Page 41 of The Music Demon

The table’s occupants grew quiet for a couple of minutes as each retreated into their own private thoughts. Gray and Shivaun stared out the window at the movement of the water. Lyric looked around the restaurant at other diners and tried to not be irritated by the faint strains of musical pablum. He was thinking that there’s nothing worse than music that tried to be something to everyone. It ends up simply being hated equally by everybody. Ironic.

This was what he was thinking when he realized Gray was talking. To him. “What?”

“I don’t guess you know how to read the future?” Gray rolled his eyes in a charmingly self-deprecating way. “You know what I mean. Can you tell me what happens inmyfuture? When I go back to the past?”

“No,” Lyric began. “But I wouldn’t tell you even if I knew.”

“Why?”

“Because the future is always in motion.”

Gray barked out a laugh that was followed by a fine impression of Yoda. “Ohhhhh. AStar Warsquote for me.” The light moment caused him to relax visibly. “So demons watch movies.”

“If it makes a big enough stir.”

Gray looked at the ocean then back at Lyric with a sudden grin. “Great music.Star Wars.”

Lyric returned Gray’s grin. “The best.” Pause. “Speaking of movies. Did you watch the list of movies I gave you?”

“Yeah.”

“Any surprises?”

“Ah. Yeah. They were pretty, um, tame. They didn’t even have ratings.”

“The ratings thing started later. You’re going back to a time that was just as nasty and corrupt as any. But they went to a lot of trouble to keep the worst things under wraps. That’s one of the reasons why this period ‘rocked’ the core of culture. Yeah. That was a pun. Do you see that?”

Gray nodded slowly. “You think I’m gonna make a difference?”

Straight down the west coast, the demon, Quicksilver, sat next to the patio railing at the Sunset Grill on Venice Beach. He could have worn four-hundred-thousand-dollar Choppard sunglasses if he’d wanted, but scoffed at Kardashian-like status seekers. No. For Quicksilver, a sit at Venice Beach was all about the Wayfarers.

Old school.

He smiled to himself because he knew the term ‘old’ took on a completely different meaning in demon terms.

So, there he sat, alone with a large goblet of colorfully garnished, frozen margarita, drawing doubletakes from passersby. Demons have striking good looks and sexual magnetism even when trying to be inconspicuous. Except, of course, for shapeshifting cousins who can give themselves any appearance, and energy they want.

Quicksilver was not one to object to attention; ironic for a creature whose super power was melting into his surroundings, becoming virtually invisible. Or perhaps that explained it. Peacock or a ghost. Nothing in between.

Passersby wouldn’t have to be psychoanalysts to receive that message loud and clear. The artfully placed surfer-blond highlights, yummy tan, and coral-red tee shirt all sent the message that he was okay with admiration. Add to that, casual body language that screamed arrogance and it was a recipe for first class asshole. But one of the great mysteries of life is that there are women who are attracted to that sort of walking calamity.

The cafe terrace was set back from the skate path and separated by a ribbon of grass. He caught the eye of a would-be actress wearing two tiny scraps of fabric that closely matched his coral-red tee. She walked across the grass on skates and leaned over the railing in a way that exaggerated her cleavage and made the demon glad he didn’t have to worry about her breath delivering germs to his fabulously crafted margarita.

She showed a complete set of straight, dazzling white veneered teeth. When she took a breath to speak, he cut her off. “Sorry. I’m on a self-date today.”

Her smile fell. She looked confused in a way that said she’d never been turned down before. “A self-date?”

“Yes.” The word was drawn out to exaggerate that he was being patient. “It means alone time.”

“Oh.” Two lines formed between her brows. He noticed and was thinking that someday soon, at least in demon terms, she’d be a plastic surgeon’s wet dream; four hundred dollars every six weeks for Botox and five minutes of his time. Cha. Ching.

He flicked two fingers toward the path to indicate she’d been dismissed. The moth who is attracted to assholes is sure to get fried.

Human males would have been focused on the completely bare derriere that had just been presented to Quicksilver up close and personal. But if it had been subject to a ratings system, demonic arousal would put visual attractiveness a few points down the list of things that made a female sexy. He was there to be seen, not for a hookup. And to mull over what he’d learned about the music demon and the fascinating female.

He did his best thinking in pedestrian hot spots like Venice Beach or Las Rablas in Barcelona. More intel would be required before he could begin hatching a workable plan. It wasn’t easy to put something over on a demon as old as Lyric. But it would be made infinitely easier by the fact that Lyric was so very distracted.

Ah. The distraction.That made Quicksilver smile.

---