What the hell, I think.
I take a step towards Filip and start to sing.
Chapter Eleven
LUCY
Whoa.
It wasn’t that I didn’t expect that Bram could sing– he did tell me he used to be in a band after all. I just didn’t expect that he could sing likethis.
I was already impressed by Filip’s viola arrangement of ‘Bat Out of Hell’, but then Bram joined in and my jaw literally dropped. I mean, if I’d have thought about it in any kind of depth, I’d probably have expected Bram’s voice to sound exactly like it does, but actually hearing it is another thing entirely. It’s a thing of wonder: throaty and deep with a quality to it that I can’t put my finger on. It’s something darkly beautiful, something real and raw, like he’s tearing open his own chest and showing me a glimpse of what lies beneath. I can’t look away.
He catches me staring during the build-up to the first chorus, and just before he opens his mouth to sing again, it twists into a smile. My cheeks flush as I try like hell to gauge the look that had been on my face at that exact moment.
But I’m only embarrassed for a moment or two before guilt rushes to replace it, my long-held loyalty to Jon pushingto the forefront as I school my features into a more neutral expression. And that’s how I stay for the rest of the song, even as an enthusiastic crowd gradually surrounds me, nodding along to the rhythm. They break into a raucous round of applause when the song finishes, and I let Bram bask a moment in the handshakes and half-hugs before I look back over at him. He’s still wearing those sunglasses, but somehow I just know that he’s looking right at me. It’s like I canfeelhis eyes on me, though I’m not sure how.
As I meet his gaze, a wide grin brightens his face into something altogether different than I’ve seen on him before. It’s giddy and boyish– free in a way I can’t explain. I try to ignore the thump of my heart in my chest as he says his goodbyes to Filip and the assembled crowds and strides back over to me.
‘That was…’ I fumble for words, which isn’t like me. Eventually I settle on, ‘brilliant.’
It doesn’t feel like a big enough word to describe what just happened, but Bram’s smile turns shy anyway.
‘I was in a band,’ he says, so simply that it makes me laugh.
‘I remember. I just didn’t expect you to be…’
Those damn elusive words again.
‘Good?’
I wrinkle my nose at him. ‘Thatgood.’
He barks a laugh. ‘I’ll take it.’ And then he guides me through the whalebone arch and back down the steps to the harbour, a question on the tip of my tongue the whole time.
We’re not even back at the harbour front when it finally slips out.
‘Why did you leave?’ I ask. ‘The band, I mean. That was?—’
But I don’t finish my sentence, because it makes him stop dead, his eyebrows pulling together behind those dark glasses. Our sudden stop makes a couple wearing his-and-hers GrimReaper outfits bump into the back of us, but they just shrug and smile when I turn to apologise.
When I look back at Bram, that frown has gone, replaced by an unruffled almost-smile. ‘Change of circumstances,’ he says with a shrug, and then, before I can pry any deeper, hestarts to walk again, nudging me lightly with his shoulder to urge me on. There’s something he’s not saying, that much is obvious, but I drop it. It’s clear that whatever it is, he doesn’t want to talk about it.
The next time he stops, it’s in front of a parade of shops. A very vampiric-looking crowd has gathered in front, but I can just about see the building beyond them, the black and red of it striking against the whites and blues of the surrounding shops. I notice the strange gargoyle heads protruding from it and have a flashback to that stupid stone vampire at the cottage.
‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula Experience?’ I read off a high window, and it makes Bram huff out a little breath. I can’t tell whether it’s from amusement or pride.
‘An iconic establishment,’ he says, and it’s clear that his huff was caused by both of those things. ‘No tour of Whitby is complete without it.’ A tight little knot of anxiety forms in my chest before he adds, ‘But we’re not going in. I’ll let Wladek give you the overview at some point.’
I almost deflate with relief, sagging at my edges a little like a punctured dinghy. ‘He works here?’
Bram chuckles, a low rumble I barely hear. ‘You think he dresses like that for fun?’
Actually, I did think that, but it feels a bit silly now.
‘Just thought he was a super-fan,’ I say as casually as I can manage, and Bram laughs again, louder this time.
‘I mean, that too, but he’s also the Dracula Experience’s resident Dracula.’ He gestures to a laminated sign taped inside one of the windows, sun-bleached photos of a familiar facepeering out from behind his cape. ‘Though as far as I can gather, his role doesn’t involve much more than jumping out on customers to try and scare them. Which is the reason we’re not going in. I can’t have you passing out on me again.’