by Louisa Lo
“But they don’t have—” the first girl, Beatrice, protested.
“Just do it.” The middle-aged lady snapped. Then she turned back to Gregory, beamed at him, and said in a much nicer tone, “Please forgive us. I’m Patricia Annabella Cantabo, the organizer of the festival. Come find me after you’re done and I’ll introduce you to a few people.”
She went back inside.
I leaned closer to Gregory as the girls quickly got to work, creating temporary entry badges for us. They kept stealing glances at Gregory, probably wondering who he was to get that kind of reception from their superior. “What did you do? What kind of enchantment did you put on that poor woman? She’s practically putty in your hand.”
Not that I was complaining. Just curious.
“I put no spell on her,” Gregory claimed, straight-faced.
I narrowed my eyes. "Then how?"
"I gave her an incentive.”
“Like, what?”
“Of the monetary type.” He smiled. “I just made a generous donation to the festival and showed her the e-transfer record for it. I haven't blown through all the money I made from rescuing the kidnapped children from the changelings yet, you know.”
I laughed. Whoever said that vengeance demons couldn’t be bought? Then I turned serious. “I should share half of that cost.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Gregory shook his head. “You handed that profit to me to begin with.”
Still, I was touched. I made that offer with him in exchange for his help when the changeling war seemed imminent. He’d won it fair and square. And now he was spending a part of that money not only for the benefit of our business, but for me, so ultimately I could have a chance to find Grandma.
All right, so maybe I, too, can be bribed as well.
Inside the building, there was a lobby, and beyond that, an auditorium with a large center stage that I assumed was for the performances. The auditorium was only half full, with people who weren’t ready to be seated yet milling around in the lobby, enjoying refreshments and checking out the silent auction table. There were items to bid on from a night of dinner and show in town, to master piano classes. An oversize trophy in the shape of a harp, about five feet high, graced the center of the room in all its golden glory. There were four alcoves spread out across the space, lined with shimmering brownish gold satin curtains and providing little nooks for groups of people to hang out and chat with each other over wine and hors d’oeuvres.
Patricia turned out to be quite helpful. She showed us around the lobby and explained that while the trophy final tonight was for all adult and children vocal categories, it was really only for solos and duets because otherwise the program would be so long as to be unmanageable.
I’d always thought that singing was just singing, but the sub-categories were super diversified. Just under Classical Style, there was Art Song, Canadian Art Song, English Art Song, and French Art Song. Then there was Opera Aria, Folk Song, Jazz or Blues, Musical Theatre, etc.
And here I was, thinking that the whole thing would be over in, like, an hour. Boyce’s category, Male Voices – Classical Opera – Adult Under 35, was nestled between the female voices in the same age group and the male voices in the next one, and it wasn’t until the second half of a four-hour program.
Seeing how more and more guests were heading toward the auditorium, I better hurry things along if I hoped to have the opportunity to question Boyce’s witnesses without having to last through until the intermission to do so. The early shawarmas dinner wasn’t going to last me that long.
“So”—I made a casual gesture of flipping through tonight’s program, and asked Patricia—“I suppose all the participants are already here, huh?”
“Of course, it’s considered polite for them to stay for the entire duration of the final. We strongly discouraged diva behavior.” She smoothly removed a piece of lint from her dress suit.
“Do you think we can meet some of these participants? Say”—I pretended to point at a random spot on the program—“the male opera finalists under thirty-five?”
“They’re right over there.” Patricia pointed at a small alcove on the left side of the lobby where three young men were standing together. “Funny you should pick that category to ask. My son, Theodore, is the youngest finalist there. Forgive a mother’s gushing, but I think he’s going to go far. He already started getting callbacks from the London Opera House. Twice. Isn’t it marvelous? Let me introduce you.”
As we got closer, I could see that Theodore was about nineteen. He was too old to be grouped with the teens, and too young to compete with everyone under thirty-five in a fair manner. He must be pretty good to be a finalist then.
Vera elbowed me and whispered in my mind. The top three participants in every sub-category advance to the final.
Ouch, I’d almost forgotten that she could speak directly into my mind like that. It was creepy. From the grimace on Gregory’s face, she must be doing the same to him.
Vera continued, But for this group there were ever only four participants to begin with. With my Boyce not able to be here, these three automatically advanced. My man had been kicking their asses in every contest from here to North Bay. He would’ve won tonight if he was here.
So Theodore might not be that good, after all. I should’ve known to never underestimate a mother’s ability to praise her own child and gloss over reality.
But if the advancement is automatic, then why even bother with the final? I asked Vera with my mind. It would be like being in the Olympics with a metal guaranteed. What’s the challenge?
Because technically they can still put it on their resume and brag that they’re finalists of this festival, Vera replied. Unless someone bothered to check the syllabus from that particular year, who’s to know?
Wow, talk about the ultimate delusion of glory.
We reached Theodore and his friends, and Patricia introduced them proudly. “This is my son, Theodore Owen Cantabo. And these are his friends Amos Dominick Carminis and Jackson Quintus Theatrum. All three of them are baritones.”
The guys’ lips thinned once they caught sight of Vera, but they didn’t say anything to Patricia. Interesting. I guess Patricia either didn’t recognize Vera, or the shade did something to disguise herself from the mother of her lover’s competitor. Come to think of it, she’d probably put a perception filter over her own clothes just for Patricia, as the dignified organizer never frown once at Vera’s sexy get up.
Gregory smiled at Patricia. “I’ve taken up enough of your precious time, my dear Mrs. Cantabo. Why don’t you go greet other guests while I get to know Theodore a bit more?”
“That’s so considerate of you, dear. I do have to go. We’ll have to tell everyone to go to their seats very soon.”
Once Patricia left, Gregory rounded on the three guys. “I understand you know Boyce Armstrong?”
Theodore exchanged glances with his friends, then crossed his arms. “What about him?”
“Did you see him during the qualifying round? He would’ve been singing ‘Nessun Dorma.’ I heard that he’d done quite well.”
Theodore replied “no,” and after an elbow to the rib at Jackson, the latter said the same. But Amos snorted. “Oh, please. He’d done quite well according to whom? His little girlfriend here? That oaf did not do ‘Nessun Dorma’ justice at all.”
Theodore and Jackson both gave Amos looks that said “shut up” loud and clear. Amos seemed too mad or arrogant, or both, to care.
“So you had seen him at the qualifying.” Gregory’s voice took on a smooth, velvety tone. The hair at the back of my neck stood. I always like this part, the calm before he tore his opponents apart.
Vera rolled her eyes. Please don’t tell me you’re getting turned on by that. We’re here to help my man, not to have you pant after yours.
Stay. Out. Of. My. Freaking. Head!
Can’t help it. I’m a shade. Nooks and crannies of the mind is where I go, she replied smugl
y.
I ignored Vera and focused on the byplay between Gregory and the three finalists.
“Cantabo, Carminis, and Theatrum.” Gregory rolled their last names around his tongue as if they were secret codes to decipher. “You’re all from old performing arts families. You’re expected to win in these events. This is no hobby for you. These festivals are launch pads for your careers.”
“So what?” Theodore shrugged dismissively. “It’s no secret that we’re taking this very seriously, unlike all the amateurs here.”
“Serious enough to prevent someone from staying in the competition? Good tenors are hard to find, and judges are known to favor them. You’re all baritones, and less experienced than Boyce Armstrong. You know in your hearts that he was going to win the top prize tonight if he’d been allowed to compete.”
Huh. I never knew that about tenors—I guess as a veteran mercenary, Gregory came across all sorts of information. That was what Vera meant when she was confident of Boyce’s welcome at the music festival. Nothing like an imbalanced supply and demand to make people overlook a few tattoos.
“What does it matter? He’s not here.” Theodore sneered. “He never had any business being here. My mother should’ve never allowed that…that thug to join us. Look what he’s in trouble for now.”
Vera snarled and started toward Theodore. “Why you little—”
I grabbed Vera. Don’t. Can’t you see what just happened? Gregory got them. Theodore had just tipped his hand.
Gregory gave Theodore a cold smile. “So you are aware of Boyce Armstrong currently being in Hell, and what he’s there for. Then you must also know that he couldn’t have robbed that bank because you were with him at the time.”
A muscle jumped on Theodore’s face. “I admit to no such thing. I didn’t see him at the qualifying round. Did you?”
He turned to his friends.
“Nope. Too crowded. Might’ve missed him,” Jackson replied.
The angrier Amos seemed to have gotten onto the program. “Yeah, what they said.”
“Come on. You guys didn’t see him because it was too crowded? There were only four competitors,” Vera said incredulously. I tightened my hold on her.
Gregory stared hard at the three guys until one by one they bowed their heads, refusing to meet his eyes. Even the more hardline Amos looked contrite as he stared down at his shoes. “I know you’re under a lot of pressure to succeed. It doesn’t matter that you’re all over eighteen and ought to be making your own decisions by now—you’ve been groomed all your life to follow the path that your families had set out for you. But are you really willing to make someone suffer in Hell just to keep him out of the competition? Think of what you’re condemning him to. You’re vengeance demons first, musicians and family legacies second.”
The three stole glances at each other, pride, guilt, and doubt warring on their faces. Then I saw it—deep down they were decent guys. They were placed in a cutthroat environment at a young age and forced to compete to secure their self-identity. I, of all people, should understand the struggle to find one’s path.
Suddenly there was loud mechanical feedback, then Patricia’s voice came through the intercom. “Ladies and gentleman, the vocal trophy final will be starting momentarily. Please take your seats. The silent auction will be re-opened during intermission and…”
It was as if a spell had been broken. With his mother’s voice droning on over the air, Theodore blinked and shook his head.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he murmured and fled, his friends following suit.
“Cowards,” Vera yelled after them, drawing a few startled glances from the other festival guests.
Damn. Looked like we had to stay for the show, after all.
Chapter Fifteen
Contestants
An hour later, I was ready to claw my ears off just to not have to listen to another screechy high C. My knowledge of classical music might be limited compared to other vengeance demons from old families, but even I could tell when someone was forcing a high note.
Hate to agree with Theodore, but most of the contestants were indeed amateurs. I bet everyone in the audience was there because a family member was performing. The auditorium, with its soaring ceiling and open space, was built to amplify sound in the most acoustical way possible, which totally worked against my poor, long-suffering ears.
At long last, we got to the last performance before the intermission. I checked the program, and the song was called “The Cat Duet.”
I knew this song because Mom loved it. No need to learn any foreign language, the only word in the entire song was “meow.” The duet was usually performed with two females, with plenty of snarls and mock scratching to keep the catfight entertaining.
I suppose when the human contestants sing this song, they do so with cat masks and imitate feline behaviors. But of course, the supernatural version went a step further. The two contestants stepping onto the stage had enchanted themselves to resemble real cats. Two reddish orange tabbies standing upright.
Then they began singing, and everyone started laughing.
The two contestants were males, performing the song in falsetto. But what was really funny was that as the song went on, their body forms changed, from slim form to potbellied, from gorgeous mane to balding. They took turns batting around a can of tuna, only to slip and lose their grip on it before they were able to open it.
Instead of a couple of dignified divas, we got two fat and clumsy tomcats fighting over food. It was a rather ingenious twist of expectations, and definitely amusing.
Wait, there was something recognizable about that protruding belly and reddish hair. No, it couldn’t be…
“Aren’t those your half-brothers?” Gregory leaned toward me and whispered.
Yep, that was Fir and Clef.
Chapter Sixteen
Break
I didn’t realize that when intermission finally came, I would have such a hard time deciding whom to talk to first. I wanted to go to Boyce’s unwilling alibis, but I also want to throttle my half-brothers. The boys were supposed to be at the United Sneakworkers Annual Expo, where they were going to make contacts and spread the word about the Greys. And here they were, pulling a prank instead.
Though if that performance was a prank, I wasn’t sure what purpose it achieved other than a few laughs.
“Go to your brothers,” Gregory suggested. “Theodore and his friends aren’t going anywhere—they haven’t performed yet.”
I went after Fir and Clef, who were at the backstage high-fiving each other.
“Good work, bro,” Clef said to Fir.
“Likewise,” Fir replied.
“Fir! Clef!” I called out to them.
My half-brothers jumped collectively. Feeling guilty, perhaps?
“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked accusingly. “I thought you guys were at the expo?”
Fir put his hands up defensively. “We were. We just sneaked out for a little break, that’s all.”
“Initially we’d considered skipping the competition altogether, but figured we’d come this far,” Clef added. “Besides, it’s fun and relaxing. We can’t always be all doom and gloom, you know? It ain’t healthy.”
“Alright,” I conceded. Maybe I overreacted a bit. Seeing my half-brothers here was a shock. “So what’s the trick of the night? I’m here on a mission. Please, please don’t tell me you already rigged this whole place with vampiric flying monkeys. I have a few people I have to get co-operation from, and I can’t have them running away from this building screaming.”
“Actually,” Fir said sheepishly, shuffling his feet. “There is no trick.”
“Excuse me.” I put my hand behind my ear, not believing what it was telling me. “There’s no what?”
“No trickery,” Fir insisted. “We’re taking a break by going straight. That comedic duet was the farthest we’re going to go tonight.”
“Wait.” A light bulb turned on in my head.
“You…you guys actually like singing?”
My half-brothers blushed, which was a rare sight.
“We do,” Fir admitted. “It’s not a trickster’s calling, but at least we made the piece funny and entertaining, not like the rest of them.”
Wow. How could I have lived under the same roof with these two for almost twenty years and never realized they had any passions other than trickery?
“Well, now that you’re here, you might as well help me.” I told my half-brothers what was happening with Theodore and his friends.
The naughty gleam in Fir’s eyes told me trickery would always be his first love. “Let’s go and say hello then, shall we?”
I didn’t know until that point just how much I’d missed my half-brothers. The last few months had been so hectic, with everyone in my life fighting the Council in their own ways. I missed the simpler times when the only thing giving me pause about an impromptu family vacation was whether I would have enough time to study.
After regrouping with Gregory and Vera and briefly introducing my half-brothers to the shade, we went in search of the three little weasels.
Then I saw a pair of vengeance demons across the lobby that stopped me in my tracks.
The woman was Madeleine Abrianna Lex, the bully and bane of existence in my former life at Demon U. She was in the company of a slightly older, male version of herself. He was her brother, but I’d only known his face around the campus and not his name. He dressed like he was here as a competitor, in an expensive, tailored tux. Both were dressed in black, as customary of our race.
Two mercenaries, a couple of tricksters, and a sexpot shade, we really didn’t need the attention of the Lexes, who were from one of the oldest vengeance families and the embodiment of everything that we tried to stay under the radar from.
I cast a trickster spell called the Hide N Seek, which would prevent us from being seen by the Lexes to a certain extent. I’d only started to master the enchantment, and there were so many of us I had to cover. Here’s to hoping it would hold.