Page 6 of The Demon's Sinful Serenade
She nodded. "Small things at first, like missing items that could be chalked up to grieving brain fog. It escalated once I started this solo tour. Equipment moved between soundcheck and performance. Feedback that shouldn't happen with the equipment I use, electrical issues, stage accidents."
"Anyone with access to all these venues?"
"That's the problem. Different cities, different crews, different equipment. The only constant was me." She laughed bitterly. "Which is why everyone thinks I'm making it up for attention."
"And they would think that because...?" I prompted.
"Because I was a mess after Julian died," she admitted. "Because the music industry loves a breakdown narrative more than a comeback story. Because there's never any evidence left behind." Her hands curled into fists. "Take your pick."
I studied her for a moment. Everything about this case screamed "not our usual gig." We dealt with supernatural threats, not human stalkers with a vendetta. The inconsistencies, the escalation pattern, the timing all pointed to some grieving fan taking it out on River. So why did everyone brush her off?
Then there was the inexplicable pull I felt toward her. The witch's words echoed in my head:Your flames will burn brightest in the shadow of death.Was this what she meant? This blue-haired human who claimed she might not live through the night?
The thought made my blood run cold.
"Look, I'm supposed to play the Silvermist Music Festival this weekend," she continued. "It's my last chance to salvage what's left of my career, but I can't do that if I'm dead. I'm desperate enough to try anything, even if it means hiring..."
She trailed off, eyes darting to my horns and down to the table. Color rose in her cheeks as she shook her head, clearly admonishing herself. "Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply?—"
"No need. Crossroads of desperation are where we demons thrive." More color flooded her cheeks, and I fought the urge to reach across the table. "Relax. I was joking."
"Oh." She blinked, then offered a tentative smile. "So, you'll take the job?"
I should check with Kaz first. Should run background checks, verify her story, and find out what the official line was from venue security and local authorities. But Kaz was at court, Rava and Malak were in the field, and I was sitting across from a woman who smelled like everything I'd ever wanted.
And who might be marked for death, if the witch's prophecy was to be believed.
I nodded. "When's your next performance scheduled?"
"Tomorrow evening," she answered. "Vanin invited me back to One Hop Stop since tonight was a disaster."
"You can stay here tonight," I said. "We have security systems that would make the Pentagon jealous. Tomorrow, we'll make better arrangements."
"What? No, that's excessive." Poppy shook her head decisively. "She needs protection during performances. She didn't sign up for protective custody."
"You signed up for staying alive," I countered, not taking my eyes off River. "Which means not walking back into a situation any potential stalker expects. They know your schedule, and probably your accommodations. First rule of protection: break the pattern."
River opened her mouth to argue, then seemed to really consider what I'd said. Fear flickered in her eyes, the bone-deep terror that came from months of looking over her shoulder.
"Just for tonight?" she asked quietly.
"Just for tonight," I repeated. "Tomorrow we'll have better arrangements in place."
Poppy started to protest, but River laid a hand on her arm.
"He's right," River said firmly. "We both know someone followed me here. I'm not putting you in danger too."
"But—"
"Pops." River took her friend's hands. "Please. I'll be fine. We'll check in tomorrow, okay?"
Poppy looked between us, clearly torn. Finally, she nodded. "Fine. But you call me in the morning. And you—" She fixed me with a stern look. "You'd better keep her safe or I'll hex your entire clan's pastries for the next decade."
"Understood," I assured her with all sincerity. They would never forgive me if I ruined the bakery for them. Exile would be getting off easy.
Poppy left soon after, but not before a whispered conversation with River that ended with both women locked in a hug. Part of me admired that fierce loyalty, and part of me dreaded the disappointment when it shifted or failed.
"Come on," I said once I returned from escorting Poppy to her car. "I'll show you where you can set up."
