz will give you more instructions.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “You don’t know her, but she’s one of us,” he said. He took on a lecturing tone as he continued. “Mrs. Ruiz is what’s known as ‘on leave’ for the sake of what we do. Generally, when you start a family, you take that status. However, she’s needed for a couple of hours.”

  “You want me to… join her?” I asked, unsure.

  He shook his head. “Actually, we need you to stay here. Her children are young. They need care and her husband is two states away. Their normal babysitter is at work himself right now. Conveniently this should only take a couple hours so you’ll have plenty of time to get back to your plans.”

  Oh. I blinked up at the house, suddenly realizing this was a small task but also a complicated one. “I’ve never… done this before.”

  “It won’t be difficult. The favor granted here will be quick. It’s a good way to learn the process in a short amount of time. I know the others wanted to join you, but it would have devalued the favor and would have been a waste of time when only one person is needed. This type of task isn’t always available.” He opened his door. “Won’t you join me? I’ll go in with you to make introductions.”

  Was it lucky to get this job? It seemed an odd choice for my first Academy job on my own. I followed him away from the car and along a paved path to the front porch. The home was quaint, with flower boxes in the windows and a Welcome mat that had a pineapple in the background. There was a pineapple doorknocker as well.

  Mr. Buble sent a text while we waited quietly on the porch instead of using the knocker.

  As we waited, I tried not to think about what was happening. I’d never watched over kids, so I had no idea what to do. At Academy camp and prior to that at a football game at Thanksgiving were the few times I’d interacted with anyone younger than myself and there were always parents or other team members around. Could I handle this alone? I tried to summon up all the books or television shows that had scenes depicting people babysitting but in my current state, I was having trouble coming up with what to do.

  The door opened slowly, and a woman’s head appeared, although angled away from the door. “Thanks for texting,” she said. “I just got him to sleep. Annie’s down for a nap, too.”

  She scooted away, and it wasn’t until Mr. Buble and I got inside the door that I realized she had a baby in one arm, sleeping. I wasn’t aware how young the child was exactly, maybe a few months, not yet a year at least. Mrs. Johnson moved quietly, and as such, I tried to lighten my footsteps.

  The entry opened immediately to a living room with a couch facing the front picture window, curtains drawn. There was a fireplace to the left and a mirror above that, and a hallway straight across the room from the front door.

  Mrs. Ruiz backed up toward the middle of the living room and stopped just short of the coffee table behind her. She wore a long floral skirt and a cotton blouse, and her curly dark hair was tucked up in a bun, though a few strands framed her face. She focused on me. “Hello,” she whispered. “He mentioned this was your first time babysitting?”

  I nodded quickly, trying not to grimace. The phone I carried in my hands buzzed quickly once, a message coming in, but I ignored it to focus.

  “You have friends on either side,” she said motioning in the general direction outside, and I thought she meant the neighbors. “They work the night shift usually and might be sleeping now, but they are around if there’s an emergency.”

  “I’ve every confidence she’ll do fine,” Mr. Buble said.

  I knew he meant to give me more self-confidence in this, but seeing the baby that was small and unable to at least get around on its own made me feel like it was such a monumental task.

  “I’ll put baby down,” Mrs. Ruiz said to me. “Come see.”

  I followed quietly on her heels. She took a right in the hallway, where there was a set of doors mirroring each other. Inside the right one was a queen bed with dark wood foot and headboards, and a wide, dark wood dresser with a large mirror on top facing the bed. In the corner near a big window on the far side was an odd-looking bassinet shaped almost like an oblong hoop.

  I hovered by the door while Mrs. Ruiz put the baby down in the bassinet, wrapping him snugly in a blanket. The baby’s small eyes opened just a little.

  I worried the baby would want to stretch or move around. Was that how babies sleep?

  Mrs. Ruiz activated something on the side of the bassinet, and it started to move, gently, from side to side. She turned, motioned to me, and we tiptoed back out into the hallway together.

  She handed me a small monitor, and there was a picture of the baby being rocked continually in the bassinet.

  “Just keep this with you, and as long as little Conner is being quiet, he can stay. If he gets fussy…” She motioned for me to follow.

  We passed the front living room to the other side of the hall, where it opened to a small vintage kitchen with yellow tiles and a tiny table in the middle. I followed her through an archway on the other side.

  In the back was a rear den room. This room had much larger windows, a couple of doors on either side and a back door with a big window showing off a rear porch and fenced yard.

  The room also had a couch and padded ottoman for a coffee table. There was a collection of toys scattered across the floor, trailing from a shelf with bins. There was a baby bouncing chair, and a large entertainment unit o
pposite the couch, the television currently off.

  She showed me a particular baby chair that was surrounded with play toys within arm’s reach. “Conner loves this one,” she said. “If he wakes up, he might be hungry, but place him here. There’s bottles in the fridge ready to go and instructions taped to the front.”

  I held a breath and nodded, trying to look more confident than I appeared. It seemed simple… but didn’t you have to warm bottles for babies? I thought I remembered that from a book or something.

  She smiled gently. “Annie is four and knows where to find snacks if she’s hungry when she wakes up. It’s more likely she’ll wake first. I’ll possibly be back before the baby wakes.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “There’s plenty to eat in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself to the TV as well.” She headed to the kitchen again.

  I followed her back to where Mr. Buble was waiting by the front door.

  “I think we’re ready,” Mrs. Ruiz said.

  Mr. Buble nodded and opened the door, holding it for her.

  She turned to give me one more confident smile. “I shouldn’t be too long. You have your phone?”

  I nodded, showing it to her in my hands as I juggled the baby monitor as well.

  “I’ll have Mr. Buble send my number in case you have any questions.”

  Mr. Buble coughed shortly once. “Yes, well, try not to call for a few hours.”

  A few hours… but she said she shouldn’t be long. I wondered which would be the case.

  Whatever it was, her task seemed dangerous enough I shouldn’t call her unless there really was a good reason. After having been involved in a few Academy jobs already, I could imagine unless it was an absolute emergency, calling her with simple questions was probably not ideal.

  They left, closing the door. I went to the front picture window in the living room, spreading the curtain open with just the tip of my finger, enough to watch Mr. Buble hold the passenger door open to his own car. They were leaving together. Within minutes, the car pulled out of the driveway and down the road.

  I remained by the window, checking out the neighborhood. In the stillness, while little kids slept in the house, I took shallow breaths. The smell of newness filled my nose, a light lemon fragrance, acid from cleaners, slight neutral AC air. The baby monitor showed the little one, eyes closed, the bassinet moving side to side. Not a noise in the house.

  Alone. With children I’d never met before. In a neighborhood somewhere a good distance from the guys.

  This was what I had to do from now on. This was what the Academy would be like. Sometimes torn at unexpected moments from your team, the people you wanted to be around. They did it for the good of people around them, and sometimes you didn’t know why. Mrs. Ruiz could be going to save someone maybe, and she just needed someone to stand by to watch her children as they took a nap.

  The vibration in my hands of my phone pressed against the monitor sounded odd, with the hard cases of each trembling loud in the quiet of the living room. I nearly dropped both, but caught them, separating them and checking the phone screen.

  A message from Mr. Buble with Mrs. Ruiz’s phone number.

  There were more messages, from the guys. Luke was letting me know he wasn’t sick. Dr. Green sent a flower emoji. He probably was at work at the hospital still, but when he got a moment, he sent either a selfie or emoji and I often sent one back.

  Victor was checking in, asking how I was doing.

  I didn’t want to tell him the truth. That I was nervous. These were kids, little human beings. If something happened… well anything could possibly happen. What if I did something wrong?

  Should I worry him?

  I replied.

  Sang: I think I’m okay. He just has me babysitting for a few hours. I should be on time for your birthday party.

  I waited a second, hoping he’d get back to me. When it was clear he wouldn’t for a moment, I then sent along:

  Sang: How are you doing?

  Again, I waited. No reply.

  I hoped he was okay.

  Melisma

  (The technique of changing the note of a syllable while being sung)

  Victor

  Victor cleaned himself up and put on the suit, the way Gabriel had recommended. The dark T-shirt material felt different, casual. The Ford suit with its trim waistline was more in style recently. When he was finished, though, he realized he’d spent way too much time lingering in the bathroom and Jasmine and Silas were probably waiting downstairs.

  He stopped short at the last stair when his mother materialized in front of him. Her eyes trailed down, all the way to the shoes, and she did that thing where she was waiting to decide if she was happy with this. There was a twinge in the left corner of her mouth. It was hard to tell, but it might be considered a slight approval, possibly because he’d compromised on the suit selection.

  He didn’t like it. It felt like he was giving in to what she’d prefer. He didn’t want to admit he liked the suit. Complaining about it felt obnoxious.

  “Did you have something planned for this afternoon?” Victor asked, waiting for her to say they were going to have a pre-party gathering with some of her old friends.

  A smile formed, practiced for photos, with a tilt to her head and lips puckered like she was kissing the air. “Let’s enjoy a nice luncheon with some friends, shall we?”

  Exactly what he expected. There wasn’t going to be an event where she didn’t try to introduce him to someone with status, a local celebrity, another top official from the city or state.

  They’d all chuckle like it was cute to have a young pianist joining them and then talk to themselves about whatever else for the rest of the luncheon.

  Socialization was the path to whatever you wanted in those circles. Donations to your charity. A business alignment. As long as everyone pretended to be perfect, then everyone pretended to be happy.

  At least it’d be nothing new. It was more of what Jasmine wanted for today. To show him off. Why have a birthday party without doing so?

  He tried to prepare himself. He was never very good about hiding that he didn’t want to be in a place. He’d gotten better, with practice with Kota. He tried not to think about not wanting to be there. He tried to think about… anything. Something else.

  Sang. When was the last moment he spent any time with her? Felt like forever ago. Maybe yesterday, but still way too long.

  Victor followed his mother as she walked through the kitchen and out onto a side patio. This had another round table set up, similar to the ones in the tent for tonight. There were place settings for eight, with six people already sitting, and they now turned toward the door in anticipation.

  Victor didn’t know any of the people, except one, an older woman with dark hair and bright red lipstick who had been at a number of concerts he’d performed. Mrs. Turner. She’d a husband but she more often than not attended functions alone.

  There were two other older women of similar age to his mother.

  And three younger ladies. He guessed their ages to be similar to his own, seventeen or so.

  That uncomfortable bit of heat in his lungs seemed to increase in temperature and spread upward, making his breath hot.

  Victor blinked, unable to come up with words… except to ask why, and that seemed the wrong thing to say. It wasn’t the usual collection of older friends of his mother’s he was expecting. The newness of the faces at the table surprised him.

  Luncheon with friends. Sure. Friends… of whom exactly? Not even her own? Mrs. Turner never came by the house before, and he was unfamiliar enough with the others to question everything about this.

  What he hated the most was that if Sang, or even Silas, had joined them, it was clear that there was no room for either of them once his mother and he joined the table. No other place settings were here.

  Jasmine did nothing without planning carefully.

  T
he women at the table turned to him, a couple of them clapped their hands, and all of them smiled.

  “What a lovely surprise,” Mrs. Turner cooed with delight. “A very happy birthday to you, young Master Victor.”

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, either Sang or Silas checking in with him, or maybe even DepthCrawler with news. He ignored it for the moment, not wanting to appear rude. “Pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Turner,” he said. “It is… quite the surprise.” He did a polite pause, trying to come up with words, but it worked a bit as it made him seem really surprised.

  Her face lit up and she leaned to motion her hand toward one of the younger girls at the table. “My daughter is in from prep school from Europe. I know you haven’t seen each other in years. Do you remember Brie?”

  She motioned to a dark-haired, dark-skinned young woman, whose eyes seemed… blank. She looked at Victor but she wasn’t exactly all there. Tired?

  He really didn’t recognize her at all. Had he met her before? He couldn’t recall. Maybe Mrs. Turner brought her to one of his concerts years ago, in which case he met so many people each night to shake hands with after, that he couldn’t recall individuals unless they attended multiple times. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  His mother seemed pleased with his response. “And this is Mrs. Quaid and her daughter, Stella. And Mrs. Reynolds and her daughter, Piper.”

  The other two were blond, with similarly styled makeup and floral print dresses. Sitting next to each other, they ducked their heads in a nod at him at being introduced, smiling but the smile didn’t reach their eyes.

  “A pleasure to meet you all,” Victor said, although, with his tone, it came out more like a question at the end.

  His mother motioned with a slight hand movement toward the empty seat, between Brie and Piper.

  Victor forced a smile, baring teeth a bit. “You really shouldn’t have gone through all the trouble.” The phone in his pocket vibrated more. More messages coming in.