Hell's Music

by Therese von Willegen

  The rain is falling, drenching the world outside

  I look within myself, where the fire has died

  And stir the ashes of lengthening days

  Drinking in the sun’s burgeoning rays.

  You’re the one I miss the most,

  Whisper of wind and paltry ghost.

  * * * *

  “You’re like a zombie.” Rae dropped her satchel and plunked herself down on the couch next to Emily at home one evening near the end of January. “It’s only another week, sis. Cheer up.” Whether it was the heat or the strain of Simon not being near, Emily had moped a lot more than usual.

  The book Emily had been reading slipped from her fingers as she turned to regard Rae. “It feels as if everything that happened until he went away was a fever dream, as if I’ve been sick and I’m remembering the madness of that time. Now that we’ve had so much unpleasantness, I’m almost too scared for things to go...back to the way they were. He’s not real, Rae.”

  Rae pouted. “Don’t talk crap. He’s real, all right. Horribly, terribly real, and you’re just afraid to admit it.” Good god, she hated it when Emily was maudlin.

  Emily forced a smile. “So how’s college? You want to invite Davy over for dinner sometime soon? I promise I won’t bite.”

  Rae suppressed a nervous gulp. There had been one too many close shaves with Davy spending the night here while her sister had been home. “Don’t try to change the topic. College’s fine. Davy’s started a new job at The Event Horizon, so he’s busy, but fine. You’re not. What happened to that crazy sister of mine who stood up to our dragon of a mother on Christmas Day? Simon obviously cares about you if he’s calling you from wherever he is in Europe just to hear your voice. Almost every day.”

  “I’m too scared of how things may have…changed…when he comes back.” Emily twined her fingers together. “And I hate how things have gone since this all started, with you and now how it is with Ma.”

  “Ma is unimportant. She’ll come right.”

  Emily sighed. “You may not think so, but it hurts that none of us are talking.”

  “We’re talking.”

  “When I was in a situation similar to yours not even ten years ago, I also thought family wasn’t important. I had this terrible devil-may-care attitude, but now that I’ve had some time to separate myself from all that shit, I don’t have a taste for causing so much trouble.”

  What could Emily possibly be getting at with this train of thought? Rae frowned and tried to see the Keating clan as anything but a bunch of stuck-up middle class losers.

  “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, not now. I just want to get on with my life, but it’s still as if whatever I do isn’t good enough.”

  Footsteps on the front porch them freeze simultaneously. Was that the cops, having figured out her scam? But why did Emily look so haunted?

  “Are any of your friends coming round?” Emily murmured when the silence grew too heavy.

  Emily’s shoulders hunched as though she expected an invisible blow to the back of her head.

  Rae shook her head and they waited for the inevitable knock to sound on the door, but it never came. They shared a worried look. The footsteps retreated, quickly. A car squealed off down the road and the only sounds were their breathing, the squeak of the couch’s leather and the tick-ticking of the clock.

  “What was that all about?” Rae asked.

  “Do we want to know?”

  “Well, aren’t you going to go take a look?”

  He sister sat, rooted to the chair, and offered Rae a brief shake of her head.

  This couldn’t be good. An unaccountable sense of dread seized Rae and she pushed back her bangs and rose. “Well, if you won’t, I will.” She paused at her sister’s continued inaction. “Is something up?”

  “I-I... I don’t know.”

  “C’mon, sis. Let’s go together.” She held out her hand and helped Emily to her feet. It was impossible ignoring the tremor in her sister’s fingers and how cold her skin was. What the fuck was up? She’d ask later.

  A small cardboard box rested on the veranda before the door and they shared a glance before Emily knelt and folded back the flaps. Some object had been wrapped in newspaper, but the smell alone warned Rae the contents weren’t something she wanted to handle without gloves.

  Nevertheless Emily unwrapped the parcel, albeit gingerly, to reveal a severed crow’s head, the eyes turned milky and maggots wiggling from its parted beak. Emily fell back and kicked at the thing and sent it scuttling down the slate stairs with its box. Rae gave a strangled scream, hand to mouth. Her stomach lurched and she swallowed back vomit. Who the hell was leaving such dubious gifts on their doorstep?

  “What in hell...” Emily gasped for breath. “Who would do a thing like that?”

  “I suppose now wouldn’t be a good time to tell you about that article I read about some fans who slashed Simon’s name into their wrists.” Rae took a deep breath. “There are some twisted people out there and, if it’s any consolation, I think that bird must have been dead before the twunt went and took its head off. There was a bit about Simon complaining that some old geezer would mail him road kill. Could it be the same guy?” She hoped not.

  Her sister stood and wiped her hands on her skirts repeatedly. “Which means some dumb fuck must have followed me home from my shop one day. Fuckers!” She spat, as if she tried to rid herself of the carrion taste Rae knew must be lodged at the back of her throat.

  Rae hunched, looking from Emily to the box below the stairs then back again. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t like it. Ever since that article appeared in the Adamastor Mirror, I’ve been having miscellaneous coffin kids pitching up at Interzone to look at me as though I’m some sort of museum exhibit, and some dumb fuck has been slipping religious shit under my door. And some stupid git... Never mind. This just takes the cake. Next you know they’ll be crossing themselves and moving over to the other side of the street when they see me in public. No wonder Simon’s ex killed herself. She probably couldn’t deal with this kind of shit.” Emily wiped at her eyes with the back of her wrists and smudged her liner. “I need to dispose of that dead thing. Ugh.”

  Rae followed her as she went to the kitchen for some old shopping packets to wrap the dismal gift. “It’s probably nothing worth worrying about.”

  “It’s probably a good thing I don’t have a cellphone or else I’d be receiving strange calls there as well.”

  Rae blocked Emily’s exit from the kitchen, one arm propped over the kitchen’s doorway leading to the passage. “What do you mean ‘as well’?”

  Emily tried to brush past, but Rae held fast. “Nothing.” The way she looked everywhere but at Rae said otherwise.

  “That’s not ‘nothing,’ sis. I know what that looks like and your expression tells me whatever’s bothering is ‘something’ with a capital ‘S.’”

  At Emily’s third shove, Rae relented and allowed her to pass, but followed her to the front of the house.

  “Well, are you going to tell me?” Rae stood at the top of the stairs and glared down at her sister while she picked up the dead bird’s head.

  Her nose wrinkled at the mess, Emily scooped up the remains and tied them into the bags before she paused and looked up at Rae. “If you must know, I’ve been receiving a few odd calls.” She started up the steps.

  Once again Rae blocked the door. “What do you mean ‘a few’?”

  Emily blew out a puff of air then glared at Rae, who returned her gaze evenly. “Some tosser’s been heavy-breathing at me over the phone while playing a bad recording of some awful church hymn.”

  Alarm spiked through her. “Shit, why didn’t you tell me?”

  After she pushed her sister’s arm aside, Emily padded down the parquet-tiled passage. “Because I didn’t think it was important.” She went directly outside to the big bin behind the kitchen door where she disposed of the rubbish.

&
nbsp; “You didn’t think it was important? How dumb is that?”

  “Because it just isn’t. I’ll take it up with Si when he gets back, but right now I just want to hunker down and pretend the past few weeks haven’t happened, okay?”

  “Look, I know he has stacks of weird and interesting stuff happening with his fans and enemies, but it’s not cool that it’s spilling over to affect my sister’s life.”

  Emily laughed at her and Rae realized she stood like some stubborn five-year-old who didn’t want to go to bed, arms folded across her chest while she tapped her foot. She had to laugh herself.

  Rae said, “Okay, okay. You have a point. But the next time this happens, promise me you’ll have a recording of Anton LaVey reciting the Black Mass or something. I can get Davy to download it for you. Really.”

  Emily’s expression grew mild. “Okay, I promise, sis.”

  Chapter 10

  The Man on the Burning Tightrope

  The day of Simon’s arrival dawned cold for summer. A black southeaster darkened the sky and faint specks of moisture stung Emily’s cheeks as she walked to her shop. Although she’d bundled herself in one of her old trench coats, the chill bit deep, lodging in her bones. Skerries of wind stirred up discarded crisp packets and made them twist and dance down the road as Emily trudged to Long Street.

  Not for the first time in the past few years did Emily feel some sort of resentment toward the people who roared past, encapsulated safely in their cars and rushing to their jobs, or wherever the hell it was they were in such a state to reach. She supposed she was lucky to work in one of the CBD’s older areas where Victorian-era buildings fronted the main drag, painted in glorious tones of mint, maroon or midnight blue, white ornamental wrought-iron work festooning facades in baroque textures.

  None of the other shopkeepers were in yet and the small center was still shrouded in darkness when Emily unlocked Interzone. The beaded curtain tinkled when she shrugged past the barrier and turned the dial on the dimmer to push back some of the gloom. She inhaled deeply the dusty books-and-incense atmosphere and sank into her leather-upholstered armchair, her stomach roiling.

  It was difficult to imagine Simon would be back today, but the certainty made a tight fist in her gut, clenching and unclenching, so that she would prefer to remain hunched in a ball. Today she would taste his lips, run her hands over the flat planes of his torso and perhaps even allow him to sink deep into her so she could pull his everything into her until she dissolved into a fine mist.

  Then all her worries of the past few weeks would dissipate and, somehow, she’d find a way to resolve the issues that gnawed at her like so many vermin.

  His plane would land at noon, but she fretted, wishing she could close shop and wait for him at the airport. The taxi fare was exorbitant and Emily didn’t want to take another chance that some photographer would catch her on camera. The bright point in her day was that her shop was relatively busy, so she could shove back some of the excitement and focus on serving her customers.

  As the wall clock’s hands crept closer to the allotted time, she kept glancing toward the door. Of course he’d only be touching down and would still be nowhere near the center of town. Her customers were gray ghosts between the chimes.

  “Are you okay?” one blowsy lady who wore strings of beads asked her.

  Emily offered her a shaky grin. “Yes, thank you.”

  “You’re looking a bit ill.”

  “No, really, I’m fine. A... A friend of mine is returning from a long overseas trip and I guess I’m just excited to see him again.”

  The woman arched her brow, a knowing smile curving her bright-red lips. “Oh, I see.”

  Did the whole world know about her and Simon? Emily sighed and shook her head then busied herself dusting off a box of books that had just come in. Thank fuck there’d been no more articles in the tabloids–or at least tabloids with garish photos.

  “He’s a real hottie, you know.” The woman’s grin revealed teeth far too straight and white to be real. Her two friends in the corner where Emily stocked her classics turned at the same time to watch the interchange.

  Emily suppressed a shudder. “Thanks.” God, could they leave already? What the hell were they waiting for her to say? “He’s... He’s a good person.” Now that was a lame comeback if ever there was.

  The phone rang shrilly and broke the moment. Emily snatched up the receiver, her pulse hammering. Let the caller be Simon...

  The all-too familiar sounds of heavy breathing hissed across the receiver, the faint strains of that dreaded hymn running its tendrils of sickness through her veins. Although she had an audience, Emily didn’t care that she shouted. “Why don’t you just fuck off and leave me the hell alone? I’m tired of your shit! Why are you doing this to me?”

  She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath before the inhalations and exhalations grew regular, the music playing on in the background. The fuckwit wasn’t about to give up soon, she was sure, so Emily slammed the phone down and glared back at the three middle-aged women who stared at her with shocked expressions.

  “What? Don’t you also have sickos doing the whole heavy-breathing number on you?”

  They left shortly after her outburst, and Emily wished she still smoked, so she could go outside and allow the nicotine to do its work. Instead she made a cup of Earl Grey tea and contented herself by cutting plastic sleeves to size, so she could slip them onto some of the hardbacks. Laibach’s version of JS Bach’s Art of the Fugue soothed her somewhat, the electronic notes a rush of liquid to her ears. If the music drew curious glances from the one or two shoppers who browsed then left without making a purchase, Emily couldn’t honestly care.

  When someone hovered at her desk a while later, near the end of the album, Emily did not look up immediately, still bristling at the earlier incident with her telephonic stalker. A slight shift in the air current wafted the scent of patchouli, and Emily sprang up to launch herself at Simon.

  He seemed somehow drawn, gaunter than when she’d last seen him. Faint bruising around his eyes suggested he hadn’t slept much in a while. His hair was loose and brushed against her face as he swept her into his arms and twirled her around until he staggered with her to the couch. Simon pulled her down on top of him, covering her mouth with his, his tongue searching, insistent in a deep kiss.

  A faint bitterness clung to him, as of stale air and cigarette smoke, but she didn’t mind, concerned only for the way his hands roamed over her body, fingers trailing across her skin like a blind man reading Braille.

  “I’ve missed you so, so much,” he murmured into her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh on her nape.

  “Likewise.” Emily pulled away slightly, so she could regard him, reveling in the roughness of his stubble beneath her fingers and the heat that radiated from his body. God, it felt so good to have him by her, all the concerns of the past few weeks melting from her.

  “Come away with me on the weekend. I want to spend time with you.” Those pale green eyes pierced to the depths of her heart.

  “The shop–”

  “Whatever you normally take in a day, I’ll double that just so you don’t have to worry. Just come away with me so it’s just the two of us and we can forget about anything else for that time. You have no idea how much I wish you could have been there.” The skin at the corners of his eyes tightened, as though some memory pained him.

  “What’s the matter? Did something happen while you were away?”

  “No. It’s nothing.” Simon wiped a stray wisp of hair from Emily’s face. “God, it’s been awful. Those hotel rooms... Sleeping on the bus. The shit that people caught backstage. Not quite Froot Loops enemas but close enough.”

  “You’re here now, and that’s all that’s important.” Emily silenced him with another kiss, molding her body to his, gratified by the erection she felt straining against his jeans. She broke away. “Okay, I’ll close shop early today. I’ve made enough sales and, beside
s, you’ve been kinda good for business, so thanks but no thanks for the earlier offer.” She’d tell him about her heavy-breather and the horrid parcel left on her doorstep later. Right now all she wanted to do was enjoy him.

  “Can we go to your place?” he asked.

  “You’re not afraid of Rae having another freak-out when she sees you groping me in the kitchen?”

  He grinned. “Surely she must have had enough time by now to get used to the idea of the two of us being together?”

  “Mmm, maybe.” Emily offered him a coquettish grin. “But then again she’s scored humongous brownie points among her friends since you and I have hooked up.”

  “That’s to be expected.” He bucked his hips against her. “C’mon. Are we going to waste time getting skanky here, or are we going to get down and dirty somewhere...” His hand crept up her skirt, brushing the inside of her knee. “...less public?”

  * * * *

  Simon drove to Tamboerskloof resting his hand on her thigh. His fingers crept to her secret places when he didn’t have to shift gears.

  Emily bit her lip and tried to stifle a grin, but leaned over to give Simon a deep kiss before she climbed out of the car, hoping she didn’t appear too flustered in case anyone passed them in the street. He was right behind her as she ran up the steps, getting in two hard pinches to her backside.

  “Ouch!”

  Strong arms folded around her, hands roaming as she struggled to unlock the front door, but her excitement dimmed somewhat when she got the door open, the now-familiar strains of a Hellbound Heart album pumping through the sound system, Simon growling around a jagged bass riff, his vocals twisting into a howl. His grip stiffened momentarily around her waist.

  “She’s home… I’m sorr–”

  “It’s okay,” he whispered in her ear.

  “She normally doesn’t come home straight after lectures.”

  They stepped into the hallway and shared uneasy glances, although something about the situation seemed to amuse Simon, because a little half-smirk twitched across his features. “She’s not alone. Listen.”