Rock and Ruin

by Saranna Dewylde

  “We figured your Pa had done something bad. This one—” I assumed Nabila was pointing at Oscar. “—was worried. So… we... uh… waited. We were going to… ask him to explain himself when he returned.”

  “He did do something bad!” I cried. “He sold me to demons. He’s evil! Argh!”

  I slammed my fists into the floor. It hurt. Shit. I needed to get off the floor, I’d spent way too much time on the ground today.

  I struggled to my feet, using the burst of anger as fuel. “Can you turn on the lights already?”

  “Of course, Mistress.” Footsteps sounded dully overtop the thin carpet.

  “Oscar, you can still call me Ash. Even if you and Nabila are idiots.”

  “Idiots?” Nabila scoffed at me. Overhead tubes whined into life in time for me to watch the disparaging expression on her face reach maximum potency. “You ran off—in the middle of the night. Before you found out what’s going on. The only idiot here is you.” She crossed her arms and stared down at me.

  “Oh yeah?” I pushed into her face.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “You’re back here, aren’t you?”

  “Ash, do not be angry,” Oscar pleaded.

  “I’m not angry. I’m… I don’t even know.”

  Turning away, I busied myself with untangling my guitar and backpack, dropping them next to the couch. They’d been worried. They’d planned to accost Jim and force what—information?—out of him regarding what had happened to me. I barely knew them—and had they been planning to save me?

  Self-righteousness rushed out of me.

  I blew out a breath and faced them. “I guess I’m kinda grateful,” I said softly. “Thanks. For trying to… whatever. Sorry I didn’t wait.”

  Nabila flicked a hand at me. “Never mind that. You know things now?” At my nod, she smiled and pulled a pin from her doll, returning it to her fro. “Good, didn’t wanna have to explain all that anyway.”

  “Probably wouldn’t’ve gone well,” I agreed.

  We all stood awkwardly in silence for a moment: Nabila, arms still crossed and face still screwed up. Oscar hunched and half turned away. And me, treading very unfamiliar waters.

  They’d worried about me. And they’d waited, for hours, in my shitty apartment. But I didn’t have those kinds of people in my life...

  “Does this mean you’re my friends?” I finally blurted out

  Nabila shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Only if that’s okay with you.” Oscar regarded me with a hopeful expression.

  “I’m probably going to get you in trouble,” I told them.

  It had been ages since I’d had anything resembling a friend. Nabila and Oscar were a pair of weirdos, but I kinda liked that about them. They really ought to know what they were signing on for before they committed the unusual sin of identifying themselves as my friend.

  This whole situation was mind-boggling. In the space of a single, horrible day, I’d gone from being alone to having as many as three whole friends—if I counted Cat. Which I did.

  How three friendships had happened, I couldn’t say. But I liked it.

  I liked it a hell of a lot.

  “Excellent,” Nabila flashed a mouthful of pearly whites at me. “Bout time we gave the demons some trouble. Been waiting for someone to work with, some back up.” She cracked her fingers outwards with almost bloodthirsty glee. “He’s not much for rebellion,” she added, jerking a thumb in Oscar’s direction. “And I have an idea. After what you did to Myrtle—”

  “Don’t talk about that,” Oscar hissed in a low voice.

  “Oh, fine. I won’t talk about it here. But we are so talking about it—later. For now…” Nabila sent me a wicked grin. “I think we should start a band.”

  A band?

  Hell yeah.

  “What do you play?” I asked her.

  “I learned a bit of the bass,” Nabila said slowly. “That works, right?”

  “Sometimes I bang the drums,” Oscar added. “You know, quietly. When it won’t bother anyone.”

  Well, that was less than encouraging.

  I whole-heartedly believed in the power of music, though I didn’t think an occasional bassist and quiet drummer had the literal magic Nabila seemed to be looking for. Her pins would probably do more damage to the demons...

  Then I remembered what she said about Bulldog screaming.

  I had power. I saw truth. Maybe my music had power, too. Maybe here I’d find another weapon to fight my battles.

  I nodded at Nabila. “If nothing else, music is about hope. That can’t hurt.”

  “Hope?” Oscar shook his head. “I don’t like it. It just leads to pain.”

  “For them,” Nabila promised. “We’re going to raise all kinds of hell.”

  “Hell?” Oscar squeaked. “What kind of hell?”

  “The kind they can’t fight,” I told him. “The kind that brings their evil, shitty little hierarchy crashing down around them.”

  “Sounds great. Got any idea what that means?” Nabila retrieved the pin from her fro and began cleaning her teeth with it.

  “They’re keeping us because our parents made deals—or were born into the life,” I amended for Oscar’s benefit. “That means we’re worth something—right?”

  “Sure.” Nabila gave a one-shouldered shrug. “My aunt is training me in the family business. You’d be amazed how easy it is to shrink someone’s head when you’ve got the right potion. And Oscar’s from prolific Feeder stock. They want him to reach majority so he’ll have maximum output in his twenties.”

  “What happens when he hits thirty?”

  “They’ll kill him,” she stated bluntly. “Maybe breed him first.”

  I swallowed hard and decided to sit on the couch—quickly. This was the stuff of nightmares. What they called human trafficking on the news only scratched the surface of what was happening here.

  “Guess that means I don’t have much to lose.” Oscar’s quiet words jolted my attention back to him. His shoulders were still hunched, head hanging low, but there was an odd sort of determination in his eyes. It reminded me of how he’d looked when he hadn’t wanted us to meet at his place.

  “Right,” I nodded at them. “We’ve all been screwed, so we’re going to figure out a way to get even. You’re going to tell me everything you know about this place—particularly the teachers and the Bulldog.”

  Like a general rallying her troops, I stood and gave them each my best steely gaze.

  Then I stuck my hand out. Maybe it was lame, but I’d seen this done in lots of movies and it always preceded victory. I waited for a well-timed strike of lightning or roll of thunder to seal the moment…

  Oh well. Way to miss an opportunity, Universe.

  “We start small,” I said. “Start our band. We can build our plan while we practice. And then we win. In?”

  “In.” Nabila’s voice was steady. Her hand gripped mine tight wrist to hand.

  “Me too.” Oscar sounded less steady. Quieter. But his hand joined Nabila’s on the pile all the same

  A sense of sheer rightness rushed through me.

  “We got a name for this badass endeavor?” I asked.

  “I do,” Nabila said, ducking her head and seeming oddly shy for the first time since I’d met her. She took a deep breath. “We have to call it Oya’s Blade.”

  From the light in Nabila’s eyes, I could tell this name was deeply important to her. Good thing that name sounded royally cool, even if I had no idea what it meant.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “Who’s Oya?”

  “Oya is an Orisha,” Nabila said. “A goddess, if you will. She is the ruler of wind, so music would fall under her power, but she’s also Queen of the Dead. She can move between the worlds. She’s a fierce warrior and my Orisha.”

  “Yours? I’m sorry, can you explain that to me?” I asked.

  “Traditions among my people claim that each soul chooses an Orisha for their human life. My soul chose Oya. Part of her
lives in me.” Nabila pressed her hand over her heart. “I am hers. She is mine.”

  “That’s really beautiful,” I said softly. Hearing Nabila talk about her family, about her history… It sparked an ache in my chest, a longing for that kind of connection to my history, my family.

  If I’d grown up steeped in the ways of my mother’s people, would I have been better prepared to fight the demons? I couldn’t help but feel a small stab of resentment because all that history, knowledge, and opportunity had been taken from me.

  “I hope she doesn’t mind if we use her name?” I was only half-kidding.

  “No, we’re going to make her proud.” Her chin lifted, eyes flashing. “I’m sure of it. Oya spoke to me last night, after I heard your song. She came to me in a dream and showed me a path coated in song. If we walk that together, we can escape the demons. ”

  “Okay.” Oscar nodded, but I could see doubt in his eyes.

  And, despite Nabila’s confidence, I felt that same doubt rearing its ugly head in my own heart.

  The last time I’d had a band, I’d believed we were on the fast track to fame and fortune. Yeah, we’d fought and my drummer and bassist had slept together—what band didn’t have fights and fool around? Then my mother had gotten sick and they’d dropped me without a second thought, claiming they’d been about to do it anyway, that I was too young and nothing but dead weight. I’d sworn I was done with bands, that I’d be strictly solo—but that was before my soul got contracted. Before I met two people willing to stand up to demons beside me.

  I had to try. I refused to just lie down and accept whatever these demons wanted to do to me.

  No matter what Jim had agreed to, I didn’t belong to them.

  I belonged to myself and that was a lesson they’d learn. As soon as I figured out how to teach it to them. First, I had to teach a voodoo-princess how to play the bass like a queen, and a quiet mouse how to make some noise on the drums.

  Sure. Piece of cake.

  I gulped.

  The image of Churchfield’s head turning around like a possessed owl reared in my mind’s eye—I forced it out. Replacing its stain with thoughts of practice songs and how I’d teach instruments I barely knew.

  Pro tip: spice up your demonic nightmare with a sick guitar riff.

  My lips quirked. Whatever it took, I’d figure it out.

  I’d chew off my own hand if it meant escaping this place, and I’d take what revenge I could while I was at it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Armed with three hours of sleep, a vague strategy and two brand new, wholly unexpected friends, I stepped off the school bus to face Saint Damon’s Academy for the second time.

  My hair was spiked and my lips flaunted a bold, matching red. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

  I felt more than saw Nabila and Oscar exit behind me and stand, almost a shield at my sides. We made an odd trio, but I was grateful for them. Even though, this morning, it was almost as if last night had never happened. We’d been silent the whole bus ride, although their presence felt different to me now. A comfortable companionship in our silence.

  Movement caught my eye and I noticed Nash making his way towards me.

  Simultaneously I felt Oscar slink away, while Nabila merely straightened beside me. Nash looked as dark and dangerous—and attractive—as I remembered from the day before. Perhaps I could add a fourth to our group, I mused. There was all kinds of trouble there worth exploring.

  That’s a terrible idea.

  If I was being honest, I kind of doubted he’d be into our whole musical rebellion thing. Shifters were pack animals, it seemed. And he clearly enjoyed being able to command the courtyard.

  “Attention!” Churchfield’s voice whipped across the grounds, mingling perfectly with the biting desert wind slashing its way between buildings and plaid-clad students. Within moments the entire courtyard population had focused on the four nun-like figures presiding over us from the top of the stairs.

  Flashing a quick grin at Nash, I crossed my arms and faced Churchfield.

  Her gaze pierced the crowd, slicing across my face with vicious intent. It made my insides shudder, so I gripped my arms harder.

  I refused to admit I was afraid of her. At least out loud. Inside my own head, there was no denying I was scared shitless. That didn’t stop me from wanting to give her a taste of her own medicine, though.

  I just had to figure out how. And protect myself from any retaliation.

  “Students.” Churchfield addressed the courtyard, her voice somehow traveling through the pavement beneath our feet. “I’m pleased to announce that our new teacher has finally joined us. He will be leading Saint Damon’s brand new Cultural Arts Program, which will include courses in French, visual arts and music. Please join me in welcoming Claude Bournival.”

  Music? That program hadn’t been a lie?

  Reckless hope swept through me. Had the world just given me something that didn’t suck about this place? A music program meant practice space, a place for the newly formed Oya’s Blade to find her sound. Surely a music-teaching demon couldn’t be so bad. Maybe this Claude would be a cool Scary Thing, like Cat.

  I strained to see past the faux-nuns.

  The row of hooded teachers clapped politely and parted down the middle, making room for another to join them at the top of the stairs. Something rippled in the shadows. A tall, dark figure clad in a long black coat, black suit and black, shining sunglasses stepped into view.

  Recognition struck, a cruel fist to the lungs.

  Air rushed from me, and my knees threatened to give. I knew that man. I’d met him four days ago—only I called him Sunglasses.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I swore under my breath.

  Forcing my lips closed, I tried to maintain a calm façade.

  Imagine you’re wearing a mask, I told myself. Forget a mask. It’d be better if I was actually wearing a helmet. How had Sunglasses found me? Had he found me, or was this one of life’s truly awful coincidences?

  “What is it?” Nabila muttered out the corner of her mouth.

  “Later,” I replied in the same manner.

  Maybe Sunglasses wasn’t here for me at all. Maybe he didn’t care and our meeting had been a fluke and now that I was another demon’s property, he couldn’t touch me…

  I mentally smacked myself on the head.

  Stop it. This chain of thought was gaining me nothing but the growing threat of hyperventilating in front of the school. That would be neither subtle nor unobtrusive, hell, even a mask wouldn’t save me. It would also fuck up our plans to destroy this school with our band. While we practiced, Nabila and I were supposed to observe and plan—not flail for breath during a school gathering.

  “Thank you.” Sunglasses’ French accent was more pronounced today, and it carried cleanly across the patch of hardened earth before the carved double doors. “It’s a pleasure to join you. We are going to do good work together. I look forward to meeting all my students.”

  I felt his eyes searching the crowd. And I knew.

  The odds didn’t matter—he was looking for me. Lucky him, he’d gone and found me. Even though it was daytime, Vegas’ usual sunlight had fled. Shadows wrapped around Sunglasses’ lean frame as comfortably as the long coat I remembered so well. He probably loved this heat, given he was an evil lizard posing as a music-teaching spider monkey.

  I imagined him peeling off his skin to sun himself on a rock in the noonday sun.

  Except this lizard loved his shadows.

  I shivered.

  Churchfield lifted a hand, drawing our attention back to her. “Those enrolled for the Cultural Arts component will have the opportunity to become better acquainted with Monsieur Bournival later this week.”

  I gulped.

  I hadn’t paid much attention to my schedule yesterday. Hurriedly I pulled my pack around and dug through the small front pocket. Yanking out my small, coil-bound day planner, I slipped a folded schedule from between covers I’d y
et to read properly. Simple printed black letters on white computer paper cheerfully informed me I had Cultural Arts from 2:30-5:00PM on Tuesdays and Thursdays, with “special” units on Fridays. My fingers crumpled the sheet into an unintended ball. Sunglasses—otherwise known as Claude Bournival—was teaching one of my primary blocks.

  I had to find out what he was. Why he was after me.

  “Ash?” A low, male voice jolted me from my thoughts.

  With a start, I realized everyone was heading into the building. Nabila had taken off and Oscar was long gone, and thankfully Sunglasses had disappeared inside while I stared in horror at my schedule. Turning, I found Nash standing to my right with a bemused expression on his face. It was a new look for him and it made my cheeks feel warm.

  “Hey,” I said, the greeting sounding lame even before I’d finished.

  “You heading in or what?” He rolled his head towards the doors, widened his eyes.

  “Yeah.” I nodded like an idiot and hoped the expression on my face wasn’t as stupid as the one I was wearing on the inside.

  “Was wondering if you’d be back today,” Nash commented as we joined the stragglers making their way to homeroom and first block. “Yesterday was kinda…”

  “Different? Interesting? Fucking ridiculous?” I supplied helpfully.

  “All of the above.” He graced me with a flash of brilliantly white teeth. “You into this Cultural stuff?”

  “Of course.” I sent him a superior look. “All the most successful musicians are educated. Look at Gaga and—”

  “Musician?” Nash sounded decidedly unsure about things involving music.

  “Yeah. Music is my life!” I started warming to my topic—it beat the hell out of thinking about class. “You better watch out, cuz one day soon I’m going to be the biggest rock star there is.” I jabbed his bicep. “Be serious. Don’t you like music?”

  “Not as much as you,” he grinned. “You’re unusual, Ashley Alcantara. Still wondering where you fit in all of this. It’s a mystery.” He leaned down till his mouth was inches from my ear and I could feel the heat from his breath against my neck. “Maybe I like mysteries.”