The Dumbass Demon

by Gary Jonas

  Kevin watched for a few, then curled up and went to sleep.

  About halfway through the set, a woman entered the bar with two men in tow. She carried a guitar case, and they each carried cases of their own, one of which was oddly shaped. The woman didn’t pay any attention to the men with her. She clearly trusted them to simply follow her as she weaved through the crowd. Clad in thigh-high leather boots, and a little red dress, her black hair tumbled down her back so elegantly, she could have been in a shampoo commercial. She wore sunglasses, and dark red lipstick that made her face seem even paler than it was. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  We finished up a fast song with a flourish of drums and me pulling a tortured riff out of my Stratocaster. The room went silent for a moment, and just as people were about to applaud, Sabrina held out her hands for quiet and went into a haunting version of Labrinth’s “Jealous,” while Teddy switched to a keyboard.

  It was Sabrina’s best performance ever, and as I wasn’t playing much in this song, I studied her to see if she’d drawn blood to enhance her voice with magic, but it was all her.

  The song was a showstopper and we let the crowd sit in stunned silence for a moment. They applauded, and I broke into “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak. Two slow songs in a row just felt right, and Sabrina was up to the task. We closed with a cover of “Somebody to Love” by Jefferson Airplane, and the crowd hooted and hollered. It was a good set, and I felt we’d done the songs justice. I pulled the plugs from my ears and put them in my pocket.

  As we packed up our gear, the dark-haired woman in red stepped onto the stage. She looked over at Kevin, did a double-take, then blinked and scanned the crowd as she grabbed the microphone from the stand.

  Had she seen Kevin? It sure seemed like it, but she didn’t look at him again. Instead, she stepped to one side of the stage so her bandmates could join her. They opened their cases. The oddly shaped case held a small drum with long legs. The drummer set it up quickly and tapped out a rhythm, while the other man took an acoustic guitar from his case, and slipped it on. The guitarist didn’t bother with a pick. He simply used his fingers to pluck out a melody.

  The black-haired woman sashayed to the center of the stage with a bass guitar slung low. She surveyed the crowd for a moment, then let out a low, throaty moan that raised an octave at a time. She went up six full octaves, then took it three notes higher.

  I stared at her, transfixed as she let her voice dance around, displaying a range greater than Mike Patton of Faith No More. I’d never seen anything like it. Her voice was beautifully haunting, and after an amazing series of vocal runs, she launched into an ultra-sexy version of “Physical,” the hit made famous by Olivia Newton-John. The song had been written for Rod Stewart, but as this woman sang, it seemed it had been written only for her. Every guy in the club stopped whatever conversation they were having, got up, and moved toward the stage. I was lucky to be in the front row.

  Kevin hopped off my guitar case, got down on his hands and knees and crawled toward the singer. From the look in his eyes, I suspect he wanted to look up her skirt, but without even seeming to notice him, she did a spin and kicked him in the face.

  To my surprise, Kevin flopped backward, stunned from the impact.

  That snapped me out of her spell because her foot should have gone through him.

  He lifted his face from the stage and shook his head.

  I glanced back to the singer, and forgot all about Kevin because the woman’s voice once again mesmerized me. I wanted to get physical with her, and I’d be happy to sell my soul to do it.

  She wrapped up that song and darted right into “So What” by Pink. All of us backed off a bit. Then she sang Cheap Trick’s “If You Want My Love,” and reeled us all in again, only to push us back by singing “Bitch” by Meredith Brooks.

  She kept this up, playing with us. She held us in the palm of her hand, and we all loved the way she manipulated our feelings. When the set finally ended, I had to sit down. I felt like I’d spent the last forty minutes in wild abandon and ecstasy.

  A few minutes later, Teddy, Chuck, Michael, and Sabrina approached the table. “She was good,” Sabrina said.

  “She was amazing,” Teddy said. I thought he was going to compliment Sabrina saying Sabrina was better, but he didn’t go there. In fact, he craned his neck to try to spot the dark-haired singer.

  “Incredible,” Chuck said. “And drop dead gorgeous. Holy moly.” That surprised me because Chuck was so devoted to his wife that he rarely noticed other women, but he was looking toward where the singer stood with her bandmates in the hall by the restrooms.

  “Phenomenal,” Michael said, aiming his sunglasses at the hallway, too.

  “Hey,” Sabrina said.

  “You were good too,” Michael said, but didn’t look at her. That snub after she’d given her best performance was going to cost him later. And the fact that he kept staring at the mystery woman was going to cost him even more. “Oh, she’s coming this way.” He sounded excited, like a teenage boy getting a glimpse of a celebrity crush approaching.

  I glanced over and sure enough, the woman thanked a few men, while skillfully blocking their feeble attempts to get in her way. She slipped past them and headed toward the front door, with all the men in the bar turning to watch her go. But two large men in fancy suits rose from a table near the door and blocked her path. They wore headphones, and smiled to reveal sharp teeth.

  “Mako Clansmen,” Kevin said and zapped me in the leg. “Get your ass in gear, loser. You have to rescue her.”

  “She can handle herself,” I said.

  “Who are you talking to?” Sabrina asked.

  But the woman backed away from the headphone men. One of them pulled a gun from a shoulder holster.

  “Help her!” Kevin yelled and zapped me again.

  I jumped off my barstool and took a few steps toward the woman. She turned and ran right into me.

  “Sorry,” I said, and spun her around behind me. I turned to face the Clansmen, but one of them punched me in the nose and I sat down on the floor. They rushed past me.

  In cartoons, people see stars when they get punched. I just saw colored lights dancing around in front of my face. I put my hand to my nose, which sent waves of pain through my head. Blood seeped between my fingers.

  “You okay, man?” someone asked.

  I got to my feet and turned to look down the hall, trying to blink the spots out of the way. The woman was gone, and so were the Mako Clansmen.

  “Way to hit that guy in the fist with your face,” Kevin said. “Impressive.”

  “Where did she go?” I asked.

  Kevin pointed down the hall to the glowing exit sign above the back door. The guy who asked if I was okay pointed, too.

  “Go get ‘em, dipshit,” Kevin said and zapped me in the ass again.

  “Cut it out!” I said.

  I don’t know how the pointing man reacted because I was already on my way to the back door with Kevin right behind me, zapping me every few steps. I hoped those jolts weren’t leaving marks on my ass.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I bolted out the door into the alley, and tripped over a stray cinder block. I tumbled forward and hit the pavement hard, barely getting my arms up enough to protect my face. I didn’t want to scratch up my palms, as that would make it harder to play the guitar. A scrape on my elbows wasn’t as bad. But who the hell would leave a cinder block right out in front of the damn door?

  A streetlamp at the mouth of the alley cast just enough light to reveal other cinder blocks spread out on the ground, and a stack of blocks with several leaning at a precarious angle. Evidently, hot chicks being pursued aren’t above creating obstacles as they run away. Who knew?

  I picked myself up, and flexed my hands. They were fine. My left forearm hurt like a son of a bitch and my elbow stung. I bent my arm toward me to try to get a look at it, which made it hurt more. The elbow was skinned up and bits of gravel and glass protruded from my
skin. I plucked the glass out, and brushed the gravel off.

  “Get a move on,” Kevin said.

  My ankle complained when I put weight on it, but after a few steps, it dropped to a dull ache. Nothing broken. I stepped over the fallen cinder blocks as I moved toward the street.

  I looked left down a dark residential street, then right toward the Strand. The two shark dudes dragged the woman back toward the alley. She struggled, and they had to focus on keeping her under control.

  I was already bleeding, so I focused the magic Sabrina had been teaching me. I shot a bolt of energy at the Mako guy on the right, but he was too far away, and when it struck him, he barely flinched.

  But he did notice me.

  “Let her go,” I said, trying to sound tough.

  He pulled his gun.

  “Shit,” I said, darting back into the alley.

  “Get back out there,” Kevin said.

  “They’ve got guns,” I whispered.

  “So don’t get shot,” he said and pushed me back onto the sidewalk. I hated that he could push me, but I couldn’t touch him.

  The shark dude still had his gun out. “Back off, man,” he said. “Nothing to see here.”

  “Blast him,” Kevin said.

  I held my hands up. “Don’t shoot.”

  “I just told you to back off. That’s how you avoid getting shot.”

  Kevin shoved me forward.

  “Stop it!” I said.

  The Mako guy raised the gun. “Last warning, buddy. I really don’t want to shoot you. This ain’t your problem.”

  The other shark dude had his arms wrapped around the woman. They’d shoved a rag into her mouth to keep her from screaming, and her eyes pleaded with me not to let them take her.

  “You’re closer now,” Kevin said. “Blast the gunman.”

  “Sorry,” I said, keeping my hands up. I was still bleeding, so I summoned up some magic.

  Kevin darted past me. He pointed at the gun and a bolt of light shot from his finger to the barrel of the weapon. The muzzle melted closed.

  At the same time, I sent another energy blast at the guy’s face. It still didn’t hold together well, but since I was closer, the blast pushed him back a step. He pulled the trigger and the gun blew up in his hand. He screamed.

  The woman stomped on the other shark dude’s instep. He let go of her.

  “Duck!” I shouted.

  She crouched down and I blasted the second shark man in the chest. He staggered back a step, and I raced toward him, not sure what I could do, but I pulled up short because the woman twisted around and drove her knee up into the guy’s balls. She followed up with a throat punch and he dropped to his knees.

  Note to self—hot chicks can hurt you.

  She tried to shout, but what came out was, “Mmmm!” She ran toward me, pointing to the alley.

  “I think she said run,” Kevin said.

  The shark dudes were down, but not out, and I didn’t want to take any chances, so I followed the woman into the alley. She grabbed a cinder block from the stack and spun around ready to smack me in the face.

  “Whoa!” I said. “It’s me!”

  “Mmm,” she said, and handed the block to me.

  She yanked the gag from her mouth.

  “You all right?” I asked.

  “Get ready,” she said. “They may be coming back.”

  I moved to the mouth of the alley and peeked around. The shark men were helping each other down the sidewalk toward the Strand. I carried the block back and set it on the pile. “They’re giving up,” I said.

  “For now,” she said.

  Kevin walked behind her, staring at her legs. “Nice,” he said, and gave me a thumbs up.

  I ignored him.

  “I’m Brett,” I said, extending my hand.

  “Helen,” she said, accepting the handshake. Her voice sounded like smooth, smoky music.

  “It’s dress up day,” Kevin said and lifted the back of her dress to look at her ass.

  “What the hell?” she said, pushing her dress down.

  “Damn,” Kevin said. “She’s wearing black panties. Nice, but they cover too much.”

  “Cut it out,” I said.

  “Cut what out?” she asked.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

  She looked around. “There’s no one else here.”

  Maybe I was wrong about her actually seeing Kevin. But she’d still managed to kick him. And she was staring at me strangely. I needed to explain why I was talking when no one else was in sight. The first thing that popped in my head was the TV show Leverage, which I’d recently binge-watched.

  I turned to the side and pulled an earplug from my pocket, then pretended to take it out of my left ear. I held it up between my thumb and forefinger. “Communication device,” I said. I held it close to my mouth. “Team Blue, stand down.” I put the plug back into my pocket.

  “That was an earplug,” she said.

  I shook my head. “It’s a sophisticated comm unit,” I said. “I’m with Homeland Security.”

  She laughed. “Bullshit. You were on stage playing guitar when I arrived.”

  “So you noticed me,” I said and gave her a nod. “Cool.”

  “You’re cute,” she said. “Kinda weird, but cute. You sure those guys are gone?”

  “Pretty sure. You want to tell me what’s going on? Why are they after you?”

  She shrugged. “Human trafficking?”

  Now it was my turn to laugh. I took a chance. “Those were Mako Clansmen,” I said.

  Her eyes widened for a moment. “You know about the Clansmen?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, now tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”

  “I’ll help her,” Kevin said.

  I ignored him.

  “Not here,” she said. “Let’s go back inside. I’ll tell my friends I’m leaving. You can do the same.”

  “Works for me.”

  Kevin waggled his eyebrows at me. “Gonna get lucky tonight, and I get to watch.”

  When Helen turned to grab the door, I took a swipe at Kevin, but my hand went through him.

  “Be good,” I whispered.

  “Oh, I will be,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “You stay with Sabrina,” I whispered.

  “Make me,” Kevin said.

  Helen turned toward me as she held the door open. “Did you say something?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  She narrowed her gaze, but then smiled and went back into the bar.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Helen sat across from me in a small diner on Broadway not too far from Bishop’s Palace. It would have been a nice place to chat, but Kevin was there, and the dumbass kept going from table to table to unscrew the caps from all the salt shakers. As it seemed Helen couldn’t see him, I couldn’t call him out on his dick moves without looking like I was on a weekend pass from the local asylum. So I tried to focus only on Helen’s deep blue eyes.

  We ordered coffee, and stuck with simple small talk until our cups were filled and the waitress moved off to help the poor sap who just dumped salt all over his chicken fried steak.

  “It was tight when I used it a minute ago,” he said.

  Kevin chuckled and went to another table to continue his mischief.

  So far, all I knew about Helen was that she loved the sea, and had been singing her entire life, but the guys she had in her band were recent acquisitions. I also knew from experience that her voice could mesmerize the opposite sex, but even without that, she was easy on the eyes, and speaking as a representative of my gender, we tend to be easily manipulated by hot chicks.

  “How did you get on the radar of the Mako Clansmen?” I asked.

  “How do you even know about them?” she asked.

  “You first.”

  “A record magnate from Nashville wants me to record for his label.”

  “That must really suck for you,” I said.

 
She reached across the table and patted my hand. Her touch was warm and gentle. “I know I sound ungrateful, and if you knew how much money he was offering, you’d want to strangle me.”

  “I doubt it,” I said. My parents were rich, and while I relied on my asshole of a father to keep my bank account healthy, I wasn’t lacking for anything.

  “That’s sweet of you, but it’s a lot of money. Especially since I’ve never allowed any recordings of my voice to exist.”

  I laughed. “Somehow, I think you’re mistaken about that. You have an amazing voice, and every guy has a recording device in his pocket while every woman has one in her purse. You might look yourself up on YouTube. You may be surprised how many recordings are out there.”

  It was her turn to laugh. “I’ll bet you the bill for the coffee that there aren’t any recordings of me on YouTube.”

  “You spend your mornings sending DMCAs?” Digital Millennium Copyright Act notices were supposed to protect artists from having their music stolen, but good luck with that.

  “Of course not,” she said. “Look me up.”

  “They might not have the videos labeled as Helen and the Peregrines.”

  “Get out your phone, Brett. Look me up.”

  “It’s not important.”

  “I’m just going to sit here until you look it up.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” I pulled out my phone, called up YouTube and did a quick search. Nothing under her name. “There’s a trailer for Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children,” I said.

  “Sounds like your kind of place.”

  “You already pegged me for that?”

  She nodded. “What else?”

  “Something called Los Elfos Peregrines. I have to check this out.” I clicked it and shook my head as crazy elves danced to a godawful disco version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

  “What the hell are you watching?” Helen asked.

  I turned my phone so she could see it.

  “Please make it stop,” she said, recoiling.

  Kevin rushed over to the table and started dancing to the music. “I love that!” he said.