Page 41 of The Midnight Frequency

“It’s shimmering.”

“Edible glitter exists.”

“So do small spells.”

I glanced over toward Tess.

She would never give me something harmful. But was she capable of giving me a ‘stop overthinking and have fun’ kind of spell? Absolutely.

“No need to panic,” Silas said. “There are regulations about drink spells.”

For good reason.

If it went unregulated, a spell could work similarly to drugs.

But he was right; drink magic was incredibly subtle. It worked more as a suggestion than a demand. Like someone tapping on your shoulder and suggesting you loosen up a bit, but moving away before you could decide if you were going to do so.

I went ahead and trusted my friend, the bartender, and local laws, and took another sip as I turned to watch the dancers.

It was a healthy mix of paranormals and humans.

A pair of vampires dressed in formal wear stood apart from others, going through the sensual and intricate moves of a dramatic tango.

A human woman appeared to be slow dancing alone, her arms raised as if holding a partner. It was only if you looked closely enough that you realized she was pulled tightly against some…thing, and there was no way she could move like that without the support of another being. A succubus pulled herself up onto the bar, drawing the attention of every man within the immediate vicinity.

“Is it just me, or is everyone dancing like they’re hearing different music?”

“I assume they are,” Silas said. “There must be a spell to allow each person to hear what they want most. What do you hear?”

“The song that’s been stuck in my head all day,” I admitted. “It’s been a total earworm because I couldn’t figure out the next line. Oh, there it is.” Hearing it felt like mentally shrugging off a weight I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. “What do you hear?”

“A song from when I was mortal.” I glanced over, finding Silas looking almost a little dreamy. “I thought it was a perfect piece of music. But I have never been able to find it again since. I have been looking.”

“I’ll be quiet so you can enjoy it,” I said, sipping my drink.

“I merely wish you could hear it too.”

Suddenly, that was all I wanted.

Just as quickly, my song ended, and his replaced it.

It started before I realized it had begun—just a single note that rose up from the earth and seemed to slip inside my soul.

It felt like walking into a room where something important happened and the cello never forgot.

I swear I could feel him in it.

Not the vampire standing beside me, but the human he’d once been—flesh and blood and less guarded.

The music swelled, full of longing, but also something beneath it, something sharper. It wasn’t sadness exactly; it was more like an emptiness, like a space where something had once been, and the hollowness left in the absence.

Just when I thought I was maybe understanding it and him, the music dipped, then softened, like an apology for the melancholia, like hope.

The note rose, taking my heart with it.

And then… silence.

I didn’t realize tears had pricked my eyes until Silas was pressing his handkerchief into my hand.