Chapter Eight

The moon hung low in the blue velvet sky. The soft, shimmering rays billowed down and crept from the high-set windows, trailing like silver ivy over the dark theatre.

There couldn't be a finer spotlight.

Noelle tentatively stepped onto the stage and looked around. The auditorium was silent. Empty. Nothing but a moth moved in the air, fluttering hopelessly as it searched for an escape.

For a moment, he wondered if he had imagined his prior encounter. One of those lucid, maddening dreams that one heard of.

Just as he was about to step back, truly believing he was going insane, the low, doleful notes of a violin danced into the air.

Julian was perched on the arm of a chair in the circle. His lilac eyes sparkled like the stars but stared at a world only he saw as his bow ran masterfully over the strings.

"I thought you must have been a dream," Noelle whispered, his voice seeming louder in the empty theatre. "I'm still not sure if you're not."

"Most would have called me a nightmare,