by Nico Rosso
“I didn’t ask for this,” she growled.
“Neither did I.” There was a note of sadness in his voice. “You... You’re not the same. We’ve changed each other. I don’t think you’re mortal anymore.”
Flashes of cold electricity shot through her body. She’d thought it was just adrenaline from the car wreck and invisible threat. “What am I?”
“I don’t know if you can feel it yet, or if you can control it, but the same elements that make me are in you now. It started when we made love, when we shared the power.” He took her hand, stared at it, then at her face. “You’re becoming what I am.”
Demon? Beast? “Can we turn it off?”
“None of us even believed the legend of the Muse was true. Let alone how it worked. But with the demons things aren’t as simple as on and off. We go by the way of nature, the ebb and flow.”
“There was nothing natural about that thing that tried to kill me.”
Another glance over the street. “A Shroud, sent by the Philosophers.”
The known world had doubled in size, most of it a blank map. “Who are they?”
The energy that buzzed through him urged her to move too. “We still aren’t safe.” He tried to leave, but she tugged him back.
“Just tell me why they want me dead.”
“It’s me they want. The Philosophers always want to erase my kind. They found their opportunity tonight and sent the Shrouds.”
“At me.” The invisible menace of the beast still shook her.
“You’re my Muse. If you die, then I die.”
The suffocating danger tightened around her. Each shadow hid evil. Even the lurid neon of Sunset hissed with malice. Trevor’s hand was still careful with hers as dark sadness shrouded him.
“We have to keep running,” he pressed.
“I... But I don’t know why I...”
“I know.” His eyes narrowed, a light blazing deep in them. “Fuck fate. You don’t owe me anything.” He took a long breath, releasing it through flared nostrils. “I’ll protect you. I’ll die, knowing I kept you alive.”
She was stunned, frozen. There had been so many incredible things, unexplainable phenomena, tonight. But there was no questioning his resolve. It showed on his serious face. He was so focused that when he moved, she broke out of her shock and followed. They left the quiet of their secluded spot. No more peace or safety. They were back into the chaos of the Sunset Strip.
Chapter Six
“Saw a ghost once,” Misty said. “While we were hiking at the Blue River Parkway outside KC. No one else spotted him. But I swear he was there.” She and Trevor snaked through a crowd of people milling in front of a small rock venue. Her hand remained in his. “He had a ratty flannel shirt on like some kind of mule team driver, and a broad hat shading his eyes. About thirty feet away in a pile of dead branches.”
“You’re tuned,” Trevor said. “The world was open to you, even before tonight.” They stopped at a crosswalk. “There’s so much more.” He scanned the rooftops. “The old lady at the hotel, she’s an Innkeeper. They live a lot like us, but they feed on the sexual energy of their guests.”
If the invisible threat of whatever the hell a Shroud was didn’t still lurk in the night, Misty’s body would be content to lie completely motionless after the staggering sex with Trevor. “She’ll live another thousand years after what she got tonight.”
Trevor laughed, breaking some of the tension. “Never got a chance to ask—do you like my music?”
It had all started with the music. “I drove to LA, my car packed with everything I had and heading to a town where I knew no one. Can’t tell you how many times on that trip I listened to your record Oil and Water.”
The crosswalk changed. They paused as one last asshole had to blow through in a Mercedes, then they stepped into the street.
“That album started on a ship bound for Syracuse a couple hundred years before the calendars changed,” he said. “We wrecked in a storm. The whole crew and a thousand urns of olive oil from Crete were shattered. I was the only one to survive.” They reached the other side of the street and paused before heading into the next throng of people. “It’s an album for travelers.”
“I didn’t wreck until I got to LA.” It didn’t seem like too much had changed in those few years since she arrived. A job and a new used car, but everything was an uphill battle in a system that either wanted to use her up or just throw her away. “But your music was always with me.”
His hand tightened on hers. “Then I was good for something.”
“And Green Eyes, who is she? You never say in any of your interviews.” She’d always buried the twinge of jealousy when she’d heard him focus his songs on that mysterious woman.
“Fantasy. Figment. Fevered dream. Never knew who she was. She wasn’t real.” He hit her with his intense gaze again. “Until I met you. You’re her.”
The strength of his music in her life started to make sense. If any of this could be believed. “I almost said ‘impossible.’”
His voice dropped low. “But you know better now.”
He kept talking about feeding and energy. A raw hunger gripped her. More than just her body needed sustenance. The ache stretched deeper, like when she yearned to create with her video camera, with her editing. This was so much more profound. There was so much she didn’t understand. She might never know how this happened. But she did know that she was part of it now. The hunger was real, and it demanded more than the human world could provide.
Ancient myths and invisible threats and bad LA drivers and the throb of the city seemed distant now. Blurred with haze. For a moment she was alone with Trevor. A kiss would test all he’d explained.
She couldn’t go back to the time when she knew nothing. But she’d started this night ready to break new ground. Look what she’d learned, and she was still standing. She didn’t ask for it, but it was her new world now. It was just a matter of taking what she wanted. She drew closer to him and felt the first pulses of energy off his body. A light flickered, red, with edges of gold. Was this really her sustenance? She had to feed to find out...
A husky voice separated from the crowd ahead of them. “Motherfucking Trevor Sand.”
The haze quickly burned away, bringing the world back to sharp contrast. A drunk guy swayed in front of a club, pointed at them, mouth hanging open. He shouldered into his friends or anyone else nearby.
“Holy shit, dude. You’re a fucking monster.”
Misty answered, “You have no idea.”
Trevor motioned her toward the club. “I know the owner. We need to get in for a bit.”
The people out front just stared. The drunk guy continued as they passed. “I’m trying to learn your licks, Trevor.” He stumbled his way through some air guitar. “But how the fuck do you go from a pentatonic—”
Trevor patted him on the shoulder. “Keep practicing for another thousand years, bro.”
The rest of the crowd parted, not because he was a demon who could transform his body to wood or stone. They parted because he was a rock star. The glow of fame reached her too. Men and women tried to pry out who she was with curious eyes. A couple of people judged her, upturned noses above ugly sneers. Fuck them. Misty met these gazes head-on, staring them down until the people glanced away.
“Have fun, Mr. Sand.” The doorman snapped the latch on the velvet rope and swung the door open. Trevor pulled a couple of hundred-dollar bills from his front pocket and handed them to the doorman with an easy handshake.
Heavy bass like cannons firing thumped in her chest. She and Trevor stepped inside, surrounding themselves with the house music pumping from the speakers. “Are there mystic Doormen too?”
Trevor shook his head, looking over the crowd of people on the dance floor. “Just hardworking mo
rtal guys who don’t make enough money for dealing with the worst of it.”
The DJ, a young Latina with long black hair, worked her equipment, grooving back and forth across a platform ten feet higher than the dancers. Colored lights swirled. Two large staircases curved up from the dance floor, leading to the DJ, then smaller dance floors, then what looked like private rooms. Evidence of real life collected in the shadows at the base of the stairs and under the cocktail tables on the perimeter of the room. Wadded napkins. An upturned glass slowly bleeding out melting ice. A broken heel from a woman’s shoe.
Misty checked her watch, but she wasn’t wearing one. And her phone was lost in her wrecked car. The last time she used it was to talk to Kim. How could she put to words what had happened this night?
Trevor waved to a man who stood at the highest level behind the DJ. He had olive skin, slick hair, and wore a dark suit. Rings flashed on his fingers as he gave Trevor a subtle salute. Then he disappeared into a private room.
“He has to be supernatural,” Misty guessed.
“No—Armenian.”
A group of women dancing came dangerously close to spilling their drinks on Trevor and Misty. She held them off with a forearm and moved away, into the tall cocktail tables at the fringe of the light.
“Don’t these people have jobs?” she asked.
“Professional partiers. Weekends are for tourists and desperation.”
“I prefer a steady paycheck.”
“Isn’t that what you were escaping tonight, when you came to my show?”
“Got way more than I bargained for. A deal with the devil.”
“Demon,” Trevor corrected her with a glint in his eye. “The devil doesn’t party like us.” He headed for the stairs and she followed. “What do you do for a living?”
“Visual effects for movies. Post-production.”
He glanced back, examining her face. “It doesn’t make you happy.”
“It’s someone else’s work. Not my own.”
“We’ll have to change that, get you doing your thing out in the world.”
She let him take a few steps, admiring his confident ease. And his ass. “If it was that easy. This town’s a mess of barbed wire and salads and fake smiles.”
He stopped and waited for her. “But you’re strong. Blow it all up. Fuck them.”
“Sounds simpler than surviving tonight.”
Colored lights flashed across his serious face. “You will.” He took the last few steps to the landing with the DJ station. Like a Caesar, he swept his hand over the dance floor. “And these people will help you.”
She put a hand on his arm, halting his progress toward the DJ. “You’re going to tell them?”
“The truth? Hell, no.” He drew close. “The fight’s not over. More Shrouds will be coming. I need to feed for strength.”
She dropped her voice, in case anyone could hear what must sound like insanity. “You said you could only feed from me.”
“There’s one way I can take the energy from an audience now.” He put his hand out. “If you’re with me.”
The Trevor Sand asked her onto the stage with him. But it was nothing like any fantasy she could’ve conjured. Death and supernatural power mixed with the rock and sex.
She could only stare at his hand, then his face. “You’re a damn demon.” But he was the only one helping her. And what was she?
“I’m sorry they’re coming to hurt you.” The edge of anger crossed his face, then disappeared as he looked into her eyes. “I’m not sorry I met you.”
At the beginning of the night, he was a rock star. Then he was a man, and they crashed together in sex that still thrummed through her. Now he wasn’t a man at all, but some kind of elemental satyr. And she had transformed too, taking more risks in a few hours than she had in years. She didn’t know where it was all headed, but the door to her past had already slammed behind her.
Misty took his hand. They approached the DJ, who immediately recognized Trevor.
“Sand.” The DJ put her fist out and Trevor bumped it with his. “Heard you killed it at the Rascal tonight.”
“Hell of a show,” he agreed. “This is Misty. She saw it all.”
Misty added, “I’ll never forget that show for as long as I live.”
Trevor finished the introductions. “DJ Prickly Pear”
The DJ gave her a nod. “Alicia.”
Misty nodded back. “Thanks for letting us on the bridge.”
“Anything for the Sandman.” She adjusted her equipment. The first beats of “Three Days Until” started low, seamlessly blending with the song already pounding out of the speakers. “He whips the people up, the blogs blow up and my rates go up.” She handed him a mic.
It was almost as incredible as watching him transform to wood or stone. Misty witnessed Trevor turn into a rock star. He swaggered to the front of the DJ station and set his feet. Some of the crowd spotted him and stopped to stare. He grinned, wild, and pointed down to them. His presence moved through the people in waves. It didn’t take long for them all to line up, facing the stage. Some pumped their fists, hopping to the music. Trevor put out his arms, like a conductor urging more from his orchestra.
Pure charisma. The power had nothing to do with the supernatural. He had the whole group below cheering. “Three Days Until” completely replaced the previous song and the crowd cheered louder. Trevor nodded with them, strutting along what space he had on the platform.
He brought the mic to his lips, filling the room with his voice. “You’re the last stand. Our last defense against the jobs that steal our souls, the laws with too many morals, the roads with too much traffic, the mail with too many bills, the ex with too many lovers, the bastards with too many guns, the drinks with too much ice.”
The people cheered louder.
“You’re my weeknight partiers,” he continued. “The calendar crushers. Let’s hold the line together.”
Trevor sang along with the hard pounding song. Misty and Alicia and the audience added their voices:
The clock is ticking
The hands are blades
Our time is now
The sunlight fades
He ain’t gonna see us
He’ll never know
Tear off your clothes
Put on a show
They moved into the chorus. Misty couldn’t sing any more. Her breath was stolen. A new presence emerged in the room. It swirled up from the audience, thick like colored fog. If anyone else were able to see it, they would’ve run for the doors. She almost bolted, but Trevor turned back to her. His smile may have been demonic, but it was all part of the act. He held her gaze and gave a wink.
Trust. Who better to lead her through this world than him?
She remained on the platform, watching the swirling energy curl through the air. The spray from the sea. Smoke from a campfire. Dry stone and damp tree bark. More than just the aromas, the essences of all these things spun before her. She felt them in her senses and deep within herself, as if her whole consciousness could soak it in.
The energy continued to grow, fed by Trevor singing and whipping the crowd to new heights. The colored fog stopped whirling and rushed like water from a broken dam. It slammed into Trevor’s body. He absorbed the energy. But all of it didn’t enter him. Waves crashed past him and into her.
Power. Raw, like nothing she’d ever known. Caffeine was just an artificial boost. What she felt now was pure. The rush of falling. The first gasp after surfacing from underwater. The electric surge of sex just before the orgasm.
How the hell did Trevor keep moving? She was rooted to the spot as wave after wave of the energy soaked into her. This was what he meant when he told her she was changing. A human body wouldn’t be able to take this. The elements of the powe
r were also in her. She’d transformed and now could absorb the energy. What was she? What could she do with all this power? It was too much. There had to be a limit. Then her body would be torn apart.
Trevor sang the final chorus with the audience:
Three days until your husband’s home
Three days, don’t answer the phone
Three days we’re all alone
Applause and cheers drover the energy harder. It buffeted her and Trevor. He motioned the crowd for more and they obliged. The power stretched into every point of her consciousness. She could count each cell in her blood and every filament in the thousands of lights in the club.
Trevor turned from the audience and handed the mic back to Alicia. “They’re all yours.”
The DJ immediately transitioned into the next song, driving the beat faster for the dancers. She managed a nod to Trevor as she worked her equipment.
He was quick to Misty’s side, whispering as he put his arm around her waist, “I think you’ve had your fill.”
Like iron to a magnet, the power within her drew to his touch. The scattered sensations focused on the connection of their bodies. The heat she’d felt during their sex was only a fraction of what blazed through her now. Red and gold flashed, but it had nothing to do with the lighting in the club. It was the same as she’d seen on the street with him. Lancing through the light were veins of shining black. They pulsed with more energy, connecting her to Trevor. All the unreal things she’d seen seemed suddenly ordinary. Because she now felt unbelievable. She was as incredible as invisible monsters or man/beast rockers.
His presence was all around her. “Let’s get you to a VIP.”
“Can’t move.” It was like she was filled to the top of her skull with nitroglycerin. The smallest jolt would set her off.
“Slow.” He took one step, showing her the direction. “I didn’t know how hard it would hit you.”
“Sledgehammer hard.” Collecting her courage, she learned to walk again. One step, then another. The power shifted in her. She focused on Trevor at her side, his stable strength.
