"Listen pumpkin..." Beau began.

I was quick to interrupt him. "I'm not a f.u.c.king pumpkin."

"Fine sweet pea..."

"My name, once again, is Aria, and you can refer me to as that," I stated, "and not some piece of produce."

Beau sighed. "Aria, I have no issues with you," he said as he lowered his gun. "I have no intention of hurting you, but if you're thinking about pointing a gun on me, you best be sure you're willing to pull the trigger."

"Aria, leave this matter between us," Lincoln said. "Please."

"You heard the man," Beau said. "This is an agreement between gentlemen. I will honor that agreement and pull the trigger once, and only once. After that, we are square, regardless of the outcome."

"Good," Lincoln said. "Then do it already you p.u.s.s.y."

Beau took a deep breath and closed one eye, lining up his sight.

Please, let Lincoln live.

Up until this point, I never realized just how much I needed him in my life. To lose him, like I had lost Justin, would kill me.

I held my breath and waited for Beau to pull the trigger, listening to the rhythm of Beau's heavy breaths as his eyes focused on Lincoln's head.

He never did fire the gun. Instead, he lowered it.

"f.u.c.k it," he said. "You're an a.s.shole, but it's not worth shooting you in the head for."

Lincoln raised his brow. "That's it then? We're square?"

Beau shook his head. "No, we're not square," he replied. "I'm still going to treat you like you're the world's biggest c.o.c.ksucker, and I'll still work with you but I won't kill you."

"I suppose that's fair."

Beau exhaled. "I think it's time I went out and got myself a drink," he said. "If you don't mind, I'd rather be alone for a moment."

I felt relief wash over me like tranquil waters. Hopefully now, Lincoln would fulfill what he promised, and move past this guilt.

"Just curious Beau, what would have happened if you shot at me?" Lincoln asked.

Beau shrugged, pointed the gun to the ceiling and pulled. The sound of gunfire erupted, the bullet tearing through the first floor ceiling, creating a perfect circle.

"Looks like you'd be dead," Beau replied as he walked over to Lincoln and shoved the gun back into his hands. "I took it easy on you Mr. Lincoln Richards. If it was Calisto standing in your place, I wouldn't have hesitated to fire away. She deserves a bullet's kiss."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Lincoln said.

Beau nodded. "Good night," he said as he opened the door to the antique shop and stepped outside, immersing himself in dusk's orange glow.

Lincoln lay on the sofa bed which sported a newly constructed bullet hole right dead center of it. He stared at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.

His face displayed a look of ambivalence, as if what transpired with Beau never happened.

"Are you finished being stupid now?" I asked.

"Huh?"

"Are you done wallowing in your self-inflicted guilt over the deaths of your friends?"

Lincoln smiled as he rose from the bed and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of scotch along with two gla.s.ses.

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing," he said as he poured us both a drink. He handed a gla.s.s over to me, which I gladly took.

I definitely needed a stiff drink.

I felt the alcohol settle in my stomach, permeating a warm afterglow throughout the rest of my body.

It was funny, I never took to alcohol much-mainly because I could never afford it-until I started partying with Calisto a few weeks ago.

If I had only known what the b.i.t.c.h was up to then, I could have stopped this all from happening. I could have slipped rat poison in her drinks when she wasn't looking.

Lincoln raised his gla.s.s to me, and then downed his drink in one shot. He pulled the top off the bottle and poured another into his gla.s.s.

"Want one more?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'm stranded on a different boat than you are in terms of feeling remorse," I said as I took the gla.s.s and sipped it this time, the harsh sweetness of the liquid settling on my tongue. "I'm not bitter at the fact that I couldn't save Justin-though watching him burn did affect my abilities to enjoy music. I'm angry at myself for telling him about the Midnight Society in the first place. He died because I couldn't hold my tongue. I was so stupid-so nave-thinking that nothing bad would happen. I thought that the Midnight Society was just some exciting game I was playing."

Lincoln took a seat at the circular table and leaned back in his chair. He took another generous sip from his drink.

"Aria, Justin was going to die no matter what," he said. "Calisto would have found another way to manipulate the situation. Trust me. She's very good at creating chaos, and then convincing another person that they were the root cause of it."

"I noticed you're starting to reference her by her name."

Lincoln nodded. "It takes me a few days to get over heartbreak," he replied as he rapped his fingers on the table. "It's been about three weeks since she revealed her true colors to me. I think that's more than an acceptable amount of time to get over the queen of sociopaths."

"Do you still love her?" I asked.

Lincoln poured himself yet another drink. He took a healthy swig, and then closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the question.

"Yes," he said. "I fancied that girl ever since the Academy-despite knowing that loving a woman like that would only lead to trouble for my poor heart."

"How can you love a woman who's the devil in a black dress?"

"I wish I didn't," Lincoln said. "But love is a very difficult thing to just turn on and off."

It was-unless your name was Shadow Tremaine.

"But I'm finding that every day, I love Calisto a little less..." he paused, "Make that a lot less. I'm beginning to appreciate the simple qualities in women that I once loved before I had a penny to my name."

I was intrigued.

"And what qualities would that be?" I asked.

He smiled. "A good heart, a strong personality, and a killer set of t.i.ts."

I reached over and lightly punched him in the shoulder. "You're a caveman," I laughed.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with wonder, as if he had gazed upon a falling star. There was a wicked alchemy brewing-a seductive concoction composed of liquor and my own vulnerability-and I felt his animalistic magnetism pull me in like a black hole.

I was drawn to Lincoln's boyish charms, especially that innocent yet devious grin of his which told me he was up to no good. The intensity of his blue eyes had me frozen in my place. He could have had his way with me at this moment-tied me to the bed and f.u.c.ked me with his c.o.c.k until sunrise, and I wouldn't have resisted.

s.h.i.t, was that what I actually wanted? Or was it the alcohol talking? I wasn't in a good place at the moment; I knew that much was true.

I looked at Lincoln, my body quivering.

I needed to kiss him. I leaned forward, aiming for his mouth. However instead of finding his lips, I felt my nose brush against his elbow as he rose from the table, avoiding me just in the nick of time.

Rejected.

My heart sank. I felt like a complete idiot.

I watched him walk over to the old piano pushed against the wall of the room.

"You should play again," he said, pretending my attempt to suck his lips didn't just happen.

"No," I said. "It just reminds me of Justin."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, is it?" Lincoln said. "He was a good friend, after all. He should be remembered."

"But not the way I remember him," I said. When I thought of Justin, the only thing I could picture was him screaming while his flesh cooked in Calisto's fire.

"It's unfortunate that human nature has a tendency to remember how a person has died, and not necessarily how they lived," Lincoln said. "I fall victim to that as well."

He sat down in front of the piano and lightly hit a note, the "C" key of the middle octave. The sound resonated through the bedroom. He pressed the "D" key next to it, followed by the "E."

For such an old piano, it was very well tuned.

"If you won't play, then I will," he said.

"You know how to play?" I asked.

"Good heavens, no," Lincoln replied, "Not as good as you anyway. I can hammer out a few notes but my fingers weren't made for piano keys."

I was amazed at how easy it was talking to Lincoln, even after I felt like I had tossed the last of my dignity out the window with my failed attempt at a kiss.

There was no lingering awkwardness, nor sudden coldness on his part. I screwed up, but I didn't feel like he held it against me.

G.o.d d.a.m.n it, why couldn't Shadow be the same? If he could just pull his head out of his a.s.s for ten minutes and have a decent conversation with me, then perhaps we could take the first step towards a happily ever after?

But that time was gone now. I was sure of it-wasn't I?

I looked at Lincoln with adoration, as he sat in front of the piano, his back turned to me.

"Let's hear it," I said, breaking the brief moment of silence. "What are you going to play?"

Lincoln thought about it for a moment, before finally replying, "A worthy song to say goodbye to some old friends."

The song he attempted was Ave Maria. I did my best to listen, despite every fourth note he played being incorrect.

I bit my tongue because I knew he was trying his best. Or was he? Some out of tune notes he played seemed far out of reach from what the song called for. I couldn't help but think that he was messing up on purpose.

"s.h.i.t, screwed it up again," he said as he continued playing a song, which should have been beautiful.

I didn't want to be critical about it, but seeing as how I could have played that song with my eyes closed, I struggled to keep my thoughts to myself.

"f.u.c.k me," he cursed as he hit another note that transformed the beautiful essence of the verse into something you'd hear during the stabbing scene of a horror flick.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. Listening to him stumble through the song-which he was attempting as a tribute to his fallen friends-felt like I was listening to a sack of drowning cats. I needed to save it. I rose from my seat, marched over towards the piano and shoved him over on piano bench.

"Let me play this song," I ordered.

"As you wish," Lincoln said with a grin that told me he was up to something.

I sat down next to him, took a deep breath, and started the song over from the beginning. I closed my eyes and allowed my fingers to dance over the keys, lingering on the essential notes that brought out the true spirit of the song.

It was a simple song to play, but beautiful nonetheless. The key to mastering Ave Maria was to bring forth the sorrowful emotions and infuse it into the main melody. My fingers transitioned smoothly between the well-constructed chords, which made the song brilliant.

Meanwhile, Lincoln hummed the song next to me, his eyes closed; seemingly enjoying my playing. His humming voice wasn't half-bad, much better than his playing at least.

Eventually, I landed on the last note of the song, and as I always did, I took in the sound of the final chord transitioning into silence.

I stared at the piano, my fingers resting on top of the keys. I realized that I was crying.

I had missed playing so much. I felt this overwhelming joy from deep within me, as if someone had returned a piece of my soul that I thought was lost forever.

I was a mother, who had just had their long lost child returned to them.

"Now, play for you and only you," Lincoln said, more as an order than a request.

I nodded as I closed my eyes once more and allowed my emotions to take hold of me. I played a simple melody, one that moved across the entire spectrum of my emotions, from happiness to sadness, from hope to helplessness. Everything I had endured over the past two weeks, I put into my song-Aria's song-and it felt bittersweet.

By no means was this piece a technical achievement, but it was simple, beautiful, and most of all, honest. If a mirror was a reflection of my physical existence, this song I played now was a true reflection of my spirit inside.

When I was done, I felt as if a weight had just been lifted off my shoulders. I turned to look at Lincoln, and that was when he kissed me, and I lost myself to him.