Symphony In Rapture (19 page)

Michelle moaned as he tongued her. “Yes, Duncan, yes.” She tilted her head and whispered in his hear, “I want you to fuck me, Duncan.”

Trembling, Duncan lifted his head away. He took a sip of coffee, then encircled her nipple again, allowing the hot liquid to bathe its tip. “Nick,” Michelle breathed.

Duncan stiffened immediately, spluttered, and let go of her breast.

She put her hands to her mouth. “Duncan, I’m so sorry.” His face was flushed. She reached for his hand. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Truly. I want you to make love to me, Dunc.”

Duncan extricated his hand from hers gently but firmly. “No you don’t, Michelle,” he said. “I won’t be able to make you forget him.” He sighed. “Who are we trying to kid? We’re just friends—always have been,” he met her eyes calmly, “Alwayswill be. We could probably have great sex, maybe even a decent marriage, but what’s the point? In the morning,every morning, you’d still be in love with Nick. I wouldn’t be able to accept that, Mickey.”

Michelle bowed her head, hot tears tumbling into her lap. “I’m sorry, Duncan. I wish I could love you, but—”

“Hush,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” He tucked her breast back into her bra and straightened her shirt, then held her in his arms as she sobbed. Rubbing her back, he murmured over and over, a look of grim determination in his eyes, “Everything’s going to be all right, Mickey. I promise.”

* * * * *

Nick stared askance at the man standing on his doorstep. “Duncan? What areyou doing here?”

“I came to talk to you about Mickey.” At the blank look in Nick’s eyes, he said, “Michelle.”

Nick’s face clouded. “Michelle and I are none of your business.”

Duncan stood his ground. “Michelle is definitely my business. We’ve been friends for a long time, and I want to see her happy.” He frowned. “Even if that means seeing her with you.” He eyed Nick slyly. “Do you know, she finally went out on a date with me?”

Nick swallowed a tight lump of jealousy that sprang into his throat. “So? She’s free to date whomever she wants.”

“Do you know she asked me to fuck her?”That got Nick’s attention.

He curled his hands into fists, hissing between clenched teeth, “You’re lying!”

Duncan shook his head. “No, I’m not. I was sucking her nipple at the time—”

Nick’s fist flashed up, but Duncan caught it in a surprisingly strong grip. “And she called me Nick.”

Nick closed his eyes, trembling with rage—and with relief. He pulled his arm from Duncan’s grasp. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Mickey loves you. I can’t for the life of me figure out why, but she does. And from what I can see, you have pretty strong feelings for her.”

Nick glared, but said nothing.

“The sad thing is, I love her too. The kind of love they talk about in books and movies. The kind where the most important thing for you really is the other person’s happiness.” He studied Nick contemptuously. “So I’m here to find out, do you love her or not? If you do, what’s the problem? Because I gotta admit, I don’t see how you can love her and make her hurt the way you are.” His intense gaze bore into Nick. “But she still thinks you do—she says you’re holding back because of something in your past. Some secret. If that’s the truth, then you’d better find a way to overcome it, bud. Because I’ve backed off for now. But if you tell me you don’t love her, then… all bets are off. I’ll ask her to marry me; and she will, because she wants it, Nick. She wants a man who’ll be there for her, no matter what. And she wants him now.” Duncan watched Nick’s eyes dilate, his fists tighten once more. He decided to go in for the kill. “Imagine, Nick. Me, waking up with Michelle’s naked body in my—”

Nick roared, jumped on Duncan, and they both rolled off the porch. Duncan hopped up, wiping blood from his nose on one sleeve. “Pissed off now, Nick?” Nick charged him wordlessly. Duncan danced out of the way. “I grew up in Boston, Duquaine. You ain’t gonna get the best of me in a fist fight.” Nick wheeled around, staring at Duncan with murderous eyes, breathing hard. “Look, I don’t want to fight with you,” Duncan insisted, grinning.

Nick’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Then what in the helldo you want?” he growled.

Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to cut the crap, Duquaine. If this is some sort of game, tell me. I might have to beat the shit out of you, but I’ll leave you alone after that. If it’s not, then tell Michelle you love her, damn it. Marry her. Whatever this damn secret is, it won’t matter to her. Believe me. You’ll never be loved again the way this girl loves you.”

Nick ran a hand over his face. “It’s not that simple.”

Duncan shook his head. “Trust me.” He looked into Nick’s eyes, and Nick caught a glimpse of the kind of pain Michelle must be feeling right now. “It’s always been that simple.”

* * * * *

They were in the middle of a rehearsal when Nick appeared, peeking around the studio door. Michelle’s breath caught in her throat, stopping her mid-note. Their gazes locked, and after a moment she cleared her throat. “You guys, would you mind taking a short breather?”

The other band members eyed Nick speculatively as they sidled out the door.

Michelle and Nick stared at each other across the room.

“What are you doing here?” Michelle asked.

“I had to see you,” Nick answered.

Michelle’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. “Why?”

“I want to,” He cleared his throat. “I want to marry you, Michelle.”

A sob escaped, and she started toward him. He held up one hand. “But that doesn’t mean I can. There are things I need to tell you. After you hear what I have to say, you may not want it, either.”

Michelle arrested her advance and nodded, her joy tempered by a sudden fear of the unknown.

“Will you come by the house after rehearsal?”

“Yes.” Michelle was proud to hear that her voice was steady.

Oddly, Nick bowed like a courtier before he turned and left the room.

* * * * *

Monkeys were doing cartwheels in Michelle’s stomach as she drove over to Nick’s. She pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the backs of her hands on the steering wheel, trying to regain some semblance of calm.

When she was ready, she went up the walk. Nick opened the door before she could knock, and ushered her in. They stood awkwardly in the foyer. “This will be easiest to explain if I show you some things, first.”

Nick climbed the stairs, with Michelle following. On the second floor he opened the door to a cluttered study. Michelle walked in and stood beside a recliner as he shut the door and retreated to a chair behind the desk. Wordlessly, he handed her an aged leather portfolio. Michelle sat down and opened it carefully.

Contained within were several yellowed scraps of newspaper articles and weathered letters, a thick cloth-bound journal, several birth certificates—and photographs, both modern-day and ancient, originals and photocopies.

Michelle glanced through the birth certificates first. They spanned several decades, and appeared to be for several unrelated persons. She transferred her attention to the photographs. Actually, the oldest representations were two daguerrotypes, both of a man greatly resembling Nick—with the exception of grotesque abnormalities to the left side of his face.

More recent photographs also showed a man resembling Nick, yet his face had altered, some of the damage appeared to have been repaired. Michelle flipped rapidly through the rest. The countenance of each man improved; until the last photograph, in which the features were nearly perfect, and which appeared to be a very recent picture of Nick.

Michelle fleetingly recalled the night in the music room when she’d noticed the subtle differences between the features of Nick’s face, the scar on his scalp. The abnormalities in the picture occurred on the same side of the face as the irregularities she’d felt during her slow exploration that night. But they spanned such a long period of time. She looked up at Nick, tilting her head quizzically. “I don’t understand. Are you trying to show me that your genetic abnormality runs in the family?” A sudden thought came to her. “Are you worried that our children might be affected?”

Nick stood and walked over to her side, kneeling by the chair. “It’s a little more complicated than that.” He picked up the photographs and fanned them out on the floor. “Do you notice anything else…unusual about all these?”

Michelle studied them for a long while. It was hard to tell with the older ones, because the abnormalities made it so difficult to read the side of the face that was normal, but therewas something… “They all appear to be the same age,” she finally ventured. “About the age you are now.”

“Don’t you think it would be odd,” Nick asked, “to have pictures of predecessors who all just happened to be about the same age at the time these likenesses were created?”

Michelle rubbed her temples. “What are you trying to say to me, Nick?”

He met her gaze calmly, though she also sensed apprehension. “They are all pictures ofme ,” he said.

Michelle laughed, her tension broken. “This is a joke, right?”

Nick shook his head.

Thishasto be some kind of joke, Michelle thought.And yet…

She stared at the likenesses again. It really was uncanny, the resemblance. More so than any family resemblance she’d ever noticed in any family photographs she’d ever been shown. Especially the newer ones. They looked like a series of photos a plastic or reconstructive surgeon would take of a single patient, to document the progress of a case.

“What are you trying to tell me? That you’re—what, a couple hundred years old?”

Nick nodded solemnly.

Michelle narrowed her gaze angrily. “Nick—”

He reached up and held her by the shoulders. “Itis a genetic abnormality,” he insisted. “And it’s not just responsible for my facial deformities.”

Michelle took a deep breath. “Maybe you’d better start at the beginning.”

“You know when I was born, my mother didn’t want me.”

Michelle nodded.

“What I didn’t tell you was that she was so horrified by my face, she asked the doctor to take me away and drown me.”

Michelle gasped.

“He was before his time, though. He wondered why I was like that. He wanted to know if anything could be done to help me.” He let go of her shoulders and stood, began pacing the room. “He took me home and raised me. At first, I aged more rapidly than I should have. I don’t remember much now about the passage of time, but Dr. Gerard kept journals. From what I’ve read, it looks as though I matured to the size and form of a man in his early twenties by the time I was ten years old. My body continued to age for another fifteen years or so, but at a more normal rate. After that, it stopped altogether.”

Michelle rested her head on one hand, rubbing at her forehead with the other. She tried to gather her thoughts into something coherent. “So.” Either Nick was certifiable, or- “Let me get this straight. You’re telling me you were born in…” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Eighteen thirty-seven, according to the journals,” Nick said.

“And… you were born with a horribly disfigured face.”

He nodded.

“And the same gene or genes responsible for the deformities you were born with are also responsible for the…inconsistencies in your rate of maturation. And that you’ve stopped aging now.”

Nick nodded again.

“So. I’m supposed to believe that you’re almost two hundred years old.”

Nick didn’t say anything.

“What else does this gene do?” she asked.

“Well, as I said, I haven’t aged in over a century and a half. Also, I don’t get sick. And I heal faster than most people, when injured. It’s ironic, don’t you think? That the same gene responsible for this,” he pointed at the ravaged visage represented in the first daguerreotype, “also confers such ‘benefits’.” He said the word with venom.

Michelle stared at the floor. “Nick, this sounds like a badly written vampire story. Wait a minute—didn’t somebody write a book about all this?” she muttered skeptically. “A deformed guy, Paris Opera House, horrible murders and some such?”

Nick shrugged. “Look, I never hid in the Paris Opera House, though Ihave seen it. And I never killed anybody. But I can’t say that rumors might not have gotten around, or that the guy who wrote the book might not have had some inkling that there really was a person like me in existence.” He frowned. “And… therewas a tragedy.” He resumed his pacing.

“It was an accident. I was staying in Doctor Gerard’s private hospital. He had a maid working for him. A young woman named Genevieve. Women often befriended me, despite my face. I think it was the eyes. And, I wore a mask. They seemed to like that. They said it made me seem mysterious. I was still young then, and sheltered. Naďve. I made the mistake of thinking that because she had sex with me, she might have feelings for me. That I might actually be able to marry and have a wife and children like other men. The day I mentioned what I’d been thinking, she laughed in my face. It made me angry. I shouted at her. I guess I must have flailed my hands about.”

He turned away from Michelle, sounding as though he were in pain. “The mask fell away, and she saw my entire face for the first time. She screamed and ran. I went after her. I was only going to apologize.” Nick covered his face in his hands. “She was so frightened, she ran down the stairs too quickly. She tripped and fell. She died.” Nick turned back to face Michelle. “I was devastated. Doctor Gerard kept a suicide watch on me for months. Finally, I was able to resume some semblance of life.

“But I didn’t try for a serious relationship again for a long time. Not until my appearance had become more acceptable.”

“So, over the years, you’ve had surgery.”

Nick nodded. “Yes. Doctor Gerard had a promising young protégé. Eventually, he introduced him to me. When Doctor Gerard died, he was quite wealthy, and had no children of his own. I became his heir. His student took an interest in my case, and in return for my patronage, continued to work toward solutions for my deformities. As each of my surgeons has aged, they’ve introduced me to their protégés—sometimes sons, sometimes just promising students. Over the years, there came to be a kind of passing of the torch, so to speak—ofme .” Nick looked to Michelle for understanding.