Page 98 of The Music Demon

It’s not difficult to move a music demon to emotion when good music is performed, which was why it was noteworthy that Lyric had experienced a musical epiphany hearing Shivaun’s slightly changed version of an ancient Irish tune. Her voice was as sweet and pure as a choir boy’s. He was sure that, had she lived her life as a human, she would have been mother to a line of fine Irish tenors.

When she finished the song, Shivaun appeared to shake herself out of a trance.

She looked at Lyric, who stared silently. “That bad?”

His eyes flashed a millisecond before he grinned and shook his head. “It was… wonderful. Do it again.”

“No.” She laughed for a second, but then grew quiet. “What does it mean? Did you somehow…?”

Instead of finishing that sentence she ran through a list of explanations and scenarios in her head while Lyric was doing the same.

He sat down next to her. “What if we sort of, ah, comingled?”

“Meanin’ what? Exactly?”

“I’m just speculating. I don’t know any more than you do. But what if our coupling resulted in me getting a little of you…”

“And me getting’ a little bit of you.” Her eyes widened. “I’m a music demon?”

He barked out a laugh. “You’re not a music demon. No. But you might be a musical demon.”

“Good to see your sense of humor has no’ escaped you. And if ‘tis true, what you’re speculatin’, what did you take from me?”

“What did I receive from you?” he corrected. “I took nothing. At least not deliberately or knowingly.”

“Semantics. Answer the question.”

“I don’t know. Do I seem different?”

She stared good and long. “No. No, you do no’.”

“Well, I feel different.”

“You do?” He nodded. She made a motion with her hand. “Go on. Do no’ force me to pull it out of you.”

“Nothing as dramatic as what I just witnessed. But things just feel different. I can’t explain.”

“Try.”

“Can’t.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So what does this mean for me? That, if I’m on a rundown for The Order, I’d better no’ move my head too fast or every instrument nearby will begin askin’ for attention?”

He couldn’t help smiling at the picture.

She slapped at his shoulder. “Stop it. ‘Tis no’ funny. Ye gave me this. You can take it away.”

“No. I can’t. Because I have no idea how the transfer occurred. But it’s not a disease – being able to play music. It’s a gift. A wondrous thing.”

“Maybe. If you’re controlling when, what, where, how, and in front of whom. But not if things just suddenly get excited and start jumpin’ around because you moved too fast for ‘em.”

“We’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

With a huff, she said, “We need to ‘figure it out’ before I’m called into work.”

“Okay,” he said amiably.

“And no more surprises.”

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