Take My Body (Curse Bound 2)

He parked in the service road, just like before, and was baffled to see lights on in the living room. His parents were usually in bed at this hour. Were they entertaining? He couldn’t see any cars in the driveway.

Caspian wondered whether he shouldn’t send Gunner a message, but the open window in the first floor drew his attention before he could have done that.

The old Caspian would have never climbed to the second floor, even at the back of the building where none of the neighbors could have seen him fail, but this new Caspian had done a drug deal tonight and punched Todd Brown. What was a little risk to him now? Having long limbs and enough strength to hold on to the drainpipe helped too.

He climbed to the protruding roof above the home office and from there, getting into his bedroom was a piece of cake.

The sound of the piano lured him through the dark interior, all the way to the door. His dad played the violin, and while mom loved classical music, she’d never learned to play this proficiently, which meant that the person producing the sounds downstairs would have to be a guest.

Unless…

Caspian squeezed his fist, remembering how instinctual the punch in the strip club had been. His body had led the way even though his mind had no framework for striking an opponent or defending himself, and it surely worked the same for Gunner. But wasn’t the simple instinct to protect himself different from playing elaborate pieces of music? Gunner had mentioned that he’d felt as though he could play when he touched the keyboard, but the complex melody coming from downstairs sounded lighter and more passionate than anything Caspian had ever played.

Was it possible that Gunner had talent for this, and could express it in a body that knew the right moves?

He didn’t remember the title of the melody, nor its composer, but it felt like sunshine on a summer morning and soothed the aches in Caspian’s body as he leaned against the door to hear it better. Like a heart, it beat evenly, making him relax as he slid to the floor and listened to all the nuance he’d never have been able to bring out from sheet music. But passion led Gunner’s every finger.

The overwhelming harmony of sound brought him to dark shores when the tone of the piece grew deeper, sinking him in peaceful warmth. When the music wound down in an improvised ending to the sonata Caspian had finally recognized, he found himself amazed and filled with questions. But his mood soured minutes later when the house erupted with yelling.

“What if I don’t want to?” Gunner raised his voice and Caspian struggled to hear the muted conversation, but still cringed when he heard his father’s response.

“…rethink your priorities!”

Dad was understanding, and barely ever angry. What was Gunner doing down there to cause such a ruckus?

Caspian found himself scratching the door in frustration, but he couldn’t go downstairs and berate Gunner, because in his parents’ eyes he’d be a stranger who’d invaded their home. A stranger with a tattoo on his face and of a threatening size.

So he stayed still, shaking his head at Gunner’s audacity. His parents were kind, and loving, and always had his best interest in mind, so why would Gunner talk to them with so much anger? That guy needed a talking to.

This was yet more proof that the swap could not go on. Gunner needed to sort out his own problems, and as much as Caspian enjoyed this new body, his family was more important. He couldn’t lose his parents over some muscle.

The quick footsteps thudding on the stairs told him Gunner was coming his way, and Caspian wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they needed to have.

Chapter 18 – Gunner

Raw fury replaced brains in Gunner’s head as he ran up the stairs. He’d done nothing wrong. As a young man, Caspian had every right to question the direction he wanted to take his life in. So maybe his time at university cost a lot of money, but if Caspian didn’t want to go back to his body and take over, then Gunner needed to act before he messed something up in Thomas’s company.

He’d been afraid to broach the topic, but when both of Caspian’s parents praised his skill at the piano, he blurted out that he’d rather make music and teach for a living. And that was when all hell broke loose.

How the hell was he to pursue a career in accounting? All the relevant knowledge and manners were Caspian’s, not his. After Caspian had left in the morning, he’d experimented with some math challenges on his phone to check if the new brain would do the work for him the same way it helped him play the piano.