of having been there for some time. Watching her. When their eyes locked, he didn’t look away, as most people would do when caught staring. No. He smiled.
His hair was long and black as pitch. His eyes were the palest green imaginable. He wore leather pants and an embroidered cotton drawstring shirt that might have belonged to a very large woman before finding its way to the thrift shop. And, in his own way, he was every bit as otherworldly beautiful as the demon who sat across the table from her.
When she realized that Lyric was talking to her, she dragged her eyes away from the stranger across the street. “Sorry. What were you sayin’?”
“I was asking how long you plan to work for Black Swan.”
“An odd question. What makes you think I have other plans?” Of their own accord, her eyes drifted back to where the stranger was standing. She waited for a visual break in pedestrians. He was gone.
“Is something wrong?”
Her eyes flew back to Lyric. “No. I saw a strange person across the street.”
He laughed. “Strange person? Great Paddy. Which one would that be?”
“Very funny. I mean ‘twas someone starin’ over here like he knew me. ‘Twas disconcertin’.”
He found that every bit as disconcerting as Shivaun had. Maybe more so since, of the two of them, he was the only one that truly understood what was at stake in their courtship. The demon who ended up with Shivaun would multiply his own power many times. He could declare himself king of the elemental world. The few times that had been attempted the would-be authoritarian went mad, but not before plunging the extra-human world into chaos.
The demon joined with a female would be sorely tempted to stage a coup even knowing that it would likely end very badly. No one could challenge that level of power grab except for archangels. Maybe.
Lyric couldn’t care less about power because he was a music demon. Power wasn’t his thing, but there were demons who would want her for that alone and not for the innate qualities that made her the holy grail of all prizes.
Shivaun was still looking at the vacated spot across the street. It had been re-occupied by a folk singer with acoustic guitar performing a straight-up version of “It Ain’t Me Babe”. Her view was suddenly blocked by Doo Darby coming to a standstill just outside the windows where they sat. He grinned before heading inside to join them.
Lyric pushed the third chair back to make room and motioned the waiter over. The guy practically jogged to the table. Nothing gets service like paying the help the equivalent of one month’s pay in tips.
“Bring my friend whatever he wants,” Lyric told the server.
“Ah. Cherry limeade,” Doo said. “You got burgers?” The waiter just grinned. “Right. Of course you do. All American cheeseburger with everything plus hickory sauce. I’d rather have potato chips than French fries. If you have ‘em.”
“Fries. No chips. Got onion rings though.”
“Onion rings. Yeah. Sounds good. That’s purple onion you use on burgers right?”
“Purple onion. I don’t know, man. I can check.”
Doo shook his head. “That’s okay. Surprise me.”
When the waiter left, Lyric said, “So? What’d you find?”
With another huge grin, Doo said, “Top floor apartment in this old house two blocks over. Well. I guess all the houses are old.” He laughed. “It used to be an attic, I think. The ceilings are kinda low but it’s roomy and has a great view of the street.” Lyric sat back, said nothing, but was clearly amused. “What?”
“Don’t try a sales job on a demon, kid. What’s the real reason?”
A flush crept up Doo’s neck toward his face as a smile of sheepishness turned up the corners of his mouth. “Jefferson Airplane is in the house next door.”
Lyric nodded knowingly. “How’d you find that out?”
“The property manager said there’s a band next door that throws legendary parties. I asked if she knew the name of the band.” He shrugged.
“Did you tell her you’d take it?”
“Yeah. Told her to hold on for a half hour. That I’d be back with the money guy.”
Shivaun repeated, “The money guy,” while laughing and pointing at Lyric.
“As nicknames go, I could do worse,” Lyric said. “A lot of people in the world would like to be known as ‘the money guy’.”
Doo wolfed down his burger, talking fast with his mouth full. He didn’t want the apartment to get away. He told them about the people he’d already met. The old Victorian