Deeper Than Blood

           His fingers moved swiftly over the piano tiles, his eyes fixed on the sheets of paper in front of him. Listening to his pathetic attempt to finish the piece, he tried to let go of any judgemental thoughts that rose in his mind. No progress would be made if he couldn’t face his own mistakes, care for them in order to fix them. Who would care to listen to his melody if he didn’t have the guts to listen to it himself? And there was more than enough silence around the area to help him focus on his goal. Although it wasn’t his choice to stay in this place, he had to admit that the absence of the city’s distracting honks and chatter was almost peaceful. Here, there was nothing but trees around; the piano’s chilling notes could take over and fill his ears.

            A thump from the room above made his hands tremble for a second. He closed his eyes, a single, frustrated line formed between his eyebrows. He didn’t give a damn about the source of the noise, his sole concern being that no other would follow. A minute passed and he opened his eyes relieved. Music filled the room once again and a soft voice reminded him to straight his slouching shoulders, a habit that followed him since he was a young boy. No one wants to see a pianist bending like a sad hunchback. The musician is supposed to reflect the music he produces, confident, effortless, perfect – CLUNK – okay, this is not funny, what the hell is happening in this godforsaken house?

            The piano stool let out a screech when he pushed it back. While climbing the curved staircase, he paused for a moment to steady himself and restore the uneven breaths coming out of his mouth. When he reached the first floor, he headed straight to the peeled door at the far end of the corridor, certain about the identity of the disturber. The idea of barging into a room without knocking would make his father’s body turn in his grave, but in this case courtesy didn’t apply.

            ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

            Before him, his sister was sitting on the floor, an open chest by her side and a mountain of dusty journals beside her. Her eyes were wide open, as she was inspecting an item small enough to fit in her pale hands.

            ‘Did you know that Mum had this entire collection of musical boxes?’ she kept looking at the box, not taking notice of his frustration.

            ‘No and I’m not interested in any of your useless discoveries. I’m trying to practice, so can you please keep quiet?’

            ‘There must be dozens of them, all with detailed journal entries about where they were bought, who made them –’

            ‘I said, I don’t care. And get up already, your skirt is going to get all dirty again and you know that’s very unladylike,’ he started losing his patience with his sister’s childish attitude.

            She took her eyes away from the box and stared at him.

            ‘Can you stop using that tone? You sound like Dad, it’s quite irritating,’ she complained. ‘Like he’s back from the dead.’

            A mocking laugh escaped his lips and he took the music box from his sister’s hands. It was made from walnut wood, with carved notes on its sides, and the light coming in from the window gave it a gleaming illusion. The metal lever was warm when he turned it around. A sweet melody came out, slow till he found the right tempo. All other sounds ceased; the whole house was listening, attuning itself to the song’s demands. The air shifted, not greatly, but just enough for his chest to tighten. It didn’t surprise him that this instrument once belonged to his mother. His passion with music originated from the seed she planted. Hours of games, just the two of them laughing and improvising, turned into hours of hard practice, his mother’s watchful eyes correcting every mistake that he dared to make. No ice buckets or ointments could sooth the pain in his hands. Only she could. A simple smile from her lips, while she sat next to him with her dark hair falling into a halo around his head, was enough.

            ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ his sister interrupted his thoughts.

            ‘Beautiful? It’s too simple to be considered anything more than decent,’ he scoffed and threw the box on the bed next to him. Stomping his way back downstairs, he wondered why his sister can’t do anything useful with her time instead of snooping around dead people’s things.

            He started banging his fists on the white and black tiles, causing terrible noises to bounce off the walls till the whole house was filled with a series of agonising echoes. He tried to get rid of the music box’s tune, till he was panting and sweating. When all his energy had disappeared, he dragged his feet away from the piano and didn’t practice for the rest of the day.

∾

            A few days passed in that fashion, the two siblings engrossed in their respective projects as the weather got unpleasantly warm. He had been so used to his sister’s chirpy interruptions that when they became scarce, his relief was spoiled by something he could only assume was concern. Hours would pass by without her leaving her room and he would occasionally pick up soft melodies coming out of the music boxes she had found. He resumed his intense practice and would only take breaks to dine, sleep or take a stroll to stretch his overworked arms. One evening, when he asked the housekeeper why his sister hadn’t attended supper, the wrinkled woman let out a heavy sigh and told him that the young lady had declared that she wasn’t hungry. They looked at each other and silently agreed that something was wrong, so he decided to pay his sister a visit the next morning.

 ∾

            A scream woke him up from his doze and he knew straight away that it didn’t belong to his sister. The housekeeper was gone for the day, but even if she wasn’t, that sound couldn’t possibly belong to such a docile person.

            He found himself rising from the couch and his eyes quickly got used to the darkness around him. The stillness that followed the scream was what scared him more, the uncertainty of what would follow. Tiptoeing like he used to when he’d try to slip through his nanny’s vigilant eye, he made his way to the hallway, but froze when the window revealed to him a lonely figure standing a few meters away from the front door.

            The shadow was perfectly still. He couldn’t tell what kind of characteristics the thing had, maybe because his mind was not fully awakened from sleep. Its attention was fixed someplace else and he used that advantage to escape on the staircase, running on full speed now. Right before he secured his cover on the first floor, the shadow moved its head, acknowledging his presence with a mischievous smirk.

            His sister was standing by the window of her room, peering through her curtains. She had already spotted the intruder and her composure was strangely calm.

            ‘We have to leave, this instant!’

            Fear was taking over reason every second that passed and when he saw that his sister remained still, he grabbed her hand, only to find that it was already preoccupied with the protection of an object. As if burned, she flinched and brought her hand to her chest, revealing the object. This cursed music box.

            ‘I can’t leave,’ she simply replied.

            ‘What do you mean you can’t leave? Look, I don’t know why, but I have a feeling that we need to get out of here, right now,’ he attempted to grab her again, but she pushed him away with incredible force.

            ‘I said, I can’t leave. You can go if you want. I’m staying.’

            ‘What’s the matter with you?’ his desperate voice brought a little colour back to her cheeks.

            ‘I, I –’ she stammered and he took advantage of her confusion to steal the music box.

            ‘Give it back!’ she cried.

            ‘Tell me what is going on with these stupid boxes,’ he demanded, keeping it far from her reach.

            ‘It’s him, okay? It’s him!’

            He searched her eyes for a hint of an explanation. He found none.

            Her gaze wandered back to the strange visitor.

            ‘He is the box, the melody. His soul is tied to it. I’m not sure how exactly, but playing the music boxes breathes life into them.’

            ‘Them? How many boxes have you played?’ he caught a glimpse of a small mountain of music boxes in the corner of the dark room

            His breath was stuck in his throat.

            ‘All of them.’

 ∾

            The shadow was clear now and it had assumed the shape of a handsome man looking directly at her. His stare made her shiver like a bird about to be captured. There was no constraint or propriety, no sign of worldly boundaries or rules to hold him back. The mist carried him close to her, for his legs seemed not to move an inch. Her body was pinned down, but she had a vague sense that even if she was in full control of her limbs and mind, there would be no point in trying to escape. His breath was cool on her face and like a drowned sailor surfacing from the sea, she found herself inhaling greedily, realising for the first time the true magnitude of this strange power trapped in her palm. He wanted his box desperately and she knew that the reunion was inevitable. But she wasn’t ready to let go yet.

            From afar, she could hear someone calling out her name and although it was familiar, her face scowled at the sound of the panicked voice.

 ∾

            Gradually, shapes emerged from every corner of the estate. Most of them were still waking up from their slumber, though he knew it wouldn’t take long before they came for him. His sister, who was walking by his side a minute ago, had disappeared and he cursed himself for being such a neglectful brother. The empty pocket in his trousers made things worse; she must have taken it before she escaped from his watch. Creeping about blindly, with his memory and instincts as his unreliable guides, he looked for her, till he saw two figures standing among the trees. The female one he recognised immediately, but the male was a stranger, an outsider, a threat. Fleshless fingers were brushing his sister’s shoulder, arm, reaching for her clenched fist. With no weapon to assist him, he ran as fast as he could and thrust himself to free his sister from the dreadful grasp. But the expected collision never came, there was just empty space where the male intruder had stood. The ground was cold and hard on his skin and he looked around disoriented, attempting to decipher what had happened.

            ‘Come back! I have what you need, please!’ his sister was shouting at the top of her lungs, with tears down her cheeks.

            Despite his pain, he picked himself up and staggered towards her.

            ‘How dare you? Who do you think you are to take this away from me?’ it was the first time he saw his sister so angry. Even when their parents died, she somehow found a way to preserve her effortless positivity. ‘You always judge, judge, judge like you’re better than everyone, like the rest of us don’t matter. And now, when I find true meaning and purpose, you want to crush it like an insect under your shoe. Brother,’ she hissed and took a step closer to him.

            ‘This is not real,’ reasoning probably wouldn’t be enough to convince his maddened sister, but it was the only thing he could do. ‘Phantoms are not real, they can’t give you what you want.’

            ‘Why do you care?’

            ‘Because you’re all I’ve got! You’re my sister and I can’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.’

            A small cloud seemed to approach them before he spoke again, playfully vibrating into a different form. The cloud grew a head, a torso and then shoulders and hips. A child of no more than three years of age was revealed. The transformation finished there, with no legs or arms following, and the half-formed child was left with no choice but to crawl while giggling carefree. The appalling spectacle brought his sister back to her senses for the time being and she found rescue in his open arms.

            ‘Take me away,’ she begged shivering.

            ‘I’m here, we will find a way to escape this nightmare,’ he reassured her with a whisper. 

           All the music boxes and journals were secured on the first floor of the mansion, in his sister’s lair, and without any other indication about the horrors coming to life, the two siblings decided to go find them. Perhaps destroying them was the only way to fight the shadows. They were deep in the woods, deeper than what he thought. Every rustling, every movement in dark, every groan felt unreal. He had to fight against every cell in his body telling him to turn around and leave this place forever. Some of his sister’s natural rosiness had returned, her hand holding his with purpose, and even though fear was still nestled in his heart, he had no choice but to hope that she would remain sensible. After spending hours and hours studying the pages of the journals, his sister knew most of the secrets and codes left by their mother. She was the only one that could save them. But the real reason behind this twisted collection was unknown. Was it her own discovery or was it passed on to her? How could such a perfectly normal woman carry such a dark burden?

            The house stood tall in front of them. It looked like it sucked all source of light from its surroundings to fuel a soft veil that glowed all over its walls. The moment they passed through the front door, he felt a sudden pull dragging him against his will. He released his sister’s arm.

            ‘Go upstairs and get all the boxes you can find,’ he instructed her.

            ‘What about you?’

            ‘I’ll be right there, I need to make sure no ghost is following us,’ he lied without knowing why.

            She hesitated for a brief second, but then did as he’d said. The noises were almost unbearable now, making perfect and no sense at all. Like taking wax out of his ears, he listened for the first time how the melodies were coming together in unison, children of the same source. Joining them was wrong, his mind weakly protested, but he was aching to play. He blinked and found himself sitting at the piano stool. The window glass cracked before breaking in million tiny pieces that swirled around the room. He turned to face the darkness settling next to him. A pair of watchful eyes peered behind a curtain of dark locks of hair, begging, urging, instructing.

            All these years of restless devotion would finally satisfy her completely.

 ∾

            The music boxes were burning hot when she touched them, the whole chest vibrating on their command. She felt more and more like herself and hanging from that thread of sense, she went to face the chaos. But something wasn’t right. Under all the whooshes and whirs and whispers, she recognised her brother’s familiar playing coming from downstairs. The melody was unlike anything she’d ever heard him playing before. For a quick second, a shadow hardened her features, stealing away any sign of youth and innocence, before disappearing into thin air and taking with it any remaining pull of the darkness. Freedom tickled her whole body, like a feather waking her up from a slumber, and something deep inside her memory emerged. Something that had tried to warn her before the shadows of the boxes muzzled it.

            At her parents’ funeral, among all the tears and sobs, a grave looking man kept his distance from the rest of the crowd. She rose from her chair and approached him.

            ‘I would ask you how you are,’ he tried to suppress a hoarse cough but failed, ‘although judging from my own wretched state, I can only imagine what you have to endure.’

            ‘That’s not fair, uncle. Today, we are all mourning them, together.’

            ‘Always the compassionate one, even when your own parents are –’ he smiled bitterly. He looked around and lowered his voice before continuing. ‘A sacred bond has been severed and I’m afraid the consequences are worse than what I expected.’

            ‘What are you talking about, uncle?’ the wind blew stronger and she frowned trying to keep her braided hair in place.

            ‘You and your brother will soon begin your journey, the same one your mother and I had to complete. I tried to contain it, but I think a part of it tainted your mother’s heart permanently and she never managed to overcome it.’

            ‘Overcome what? What happened to mum?’ a humming came from behind her and mirroring her uncle, she looked over her shoulder.

            ‘It’s still asleep, though not for long,’ he kneeled down and looked straight into her soul. ‘You must protect your brother, whatever it takes. Can you do that?’

            She simply nodded.

            ‘My sweet child,’ he hugged her gently. ‘Be prepared.’

            Back in her bedroom, she blinked the tears away from her eyes and regarded the chest. She was never the gifted one, nothing compared to her brother’s genius. The shadows had responded to her blood, but they had almost broken her when she attempted to claim them. Her brother was the one meant for that and her true role was to prevent the catastrophe.

            Gathering all her strength, she dragged the chest containing the music boxes and the journals across the first floor. Her brother’s song was getting louder and louder and she had already lost precious time. When she reached the top of the staircase, a swarm of bodies, half=human half=shadow, were guarding it and without hesitation, she yelled her way through their claws and teeth. It was like entering a muddy nightmare, where shadow parts clung on her hair and skin, refusing to let go. Her movements became so slow and heavy that she needed to muster all of her willpower to move a single inch. She gasped for air and they slipped into her mouth to take full possession. No matter how much she resisted, one last scream was squeezed out of her before her body turned numb, any connection between brain and limbs severed. A hideous puppet stood in her place and the skin of her arms was ripped by smaller hands and fingers emerging to grab the handrail. The figure had to steady itself descending the stairs carrying the chest with terrifying strength. Any attempt she made to banish them drained her exhausted mind, till her body reached the living room. Cold breeze was pouring in from the broken windows and spikes of glass were stuck in her brother’s torso and left eye, smearing the piano tiles with crimson spots. The shadow next to him raised its head and her eyes looked back at her. The strings that controlled her were gone in an instant.

            ‘Mama?’

 ∾∾∾

            On her way to the mansion the next day, the housekeeper observed the fine morning the Lord had blessed them with. Her thin lips formed a smile at the sight of the leaves gleaming in the sunlight and the singing birds flying beneath a cloudless sky. She had a feeling that this would be a wonderful day, like the hint of a sixth sense that most elderly people believe they possess.

            Before long, she had reached the entrance of the estate. The closer she was to the house, the more the building seemed to be untouched by the bright sun. It was awfully quiet. She pushed the creaking door, which sent shivers down her bent spine, but released a sigh of relief when she saw the young master standing at the bottom of the staircase across the hallway.

            ‘Good morning, dear. Has the young lady woken up yet?’ the housekeeper asked while taking off her shawl and bonnet. The boy remained silent, his fist determined to protect an object she could not discern. Something was different on his face. She gasped when she realised that a ghastly cut ran through his left eye.

            ‘Heavens, are you alright?’ she began approaching him to examine the wound, but a hand snatched her dress before she could take a single step. The girl had somehow crept behind the housekeeper and was whispering words that belonged to another world.

            ‘I’ve never been better.’

            The door slammed behind them.