Page 68 of Disharmony

Ripper has told them about me.

Does he pick up random groupies at gigs often? Many girls have tried to hook up with them, and I’ve read stories about orgies in the back of Buggy, but I’m not sure how true they are.

“Yeah, I do,” I reply, then realize they probably have assumptions about what that means. Everyone does when they hear the name Camp Harmony. “But I like heavy metal.”

Zed tilts his head. “Your viral video didn’t sound metal.”

He’s seen it too? I never mentioned it to Ripper, so they’ve done research.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” I say, channeling the badass no-shit-taking girl from Meadow Springs. “You of all people should know that.”

Zed’s shoulders jolt as he steps backward.

“What—” His deep growl drops slightly, giving a hint of his real voice. He masks his tone well. He clears his throat before continuing, realizing his mistake. “What do you mean?”

“Look at all this.” I start to count points off on my fingers. “You wear masks, you dress up, you don’t let people see who you really are. I’m no different.”

“I invited Ash to hear us perform our new material,” Ripper narrows his red eyes through the mask, “not for an interrogation.”

“You didn’t ask anyone if she could come here at all,” Zed snaps.

“How long have you been listening to us?” Venom, the robot, asks.

“Since Phoenix Rising,” I admit, then add, “the original version. I found you back on Myspace.”

Ripper whistles. “That long, huh?”

Phoenix Rising is their first unofficial album, and the tracks sound like they were recorded in a garage. A few years later, they reworked it in a professional studio, which was equally amazing, but I still prefer the originals. The rawness makes it more real.

“That album was something else,” I say. “I love how you’ve evolved over time. You’re not afraid to experiment or try new things, and that’s something I’ve always respected about you as artists.”

“What’s your favorite song?” Venom quizzes.

I pause to think. Is this a test? There are so many options, and I like them all for different reasons. “It depends on my mood, butRaise Them Uphas always been up there.”

“Good choice,” Venom’s computerized voice sounds pleased, “It’s one of my favorites too.”

“What inspired it?” I ask.

“Careful,” Ripper jokes, “or she’ll put it on the Basilisks Wiki.”

Zed snorts. “You read that?”

Well, there goes trying to act cool.

“In my defense, there’s not a lot of other places online to read about you guys and what you’re up to,” I say, then grin. “I don’t know if you realize this, but it’s almost like you don’t want anyone to know you at all.”

“You’re joking with us?” Venom says.

“What’s wrong?” I retort, raising an eyebrow. “Never met a girl with a sense of humor?”

“Let’s get on with the music,” Zed says dismissively. Unlike Venom or Ripper, my presence makes him uneasy, which makes me want to prove whatever assumptions he has are wrong, and maybe… impress him, too. “We’ve only booked three hours.”

“Go ahead,” I say.

We’re sitting in a lounge area which leads into two rooms: the control room and recording studio, which has a non-illuminated Recording sign above the door and a window stretching the expanse of the wall to see inside.

“We’re not recording for an album today,” Ripper explains for my benefit, “but I’d like to hear your opinion on our work. Can you work a control room?”

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