have numbers that work with human technology, but he knew the instant Gray dialed ‘666’.
Gray had put his ten-year-old niece to bed and stepped out onto the front porch of the old Victorian house that was his inheritance. What was left of his family, his sister and himself, had exactly one asset to list in their combined net worth; a pre-WWII clapboard house filled with every sort of good memory and in need of every sort of repair imaginable.
He left the front door open so that only a screen door separated him from his niece. Just in case. Sometimes she had night terrors.
When he dialed the number on the card, he didn’t know what to expect, but it would be safe to say that wouldn’t be Lyric walking out of the night and stepping onto the porch. Gray held the still-ringing phone away from his ear, looked at it curiously, then put it in his pocket.
“You rang?” Lyric said.
Gray nodded. “Yeah. Do you, ah, want a beer? Or something?” Motioning to the swing and two metal lawn chairs on the porch, he asked, “Want to sit?”
Lyric sat in one of the chairs without answering.
Gray sat on the swing and cleared his throat. “So. Was that a trick?”
“What?” Lyric knew exactly what Gray meant, but was enjoying prolonging the cat and mouse game.
“The card disappearing.”
“Guess it depends on what you mean by trick. But that’s not what you really want to know. Is it?”
“No.” After a brief pause, Gray shook his head. “What I really want sounds crazy.”
“Crazy is relative. Most of the time mental patients just seem crazy because they’re seeing things others aren’t and nobody believes them. From that perspective, their behaviors are completely appropriate.”
“Wow. That’s definitely an alternative view.”
“Also, the correct view. I could prove it, but again, that’s not what you really want. Is it?” Gray ran a hand through his sandy hair then shook his head. “You’re the one who’s babysitting, kid. Not me. You’re gonna have to say what you want.”
“Tell me what you are.”
Lyric raised his chin and let his gaze flare so that there was no mistaking him for human. “Demon.”
To his credit, Gray didn’t startle or show that he was disturbed in any way. He simply said, “I don’t believe in that shit.”
Lyric threw his head back, laughed, and seemed to enjoy the response immensely. “What shit is that?”
“My grandmother was a Paulist. I got over it by the time I was eight.” He took in a deep breath. “Just like I’m over this. You got me. Consider me royally punked.”
Gray turned to go into the house, but as he was opening the screen door, he hesitated. “Was a really good trick with the card though. How’d you do it?”
Lyric just smiled and said, “Music demon to be exact.”
Still holding the screen door half open, Gray looked between Lyric and the inside of the house in a pantomime portrayal of conflict. At length he let the door slide through his fingers and slam shut.
“Gotta admit that’s a new one. What does that even mean? Music demon.”
“Again, that’s not really what you want to know. Is it?”
After blowing out a big breath of resignation, Gray said, “Just for the hell of it, let’s say there was such a thing as time travel. And, just for the hell of it, let’s say you were the sort of, um, person who makes strange things happen. I know you wouldn’t be making an offer like that for free. There’s always a catch. Right?”
“A catch.” Lyric cocked his head and studied the young Gray. “Why do you think that?” It was evident when realization dawned because the confusion on the demon’s face cleared. “Ohhhhh. You read Faustus.” Gray shook his head. “The Devil and Daniel Webster.” Pause as Gray shook his head again. “Damn Yankees?”
“No,” Gray said slowly. “Is that, ah, relevant?”
“Well, it would explain your cynicism. It’s a veneer though. All musicians believe in magic.”
Lyric’s head suddenly jerked toward the vacant lot next door where there was nothing but a stand of ancient mesquite trees.
“All musicians believe in magic?” A feminine voice came out of the darkness. Shivaun. She appeared at the base of the three steps that rose to the porch. “Am I intruding?”
Lyric lit up like a candle. “You are not, nor will you ever be, intruding. Come meet my project.” He turned to Gray as he motioned for Shy to come up to the porch. “This is my girlfriend, Shivaun.”