Page 30 of Demon Loved
That was fine, though. A little variety never hurt anyone.
Hearing the banjo player start picking away only made her realize, though, that she’d be going onstage in four short hours. All these people who were tapping their feet along to the music or nodding their heads would be listening to her.
The food she’d just eaten seemed to congeal into a ball in her stomach. Looking back at Bill, she saw he now gazed at her with concern.
“Everything all right?” he asked softly.
The music was loud enough that she was a little surprised she’d been able to hear him clearly.
Or maybe she’d just read his lips…those strong, kissable lips.
“I’m fine,” she managed. “Just a little attack of stage fright, I suppose.”
He reached across the table to touch her hand. It was their first real physical contact, and she couldn’t ignore the warmth that flowed through her at even that small pressure of his fingers on hers.
“You’ll be wonderful,” he said. “I’ve heard you play and sing. You have nothing to worry about.”
Easy for you to say, she thought.
He was only trying to help, though. And his words did encourage her, if only a little. She wasn’t an amateur, after all. No, she’d been performing locally for years now, ever since she’d gotten paid to sing at the Arizona Stronghold tasting room when she was only eighteen, years before she could even drink their wine.
This was going to be fine.
Wasn’t it?
10
Belshegar could tell Brianna was suffering something of an attack of the nerves, so after lunch — which had been excellent, very different from the other red meat he’d eaten and something he thought his system could manage a bit better — he thought perhaps it would be a good idea to walk around Jerome and have the music as a backdrop to their afternoon, rather than standing right at the stage to listen. If they’d done that, he guessed she might have started imagining herself on that stage and begun to worry again that her performance wouldn’t measure up.
No chance of that happening, of course. He’d been taken aback when she asked him what kind of music he liked, but then he’d remembered how Elena had often played classical guitar in the background when she painted or drew. Although he knew very little about it, he also realized how soothing that sort of music could be, so that was the answer he’d given Brianna.
She seemed to have been content with his reply, and to his relief, hadn’t asked him about his favorite musicians or pieces. Those were questions that would have been much more difficult to answer, mostly because Elena had never talked much about the music she listened to, and instead had simply been happy to have it going in the background so she wouldn’t have to work in dead silence.
And although he knew that Bree must be just as familiar with the shops in Jerome as she was with the offerings on its various restaurant menus, she hadn’t seemed at all bored by the way he wanted to look at a kaleidoscope composed entirely of semiprecious stones, or how he surveyed the various minerals in another shop, deciding in the end on a chunk of something the label said was black tourmaline. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d been drawn to the stone, only that it had felt comforting in his hand.
As they left the shop, she asked with a grin, “Trying to ward off evil spirits?”
His fingers touched the chunk of stone, which now resided in his jeans pocket. “Is that what it’s meant for?”
She slipped her sunglasses on her nose. Although he hated to have her beautiful eyes obscured, the sun was quite fierce today, so Belshegar could see why she would want to protect them.
“That’s the story,” she said. “Actually, I guess it’s more than a story, because there’s more evidence out there than you might think that some crystals really do have the qualities they’re rumored to possess. Black tourmaline is all about warding off or maybe even absorbing negative energy.” A pause, and then she looked up at him, her eyes a flash of blue behind the dark glasses. “Put that under your pillow, and you probably won’t have to worry about ghosts.”
He hadn’t been precisely worrying about them, but he could see why it might be good to know that the first fellow who’d appeared in his room — the gaunt man who’d been visibly annoyed when the person he was trying to haunt hadn’t been frightened at all — would be chased away by the energies emanating from the black crystal.
Or perhaps it would also prevent the voice from getting too close or spying on his activities here.
No, that was the wrong way to look at the situation, wasn’t it? The voice wasn’t a negative form of energy, was only a member of a council that made sure the beings on the upper planes didn’t abuse their powers.
And yet….
Something about the entire situation was beginning to feel wrong in a way he couldn’t quite quantify. If the voice knew where the artifacts were being held, why hadn’t he or the other members of the Council swooped in to collect them? Surely their powers must be much greater than those of the McAllister prima, even though Belshegar supposed she must be a very strong witch in her own right.
Perhaps he’d been too naïve, too trusting. Some people might have thought it odd to apply those adjectives to a being who’d existed for millennia, but Belshegar had had very few dealings with other sentient creatures.
Not until Elena had summoned him that one night, and he’d realized he could offer her some comfort in his own odd way.
All he knew was that everyone he’d met in Santa Fe had appeared to be kind — even Alessandro, who’d wrestled with his own demons at first but had eventually opened his heart to Elena.
