Chapter 1
It was cold inside the cathedral but I wasn't exactly surprised. Old buildings had a way of hanging on stubbornly to damp and cold and interesting smells. It's what made them so venerable. I loved it. The choir loft door was locked and I had to creatively juggle the items in my arms to manage opening the door with the new set of keys. Smiling eagerly to myself, I hoisted my heavy book bag and hauled myself up the steep stairway. It squeaked and complained under foot and I muttered back in response.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I found the lights and surveyed my new "work space".
The choir loft of any church is basically an indoor balcony, longer in length than in width, with one long side against the back of the church and the other, protected with railing, overlooking the interior of the church. The idea behind this quirk of construction lies in modesty. Choirs and musicians can be heard but not seen by the congregation, recalling the "Choir of Heavenly Hosts" effect, without distracting from the service itself.
This choir loft was much like any other I had been in. Music stands, neat shelves full of hymnals, folding chairs ordered in rows on risers and extra lights dangling down on wires from the rafters. And of course, the Organ. I dumped my arm load of books and supplies on the nearest flat surface, wincing as a few books slid to the floor with a thump that echoed dully throughout the vaulted space. Unable to resist, I left the books to lay there and approached the console.
I dragged my fingers across the bench, feeling the smooth wood's cool surface, taking in the instrument. The pipes. The console. I was a kid in a candy store, a nerd in a library, a hacker at her computer. Hours of practice, years of performances, yards and yards of different keyboards and still the fascination had a hold on me. There was nothing more tantalizing than an unfamiliar organ. How do you sound? Are your keys somber and weighty or light and quick? My fingers itched to unravel it's secrets.
Like most organs, the console was placed in such a way that when I was seated on the bench facing the key board, I faced the risers and the back of the church. The problem of not being able to see what was going on behind me during a service was remedied with a small circular mirror placed at eye level to my right. The mirror was cracked but I could still see the alter and podium clearly enough. Beside the mirror was a coffee mug decorated excessively with music notes and containing a few chewed pencils.
I took all this in as I sat on the dark wood bench. Reverently, I unlocked the cover and rolled it back. I inhaled deeply. Four ranks of keyboards and close to a hundred different stops and all of this was mine to use. Mesmerized, I switched the music rack lamp on and settled into the musical space.
Sometime later I resurfaced. The stained glass windows told me it was dark outside but I had no idea of the actual time. The only time I had stepped off the bench had been to retrieve books and my water bottle and once to use the facilities. That had been around 6:00pm and what felt like a while ago. I sighed, frustrated that I had lost track of time and now had to wonder around a somewhat unfamiliar city at night, and because I secretly didn't want to leave at all.
I had been marvelously lucky. This Organ had just been newly rebuilt within the last 5 years and the acoustics in the cathedral were second to none. I stretched and yawned and then froze. In the little cracked mirror I had seen a flicker of movement. I spun around on the bench, hair whipping into my eyes. Nothing. There was nothing behind me but the railing. I stood and tottered towards the edge on stiff legs and peered out. The numerous statues in alcoves on the walls were illuminated by overhead recessed lighting and candles flickered from the alter and from other places around the church. There were plenty of eyes, but none belonging to the living. I was alone. This comforted me only slightly and I turned back to the console to gather my things.
Calm settled back in when I had my books, keys, and water bottle safely stowed. It was when I straightened and pulled the console's hood back down into place that I noticed the difference. The pencil-filled mug had one extra item. Or at least I hadn't noticed it before. Sticking out from among the gnarred pencils was one long, black feather.