Page 3 of The Music Demon

“Is it?”

“Aye. And I’m beginnin’ to see the rules. First item on the list. The unnecessary addition of adverbs and adjectives mean you do no’ want to be pinned down to absolutes. Like truthfulness.”

He cocked his head to the side. “You think truthfulness is an absolute?”

“Just like that. And, aye. Of course.”

“Huh.”

“Huhis no’ a response. ‘Tis no’ even a word. More like a grunt.”

A slow shake of his head and a low chuckle caused her to lean forward with unconscious anticipation.

“Shivaun. You probably have the potential to do what demons do. Most of us can discern whether someone is lying or not, to varying degrees.”

It was her turn to cock her head to the side, obviously pleased, but trying not to smile.

“Really?” She hid her delight behind a cynical tone. But the demon’s expression convinced her that he might be on the level as he nodded without breaking eye contact. “I did no’ miss the loophole. Varyin’ degrees.”

“It’s not a loophole. Just like some people can run faster or sing better than others, some demons are better at recognizing fabrication than others.”

Looking off to the top of the next hill behind which the sun was setting, she said, “‘Twould be a very fine talent to have. I’d like to know for certain whether a thing is or is no’. I’m sure you guessed as much.” She cut her eyes toward Lyric. “You can call me Shy.”

He put his hands into his jeans pockets and dipped his head slightly in her direction. “I suppose I could, but I won’t.”

“You will no’?”

“No.”

“Why no’?”

“Because it would be a travesty. First, because Shivaun is arguably the most beautiful name in the catalog of sound.” She blinked rapidly and grinned in spite of herself. “And, second, because you aren’t. Shy, that is.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, cocked a hip, and changed the subject abruptly.

“So. You’ll be tellin’ me the truth then?”

“Said so. With one condition.”

“Lyric.”

Hearing his name on her tongue made his heart swell. He was about to tell her how pleasing that was, but the thought was cut short. Tendrils of jukebox music reached out to charm the surrounding dusk and they both looked in the direction of the icehouse that sat below at the bottom of the hill.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

Shivaun grinned. “I have a preference for ale. Particularly when I’m with someone who has a story to tell.”

“You think I have a story to tell?”

“Just said you’d be tellin’ the truth about the details of plannin’ this very fine evenin’.” She paused, sighed, and added, “Which isalmosttoo perfect.”

Lyric ducked his head and smiled. “I didn’t create this.” He copied the gesture she’d made when she waved her arm. “But I was careful with the date. Let’s go see if they have ale.”

“The date?”

“Come on.”

As they stepped onto the expanse of diagonal wood decking, she said, “I’m no’ forgettin’.”

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