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was hers, the…minions. And the Singer
had such life force, such ki, that Jikata could literally feel it.
    Best
even things out a bit, though the man, too, was a presence to be reckoned with.
Jikata had been dealing with movers and shakers in the music world the last few
months and knew authority when she saw it. This Luthan Vauxveau must represent
another faction. Of what or whom, she didn’t know, but it couldn’t hurt to
follow Chasonette’s continued murmurings in her mind to go with Luthan. So
Jikata put her hand on his arm and the cockatoo warbled approval even as a
small shock went through Jikata. The hard muscles under her fingers tensed and
she became all too aware of him, most particularly the melody coming from
him. As if he had a personal theme in the soundtrack of her life.
    Her
fingers curled hard around his arm, but he didn’t falter. The women who had
been steadying her let their hands fall away. Everything— everyone —around
her was…giving off…sound, from a ripple of notes to Luthan’s harmonic melodies,
to the Singer’s full orchestral symphony. Jikata thought the cave itself issued
long, deep tones.
    She did have a soundtrack in her life now, and the thought was daunting.
    Luthan
took a small step toward the door and Jikata followed. Her stomach clutched.
She stopped and looked around, peered back where she’d seen the theater,
hesitant to leave this place. A slight mist hovered in that direction, beyond
which was dark, no sheen of a mirror or electric lights.
    Nothing
but rock walls arching to roundness above her. Excellent acoustic chamber,
but…not Denver? Couldn’t be, if she listened to both her mind and her heart.
Did she dare leave?
    How
could she stay? There was nothing here. She had to go with them to get answers.
    The
Singer had glided beyond them to the door, along with a woman in a royal blue
robe who opened the door. Luthan hissed through his teeth and began singing. He
had a strong tenor. Beautiful. Great breath control. His chant was simple and
strong. The Singer had begun her Song, too. Intricate and forceful but with a
delicacy, and, again, a slight quaver.
    A
sense of impending change flared in Jikata. Her life would never be the same
again, and the moment of decision had passed by so quickly she hadn’t been
aware of it. She wanted to slow events down, felt the edge of a tide of
exhaustion lapping inexorably to her. Maybe she had fallen asleep on the
chaise lounge in her dressing room and this was all a dream.
    Chasonette
fluttered from Luthan to Jikata’s shoulder, and she felt the small prick of
claws. Then the bird Sang, too. So much music from everyone overwhelmed her as
she tried to sort it out. The others were lining up behind her and Luthan, the
Singer was no more than a small pace ahead.
    The
tunnel was larger than Jikata expected, with a smoother floor though the walls
remained rough. When they stepped into it a mist coalesced around them, wisping
into faces she knew—the major record producer, her agent, other singing
stars—and with all of them came more tunes that seemed to suit their
personalities. And they seemed to be leaching the heat from her.
    She
blinked and saw herself singing with a huge Grammy behind her. Fabulous!
    When
they turned a corner the mist formed into five women in front of them,
Caucasian women—a small white-haired one, a redhead, a blond, two brunettes.
They all scowled at her, gazes hot. The sound they made was incredible, going
beyond Jikata’s hearing range in each direction. Waves of heat rippled around
them, reached out to lick her with flames, and she was almost glad, she was so
cold.
    “We
trusted you!” they snapped in chorus. “You betrayed us.”
    The
heat of the anger and the cold of the tunnel and the tide of exhaustion was too
much. Jikata slid into blackness and blessed quiet.
     
    L uthan swung the
new Exotique up into his arms, the bird fluttered around them, making soothing
sounds, a lilt of encouraging notes.