When the morning comes and takes me
I promise I have taught you everything that you need
In the night you'll dream of so many things
But find the ones that bring you life
And you'll find me
That's where you'll find me
I pick up the pieces, cold marble, soothing against my bloodied nails, fingers shaking as I choose the moves that might win (or lose) the game. I am nervous. Stakes are high and I've bitten my nails to the quick and then to the bone, horrifying those around me who watch, anxious for their turn. Willing to risk it. Taking the time to acknowledge that they know the rules. They know it's hard and that in the end winning isn't what's important at all. I'm singing Fade In/Fade Out with halting words, under my breath as he won't let me near the piano and so I am reduced to this, a game played on the floor on a worn chessboard. I am worthy of nothing and everything here. I am the game. I am the queen. I am the pawn.
And I thought I knew how to play but I don't, sweeping the pieces from their squares in a sudden fit of frustration. They spin away, scattering across the hardwood floor like balls of errant lightning while Lochlan begs me not to sing.
Can't help it. They took the music, this is the fallout. I have to hear it or things will be worse. It's not a promise, just a warning. There's a storm and it's right on top of us and boy we really misread the forecast, missed all the signs and forgot to batten down Bridget's hatches. We got complacent. Got lazy and now I am reduced to this.
The ghost reaches out and scoops up a handful of pieces. A rook. Both kings. Of course.
You shouldn't play this game, Jacob says suddenly, his blue eyes burning bright, circles of ocean and smoke.
Hold your fire, Lochlan says, pushing the piano across the floor between us. Giving him time, making a barrier between Jacob and I, a stalling move he doesn't need. He can take the fire if you have it. He can grow it or extinguish it at will and no one is a match for him. No one can hold a match to him.
Jacob looks at me and laughs. At least someone won their game.
Did she? Ben steps forward, picking up the board, snapping it in half. It wasn't a fair pairing. The skill levels are unbalanced.
Are they though? Jacob narrows his eyes, matching Ben's tone. They always hated each other. Nothing ever changes. That's the one thing I gave her credit for that no one else did. She can hold her own, you just won't let her.