“First, I’d like a performance and definitely some backstory. How did you find something like this? Are they popular here?”
“Goddesses no. It’s something my Grampy found on one of his trips to the mortal realm. He thought it was a TV gadget at first; it hung out in this back room for years gathering dust until my friend Magnus and I ended up messing around with it.” He smiles to himself.
“You’ve been playing it ever since?”
He nods, the fins at the side of his neck lower in what seems like either modesty or embarrassment.
“My mama still worries I’m going to shock myself, doesn’t like the idea of someone whose always in the water playing with electricity. But I like it. It’s one of the few instruments I can play without my webbing getting in the way. Though I’ve flirted with a banjo.”
“Should I be jealous again?” I ask, glancing around the room until I find it—stringed and keyed instruments I can definitely work with. And when it comes to banjos, this one looks pretty nice.
“I’m not an expert at either.”
“You can’t be that bad,” I say, “especially with how long you’ve been practicing. Come on, please?” I lay my hand on his forearm. “Play it for me?”
He swallows hard and nods, getting the theremin booted up. Electricity hums through the room. I take a seat on an old rattan chair in the corner to watch the show.
He sits straight, arms poised, and with a precise movement of his hands around the antenna, the sounds begin. They’re different than I was anticipating. The way Gil pulls notes from seemingly thin air, it sounds more like a violin.
It’s mournful for a moment until the rhythm picks up into something silk-soft and delicate.
My throat vibrates with the sound of humming before I can contain it. The night is filled with energy and music, and as hard as it is to pull my eyes from his focused posture, I can’t resist bolting up from my seat to get my keyboard.
“Don’t stop!” I call, running to the kitchen and grabbing my bag—because even for a short trip, of course I brought my keyboard. And I’m thankful the magic Gil used to transport us here through the portals kept my things dry. God knows this thing has been through enough already.
Hurrying back into the sunroom, I set it down, closing my eyes for a moment and listening to the hypnotic notes Gil is playing. It feels like floating through the clouds. I click through the tones on the keyboard, finding something light and dreamy. My hands flutter across the keys, joining in here and there as I feel out the song despite my fumbling nerves.
It’s the sound of his laugh that gets me back on track. There’s nothing mocking or teasing about it—just fun. Pure and simple, and so much of what I’ve been missing in my own songwriting.
Music fills the air, and I’m too caught up by the sound to think about what we could create together beyond this moment. We lock eyes as his fingers curl in the air. With Gil’s small and intentional movements, the notes go higher and my breath catches. I study the way his strong fingers move.
The sound that fills our space is like nothing I’ve ever heard before, and nothing that could be recreated; it’s only us, only this moment, a tempo that bends and moves up and down with a flick of fingers and a meeting of eyes.
The searching feeling that’s been inside me is gone and replaced with the bliss of our song.
Sweat beads at my hairline as the notes and rhythm is replaced by our heaving breathes.
In and out, in and out.
We stare, and stare, our hands poised on our instruments.
“Told you that you couldn’t be bad,” I say, my breath ragged. A lazy grin spreads across my face which he mirrors.
“Guess I’m more suited to a duet.”
“Again?” I ask, my hands on the keys. He straightens with a small nod.
“Your voice sure is pretty,” he says as his claws stroke the air, illuminating the space with more sound “I think I could listen to you humming like that all night.”
“Then you’d be sick of it by the afternoon,” I counter, confident that living with someone who is constantly singing or humming is more annoying than fun. I have the reviews to prove that.
“I’ll take my chances,” he says, and that swelling feeling builds again. This time really does feel different.
With how good this feels, I might have to put it to the test.
Chapter 20
Gil
