A deep scowl furrowed his brow. ‘Now see here a moment—’
‘No, you listen. I’ve got something to say and it will be very short and pithy so it won’t strain your attention span away from yourself for too long. Here it is. Eff off, Marcus. I’m at the festival because I am an artist.’ I folded my arms around myself, protection against further blows. ‘I might not be uber-talented like you, but I deserve my place here and any interest that Kurt might want to show me. I have no intention of using him. Can you say the same thing about yourself? Would you be here if it wasn’t for him?’ I tilted my chin, daring him to justify his own career skiing the wake created by Gifted.
Marcus got right up in my grid, finger jabbing at my chest, not quite making contact. ‘Are you suggesting I’m exploiting him?’
I looked down at the finger in disgust. ‘If the cap fits.’
His mouth dropped open. I had rendered him speechless.
‘Now, I really must be off. I have a performance to prepare for—and don’t you have a tech?’
Pleased to have the last word, I stalked away, leaving Marcus to get a grip on his rage.
‘Bow before me, mortal!’ I crowed to Misty as she answered her phone.
‘You’ve news?’
Taking a seat in the corner of the decking area outside the yurt, I checked no one was close enough to overhear. ‘Am I not the best secret agent ever?’
She snorted. ‘I don’t think James Bond, or even Johnny English, have anything to worry about quite yet. What’s happened?’
‘I’ve only just come from talking to all the members of Black Belt and—wait for it—Kurt Voss!’
Her squeal would probably not have needed a telephone to reach me. ‘You’re joking?’
‘Nope. I came, I saw, and I conquered. And it gets better: Kurt invited my group to have pizza with his people after our show. I’ve just been handed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the whole gang that travels with Gifted.’
‘Kudos, Angel. You’ve far exceeded our expectations.’
‘Thanks, Professor McGonagall. I know: don’t you just love me at the moment? I almost like myself right now. Oh and Misty, Kurt’s so sweet: so funny and interested in people he really needn’t spare a thought for.’
‘I’m really pleased to hear it. You kinda expect all celebrities to be too self-absorbed for that.’
‘He said he’d come and listen to us play.’
‘Aw—that’s so lovely of him. So I take it that you and that Marcus guy are best friends now too?’
‘Er, not exactly. Marcus thinks I’m some desperate fangirl clambering over him to bring myself to Kurt’s attention.’
Misty tutted. ‘He must get that a lot touring with the band.’
‘Yeah, I know, but why anyone would want to clamber over him when he is perfectly yummy himself.’ Oops.
‘What are you not telling me, Angel Campbell?’
‘Oh Lord, don’t use your truth force field, Misty Vader.’
‘It doesn’t work over the phone very well so you’re safe. Tell me anyway—of your own free will.’
I kicked back on the chair and looked up at the cloudy skies. ‘It’s just that I have a totally inappropriate crush on the guy. He is so gorgeous but the really screwed up thing is that he hates me and assumes the absolute worst. Why can I never like the guys who like me? Snobby disdain really gets me.’
‘It’s the Mr Darcy complex—you know, that Pride and Prejudice hottie? The more unattainable a guy is, the more you want him. Works the other way round too: guys with their tongues hanging out for girls they can’t get.’
‘So young, so wise,’ I said with mock solemnity.
‘It’s being around Alex. I get educated despite myself.’ I heard funny noises at her end. ‘Sorry, that was me just having a quick word with Will. He was getting impatient with our boy talk and wants to know if you’ve remembered not to use any power.’
‘Yes, I’ve been a good girl.’
Will took over the call. ‘Davis is here. Alex persuaded his way into front-gate security and saw him come in on the CCTV this morning; now Summer’s trying to pinpoint his location with her shadow power. He’s not alone. I’ll forward you the photo.’
‘OK, thanks. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about Davis. I’ve had an exciting morning. Misty will fill you in.’
‘I appreciate what you’re doing for me, Angel.’
‘No problem—not when I’m having the best time of my life. Love to you all. See you later.’
‘Take care.’
Checking the time, I tucked my phone away. It was now eleven. My group had a slot to rehearse at one, which meant that I had plenty of time to drop by the technical rehearsal for Gifted and Black Belt. I mean, if Kurt was so polite as to show interest in me, I could only return the compliment, couldn’t I? And I’d make sure I stayed out of Marcus’s sight.
It was easy enough to hide by the big stage. Yesterday’s crowd had already flattened the field in front of it and a few members of the cleaning crew were doing a litter pickup. That still left me several banks of sound equipment to lurk behind so the people on stage could not see me—one advantage of being on the short side. It was an amazing venue with the pier-like staging jutting out over the water, providing the illusion that the band was floating mid-air. I had arrived just at the end of Gifted’s big number: ‘Crash and Burn’. There were three other members of the band in addition to Kurt, each legends in their own right: Channing on bass, Sonny on the second guitar and Brian on drums. The band worked like a well-oiled machine. It wasn’t the song they were practising—they had played that a zillion times live already—but the levels.
The speaker beside me squawked.
‘Who the hell is on the desk?’ roared Kurt, demonstrating that he wasn’t so patient with everyone.
A woman’s voice came through the sound system. ‘Sorry, Kurt: I’m there now. The festival technician is having problems linking our equipment up to his. It’s almost sorted.’
Kurt saluted the technicians’ box at the far end of the field. ‘Thanks, Margot. One more time, guys?’
The band went through the song for a final run through. It sounded amazing to me, even plastered up against and half deafened by the speaker. A huge wall of anthem rock: it shuddered through my body like a defibrillator getting my heart going, demanding I dance and join in the chorus. I could feel the rhythmic wash of the waves just below the stage, the whistle of the wind, the swoops of the seagulls overhead: everything seemed to be dancing in time to the beat. I restrained myself with difficulty from moving, though I had to sing along to the refrain: Crash and burn, Now it’s your turn.
The rubbish collectors all stopped to watch Gifted going through their moves—had to be some perks to a crap job after all. One started to play the litter picker like air guitar as the others laughed at him.
Peeking over the speaker, I saw a young woman come on stage with a camera and begin snapping the band. As she wasn’t waved away, I guessed she had to be well known to the members. When she finished, she went over to Brian the drummer and gave him a passionate kiss. I sat back down out of sight. Rats: I hoped she wasn’t the one. Discovering that Will’s soulfinder was already in a serious relationship would really hash things up for everyone. But there had to be others—that Margot in the sound box, make-up artists, costume people. I crossed my fingers, wishing Will had a lucky break rather than heartbreak ahead.
‘OK, that sounds fine now. Let’s give the boys their go.’ Kurt took the strap of his guitar off over his head and perched the instrument on its stand.
The three members of Black Belt walked out from the wings. Michael took over from Brian, adjusting the stool to his height. Pete took his place at the keyboard that had already been set up. Marcus carried his own guitar but plugged it into the same amp Kurt had been using. I was surprised to see them sharing equipment and keeping the same backing vocalists and session musicians: most bands were possessive about their
extras, instruments, and kit. It just underlined how close the relationship between the two groups had become. They behaved like a family—almost unheard of in this competitive industry. It was a little hint that suggested our speculation that they might share more than music—perhaps even a gift—was not off target.
Gifted didn’t leave. They stood talking together downstage while Black Belt set up. Marcus leaned into the microphone. ‘Morning, campers.’ He grinned at someone at the far end of the auditorium.
‘Hi to you too, Marcus,’ came Margot’s dry voice. ‘How does it sound up there?’
‘There’s a little buzz from the speaker on my right. Can you magic it away?’
‘Your wish is my command.’ The hum that I had hardly noticed disappeared.
Marcus nodded, satisfied. ‘Let’s give it a test run.’
It was strange to watch Marcus being so charming to his colleagues. I’d assumed he extended his ‘Grinch-that-stole-Christmas’ attitude to everyone, but no: apparently I was peculiarly singled out to be blessed in that department.
‘What shall we play?’ asked Pete, flexing his fingers over the keys. ‘Out in the Cold?’
‘Good call.’ Marcus moved his capo on the neck of his guitar.
Kurt leaned into the mic next to him. ‘Give us a break, guys. We’ve heard that at every tech for the last four months. Play us your new song, Marcus.’
Marcus rolled his shoulders. ‘New song?’
‘Yeah, the one you wrote last night.’
I could tell Marcus was really reluctant to expose something so new and raw so soon. He cast round for excuses. ‘The guys don’t know it.’
‘We’ll pick it up,’ said Pete. ‘Kurt’s right: it’ll be more fun than going over the old stuff.’
Marcus’s gaze swept the field as if looking for someone. I ducked even further behind my speaker, hugging myself in delight. It looked like I was going to be present for a world premiere of Black Belt’s freshly composed track. I was so glad I had taken the risk and sneaked in.
‘Go on, Marcus. What have I told you? You’re an artist; you know it needs to be sung before you really know if it works,’ urged Kurt.
Marcus gave Kurt a ballsy grin. ‘All right then. This is for you, Kurt, and … er … someone else.’ He shifted the capo another fret and struck up the opening.
Oh. My.
It was the first time I’d been present with Marcus making any music and the experience was unlike anything I had ever felt before. The notes seemed to reach right into me and connect to my nerve endings. It was like being inside the song—even this simple, haunting guitar refrain. The feeling was so exposing it was almost painful. Listening to this outpouring of melody, I knew what it was like to be that major chord moving into the minor. With him, I discovered another dimension that had hidden just out of perception, a world of pure music. Why hadn’t I ever seen things this way before? It was so obvious now he had showed me.
Wake up, girl! Clever Angel slapped me around the face. This was no ordinary talent; the acute sensations he generated had to be thanks to a gift. If I closed my eyes, I could sense the psychic energy pouring from him, spreading out to the listeners. We had to get to him quickly—tell him the danger he was in from Davis and his fellow journalist investigators. I only managed to hold that thought for a second before the melody sucked me under again.
So swept away by the experience, it took me a while to register the words to the song.
Girl, when I saw you, everything round you shone,
Face of an angel, but I sensed the demon
Sent to torment me, say what’s going wrong.
Keep your distance, baby,
Fly back where you belong.
Was this … was this about me? I dug my fingers into the grass, clenching my fists.
Then he moved into the chorus:
Demon Angel, got my soul on the rack
I wanna kiss you, baby, but I’m scared you’ll kiss me back.
There ain’t no escaping all that we can be
Move one step closer and I’ll never get free.
It had to be a coincidence. My name was a common concept in songs. If I took every song personally I wouldn’t be able to sit through a Christmas carol concert. But the lyrics got worse: he then sang about a whirlwind dancing—a teasing girl who flirted with everyone—a party girl. Ouch. He really didn’t like his subject very much.
The song came to an end. Marcus leant towards the mic. ‘There you go, Kurt. Happy now?’
‘Very. The chorus needs work but it’s coming along well. What’s it called?’
‘Demon Angel—kinda like the opposite of the guardian one.’
‘So you’ve got a new muse. Any particular reason why you came up with it last night?’ Kurt was smirking—you could tell from his tone.
‘No reason.’ Marcus glanced up at the sound box. ‘Did that sound OK to you, Margot?’
‘Spot on, Marcus—and the sound levels were good too,’ she replied.
He grinned at the compliment to the song. ‘Thanks. I’ll polish it up then and maybe we can add it to the next album. Let’s run through the opening to ‘Out in the Cold’ just to be sure there are no glitches.’ Moving on as if he hadn’t just destroyed me, Marcus counted in his band mates.
I turned away from the stage and sat numbly with my back to the speaker, feeling the sound pound into my shoulder blades. That little byplay in the trailer now made sense. Kurt had noticed the lyrics on the table and assumed Marcus had written it about me. But I hadn’t done anything to Marcus to provoke the demon thing, had I? I’d just had a good time and tried to involve him in the fun. I was used to people finding me a little overwhelming, but no one had actually disliked me enough to say I was bad for them.
It might not be about you, I told myself.
But it felt like it was. Kurt thought it was. How could I face any of them again?
I pressed my knuckles into my eye sockets. Suck it up, Angel. You are here for Will. What does it matter what some boy thinks about you?
But if I was right about his gift, Marcus was a savant.
He was seventeen—same age as me—and I was strangely attracted to him. All I needed was to discover he also had a March birthday.
Damn and blast with bells on: I was so screwed.
* * *
So I did what any sensible girl would do: I ran away and phoned BFF Summer.
‘Hello?’
‘Summer, please, I need to use telepathy: it’s an emergency!’
She laughed. It was true, I did overuse that phrase. Now it had returned to bite me on the bum like in the fable of the boy who cried wolf. ‘Calm down, it’s not an emergency. You know you can’t take a risk like that.’
‘You don’t understand! I’m not exaggerating.’ I dropped my voice to a whisper and checked the instrument storeroom was empty. Black cases and boxes surrounded me with no person in sight. ‘That Marcus guy—I think he’s a savant.’
‘We did suggest it might be a possibility that Gifted and Black Belt have some savant gifts.’
Why was she so unruffled about all this? ‘But Summer, he’s seventeen like us and I’m irrationally attracted to him. Wasn’t that what Misty said about her and Alex? She couldn’t stop herself thinking about him even when they were arguing?’
Summer sighed. ‘Angel, don’t you think you are, you know, getting a little worked up over nothing? I would guess that several hundreds of millions of people are seventeen at this very moment. Why does it have to be him?’
‘Did you miss the bit when I said he was a savant?’
‘OK that reduces the odds but still—it’s a stretch. What’s his gift?’
‘Music.’
‘Angel, being musical isn’t a savant gift.’
‘His kind is—he seems to draw you inside the song. I know you don’t think I’m very perceptive but trust me on this: I know a savant gift when it turns my insides into a shimmer of gold.’ I had an echo of the feeling even as I de
scribed it.
‘All Danae to the stars,’ muttered Summer.
‘What?’
‘A line by Tennyson. The god Zeus visited Danae in a cloud of stars.’
Summer is what Matt would call ‘a classy bird’. ‘That’s it exactly. A visitation by a higher power. I felt the music sizzle inside me even though it was a song insulting me and everything I do.’
‘Oh.’ Her little bubble of romantic allusion was popped by that admission.
‘Yeah. This is not a one-way street of attraction going on, though at the moment he is reading it as repulsion. That’s why I need to use telepathy. I can find out if he’s the one. If not, I can kick him where it hurts for being rude about me. That can be his next song: “The Girl Who Brought Me to My Knees in Much Deserved Agony”.’
‘And if he is your soulfinder?’
‘I still kick him where it hurts but tell him he is stuck with me and has to live with it.’
Summer was silent for a few moments. ‘Be careful, Angel: he might not know what he is.’
‘How can he not? It can’t be coincidence he is hanging out with Will’s girl. I’ve not had a chance to work out if Gifted are also gifted but the smart money is on them having hidden talents.’
I didn’t need to read minds to tell that Summer was now worrying about what I was planning. My friends all regard me as a bit of a wild card due to my impulsive side, but I can’t seem to help myself. I was at the back of the queue when self-control was handed out; actually, no, I probably hadn’t bothered to wait around in the queue for it.
Summer sighed. ‘Look, come back to the tents, Angel. We need to talk about this. If you’re going to use telepathy on him, you need to be a hundred per cent sure Eli Davis and his people aren’t nearby.’
She wasn’t dismissing my hunch: that was good. I glanced at the time on my phone. ‘Sorry, can’t. I have band rehearsal now. I’ll try to get away between that and our performance. If I don’t, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘When is help arriving?’
‘Uriel is bring Victor from the airport when he lands this evening. They’ve both taken a keen interest in Eli Davis ever since Cambridge.’
Angel Dares Page 7
