The Devil's Reprise (16 page)

“Well, the fact that you were high and drunk off your blooming tree for the day didn’t help you, did it? But that’s also Max. This, right now, is coming from me, and believe me, I know more about this sort of thing than he does. Who does he think he is, anyway, with that hair? Ginger Elvis?”

I smirked at that and handed the flask back to Jacob. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“Go be with her,” he said, sticking it back in his pocket. “Listen to her. Talk to her. Make sure she knows she is not alone. Make her your one-man show.”

I smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Where is she?”

“She should still be with Max, probably in the venue lobby. He wanted to take pictures of the audience afterward, and Dawn said she’d try and interview them, though I don’t know how far she’d get. Now
her
French is terrible.”

I left Jacob backstage and pushed my way past a group of fans who had gathered at the entrance. I tried to ignore their waving pens and album covers, their squeals of joy when they saw me, their hands grabbing my arms, my waist, my legs. They wanted me, all of them, every part of me, but the exchange between us was over. The only person who could have me, all of me, was standing in the distance under the glow of a chandelier, her wild red hair a frame for her warm eyes and guarded smile.

“Dawn,” I called out, stepping out of the mob of people and walking freely over to her.

She stopped scribbling in her notepad and looked up in shock. The young man she was interviewing, a lanky shit with hair down to his ass, looked in shock, too. Max stood off to the side, not saying anything, not yet.

“Sage,” she said. “I thought you were…”

Fucked up, passed out, on the town. She was thinking any of those things. I had to show her the truth.

“I’m right here,” I said. I reached out for her arm and pulled her toward me. She looked up with wide, curious eyes, beholding me as if I could break her in two. I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her softly on the lips. I heard her pen and notepad fall to the ground beside us.

When I pulled away, I rubbed my thumb over her lips, feeling her smile underneath it.

“What was that for?” she asked, her eyes darting over my shoulder now. The chatter of the fans had grown, and I was sure they were going nuts with what I’d just done. Did Sage Knightly just kiss that woman? Who is she?

She was Dawn Emerson, and she was mine.

“It’s for everything,” I said gently. My eyes flicked to Max as I bent down to pick up her pen and notebook. “Do I have permission to take Ms. Emerson out for a walk on the beach?”

He grimaced and unfolded his arms, his lips pursed. “I don’t know…”

And we three knew it was dangerous. But damned if I wouldn’t be there for her like she deserved, especially after Jacob put me in my place. I wouldn’t let her feel alone.

“Can I come, too?” the young fan said in broken English.

I smiled at him and reached into my pocket. I brought out a guitar pick and placed it in his hands. “No, but here’s a souvenir. Thanks for coming out, man.”

I held on to Dawn’s hand and led her out into the night, past more fans. I signed a few autographs until I let them know I had a date. With my girlfriend.

Dawn looked up at me wide-eyed as we walked down the street toward the waterfront. “Girlfriend?” she asked.

I raised my brow at her. “Too presumptuous of me?”

She shook her head. “No, I…thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming to get me.”

I sucked in my breath. “I’m sorry I wasn’t really…with it today. It’s been rough. And I mean, it’s been rough for you. I’m just not…handling it well. And I should be.”

“Jacob put you straight, huh?” she asked. We stopped at the lights on the street corner. Across the street, the tall Phoenix palms rustled in the ocean breeze and lifted the hair around her face. I tucked the strands behind her ears.

“He put me straight. He made me realize that I can’t run away from this, from you…from the idea of losing you. Dawn,” I bit my lip, my fingers disappearing into her hair, “I won’t lose you.”

“I hope that’s true.” God, she looked so scared and so fucking cute. I was serious putty in her hands.

“I’ll do whatever I can to make it true. Whatever I can.”

But you can’t tell her you love her
, said the voice in my head.
Because that will make it true.

I swallowed hard and kept my focus on her. Damn that voice. But tonight I wouldn’t silence it the way it wanted me to.

She looked past me, and I caught a subtle rolling of the eyes.

“What?” I asked, looking behind me at the crowd that was still outside the theater. A tall figure was sauntering toward us.

“Max,” she muttered. “I think he aims to follow us.”

“For your own good?”

“I hope so.”

I didn’t like the idea of Max following us around, but if he could protect Dawn in a situation that I couldn’t, I couldn’t afford to be an immature prick about it. Well, not really.

“That’s fine,” I said, leading her across the street as the lights turned. “If he wants to watch you at every turn, then that’s his problem. Not ours.”

We made our way across the seawall and down the cement stairs to the beach. Now, at night, there were a few torchlights lit in the areas that the hotels and lounges controlled, but the public areas of the beach were completely deserted. I took her across the thick pebbles, our feet sliding over them, until we came to a spot a few feet away from where the surf was breaking. I settled down on the beach then pulled her down into my lap.

She giggled shyly and immediately straddled me.

I rested my hands on her bare thighs. “It sure is lucky you’re wearing a skirt.” I slid my fingers up toward her ass and then couldn’t help but grin like a cocky fucking bastard when I realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “Now you’re just being extra lucky.”

“Lucky for whom?” she asked coyly, placing her hands on my shoulders and squeezing the rounded muscle there.

“For both of us,” I said. I grabbed her face and kissed her, our mouths in perfect synchronicity, that slow burn that was stoking us white-hot. I could have kissed her all night long, just loving the feel of her in my hands, at my mouth, the sweetness and the passion in her softly exploring tongue. She went for my pants, unbuttoning my waistband and zipping down the fly. I groaned at her touch, wanting it all now and still wishing it could take forever. Just us on the beach in France, with the waves breaking at our back and the stars in the sky above. In this moment there were no demons, no deals, no deaths. Just her and just me. Just us. Always us. This song.

I’d spent the day numb and now I was feeling everything, open to the world.

“Do you think he’s watching?” she whispered, her voice throaty as she guided my cock to her, teasing herself with the tip.

I moaned slightly, not giving a fuck who was watching. “Let him watch. Let him think he’s lucky, too.”

I quickly pulled out a condom from my pocket and slipped it on before we got too carried away. We made love on that beach for a long time and then slept in each other’s arms, the pebbles our bed. We made our way home just as the sun was rising. We managed to keep our demons at bay.

Dawn

Sleeping on a rocky beach may not have been the most comfortable thing in the world, but I was just so grateful that I’d gotten any sleep at all. You’d think that being out in the open like that, with the world watching if it looked through the darkness, would make you more vulnerable. But we were only vulnerable with each other, not to the supernatural.

At least that’s what I told myself.

Once back at the hotel in the safety of the morning, we had another romp in the hay. I don’t know if it was the constant adrenaline surging through us, the fact that our lives, or at least mine, were threatened, or that we were finally coming together as one, but we just couldn’t get enough of each other. When he was pushed deep inside me, this man of muscle and heart and oh God, the stamina, I felt fearless. Hopeful. Free.

It was only when we were dressed again that I felt reality coming to bite me, to remind me of the very unreal yet real situation I was placed in. And again, I could only blame myself. It was a terrible thing to know something was your fault, even though it was beyond your control or intention. It gave me just a little appreciation for what Sage must have been going through all throughout Hybrid and afterward. No wonder the man was such a mess.

Me, I was barely keeping it together. But somehow I was putting one foot in front of the other. I had Max, I had Jacob, and I had Sage. I knew all of them would do what they could for me, one more out of necessity than anything else. But it was more than enough. It had to be. I had no choice. The only thing I could control was how I dealt with it.

We had a train to board to Italy in the afternoon, an overnighter, which put me at ease slightly because I couldn’t imagine anything spooky happening on a train surrounded by all those people. For the last couple of days, though, I’d been so wrapped up with what was happening to me, too wrapped up in Sage and the tour, that I’d forgotten to call Mel or my family.

When I was all packed, and Sage had given me some privacy, I called Mel and was able to talk to her for a few minutes before she had to go out. I nearly cried when I heard her voice and realized I missed her like crazy. She was the only person back at home who knew what I had really gone through with Hybrid, the only one who would listen to the truth. But I couldn’t unleash on her my problem. It wasn’t fair when she couldn’t do anything to help.

With a heavy heart and a knocking on the door from Jacob, telling me I had to go, I hung up the phone. It was only when we got to the Nice train station that I realized we had another hour to kill—Jacob liked us all to be early, just in case. I stole a few moments away, promising to stay in sight of them and the band, and found the nearest payphone on the platform.

I dialed Eric, and he answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Eric?” I cried out through the crackly connection.

“Dawn!” he exclaimed.

“Hey, monkey, how are you?”

“I’m great. Where are you?”

“I’m in France. Nice. We’re heading to Rome in a bit. What time is it there?”

“I dunno,” he said, and I realized how groggy he sounded. “Early. I’m getting ready for school.”

“Okay,” I said, “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to say hello. And that I love you.”

“Aw, geez, Dawn.”

“Well, I do.” My heart felt weighted. “And I just want you to take care of yourself and Dad.”

There was a pause. “Dawn. Are you okay?”

“Yeah…” I wasn’t sure how to phrase this without worrying him. “Listen, Eric, before I left, you said something to me. About…someone. You asked if I could
feel her
.”

The line crackled.

“Eric?” I prodded.

“I’m here,” came his small voice.

“Well, what was that about? Who was ‘her’?”

He sighed. I knew the minutes were ticking on my calling card, but I couldn’t rush him.

Finally he said, “I was talking about…about Mom. I know it sounds crazy. But…lately…well, until before you left, actually, I’d been having nightmares about her.”

I could barely find my voice. “What kind of nightmares?” I squeaked out.

“Just…weird stuff. Like, when we used to watch
The Twilight Zone
. Mom out in the field or in the bathroom or…on the ceiling. But it wasn’t Mom. I just thought it was…I…I thought maybe this was her way of communicating.” He paused. “Jeez, it sounds stupid, Dawn.”

“But you said it stopped?” I asked, my heart pounding.

“Yeah, it did. So far, anyway. And I don’t feel weird around the house anymore. It was like…I could feel her. That’s why I asked you that. I think…I think I just miss her. Don’t you?”

I breathed out slowly before responding. “Yeah, Eric. I miss her, too.”

“Well, I better go, Dawn.” I could hear stuff clanking in the background, like he was finishing up breakfast. Suddenly I longed to be in that sunny kitchen with him. I wished I could have gone back in time and never wished for anything to change, to just try and make the most of it and keep going on with my life.

But then Eric would have never found happiness in his cure, and my father wouldn’t have gotten his spirit and health back. My wish, no matter how damaging it was now, had never been a selfish one.

“Bye, Eric. I’ll speak soon. Tell Dad I love him, too.”

“I will.” And after a few beats, “Love you, big sis.”

I hung up the phone and wiped away the tear that had found its way to my chin.

“Play it again, Sam,” I said to Sage as he was about to set his guitar down. We were sitting on a lower bunk in a train car as it trundled its way through the night. Jacob had arranged for him, Sage, Max, and I to all be in the same four-person sleeping car for the journey to Rome, which was fine by me. I actually felt safe knowing we were all sleeping together, though I remembered from the bus tour with Hybrid that Jacob snored something fierce.

Sage smiled—those gorgeous dimples—and jerked his head back and forth. “Woody Allen totally butchered that line, you know. In
Casablanca
, Ingrid Bergman says ‘Play it, play “As Time Goes By.”’”

I hugged my knees to my chin and stroked the bottom of his guitar with my bare foot. “I didn’t know you were such a classic movie buff, Mr. Knightly. Sorry,
Monsieur
Knightly.”

His eyes flicked to my toes. “Don’t make me suck on them, you tease. And it’s
Signor
Knightly now that we’ve crossed into Italy. We’ll probably get shot for trying to speak French.” The passport control officials as we crossed the border hadn’t been the most welcoming.

“Then play it. Play…whatever thing you were just playing.”

“It doesn’t have a name,” he said, adjusting the guitar in his lap. “You can name it if you want.”

“Can we call it “Dawn”? I’ve always wanted a song about me.”

His face grew very serious for a moment. Then he smiled softly. “I don’t have any songs about you. But I hope to one day. This song is about finding yourself drunk in a Chicago bar and having no one to go home to as the snow starts to fall.”

“That’s depressing.”

He shrugged. “I’ve never been one to write happy songs; you know this more than most people. This is my therapy.”

“So then I guess it’s good you’ve never written a song about me,” I said. Though we were just talking and trying to forget the horrors and dangers that lurked just outside of the moment, it kinda hurt that he had never written a song about me. Okay, that was dumb. It didn’t hurt—I was just disappointed. I think that’s one of the things most girls dream about when they dream about being with a rock star. They want to have a gorgeous song written about them, a hit single, and every time the rocker plays it live, they say “This one goes out to the one I love!”

His eyes sparked feverishly as he stared at me. My skin tingled in response. “You will get your song one day. I have plans,” his voice was low and rich. God, I hoped I’d always be a part of his plans.

I reached for the guitar and took it from him. “No matter,” I said breezily. “You forget that I can play guitar, too. Hmmm. How about a song called Sage?”

I started strumming the easiest chords I could play, trying to find a melody. “Sage Knightly,” I sang, my voice weak but clear, “he’s the man, the man with the magic touch…”

He took the guitar out of my hands. “While that’s all true about my magic touch, you’re also ripping off Shirley Bassey in
Goldfinger
.”

“Are you two ninnies still flirting with each other?” Jacob asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. He was wearing his ugly pajamas again and fuzzy slippers that looked like AstroTurf, holding a toothbrush and a leather toiletries bag in his hand. “Shouldn’t you be past that stage already?”

“Are we annoying you?” Sage asked as Jacob walked in the compartment and put his bag away in the closet.

“You, annoy me? Never.” He climbed up on to the top bunk across from us, easing himself as he went. Jacob had to be in his late forties, early fifties, though it must have been annoying for him to deal with aches and pains now that he’d gone “rogue” and wasn’t immortal anymore.

He settled in the bunk, clasping his hands over his chest like he was a vampire catching some shut-eye in a coffin. “However, it is getting late and we all need our sleep and if I awaken feeling cranky tomorrow, you’ll both be the ones to suffer for it. Have you ever heard my rendition of Kumbaya on that guitar? I might just have to show you.”

“Where’s Max?” I asked.

Jacob sighed, keeping his eyes closed. “Bar car. With Tricky. Seems he’s taking your spot for tonight, Sage.”

Sage made a grumbling noise while I got up and started gathering my stuff for the night. I scooped up my T-shirt and boxer shorts for sleeping, plus my soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a towel.

“Want me to come with you?” Sage asked, resting his guitar on the bed and getting up, careful not to whack his head on the upper bunk.

“Nah,” I told him. “Washroom is pretty much right across the aisle anyway. A girl has to have some privacy.” And as much as I was weary of being without my protectors, I still didn’t feel the train would be that much of a problem. Or maybe I was just trying extra hard to pretend the real dangers didn’t exist. Because when I did have a chance to think about them—the demons, the bargain, everything—I felt completely paralyzed with fear.

“All right,” he said, watching me carefully as I opened the door and stepped out. I squeezed against the wall just as a man built like a hippo came waddling past and followed him down the aisle toward the washroom. The train swayed gently as it rolled along, and I wished it were daylight so I could see the scenery out the window instead of the unending blackness. So far, Italy was just a limitless void.

I stopped outside the washroom door and tried it, but it was locked. I was only two doors down from our train car, so I waited a bit for the person to get out, but after a few minutes, I decided I couldn’t wait. I was growing more tired by the moment, and it was nearly eleven o’clock. The train had dimmed the lights in the aisles, and I knew that the lights would be going off soon in the passenger cars.

Unfortunately, if I wanted to get ready for the night, I’d have to make my way through one of the passenger cars to get to the other washrooms. At least it would be full of people.

I walked down the aisle, opened the door, and passed through the accordion-like area between the cars, the ribbed bottom of the train moving beneath my feet. I’d never been on a train before coming to Europe—unless you count the crappy Christmas train in Ellensburg—so it was a bit unnerving to be in the locomotive version of no-man’s land. Luckily I could see through the window at the passenger car and the lights were still on, though dim and giving off a greenish glow.

I opened the door and stepped in. The car was about half-full, with most people slumped over in their seats, sleep masks over their eyes. I would have hated to try and sleep on a train like this, especially since people were walking past you all the time. It made me feel exposed just looking at them.

I tried to avert my eyes from the dozing people and made my way down the aisle, taking careful steps in case the train suddenly jerked around a corner like it had been doing for most of the night. With luck, the bathroom was empty, and I quickly slipped on my sleep gear, glad that most people out there were already asleep so they wouldn’t have to see me in the boxers I had bought in the boys section at JC Penney that had Fat Albert and “Hey hey hey!” all over them.

When I was finished doing my business and felt ready for bed, I stepped back out into the passenger car.

Into complete darkness.

I squinted, thinking I’d see at least a few individual lights on or emergency lights along the aisle, but it was black. I couldn’t even see through the window into the next car. It was black, black, black.

I swallowed hard, suddenly cursing myself for straying so far from Sage and Jacob. The lights were probably out for the night, but there was something odd about this, unsettling. So…final. It made my chest clamp up, my heart best faster.

I took a careful step forward, and the train jostled to the left. I blindly thrust my hand out for the nearest chair and luckily I hit one, leaning against it before I toppled over.

“Sorry,” I whispered in case I shook anyone awake. I straightened up, though still holding on to the top of the chair, and reached across the aisle for the top of the opposite chair. I walked forward slowly, keeping my balance from chair to chair. Nothing like trying to walk through a moving car of sleeping people in the complete dark.

Suddenly we turned a corner, a large one that threw me into the seat to my right. My knee jammed against the armrest with a burst of pain and I let out an “oof!”. Thankfully the seat was empty, otherwise I would have been in some stranger’s lap.

I struggled to get up, the train still going around a long bend, and saw the lights up ahead flicker on. They were coming from the accordion-like vestibule, and though I couldn’t see straight into it because of the angle of the train’s bend and the window, it meant now I had a point of reference to walk toward.