Intuition (17 page)

“I don't either,” Frank says. “Not this time.”

“This time?” I ask. “Were you a musician before?”

Frank looks at Drew, and I'm wondering if he's waiting for a translation when Drew says, “I didn't tell her.”

Robert laughs, and Frank just nods in acknowledgment. “I was,” he says, turning back to me. “My lifetimes have always revolved around music. Two times back, I focused on the cello too. You may have heard of me.” Frank pauses, and I can sense he's teasing me. He poses with one arm extended and his chin up. “La Suggia?”

I gasp, picturing the elegant woman in the red dress whose portrait with the same pose has been hanging in my room for years. “
Guilhermina
Suggia? That was you?”

“It was,” Frank acknowledges, his dark eyes shining with the memory. “What a lifetime,” he sighs. “Casals and I were celebrated throughout Europe, playing for kings and queens. Salons
in Paris, impromptu concerts in Prague.” He focuses back on me. “Now
that
was a life well lived.”

I can hardly believe it, although if I've learned anything over the past few months, it's that anything is possible. How many people get to ask their long-dead idol questions? “What was it like?” I ask. “Being one of the first women to play?”

“Frightening,” he answers. “And exhilarating. Empowering.” The smile on his face shifts just a little. “And sometimes crushingly lonely.” Robert laces his arm through Frank's and absently pats his hand. I remember that Suggia left Pablo Casals after decades together, their competitiveness often given as the reason for the split. She didn't marry until she was in her forties and never had any kids. “I gave up a lot for my music,” Frank finally continues. “That kind of singular drive was right for that lifetime.” He glances fondly at Robert. “I've since learned to keep more of a balance.”

Drew leans forward, and Frank's eyes shift to him. “Cole isn't sure she wants to continue with music. She has an injury that's made it hard to play recently.”

“If you're meant to be a musician in this lifetime,” Frank tells me, “it will be impossible not to continue in some capacity. Your body and your spirit won't let you quit.”

I think about the low-grade yearning I feel inside when I haven't played for a while. About the feeling of peace that I only find with a bow in my hand. “So, what do you do now?” I ask. “Since you can't play music this time?”

Robert looks at Frank with admiration and then answers for him. “He won't tell you this, but Frank is one of the most
respected composers in the entertainment industry.” He names several blockbuster movies with big, epic musical scores.

I see Frank watching Robert's lips as he speaks. “I write a little music,” he says modestly.

“But . . . you can't hear it?”

“Just because I can't hear the notes doesn't mean I don't know what they sound like,” he says. “I write each part, hearing it in my mind and in my memories.” He sits back and sips his drink. “I do okay.”

“A bunch of gold statuettes in our bathroom says that you do more than okay,” Robert teases.

Frank looks a little embarrassed. He leans toward me. “You can't let your circumstances dictate your life. Only you can decide. Success is twenty percent ability and eighty percent desire.” He smiles. “You can do anything you want. As long as you want it badly enough.”

“You look tired,” Drew says as we drive up the hill toward my neighborhood.

“I just have a lot going through my head,” I say, my body feeling heavy in the seat.

“There's a lot to learn,” Drew agrees. “That's why I've been trying not to overwhelm you with things all at once.”

“It's okay,” I say. “I'm actually glad to be getting some answers.” Aside from the basics, Griffon never liked to talk much about being Akhet, and now I'm wondering why. We drive in silence for a minute, images and snippets of conversation from
tonight flashing through my mind. “Did you know Frank before tonight?”

“No. Not personally. I found him through the database and thought you might enjoy meeting him.”

“It was one of the coolest things that's ever happened to me,” I tell him honestly. “Thanks.” I feel in my pocket for the card with Frank's information on it and the open invitation to get in touch whenever I want. I can pick up the phone and text Guilhermina Suggia any time I feel like it. The only bad part about it is that I can't ever tell Herr Steinberg. He would just die. But not before he had me committed. I think about all of the people Drew knows all over the world and wonder how many he's introduced to Francesca. I know it's not a good subject with him, but I risk it anyway. “You said that Francesca isn't Akhet,” I say.

Drew shakes his head but doesn't speak.

“How do you explain things to her? The money? The people you know?”

“I can't.” He sighs and looks directly at me. “Which is one of the reasons why we're not together anymore. I've moved out of that house and bought an apartment closer to downtown. I tried to make it work, but it was just too hard. Too many things I had to censor. It's so much easier to be with people who really understand.”

The news gives me a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, like a safety net has been pulled away. “You broke up? When?”

“It's been happening for a while. I really care for Francesca,
but it was always going to end badly. I couldn't be honest about the most basic things in my life, couldn't introduce her to some of my closest friends.” Drew pulls up and double-parks in front of my house. “I don't want to talk about her anymore.” I worry that my parents will see the car, but suddenly I don't care if they're mad at me.

Drew glances at the pendant around my neck. “Do you mind if I touch the ankh? It's been so long since I held it.”

I nod, and feel a surge of electricity rush through my body as his fingers brush my skin. Drew turns the ankh over in his hand and traces the ruby in the center. “I thought we'd be together forever when I had this made for you,” he says. “The ruby had been in my family for generations, and it took weeks of working with the silversmiths to get the design exactly right.”

My mind flashes back to the day in the sunroom when he gave it to me. I remember feeling like I was going to burst with joy. “If you gave me an ankh way back then, were you already Akhet?”

“Yes,” he says. “I had been several times over.”

“But you knew I wasn't.”

“I knew you weren't then. But I could feel something extraordinary between us, and I hoped that maybe your awareness would start before too long.” He sets the pendant gently against my chest and lifts his eyes up to meet mine. “The bottom line is that I couldn't live without you.”

“Turns out I couldn't live without you either,” I say, fully intending the double meaning.

Drew puts his head against the steering wheel. “I'm so sorry. Despite everything, I couldn't protect you. I couldn't even save
my family.” He lifts his head, and I feel the moment shift as his eyes meet mine. The air feels thick with energy, and I know it will only take the suggestion of movement on my part to change things between us. I have to admit that I hesitate, considering it, until someone flips the porch light on.

“I'd better go,” I say quickly, grabbing my bag and slipping out of the car.

I break into a galloping run as I round the corner onto Haight Street. Rayne texted me from the café twenty minutes ago, and she's going to be pissed if I keep her waiting much longer. I haven't been the best friend in the world the past couple of weeks—between work and the guys, we haven't done half the things we planned at the beginning of summer, so we made a firm date to hang out today. And now I'm late because Mom made me clean my room.

I slow down to catch my breath. I wish I could tell her about Drew, about the club and about meeting Portia Martin, but I feel like I have to keep all that to myself for now. Telling her about being Akhet is one thing. Spilling all of the Khered secrets must be against somebody's rules somewhere. I'll just add that to the list of bad friend qualities I've been compiling lately.

I see them in the back just as I reach the café window. Rage
fills my body as I watch Veronique next to Rayne at the back table, their heads bent together in intimate conversation. Crossing the room doesn't even register, because it feels like only an instant has passed before my hand is on Veronique's arm, pulling her up from the table despite the difference in our sizes. “What in the hell are you doing here?” I know my voice is loud, I know people are staring, but at this point I don't care.

Rayne's hands are on my arm and her voice is pleading. “Cole! Stop! You're overreacting.”

With all of my strength, I shove Veronique toward the door. “Get out! And don't come near any of us again or I swear to God I'll get someone to take care of you for good.” Griffon might not love me anymore, but I have a feeling he'd still deal with Veronique if I told him what she was doing.

Veronique heads toward the door in the suddenly silent café, and Rayne pushes me out with her.

“We're going to settle this once and for all,” Rayne says, pulling the two of us into an empty doorway in the next building.

“I'd love that!” I say, my frustration growing. “She tried to
kill
Griffon. Do you not remember that part?”

“Of course I do. But things are different now.” Rayne shares a knowing glance with Veronique that I don't like at all. “We have to tell her.”

I pull my arm free and step away from Veronique. Even being this close to her makes me feel out of control. “Tell me what?”

“Our connection,” Veronique says calmly. “I knew it from the moment we met, and now I've been able to share the unbelievable news with Rayne.”

I stare at them. “I swear to God, you'd better tell me what's going on here.”

Rayne smiles, and I can see the excitement in her eyes. “I know who I was in a past life.”

I shake my head. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Veronique told me. I could hardly believe it when she said it, but then something about it started to feel right, you know? Like it made sense in a weird way, but then I started to wonder why you'd never felt it too. Or maybe you had, but you were keeping it from me for some reason.”

My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists, trying to keep this under control. “Rayne, seriously—what are you talking about?”

“Alessandra!” She's practically bouncing with excitement. “Veronique recognized my essence! I was Alessandra all those years ago.”

I wait for someone to laugh, to break the string of tension that's woven around us, but only serious looks pass between the two of them. “That's crazy!” I say after several seconds of silence.

Rayne steals a glance at Veronique, who hasn't moved a muscle. “We knew you'd say that, which is why we've had to keep it a secret.”

I can't believe she's falling for this. “Have you ever felt anything? In all the time we've researched that lifetime, did anything seem familiar? Do you remember anything that might connect you to Alessandra?”

“No,” Rayne admits. “But that just means I'm not Akhet, right? It doesn't mean that I wasn't Alessandra.”

“She hasn't transitioned yet,” Veronique volunteers. She looks up, her face filled with a combination of hope and fear, and I recognize the longing in her eyes. She puts one hand on my arm and before I can pull away, somehow she draws me into a memory.

I stroke the chestnut wood in small circles, careful to get every smudge and fingerprint off the polished surface before stowing the cello away in its case for transport to the next town, the next venue, the next audience. This instrument is the most valuable thing I've ever owned—the most valuable thing any member of my family has ever owned, and I promised my parents that I'd take care of it while I was on tour. I look up at the generic wooden walls of the practice room, and for a split second I can't remember where we are. Closing my eyes, I retrace our steps. We arrived two days ago on the boat, and then took carriages to the ornate theater. I've never seen so many people and horses in the streets of any city we've visited so far, gazing in wonder at the buildings and the shops as we pass. New York City. I start to wonder what the rest of the tour will be like in this amazing country when I hear soft murmurs from the practice room next door. There's a high window separating the two rooms, so I quietly creep onto a chair and pull myself up so that my eyes just clear the frame. Alessandra and Paolo giggle as he closes the door and embraces her. I know I should step away from the window and leave them to the small scrap of privacy they've managed to carve out for themselves, but I can't bring myself to look away. Paolo is so handsome, his dark eyes flashing with wit and intelligence. I can only hope that someday, someone will look at me the way he looks at Alessandra. The
giggles subside and the mood turns suddenly serious, as Paolo takes Alessandra's face in his hands, kissing her gently on each eyelid.