Page 13 of In the Shadows

his core.

“He’s not,” Thom said, stubbornly willing it to be true, hating

his father for saying death out loud and making it even more real.

The elevator opened and Thom turned away angrily. As he

stomped back to the door, his father whispered, “Please forgive me.”

It was the first time Thom had ever heard his father use the

word please.

It terrified him.

Paris

Early September, 1900

four

C

HARLES HAD DISCOVERED, MUCH TO HIS SURPRISE, THAT

DYING CAME WITH A WHOLE ARRAY OF BENEFITS

Certainly there was much to be said for not dying

before the age of sixteen, but as that did not appear to be an option,

he had reconciled himself to slamming into the end of his life with

as much momentum as he could manage.

He knew Thom was angry to be torn away from the city he

loved, but the Johnson Boarding House seemed nice enough. One

place was much the same as any other as far as Charles was con-

cerned. He could tell from the way Thom twitched next to him at

the table, fingers tapping Beethoven on his legs, that they would

have to devise an escape from these group dinners, though.

Beethoven meant Thom was angry. Charles needed to switch

him onto Mozart. Or, better yet, ragtime. A lively ragtime sum-

mer was preferable to a glowering Beethoven one.

A woman who had introduced herself as Mrs. Humphrey sat

at the head of the table, scooping copious amounts of sugar into

her tea while darting glances around to see if anyone noticed. A

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