AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Head down, walking quickl
y, fighting off a Black Scream--as he felt discord prickle his skin.
No...
He controlled it, barely.
Stefan could not help but think of the music of the spheres...
This philosophical concept moved him to his core. It was a belief that everything in the universe--planets, the sun, comets, other stars--gave off energy in the form of audible tones.
Musica mundanus, the ancients had called it.
Similar was Musica humana, the tones created within the human body.
And finally there was Musica instrumentis. Actual music played on instruments and sung.
When these tones--whether planets, the human heart, a cello performance--were in harmony, all was good. Life, love, relationships, devotion to the god of your choosing.
When the proportions were off, the cacophony was ruinous.
Now the spheres were tottering, and his chance of salvation, of rising into the state of Harmony, pure Harmony, was in jeopardy.
Stifling an urge to cry, Stefan dug into his jacket pocket and pulled a paper towel out. He mopped his face, his neck, and shoved the damp wad away.
Looking around. No eyes focused on him. No red-haired policewomen moving toward him, in four-four march time.
But that didn't mean he was safe. He circled the block twice, on foot, and stopped in the shadows near the stolen car. Finally, he could stand it no longer. He had to get away. He had to be safe.
Pausing at the car, another look around, then he set his suitcase in the backseat and the computer bag on the passenger's side in the front. He climbed in and started the engine.
The grind, the cough, the purr of cylinders.
He pulled slowly into traffic.
No one followed; no one stopped him.
He thought to Her: I'm sorry. I'll be more careful. I will.
He had to keep Her happy, pleased with him, of course. He couldn't afford to offend Euterpe. She was the one guiding him on his journey to Harmony, which, according to the music of the spheres, corresponded to Heaven, the most exalted state one could exist in. Christ had his stations of the cross, on his journey. Stefan had his too.
Euterpe, daughter of Zeus, one of the nine muses. She was, of course, the muse of music, pictured often in a robe and carrying a flute or pan pipes, a handsome face, an intelligent face, as befit the offspring of a god.
He drove around, a half-dozen blocks, until he was positive no one followed.
With his muse in mind, another thought occurred. Stefan, a distracted boy in school, had nonetheless liked mythology. He recalled that Zeus had fathered other children too, and one was Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. He couldn't remember who her mother might be, but she was different from Euterpe's; they were half sisters.
But that didn't mean the women were in harmony. Oh, not at all. In fact, now just the opposite. They were enemies.
Euterpe, guiding Stefan to Harmony.
Artemis--in the form of the red-haired policewoman--trying to stop them both.
But you won't, he thought.
And as he drove he forced away a budding Black Scream and concentrated on his next composition. He had a good piece of music in mind for his next hangman's waltz. Now all he needed was another victim, to provide the perfect bass line, in three-quarter time.
Chapter 8
