Page 67 of The Music Demon

He stopped, suddenly unsure how to finish that thought. He realized that, if he told the truth, he’d come off sounding pitiable. Not exactly the image a viral demon wants to project when courting his mate-to-be.

“You were sayin’. ‘Bout gettin’ what you want?”

“That I’ve never spent a lot of energy wanting things.”

“Oh.”

“I’m just getting acquainted with the sweet torture of desiring something I can’t have.”

Shivaun started to ask what that was when she saw the telltale sparkle in his eyes and realized he was talking about her. Her pretty bow mouth pulled into a temptress’s smile. “You mean me.”

He sighed. “Indeed I do.”

“Well, you can no’ always get what you want.” Lyric laughed before realizing she wasn’t making a musical reference. “Why ‘tis amusin’ that?”

“I thought you were using a song title to make a joke.” He looked around. “But that song won’t be released for another year.” He winked.

The two demons spent the next two and a half hours talking about what had gone into the phenomenon that bloomed in the Haight-Ashbury district in 1967. She didn’t understand a lot of it because there was no shared cultural reference, but she did understand feelings of not belonging where your family belongs. From time to time, as Lyric recounted the history from his point of view, she looked out and into the faces of those who’d come seeking. Something.

Shivaun turned to look at the street knowing there’d be a new visual treat since spectacles weren’t in short supply. Her gaze scanned the scene and almost immediately caught on someone directly across the street, as if he was sending out a beacon. He was leaning against a building, staring directly at her, giving the appearance of having been there for some time. Watching her. When their eyes locked, he didn’t look away, as most people would do when caught staring. No. He smiled.

His hair was long and black as pitch. His eyes were the palest green imaginable. He wore leather pants and an embroidered cotton drawstring shirt that might have belonged to a very large woman before finding its way to the thrift shop. And, in his own way, he was every bit as otherworldly beautiful as the demon who sat across the table from her.

When she realized that Lyric was talking to her, she dragged her eyes away from the stranger across the street. “Sorry. What were you sayin’?”

“I was asking how long you plan to work for Black Swan.”

“An odd question. What makes you think I have other plans?” Of their own accord, her eyes drifted back to where the stranger was standing. She waited for a visual break in pedestrians. He was gone.

“Is something wrong?”

Her eyes flew back to Lyric. “No. I saw a strange person across the street.”

He laughed. “Strange person? Great Paddy. Which one would that be?”

“Very funny. I mean ‘twas someone starin’ over here like he knew me. ‘Twas disconcertin’.”

He found that every bit as disconcerting as Shivaun had. Maybe more so since, of the two of them, he was the only one that truly understood what was at stake in their courtship. The demon who ended up with Shivaun would multiply his own power many times. He could declare himself king of the elemental world. The few times that had been attempted the would-be authoritarian went mad, but not before plunging the extra-human world into chaos.

The demon joined with a female would be sorely tempted to stage a coup even knowing that it would likely end very badly. No one could challenge that level of power grab except for archangels. Maybe.

Lyric couldn’t care less about power because he was a music demon. Power wasn’t his thing, but there were demons who would want her for that alone and not for the innate qualities that made her the holy grail of all prizes.

Shivaun was still looking at the vacated spot across the street. It had been re-occupied by a folk singer with acoustic guitar performing a straight-up version of “It Ain’t Me Babe”. Her view was suddenly blocked by Doo Darby coming to a standstill just outside the windows where they sat. He grinned before heading inside to join them.

Lyric pushed the third chair back to make room and motioned the waiter over. The guy practically jogged to the table. Nothing gets service like paying the help the equivalent of one month’s pay in tips.

“Bring my friend whatever he wants,” Lyric told the server.

“Ah. Cherry limeade,” Doo said. “You got burgers?” The waiter just grinned. “Right. Of course you do. All American cheeseburger with everything plus hickory sauce. I’d rather have potato chips than French fries. If you have ‘em.”

“Fries. No chips. Got onion rings though.”

“Onion rings. Yeah. Sounds good. That’s purple onion you use on burgers right?”

“Purple onion. I don’t know, man. I can check.”

Doo shook his head. “That’s okay. Surprise me.”

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