Page 6 of The Music Demon

Shivaun turned to Lyric. “Very well then. Come and get your kiss.”

Her acquiescence was straightforward. No frills. No suggestive tone. But to Lyric, it was the sweetest five words he’d ever heard spoken. The words made it sound like she considered it a chore; a task to be done and dispensed with. But he could sense the underlying excitement.

After slowly moving closer on the bench he straddled, he leaned in and lightly brushed her lips with his. He thought he heard a tiny gasp followed by a tiny moan, but with a sound check in progress, it would be hard to be sure, even with demon-sensitive ears.

When he deepened the kiss, she opened her mouth wider and pressed for more, which made his entire essence thrum with a strange and seemingly conflicting mixture of contentment and aggression.

Shivaun pulled back when the jukebox switched off and the band struck up a rousing cover of “You Shook Me All Night Long”. She smiled at Lyric shyly and diverted her gaze to the unlikely-looking lead vocalist. When the song ended the man encouraged Wet Willie’s customers to enjoy the food, drink, and incomparable covers rendered by the Undercover Brothers.

Movement in his peripheral vision caught Lyric’s attention. A young guy was strolling through the far bay door, hands in the pockets of tan jeans, wearing rough out boots with a soft guitar case strapped to his back. He was six feet, which was no longer considered tall for his generation. Medium build. But anybody with eyes could see he was a looker. Sandy brown hair that was longish for the time. Sharp cheekbones and a well-defined jaw line. Blue eyes that were arresting across a room.

Lyric watched as the kid pulled the guitar free and sat down at a table off to the side of the band platform. When the band wrapped up “Texas Flood”, the front man said, “We’re lucky to have Gray Darby here tonight.” There was a round of enthusiastic applause and a few whistles. “He’s gonna do a couple’a songs.”

The kid stepped onto the platform and was handed an amp plug to thread through his guitar strap. When he was set, he stepped to the mic with confidence and said, “What do y’all want to hear?” After several songs were called out, including the mandatory “Free Bird”, he said, “Yeah. That’s too bad ‘cause I’m not doin’ any of that.”

The crowd chuckled as he turned to the band and said something just before launching into Gary Moore’s “Still Got The Blues”.

Gray liked the song. It showed off his strengths. And best of all, since ninety percent of the performance was vocal and lead guitar, he didn’t need the band to do much. They weren’t up to his level of musicianship. All he really needed them to do was follow his tempo while not stepping on his vocals or get in the way of tour-de-force guitar solos.

It had been a while since Lyric had been so enthralled. His body was humming from head to toe and that was before the kid performed his own arrangement of The Doors’ “Crystal Ship”. Gray Darby had that special something that transcends vocal talent and technical playing.What a shame that he’d been born fifty or so years too late.

As Gray Darby thanked the crowd and stepped away from the band, Lyric turned to face the object of his affection. “Do you like music, Shivaun?”

With a whole-body smile she responded without hesitation. “I like you.”

The demon didn’t care that she sidestepped the question. So far as he was concerned, of all the answers in the history of questions, that was the best. While Lyric was mentally running through various ways to respond to her declaration, which was charmingly guileless, Shivaun ended the inner debate.

After a series of rapid blinks, she said, “I have to go to work.”

“Work?” he asked, stupidly.

“Aye. Though ye may no’ be personally engaged in such activity, I assume you grasp the concept. I’m bein’ called to muster at the Abbey. So now is the time for you to tell me how to get where I need to be.”

“How do you know?” He sounded dubious.

“How do I know I’ve been called to work?” He nodded. “Do no’ know for sure how it works. I just get this kind of tingle.” She chuckled. “Like a super haptic, I guess.” The demon clearly didn’t find that funny. “From Rosie.” She added.

“Rosie,” Lyric said drily then sighed. “Don’t you get time off? I had dibs.”

“Dibs? Is that like a claim? On what? Me!?”

“Well. Yes. I have a prior claim.”

She laughed. “My time off is no’ an absolute. ‘Tis what you’d call tentative.”

“What could bethatimportant?” he demanded. “You’re not enslaved to Black Swan.”

“No. O’course I’m no’ enslaved. But I took an oath and I mean to keep it.” Shivaun was a little entertained by Lyric’s pouting. “Look here, demon. I do no’ know why I’m needed. But perhaps if I’m asked on another date, I might tell you then. If ‘tis no’ classified.”

It didn’t escape Lyric that she’d just stated a desire to be asked out again, which meant two things. First, she wasn’t trying to end the date early because she hated his kissing. And, second, it was the same thing as asking him on a date. He decided that he could massage away his disappointment with the consolation that another date was just… when?

“When?” He said what he was thinking out loud.

Looking every inch pleased by that response, she looked at him through thick red eyelashes. It was a flirtatious gesture that might seem cliché or trite, but got the job done. “Tomorrow?”

“Done.” He tapped the table like he’d just closed out an auction item. “I will pick you up at…”

“Four.”

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