Page 32 of Demon Loved
It seemed the man recognized him at once, because he said, “Checking out some more of the local sights?”
“Yes,” Belshegar managed. From what he’d been able to tell, Bree hadn’t said anything about him to her family — and why would she, when they were only casually seeing one another during these few days he was here in Jerome? — so there was no reason in the world why her father would think of him as anything other than the man who’d been sketching the Victorian houses in the neighborhood as his own way of sightseeing. Thinking he needed to elaborate, he went on, “I heard about the folk festival from someone at the Grand Hotel, so I thought I’d come down and check it out.”
“You’re in for a treat,” the man said. Then he held out a hand, surprising Belshegar a little. “I suppose I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Levi McAllister. And this” — he inclined his head toward the blonde woman who stood next to him, someone whose golden hair and clear blue eyes echoed her daughter’s — “is my wife Hayley. Our daughter is performing next.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Belshegar murmured, shaking the woman’s hand next. “And you must be very proud of your daughter.”
“Oh, we are,” Hayley McAllister said. She was tall and slender, like her daughter, and didn’t seem quite old enough to have a child in her mid-twenties. “Brianna doesn’t get the chance to play her original music very often, so we definitely didn’t want to miss this.”
And neither did Belshegar. Brianna’s voice was as beautiful as her face, and she was clearly a skilled guitar player, but he hoped when he heard her play her own songs, he might get to learn a bit more about her, to see past the public face she’d presented during this time while they were still getting acquainted.
A little rustle went through the crowd, and he looked away from the McAllisters to see Bree walking on stage, a twelve-string in her right hand and the other guitar in her left. She leaned that one against a stand that had been placed there for that purpose, then lifted the twelve-string and slung it over one shoulder.
“Hello,” she said into the microphone, her voice carrying clearly across the crowd and out toward the rest of Jerome. “I’m Brianna McAllister. I’d like to play you a few of my songs.”
Everyone clapped, and Belshegar could sense how many of the men in the crowd seemed particularly attentive. Well, she was very beautiful, with her pale hair falling in mermaid ripples past her shoulders and the full skirt and tank top she wore hinting at her form without obviously flaunting it.
The first song was livelier than he’d expected, with a sort of rhythm that made him think of water rushing through a creek full after a summer storm. Around him, the crowd seemed to fall into the spell of the music, clapping along and tapping toes, all while her voice carried clear and strong above it all, speaking of dusty roads that needed to be traveled and a longing for a life that might exist far beyond the small town where she’d grown up.
Was that truly how she felt? Was she constrained by her life as a witch, made restless by a need to see something more than this one small corner of Arizona?
Perhaps. He hadn’t encountered such sentiments in Elena, but then, she’d been so happy to be set free from the house that had been her prison, she had thought Santa Fe on its own was more than enough to keep her happy, let alone the entirety of New Mexico.
But you are free, Brianna, he thought then. Free in the love of the people who surround you.
It was an odd thought to emerge from the mind of a being who could go anywhere and do almost anything. And yet, even though he’d been given that freedom, he knew he hadn’t done much with it. No, he had been content to stay at home and tend his gardens. Somehow he’d known that seeing more of the universe wouldn’t change the emptiness he carried inside.
He hadn’t felt empty the past couple of days, however. Even when he hadn’t been around Brianna McAllister, it had still seemed as though he carried something of her within him.
The song ended, replaced by another, slower, one that talked about the simple beauties found in the everyday, whether it was watching the sun rise or lying in the tall grass and breathing in as clouds passed by overhead. Once again, Belshegar was struck by the way she could capture the essence of those moments in just a few words and a few carefully chosen chords.
Around him, the crowd had fallen mostly silent, listening carefully rather than chatting or texting or one of a hundred different things humans did to distract themselves when their minds or their hearts weren’t fully engaged. This, he thought, was true magic, even though he could tell it had nothing to do with whatever gifts Brianna might have inherited from her parents.
No, this was all her.
The set went on, with songs sometimes faster and sometimes slower. From time to time, she would put down the twelve-string and pick up the six-string and stay with it for a song or two. As the set wound down, though, she reached for the twelve-string again and settled it in her lap, causing some of the silver sequins on her skirt to sparkle like little stars. Her expression grew almost melancholy, and she bent her head toward the strings, a few locks of golden hair falling forward to obscure her lovely features.
And then she sang again.
Midnight roads stretch endlessly
The horizon keeps its secrets from me
I’m walking through valleys deep and wide
With mountains of questions I keep inside
The ache in her voice was so pure, so true, that a similar ache awoke in Belshegar’s breast, one he wasn’t sure he could ever explain. Once again, he wanted to take her in his arms…only this time, he thought it was more to soothe himself than to comfort her.
I’ve painted dreams in crimson and gold
Of worlds beyond what these eyes can hold
Standing at the edge of what I know
Feeling the pull of where I might go
Yes, now he could feel it, that desire to go beyond the constraints of the world she lived in. Some might have said she was a lucky woman, blessed with brains and beauty and the voice of an angel, but still, she couldn’t do whatever she liked.
