I opened my eyes and studied him. “Schubert? Don’t you recognize it?”
“They play a different song for everyone,” he murmured. “The song we want to hear.”
I swallowed that tidbit of information, not sure how to digest it. I started to ask him what he heard when the door to the shop flew open. A short man regarded us from the doorway with wild eyes. He shook his head, sending his mass of greying curls in every direction.
“Human,” he said, staring at me.
“Oh, um, yes.” I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for a confirmation.
“I’m not interested,” he said to Julian and made to shut the door.
Julian caught it with the toe of his boot. “I’m not selling snacks, Berlioz,” he said. “She’s a cellist.”
I forced myself to stay calm and not overreact that I was meeting a musician believed to be dead for over a hundred years. Berlioz studied me for a second and then snapped, “We’ll see about that.”
He moved inside the shop without another word. The door remained open, and Julian started toward it.
“He doesn’t believe I’m a cellist,” I said under my breath to Julian.
“He suffers from lack of company.” Julian shrugged. “Some think it’s bad for him–that it’s driving him mad.”
“Do you?”
“I think he was already a little crazy before someone made him a vampire, pet.”
“That’s reassuring.” But my concerns died away as I stepped foot inside the shop and took in the piles of priceless instruments and rolled up scrolls shoved all around me.
Julian whispered, “Touch nothing unless–”
He fell silent as Berlioz approached and shoved a cello into my hands.
“Play,” he demanded.
I took it with trembling fingers and nodded. But as soon as it was in my hands, I relaxed. “What would you like me to play?”
“What you wish,” he said vaguely, cocking his head.
It was a test. I smiled at him, knowing this was a test I would pass.
An hour later, we emerged, and the shopkeeper himself was arranging the delivery of a cello to Julian’s house. I’d won over Berlioz, who usually refused to sell his wares, when I played Part Four of his Symphonie Fantastique from memory.
We wandered through the streets, peering into shop windows past trailing ivy. Julian kept buying me pastries as if he wasn’t sure how much food a human needed to consume. I didn’t complain. Eventually, the sun began to fade, coloring the light rose.
“It’s perfect,” I said as I drank in Paris at twilight.
“Indeed,” Julian murmured. I looked up to find him watching me. He smiled sadly and looked at his watch. “Unfortunately, we should head back to the house.”
“Can we come here again?” I asked.
“If you like.” But the same sadness that tainted his smile coated his words.
If there was time. We only had a few weeks in Paris, and tonight the social season would kick into full swing for both of us. Julian paused under a stone arch and drew me to him.
“Did I do okay?” he asked, brushing a gloved finger across my lower lip. “I’m a bit rusty when it comes to courtship.”
I nodded, my mouth parting instinctively at his touch. “Your courtship skills are intact.”
“Are you mocking me, pet?”
“A little,” I admitted, grinning up at him. He lowered his face over mine, bringing his lips a breath away from kissing me.
“May I kiss you?” he asked softly.
I blinked, surprised by his request.
“It’s a proper date,” he reminded me when he saw my reaction. “I’m courting you, remember?”
“Court away,” I said breathlessly.
He brought his lips to mine slowly with a deliberate reverence that unraveled me. A raw ache filled me as the kiss deepened. He took his time, moving his mouth slowly as if savoring my taste. The rosy afternoon twilight had faded into evening when he finally pulled away. Julian took my hand without a word and guided me away from the magical spot. As we stepped foot out of Île Cachée and the glamour faded, the sounds of a busy city flooded the air around us.
I sighed. “I could stay there forever.”
“If only we had that long,” he said. He said nothing else until we reached the house.
“I should get ready,” I said with a groan. “If only I were a vampire, it wouldn’t take so long to get pretty.”
