Dark Muse (14 page)

“And what shape is that?”

“You don’t want to know, but we once had
music here. Now, if one is caught even humming a tune from someone
who visited here, they… Well, they’re not here anymore.”

Muddy froze and knew the others felt the same
chill.

People, more humans, strolled through the
mini-streets and congregated in the city’s heart, ebbing and
flowing like vital blood through arteries. Clad in outfits of those
seven colors, mixed and matched in songs of different fashions,
men, women, and kids carried various wares and baskets. Muddy felt
as though a rainbow had exploded in front of his eyes and burst
into life. Most of whom he could see strode in peaceful strides,
some smiling, but more in slow, steady gaits that suggested
something less than happiness lie underneath.

“What is that?” Corey asked, pointing at an
odd-shaped, prism-type thing that just sat in the center of the
town square. People revolved around it like fearful moons, drawn to
it but never daring to orbit too close.

The band stared, waiting for Lyra to explain,
but she simply kept walking without even a flinch. So they turned
to him. Why, he had no idea. If they only knew the fear he hid in
his heart…

“Don’t look at me, I suck at geometry.”
Something about it scared the living hell out of him. It looked
innocuous, but somehow it’s presence felt much like the tip of an
iceberg. What lay beneath, he had no clue, but the feeling that
seemed to reach out like invisible fingers nearly froze him in his
steps.

Why aren’t you telling us about that…prism
thing
? He reached out, hoping her apparent telepathy was on the
way one more time.

She didn’t even gaze his way.

Atop an ebony platform which stood about two
meters tall in a series of decreasing squares, the crystalline
pyramid of hexagonal sides, balanced itself—inverted. From his
vantage point, the glass-like object appeared to be hovering an
inch or so above the platform. Was it wires? An invisible magnetic
field like the one he saw in the science center? Something about it
freaked him, but no one seemed to notice it even existed there,
completely juxtaposed into the middle of their odd little
world.

“Lyra,” Poe said, as a question.

“Just follow me,” she answered. “We need to
get your friend to care, now. I know someone who will help,
discreetly.”

“But…”

“Now
. You don’t know the power of the
poison.” Her voice showed more tension than with the previous
comment, and it had little to do with Leo’s bite.

He could tell both of them wanted to talk
about the strange object and the things it suggested, but neither
said a word. He prayed they would have time to discuss it later
before anything else happened.

A young couple stood inside the house when
they arrived. Greetings were exchanged, but not names. Both parties
regarded each other with cautious looks. Muddy could swear he
recognized something in their faces. Did everyone here look like
they were related to someone famous back home?

The young man spoke. “You know Silver Eye
Watkins?”

“Yeah,” Muddy replied, attempting to sound
strong. “Silver Eye trained us, but we’re here to find my brother.
He came over two nights ago.”

The couple shared an odd look.

“Just bring in your friend. I take care of
most of the healing in town.”

“Will he be okay?”

“He’ll be fine. We know how to cure the ills
the forest brings as long as the poison hasn’t reached the heart.
He won’t feel any more pain in a few minutes.”

Didn’t that exist as a cheesy line in so
many horror and mob movies?

* * * *

The band waited in the front room while the
couple disappeared with Leo. Soon, Muddy felt himself dozing off,
but before he fell asleep, he noticed the others were already
zonked out as well.

A loud noise awoke him some time later.

“I’m sorry,” the man said.

Anxiety flooded Muddy. “What do you mean?
Sorry for what?”

“I sent my wife out for supplies and someone
followed her back. I guess someone somewhere here knew you’d
crossed over. You weren’t exactly quiet.”

“What does that mean for us?” Corey grabbed
his horn.

Lyra shared a pale look with her friends.
“Nothing, if we can get you back in time.”

Poe stood, sneaking a gaze out the window.
“And if we don’t?”

“Then you’ll find out what happens when the
music dies around here.”

* * * *

They pushed open the front door and gasped at
what lie before them. The streets of the town bustled with an
overflow of people. Men, women and kids all wore expressions that
said the same thing.

“They’re not going to let us out of here,”
Muddy said. The guitar shook in his hands, sounding weird
notes.

“What, no torches and pitchforks?” Otis
quipped.

“Shut up. Just let me think about this for a
second.”

Yet the crowd advanced. They seemed wary, but
intent on reaching the boys.

“They don’t seem to be armed. We can run for
it,” Otis offered.

They looked behind them at the road to the
forest’s edge where the path began. It was maybe a hundred feet to
a different kind of danger, but also a long way home.

“We gotta try it, Muddy.” Otis knew his
friend only felt confident when called by his nickname. Music gave
them all a boost of self-esteem. “Let’s go for it.”

Muddy, confident as he was in his own
sprinting ability, knew Otis wouldn’t make it and everyone else
knew it as well. If the drummer hit a hole or rock, an ankle might
snap in a heartbeat.

“Okay, you go first. In the meantime, I’m
gonna give them a little entertainment,” he said, unslinging his
odd guitar and swinging it into position.

“No.”

But Muddy turned to the crowd, pick twirling
in his hands. “Get. Out. Of. Here.”

Something in Muddy’s voice must have reasoned
with Otis as he began to amble backwards toward the forest. The mob
of townsfolk advanced with each step. He gripped both sticks and
tapped them nervously.

I hope these guys like Ozzy. Off the
rails?

Muddy’s fingers went into motion and the
famous riff roiled out in the crowd’s direction. The low,
train-sounding melody boomed, the leaves of the trees brushed back
by the low pitches. The suddenly people halted, as though in shock
over hearing music in an existence that obviously did without. He
finished the two-bar-part and repeated it.

“Hey!” He called to the drummer. “I think
it’s work—”

The throng of people began moving again, this
time with an angry purpose to their steps, though no one uttered a
word. It was as if someone else thought for them.

“Run, Muddy
!” The voice came from
within, not from his friend and he sensed an urge to head to toward
the forest.

Not one to argue with reason, Muddy did what
the voice told him. He pumped his legs as hard as he could and
reached the beginning of the trail where he saw Otis and slid to a
stop.

“Duck!” A new voice rang in his ears.

Something sailed through the air from the
left side of the woods, through the trees and over the crowd.

It struck the prism hard, sending a shower of
sparks into the villagers. The softball-sized rock careened off it
and knocked out one of the guards. Colors of the entire box of
Crayola Sixty-Four and more wafted over the village and shook the
ground beneath them. If they weren’t already on the forest floor,
the percussion would have knocked them head over heels.

“What?” Muddy clung tight to the grass. “Who?
Did they break that thing?”

Lyra looked up at both boys, smiling.

“I had help. Not all of us here follow the
rules. Some of us were born after the change.”

Otis looked back at her. “Before I ask or
seem to care about whatever you’re talking about, can you get us
back to the crossroads? Leo’s hurt and Corey can’t maneuver both
Poe and him through that killer linguini stuff.”

Again, that smile. Why did females always
shut him up with a great smile?

“Already done. I headed them off and made
sure they navigated safely to the cross-trails.”

“It’s called the crossroads,” Otis
corrected.

“Whatever,” she waved him off. “Regardless,
they won’t be safe forever in that forest. Get your butts in motion
and play your song to get back home.”

“But—”

“Now!”

“We can’t leave until you tell us what
happened back there, what’s going on in your town.”

That smile. “Next time.”

Otis laughed an uneasy laugh. “Honey, we
ain’t coming back here.”

Muddy slapped his chest. “Zack’s still here,
somewhere. We’ll be back,” he replied to Lyra.

“I know. I knew that before you even got
here.”

“But, why did they want us? At least tell me
that.”

Her face turned to stone. “They believe you
bring the Dark Muse. Your friend once did.” She turned and pushed
him away. “They’re coming. Both of us will be here to help you next
time.”

“Both?”

As much as Muddy wanted to interrogate the
annoying, enigmatic girl, he knew he had to get home ASAP. They
followed her nymph-like movements through the trails, careful to
step where she stepped. They saw glimpses of “things” in the trees,
in the grasses and bush.

Around them, they heard a rising wave of
“things” coming that didn’t sound happy. Hungry maybe, but not
happy. Were they those drummer trolls? Or worse?

“Muddy,” Poe pulled Muddy out of la-la-land.
“I think you should play now.”

“Yeah,” Otis chipped in. “I don’t want to be
something’s finger food here.”

Corey’s big hand landed on Muddy’s shoulder.
“Send us home, man. Please?”

Someone below him grunted and moaned. Leo.
Muddy gazed down and was afraid of what he saw. “Sorry, bud. First
stop is the ER.” The unlucky bassist du jour looked horrible.

The second would be to visit someone and
apologize for their stupid mistake.

Muddy began the song, the same one they’d
played when Silver Eye helped them leave the first time. The others
joined in once the scene began to shimmer. All at once, Lyra
disappeared into the underbrush, the drummer beasts burst through
and something else that would haunt the band for many nightmares to
come.

Muddy clenched the vision out of his mind and
played until he felt the familiar pull of home.

The journey back took less time than the
first.

“Is that all?” Corey asked. “Seems like
something’s missing.”

“Like a wasted trip.”

Muddy stood firm. “No. We learned that we
could cross over by ourselves. When we rest up, we plan this out.
Now we have an ally over there. Maybe she can help lead us to
Zack.”

Poe wrapped herself up in her arms. “It does
feel weird, Muddy.”

“Aren’t we back?” he asked. “And safe?” He
looked down at the wilting bassist. “Okay, almost totally safe.” No
one complained. It had been a harrowing experience, but they’d made
it back in one piece and made a new friend. Or two?

Otis fetched the backpack with their
stuff.

“You’re not going to believe this. It’s only
five minutes after eight.”

Classes began at 8:30 A.M. every morning.

“Then it’s all gravy. Let’s get Leo to the
hospital and then meet during fourth period to debrief.”

But he knew the song would not remain the
same.

* * * *

Muddy floated through the school day on an
air of confidence. After surviving the morning, he was charged up
and ready to return to the Crossroads to save his brother. Before
first period, they had called 911. Otis had volunteered to stay
with Leo, assuring the band that he’d make up a story about a dog
attack. The rest of them managed to make the late bell with no one
suspecting a thing. Nothing that any of the bullies or moron
teachers did in periods one through three could burst Muddy’s
bubble.

Then he stepped through the door of Room 201
and everything changed. The group sat waiting for him, faces tight
with stress. Otis had his phone in his hand, shaking.

“What,” he said. “Is it Leo? He’s not…”

Poe gripped the edge of the table and sighed.
“No, Edgar.”

She called me Edgar? Why?

“He’s still alive,” Otis said. “He managed to
avoid the weird questions the doctors asked, but he’ll probably
never have the nerve to play bass again.”

Like he would want to after our trip?

Poe looked him in the eye. “Corey rode his
bike to see Silver Eye before school today.”

“Oh-oh.”

Corey shivered in his seat, a sight Muddy had
never witnessed before.

Poe’s knuckles turned white with tension.
“Besides being PO’d at us for being stupid and arrogant, he sat
quietly for a long time before asking Corey one simple question. A
question that he already knew the answer to.”

“Which was?” Muddy wanted to end this
mystery, now.

“You—”

Otis broke in, his face whiter than normal.
“You forgot to close the door last night.”

Chapter Twelve

“What did you say?”

“Dude,” Otis said seriously, “you forgot to
close
the crossroads when we came back.”

A waterfall of ice chased Muddy’s blood up
his arms and down his back.

Close the crossroads?

“But we played the same song as the first
time. I made sure of it.” Yet his voice lacked the strength he’d
built through the morning.

Corey stood up. “Man, you screwed up. We all
did. None of us should’ve gone there without the old man.”

More ice slid down his back. His face burned
with fear. “What did we
forget
to do?

The sax player sat back down. “So simple, but
so elusive. A blues scale in reverse, ending in a
true
blue
note. Remember now?”