The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

| 17

Music lifts into the air. It remains suspended among chattering guests, drifting up the domed ceiling and slipping to the furthest corners of the banquet hall.

One, two, three beats pass.

Polite applause cascades among guests dressed in glittering gowns and tuxedos, a momentary break in the hum of voices before they return to their conversations.

"Wonderful." Mr. Baytes, the man, myth, and legend who gave us our first job in months, approaches us. "Thank you so much for performing tonight. I think it's been a real hit and drawn new attention to our cause."

"I think the work you're doing is awesome," Emi says. She's beaming from ear to ear. "We really do need to spread more awareness about classical music. Do you host these sorts of events often?"

"Unfortunately not," Mr. Baytes says. "But we're hoping that will change soon. How many more selections do you plan on playing tonight?"

"We have about five more," Emi says. "Another half hour, if that's alright."

Mr. Baytes' eyes flick to the shiny gold watch on his wrist. "That sounds perfect. Though please, take breaks whenever you need to and help yourself to some refreshments."

"Thank you."

Mr. Baytes drifts into a sea of elegant guests. Emi turns to Martin and me, practically bouncing with excitement.

"Things are going so well. I'm shocked at how many people are here."

"At least fifty," Martin murmurs.

I glance about the room. A woman emerges from the crowd, and I glimpse her face before she dips back among the others. A frown creases my brown.

Wait a minute. I just saw that face the other night.

"I'm going to grab some refreshments," I say. Before anyone objects, I slip away in the woman's direction.

Moments later, I spot her again. She's speaking with a big, burly man, who's practically busting out of his tuxedo. Her brown hair is tied taut in a bun, and she has the same oval face, slender nose, and slightly pointed chin as the woman I saw in the road outside the unnamed shop. A shiver runs down my spine, and I rush back to Emi and Martin.

"You didn't get anything for us?" Emi teases, nudging me with her arm. Her smile wanes as she takes in the worry etched on my face. "What's wrong?"

"You're not going to believe this," I whisper.

"Huh?"

"Shh, keep your voice down." I glance around. My eyes land on Mr. Baytes, just a few feet away. "Look, something's very wrong here. I think we need to get out."

"What are you talking about?"

"Remember those people with the instruments?"

Emi's face drops into a scowl. "Cerise, do not ruin this night for us with your crazy, treasure-hunting nonsense."

"No, listen—"

"No, you listen. We have a chance to be scouted by real music lovers here. People who can hire us for more jobs. More jobs means more money, meaning there's no need to follow a wild goose chase to a non-existent treasure!"

"But—"

"I'm done, Cerise! If you want out, then we'll find someone to replace you." Emi spins around just as Mr. Baytes steps behind her. She takes a step back. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Everything alright?" Mr. Baytes chuckles.

"Yes. We just had a slight disagreement in tempo for the next piece, which we'll start playing now." Emi reaches for her instrument, resting in its case.