Demon Singer (21 page)

19 MUTE

Lacking the tools to dig a proper hole, and unwilling to give the last were an opportunity to return with reinforcements, Lyric and Cadence laid the bodies out in a careful line.   Adding some dried wood from the tree line and gas siphoned from their tank, they lit it up, Lyric prayed over it and they took off.

A few miles down the road, Lyric found a side street with several cars parallel parked.  Pulling into a space between two white sedans, Lyric killed the engine, closed his eyes and began exploring the tie.  

Acheron, are you there?

Hello, Lover.  

Acheron's exhausted thoughts floated up from the quiet darkness of their tie.

Can I help?

Have you found a mute yet?

No.

That'll help.

Okay, I'll get it done.

Lyric got out of the car and considered Acheron's advice about remembering the event that took him to aunt Bea's the first time.  Cadence joined him on the street and he stifled a shudder as he began to explore the painful memory.  This was gonna suck.

Humming a sorrowful tune that gave voice to the pain and anger in his heart, he remembered the first time he went to Aunt Bea's house.  

In no time, he was back in front of the high school, preparing to head home.   He looked across the street, just off school property and saw the Cinteer brothers.  Once again, they refused to hassle him alone, but brought their goons with them.  He wasn't sure what made them hate him so much, but it was enough that he feared for his life.  He'd dealt with it since first grade and it got worse every year.  His stomach churned in terror as he hung around the school doors, dreading what awaited him if he left.  He tenderly touched the enormous lump behind his left ear.  Brandon had given it to him the previous day by hitting golf ball sized rocks at him with his new tennis racket.  The one that hit his head had actually almost knocked him out.  Brandon's brother Jared came over to where he lay in the dirt and said.

"Nope, not quite out yet.  Let me help, bro."  Jared pulled his foot back and kicked Lyric full in the face, breaking his nose and shredding his lips against his teeth.

His broken ribs had just healed up from their run in a few weeks earlier.  They lived to torture him.  Emma wanted to put a stop to it but Niq refused to let her

"You want it to stop?" His father asked him as he prepared to set his son's nose.  Lyric nodded slightly, holding one ice pack on his mouth, another on his head and fighting down the wave of nausea that hit as his father put a thumb on either side of his son's nose and drew down firmly.  Lyric refused to pass out and endured the pain by clinging to his hatred of the Cinteer brothers.   "Then put a stop to it, dammit."

As the long buried feelings surfaced, the anger came, flushing through his body and speeding up his heart.  He began walking purposefully.  He ignored Cadence, used the pain from his freshly opened wound to heighten the memory and started to run.  He could taste the fear and his throat constricted as his heart raced.  He could hear Brandon Cinteer and his brother Jared taunting him across the road.  Their usual group of cronies with them him.  Nate Puckey, Joe Stoosh, Erin Linament and Paul Shates.  

He waited forever, his nose and fat lips throbbing to the rhythm of his terrified heart.  They finally got bored and headed through the weeds to Jared and Brandon's house.  He gave them a few extra minutes before he took off for home.  

Lyric was the biggest kid in sixth grade, and extremely fast.  But what do you do when the guys chasing you jump out of the bushes on mopeds?

There was no way he'd outrun three mopeds in foot, even with them doubled up.   His heart sank when he saw each passenger was carrying a hockey stick.

Leaving the road he tried to take advantage of the trees, but all of them had grown up playing in these woods.  The Cinteers knew them as well as he did

"We're gonna kill you!"   Jared Cinteer shrieked, far closer than Lyric wanted him.

Fire lanced across his back as Brandon slashed him with his hockey stick.  He ran faster, terror lending him speed.  Up ahead he saw a bunch of apple trees, he remembered some old lady lived back there.  If he could get to her house, they wouldn't dare hurt him.

Lyric ran full out, as memories he'd buried overwhelmed him.  He reached the trees; he was going to make it!  He leapt for the safety of the orchard and every inch of his body screamed in pain as he hit what felt like an electrified fence and was flung back.

Disoriented, he looked up from the ground, registering an unfamiliar street and Cadence running up to kneel beside him.  Looking straight ahead, he saw a beautiful garden with enormous plants.  Fruit trees bordered the property, which - from where he sat - looked to cover the length of a city block at least.  Standing at the entrance was an old man, who was staring at Lyric with an expression of disbelief.

Scrambling to his feet, Lyric tried to shake off painful memories. Cautiously, he approached the open gate.  The man had recovered his poise and was smiling at Lyric.  He had a kind face with deep crow's feet and an expression that looked close to dissolving into laughter.

"Quite a spill you took there, fella."  The man's voice was deep and smooth, and for some reason Lyric thought he'd probably be very good at telling fairy tales.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure what happened.  Could my friend and I come into your garden, please?"  Lyric felt foolish for making the request sound so formal, but didn't want to jeopardize his chances of healing the infection.  The mute - for Lyric was certain that's what he was - looked completely at ease and stepped aside as he replied,

"If yer able."

Lyric thanked the man and approached the gate with no small amount of trepidation.  As he walked through the gateposts, his tie to Acheron buzzed uncomfortably.  Taking a moment to explore it, he realized it was the black stopper reacting enthusiastically to the mute's presence.

This really hurts, please hurry up.  
Acheron's thoughts were fainter than ever but carried a strong sense of discomfort with them.

"Never seen this before, what can I do for you, boy?"

"Please sir, I have no desire to expose your secret or to harm you.  My Aunt Bea," the mute's face registered a faint look of recognition, "was like you.  I have an infection that is magical in nature.  It's what has led me to seek you out and right now it's what is making it difficult to be on your property."

"So formal. Bea taught you to respect your elders.  How is she?" The old man queried, ignoring the rest of what Lyric said.

"Sad, I think.  I saw her several days ago and she was talking about leaving."

The old man nodded.

"Seems to be the way of it.  Darkness fallin' on the horizon we ain't equipped to deal with.  Best to get out o' the way for a while."  He stared intently at Lyric for a long moment.  "You're the first adult ever's found me.  Easy enough for the youngin's but impossible for the grownups.  I sense your demon, but she's not the magic threatening you.  You're infected with somethin dark and old.  Old as me almost.  Surprised your demon friend can hold it off, she must be pretty big stuff to do that.  Who exactly are you?"

"My name is Lyric.  I'm a soul singer."

"You're no soul singer, boy." The old man peered closely at Lyric's face.   "You're something altogether different.  How were you able to find me?  Singers ain't even told about us."

"I remembered the first time I met aunt Bea.  I used my soul song to enhance the memory and relive the feelings that led me to her orchard.  The memories were so real it was like I was back there, back then."

The mute scratched his chin while he ruminated on that.

"Never heard of such a thing.  So the secret companions of the soul singers are demons?  Isn't that a conflict of interests?"

"No, I'm the only one to tie a demon.  I don't want to be rude, but this infection is getting more painful the longer I stand here.  Can you please help me?"

"Don't know if I
should
help you.  Still not really sure what you are.  Besides. I smell a cure on you, why not use that?"

Lyric was mystified.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Now the old man stared at him in open disbelief.

"You do something I'd always thought impossible, findin' me, that is.  You manage to escort a demon onto my property, which I
know
is impossible.  You know what I am, which you shouldn't know.  You do all these impossible things and you are trying to tell me you don't know the most magical item in your possession is a cure for almost anything that ails you."  He paused as though waiting for a response.  Lyric didn't have one so he continued.  "You have some of Bea's jam on you don't you?"

Lyric took off his backpack and pulled out aunt Bea's jam.

"This is a cure?"

"Best cure for what ails ya... if you're a charge of Bea's."  The old man didn't bother disguising the doubt in his voice.

Lyric opened the jar of jam and scooped a finger full into his mouth.  The taste of Aunt Bea's jam flooded his mind with sunshine, the smell of grass, climbing trees and the sound of cicadas singing with frogs.  Immediately he felt a release, as though a weight fell from his stomach.  Acheron appeared and he realized he'd actually missed the smell of lilacs.

"That sucked," the gorgeous demoness said brightly.  " 'Bout time, Lover."  Grinning she smacked Cadence on the ass.  "I even missed you, you sexy tease!" Turning to the old man she sobered up immediately.  "Hello, I'm pure evil."  Puzzlement creased her brow.  "Why did I just say that?"

" 'Cause you believe it."  The old man seemed completely at ease with his guest.   "So, you're a demon, huh?"  

"Demoness," Acheron corrected automatically.  A graceful sweeping motion along her body with one hand and she was suddenly covered head to toe in scuba gear.  Pulling out the mouthpiece, she asked.   "What does believing it have to do with saying it?  Why would I say it at all?"

The old man didn't even blink at Acheron's wardrobe change.

"Don't know, seems to be the way of it though.  The kids I protect do the same thing.  Don't matter if it's true or not, if they believe it, it gets said.  Pretty handy for knowing when they need an ear and when they need somethin' more.  Question is, why do
you
think you're pure evil?  Nice suit by the way. "

"Thanks, the air here hurts my skin.  I think I'm evil because I
am
evil," Acheron shrugged.  " Take these two, they hate me with the fire of a thousand suns.  And rightly so, I betrayed the Composer and didn't even look back.  I am pure evil.  I am hate, lust, anger, violence and greed.  I am all the worst things in the world wrapped up in a body intended to seduce both men and women.  My only worth is to Trytohn as an instrument of destruction and why the
hell
am I telling you this?!"  Acheron put the mouthpiece back. To Lyric's surprise, the old man reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder.  The demoness flinched, as though expecting something unpleasant.

"Let's have some lemonade while we talk."  He looked at Lyric.  "You all right, now?"

Lyric nodded, confusion coupled with something in the old man's eyes held his questioning tongue in check.

"You two can wait here.  You'll be safe until your friend gets back."

"Oh, she's not my..." Lyric broke off his habitual attempt to correct any misunderstanding of his relationship to Acheron at the narrowing of the old man's eyes.  Instead, he simply nodded again and watched as the Mute led the demoness away.  An odd flutter resonated through their tie.  Lyric had no idea what to make of it, it felt different from anything else he'd experienced.  Always before the sensations that passed through the tie, whether good or bad, held an edge of danger.  For the first time edge was blunted.  He recalled before the vampire attack, Acheron had been trying to voice something concerning Aunt Bea.  If mutes were to protect the innocent, why did he get the impression that Acheron felt protected by the old man?  Mystified, he looked to his own protector.  

Cadence had watched everything in her customarily unobtrusive way.  With enviable grace, she folded down to a cross-legged position in the grass.  Pulling a small knife from thin air near her left boot, she twirled it through her fingers.  Lyric sat next to her, watching the weapon flash in the sunlight, moving faster than his eyes could process.  He stared, mesmerized by the way the razor sharp metal passed amidst her fingers as though it were alive and moving independently of her motions, as though her fingers were simply getting out of the way so it could perform its dance.

Lyric took the opportunity to examine the garden.  It was lush, and gorgeous and fragrant and mystifying.  An apple tree grew, surrounded by a rose bush.  An enormous palm tree was beside a large Douglas fir. Mulberry bushes and butterfly bushes thrived with various species of flowering cactus.  A tremendous amount of plant life completely unfamiliar to him grew to sizes ridiculous to the ordinary man.

Lyric found the odd garden lovely and peaceful.  Taking a deep cleansing breath, he sat down cross-legged next to Cadence.  His eyes were drawn to the long sleeve on her left arm that disappeared under the short sleeve of her T-shirt.  They moved along her neck to her hair, where the violet streak she kept covered ended.