Demon Singer II (8 page)

              Going through her mother's tiny address book she found Lyric's most recent number and called him immediately.  Walking back to the front door while the line rang, she frowned at the small table to its right.  

              There lay her silver hair comb, her mother's white stone and her father's composition stylus. Who would have put those three items together? Lyric!

              "Hello?"
Her brother's voice sounded in her ear. She didn't realize how worried she had been about him until she heard his voice and immediately sobbed in relief.

              "Hi Wic," Ruby managed to say, using her childhood name for him.

              "Ruby?"
Lyric sounded surprised.  She supposed that made sense, they hadn't spoken in six years.

              "Yeah it's me."

              "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

              "I'm fine, what about you?"

              "I'm fine."

              "I saw the news. They said a giant explosion destroyed your school. I couldn't get ahold of mom and dad so I came home."

              "Oh no. Ruby, I want you to get out of there. It's not safe"

              "Have you been here? Do you know where everyone is?"

              "Yes, I've been there. I don't know exactly where everyone is, but I'm working on finding them."

              "Didn't it occur to you to call me? How long have they been gone? What do the police say?"

              "The police are missing too. The government sealed off the town for a while while they investigated, but no one has any idea what happened."

              "It's magic, isn't it?" Ruby could almost hear her brother wince at the tone of her voice on the other end of the line.

              "Yes, Ruby, it's magic."
He replied.
“I think the town has been glamoured, I don't know why else the government would give up on it so soon. You need to leave.”

              "Are they dead?" She congratulated herself on sounding much calmer than she felt.

              "No, I have it on good authority that they're not dead."

              "And did this good authority tell you where they are?"

              "No, sis, he did not. He doesn't know. Trust me, I'm doing everything I can to find them. Get out of there."

              "I believe you, tell me how to help."

              "You know you can't help Ruby. I love you and you're amazing, but this is powerful magic, and that town is
not
empty. Just say a prayer and continue on with whatever you're doing. But get out of there as fast as you can. I'll call you as soon as I learn anything."

              Ruby sighed in frustration. She still wasn't good enough to help. Nice to know some things remained constant.

              "Sure, Wic, whatever you say, I’ll leave. I love you, too. Good luck."

              Ruby hung up and looked at Joss and Anaya who didn't bother pretending they weren't listening.

              "C'mon boys."

              "Where are we going?"

              Ruby put her comb in her hair and shoved her mother's stone in her jeans pocket. Her father's composition stylus stayed where it was. He'd probably be mad if she touched it.

              "You're taking me to see my grandfather."

              "Where is he?"

              "Markhato."

*   *   *   *   *

              Acheron wandered the streets of Boston, assessing just how screwed she was.  Oberon's curse had left her weak and bewildered.  She had no idea it would be so hard.  Her strength, her demon senses, everything that made her... her, was gone.

              She looked around at the humans passing by, noting the hungry stares she was getting from the men and the ugly ones she received from the women.  Realizing she probably shouldn't be drawing quite so much attention in her weakened state, she made a gesture down her body.  Her snug leather pants remained painted on her shapely lower half. The silver belly chain continued swinging in counter rhythm to her sexy walk.  The halter top straining against her gravity defying breasts fought on in its valiant effort to contain them.  

              Acheron loved being sexy. She loved the attention. She loved the sense of power. Suddenly, without the guarantee of her formidable magic she felt very exposed and weak and.. and... scared.

              She thought for a moment she was going to be sick. Her revulsion at weakness had never before been triggered in a mirror.  

              Acheron, what's the matter?   
Lyric's alarmed thoughts came floating across their soul tie.
Are you in danger?  Where are you? Cadence and I are coming.

              The demoness sighed.  Ever since Lyric had sang his soul song at Markhato and retied himself to her he'd been different.  Kind and compassionate.  She hated it.

              I'm fine Lyric.  Keep little miss tightass close and worry about you.  I'll find you in a little while.

              Lyric didn't reply but she could feel his unease.  It didn't please her like it used to. Something was seriously amiss and it was pissing her off.  Their entire dynamic had changed.  
She
had changed.  

              She needed to retake control. Magic or not she was a force to be reckoned with. Maybe if she got laid, that would restore some sense of normalcy. Shaking her long dark curls down the graceful curve of her spine, Acheron set her light violet eyes to smolder and exaggerated the erotic swing of her hips. Time to hunt.

*   *   *   *   *

              Lyric set the needle in the middle of the floor of his hotel room. Stepping back he sang the short phrase and waited.

              Immediately... nothing happened.

              "Did you sing it right?" Cadence asked.

              "I think so." Lyric answered and tried again.

              Still nothing, only more of it this time.

              "What do you expect it to do?" Cadence asked curiously.

              "Needles are used for sewing, for tattoos, for injections.... wait." Lyric went into the bathroom and returned shortly with a cup of water. "Master Lomong told me once that the High Master had an affinity for cartography and had developed a way to store special maps inside needles and push pins. He said they were like special compasses, all you had to do was drop them in water."

              So saying he dropped the needle into the cup of water he held and again sang the phrase.

              What happened next was unexpected.  Rather than float and spin on the surface of the water, the needle stood on its point and rose out of the glass.  The water rose with it, as though it were a cloth being pulled by a string.  As soon as it escaped the confines of the cup it began spreading out in a thin sheet, flowing over an invisible and uneven surface.  As the water took shape, the needle remained vertical on a fixed point.  As Lyric watched, the contours became familiar buildings.  He realized he was looking at a map of Boston, complete with tiny cars and pedestrians going about their day. The needle marked a spot not far from their hotel.

              "Wow." Was Cadence's complete assessment.

              “It’s water painting. My friend Phillip is amazing at it.” Lyric smiled at the thought of his best friend and couldn't wait to tell him about everything that had happened to him recently. Abruptly reality slapped him across the face as he realized his friend Phillip died in the Soul Singer's Guild when it was destroyed.

              The Singer kept careful control of his grief and, breathing deep, shoved it aside.

              The water remained in position, flowing gently.  Lyric reached out to collect the needle. As soon as he did, the map came splashing down on his bed spread.  

              Oh well, he wasn't tired anyway.

              A short walk later, Lyric and Cadence approached a small, unassuming bar called the Grand Staff. The nondescript building,  squished between two large stores, reminded Lyric of the outside of the Soul Singer's Guild; hidden in plain sight by virtue of its mind numbingly dull exterior.

              It looked closed, and there were no hours posted. Lyric and Cadence exchanged a glance and a shrug then Lyric tried the door. It opened easily and the scent of old tobacco, stale beer and bar gloss wafted over them as they entered. Once inside they looked around for an employee, a bartender, a patron, anyone. There was nobody. The bar was empty.

              Lyric removed the message from his pocket and unfolded it.  Scanning the simple melody, he listened to the Score of Creation and noticed it would make a lovely counterpoint right where he was. Here it was light and sweet. It tripped along in a fun jig that brought to mind Celtic pipes and fiddles and drums. There was a unique sense of happiness here; something he had rarely experienced. Master Storn had told him once there were special places like this where any artist could tap into the mood of the Score.  These places, the happy ones, were places that witnessed the birth of funny gray rabbits, hunters with speech impediments and stories about questing for the Holy Grail.  These, according to Storn, were places where the Composer laughed as he penned the Score.

              Closing his eyes, he began humming the melody from the page. Immediately he felt himself pulled into the music. It was swift and marvelous and tickled his heart with hints of old mysteries and laughing lasses, of mountains and mist, salty air and thundering waves.

              Lyric look.

              Cadence's thought broke the spell as her hand touched his arm.  He opened his eyes to see a swirling orb of light the size of a beach ball floating in front of him.  As his voice died the light dimmed and vanished.  

              "What was that?" Cadence asked.

              "That was a door," Lyric replied excitedly. "I've only ever seen one before.  Master Lomong sang one to get us out of a rather tight spot a few years ago.  Very few Singers attempt them. The idea is related to the casting of a soul song. Only instead of casting blindly into the Verge you cast carefully to a fixed point. The song anchors there and the door opens allowing you to step through from here to there."

              Cadence raised an eyebrow.

              "That could have come in handy a couple times over the last few months."

              Lyric smiled.

              "Indeed. I've never attempted one.  It's dangerous and difficult and too often it seems to cause Singers to never be seen again. No one has any idea where they disappear too.  Could be space, could be the center of a rock, could be hell. All we know is they don't ever come back."

              Lyric could feel Cadence's carefully controlled amusement, though her face didn't twitch.

              "What's so funny?" He asked.

              "Do you ever assume the best about something? Even on the Verge good things could happen. Your whole world seems to be doom and gloom.  Doesn't anything nice ever happen?"

              Lyric shrugged.

              "Experience is a good teacher. And its  lessons tend to stick.  Lomong told me to lighten up once.  Then he got shot in the leg."

              Cadence tried to hold in her laugh, but lost the struggle.

              "I'm sorry!"  She covered her mouth, but her eyes crinkled with mirth.  "That's just so pitiful. It's really not funny. Why did he get shot?"

              "He stole another man's socks."

              That did it. Cadence howled with laughter. Lyric smiled in spite of himself, her laugh sounded happy. He wished she laughed more. Maybe it was this place. The air seemed lighter as she laughed.

              I don't know what the hell is going on with you two, but could you please shut up?  I'm doing something here.

              Acheron's annoyed thoughts reached them both across their tie. Lyric caught an impression of a dark room and a beautiful young man in his early twenties smiling expectantly tied to a bed stark naked.

              Lyric quickly pulled back to see Cadence laughing so hard she'd gone silent.  The euphoria of her amusement was strong enough to send endorphins flooding through his own body.

              "What now?" He chuckled

              "Did you see what her new friend was wearing?" Cadence gasped.

              "Yeah, nothing."

              "Nothing but socks!" She screamed and dissolved into paroxysms of mirth.

              Lyric finally broke and laughed with her.  After all the pain and grief of the last year it was the perfect way to cleanse everything not yet washed by tears. After a cathartic time of hilarity, Cadence and Lyric both calmed down.

              Breathing a deep sigh of responsibility diluted with peace, Lyric looked at his companion.

              "Shall we see what awaits on the other side of the door?"