Demon

by Laura DeLuca

  “How do you manage to memorize all these things? It’s like you have an Internet search engine permanently installed in your head.”

  “What can I say?” He gave her a sinister smile that matched his wardrobe. “I’m like a sponge when it comes to dark literature. I simply can’t help but retain it. Though in this case, it was about presentation. I memorized it before I made my case to P.C.”

  “Well, Lord Justyn, I have to admit, you certainly wear that wig well.” She gently tasseled the matted black mass of hair that had one white streak through it. “I don’t think any barber has ever looked more demonish than you do at this very moment.”

  “Why thank you, my love. You look quite ravishing yourself,” he whispered and stroked her dirt-smudged cheek. “Who knew the unbathed could be so appealing.”

  Rebecca rolled her eyes and looked down at her own slovenly attire. Her mangy gown and bonnet were made to look filthy and ragged. The dress hung down around her ankles in mismatched patches, and even the petticoats beneath were stained with grime. Her face was smudged with soot, and just in case she wasn’t unattractive enough, the makeup artist had added fake blisters around her lips. It was a far cry from the glamorous wardrobe she had modeled as Christine in Phantom. Still, acting was all about diversity, and Rebecca was learning to enjoy her part in Demon Barber.

  “Come on.” She looped arms with Justyn. “We better get on stage before the orchestra is tuned. We don’t want to give Professor Carter anything to get upset about.”

  Justyn nodded, and the two of them went to wait backstage for their curtain call. However, they weren’t the ones giving the director gray hairs that day. Chad and Scott were all over the place. Half the time they were flat, and the rest of the time they sang too fast and were throwing off the orchestra as well as the other actors. They kept forgetting their lines, and Scott even walked out on stage during the wrong scene more than once. Professor Carter looked about ready to have an angina attack. Rebecca was sure that if he could have had them legally flogged, he would have happily done so.

  “What is his problem?” Rebecca shook her head as she watched Scott stumble into a pile of discarded costumes backstage. They were running through the whole play as though they had a live audience, which meant they had a fifteen-minute break in between acts while the orchestra was in the midst of a full instrumental set. With the exception of Livy, who gets a dress upgrade once her human pie business takes off, the rest of the cast didn’t have to worry about changing costumes. So Rebecca, Frankie, and Justyn were loitering behind the curtain as they waited for the second act to begin. Quinn was there too, though he stayed off in a corner by himself and didn’t try to join in the conversation.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Frankie cast a disgusted look in Scott’s direction as their hyper co-star smacked the backside of a disgruntled chorus girl. “He’s flying higher than a kite.”

  “Oh.”

  Rebecca felt stupid again. She didn’t seem to be able to distinguish drugged-up from just plain annoying. Of course, where Scott was concerned, there didn’t appear to be much difference.

  “The fact that Scott is a cokehead only adds more credence to Quinn’s theory,” Justyn said thoughtfully. “It’s been known to bring out the violence in people, especially if they’re already predisposed to it.”

  The fact that Justyn was back in unofficial investigation mode made Rebecca wish she hadn’t mentioned it at all. Especially when Scott felt them staring and turned to them with that nasty scowl he wore so well. It seemed to suit him even more while he was dressed in the clothes of the judge’s heartless lackey.

  “What are you freshmen looking at?” Scott demanded.

  Justyn frowned. “Absolutely nothing.”

  “Yeah … well.” Scott didn’t seem sure if that was an insult or not. “You just better keep your eyes to yourself, bat boy.”

  “Don’t you boys dare start this again!” Livy ordered.

  As if on cue, she appeared at just the right time to play referee. It was an odd role for anyone who looked so dramatically elegant, yet somehow ridiculously overdone. Livy was stunning in the tacky finery that Mrs. Lovatt acquires for the second act. As a widow, she is still required to wear black in Victorian England, but she wears black that shimmers with an overabundance of jewels, lace, ruffles, and bows. Her hair was pulled back in an elaborate updo with a small feathered bonnet perched in the center of her dark curls. She had even done away with the red tinge on the edges so as not to ruin the effect. Rebecca had thought it was impossible for her to look more magnificent than she did in her standard Gothic wardrobe, but at that moment, as she stared down the guys into their corners, Livy had somehow outdone herself.

  “Why are you always coming to his rescue, Liv?” Chad asked suddenly, shocking everyone. Chad never stood up to Livy. For a moment, the boring old argument between Justyn and Scott was forgotten, even by them.

  “What did you just say to me?” Livy demanded, her eyes wide.

  “Don’t you get it, Liv?” Chad continued, “the guy doesn’t want you. He’s not interested. Why can’t you just realize that and give me another chance? You know that I lo…that I care about you.”

  Livy’s eyes flashed for a minute, though her voice feigned indifference. “Until you realize there’s more to life than how much junk you can shove up your nose, you’ll never have a real relationship with anyone! Now get out of my face!”

  Livy shoved her way past him to wait out on the stage for the second act to begin. Chad’s head drooped, but he was chastised to silence. He sighed as he watched her glide away, so graceful in her lace-up boots. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the ground.

  “Forget her!” Scott told him. “Forget all of them. Come on. Let’s take a break for a second.”

  Chad shook his head. “No thanks, man. One hit a day is enough for me.”

  “Suit yourself.” Scott shrugged and headed toward the guys’ dressing room. Along the way, he winked at Rebecca. “If you ever want a real man, Jerseylicious, come find me.”

  Rebecca didn’t even have time to roll her eyes before Justyn had Scott pinned to the wall. With the black-and-white wig and the crazed look on his face, it was like he had become possessed by the real Sweeney Todd. He didn’t have a razor blade, but his hand around Scott’s throat was just as threatening as any knife. Despite the fact that Scott had twice the body mass, he seemed powerless to stop Justyn as he squeezed the breath from him.

  “Stay away from, Becca!” Justyn spat, each word enunciated, “or I swear—”

  “Justyn, stop!” Quinn shouted.

  Quinn was quickly joined by Frankie, and both of them tried to pry Justyn away while Scott choked and gagged. Even with Scott struggling to break free, they had trouble getting Justyn to release him. When they finally managed to tear him away, he still looked furious. His face was beet-red, and his lips twisted into an unbecoming snarl. He leered at Scott, who was huddled on the ground, trying to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Rebecca stood with her back pressed against the wall, watching the whole thing as though she were just another horrified spectator instead of the reason for the inevitable face-off.

  “You’re freaking wacked in the head, man!” Scott managed to croak, once he had recovered the use of his vocal cords. “Seriously.”

  “Just keep your hands to yourself, you disgusting bastard!” Justyn told him.

  “Screw you!” Scott pulled himself to his feet, still rubbing his throat, and headed back to his original destination. “You better pray you didn’t mess up my voice or you’re dead!”

  “I’d love to see you try, you mother—”

  “Justyn, please,” Rebecca begged, finally finding her tongue. She stepped in front of him as Scott walked past. “You need to stop this! You’re not helping anything. You’re only risking everything we both worked for.”

  Justyn seemed to see her for the first time. Like Sweeney Todd, Justyn was so blinded by his rage he didn’t even notice the very reason for it w
as standing there beside him until it was almost too late. When he finally did notice her, the glazed fury was replaced with only worry and remorse.

  “Oh, Becca, I’m so sorry.” He pressed his fingers against his eyes. “You must be terrified of me.”

  “Of course not,” Rebecca soothed, though her heart was still pounding. “But please, Justyn, you have to let this be. Just because Scott is an idiot doesn’t mean he’s guilty of anything else. If you keep throwing punches at everyone you suspect, you’re the one who’s going to suffer.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. It just makes me crazy to think about anyone hurting you.”

  She noticed his gaze fall upon her bare arm. The large jagged wound was nearly healed and no longer bandaged, but the ugly scar would always be a reminder. Rebecca sighed and was relieved when the crowd that had been watching started to disperse. Even Frankie and Quinn had backed off to give them some privacy, and Rebecca was grateful to have a few minutes to talk to Justyn alone before their next curtain call.

  “Look at me, Justyn.” She forced him to meet her eyes. “Really look at me. I’m okay. I’m okay because of you. Now, I need to know that you’re okay. I hate to see you like this, so full of anger. It’s not who you are.”

  “I know,” he whispered.

  Rebecca wrapped her arms around his waist, and he buried his face in her hair. She gently ran her fingers along his neck to massage away the headache she knew was starting. They didn’t speak about it anymore. She heard the music outside start to wind down, and Rebecca realized the nerve-wracking intermission was almost over. If this dress rehearsal was any hint of what was to come once opening night rolled around, Rebecca wasn’t sure how she could avoid having a nervous breakdown. At least Justyn seemed to have calmed down. Even Scott returned to the stage with renewed vigor, though accompanied by a very drippy nose.

  Justyn avoided any additional confrontation. But as Rebecca watched his performance from the sidelines, she could see he was drawing on his own inner turmoil. He was especially convincing in his big solo, where he walks through the crowd of London in a fantasy sequence, promising to end the life of any man who steps into his barber shop. With each stomp of his foot and each line of the song, he presses his plastic blade against the throat of an actor who stands still as a mannequin for the monologue.

  The scene always made Rebecca shiver, but that day it seemed even more intense.

  “There is no man who does not deserve to die.

  Just listen to me and I’ll tell you why.

  Whether we walk in sin or suffer at its expense.

  Death is a gift Sweeney Todd will freely dispense.

  Come to see Sweeney for a shave, my friend

  Come in, don’t be shy. Meet your bloody end.”

  After that scene came to an end, it didn’t take long to reach the climax of the play—the part where Sweeney Todd extracts revenge on both Beadle and the judge. Unfortunately for Rebecca, Lucy gets stuck in the middle of the murderous rampage and becomes an unplanned casualty. Even more regrettably, Rebecca gets stuck inside the trapdoor with Scott for a good fifteen minutes before the set change. After the events of the day, it was a scene she was looking forward to even less than usual.

  Rebecca watched as Scott inched his way up the platform, cheerful at the prospect of a free shave. Justyn’s overly pleasant smile hardly masked the wicked glint in his eyes, and it had very little to do with acting. Scott had barely lifted his neck for the shaving cream when the dull blade touched his throat. A pouch of fake blood that was hidden beneath his clothes was easy to burst with the plastic blade, and immediately drenched his white collar. Scott shuddered on the seat, making unusually realistic gurgling noises before Justyn activated the trap door. Scott slid to the safety of the air mattress below, while Justyn disappeared to help Mrs. Lovatt/Livy find Toby/Frankie, who had gotten suspicious and needed to be removed from the equation. That left Rebecca to make her grand entrance for her only solo scene. She crept slowly up the steps, humming at first, and then calling out in a sing-song voice.

  “Beadle, dear. Beadle, where aaaarrreeeee you? I saw you come in here, Beaadddleeee?”

  When she steps into the apartment, Lucy recognizes it as the home she shared with her husband. For a moment her delusions melt away, and she remembers who she is … where she is. In her role, Rebecca reached toward the worn, empty cradle that had once held her baby with real tears in her eyes. Then Sweeney Todd bursts back into the room and her one lucid moment is lost. Almost.

  “Hey there, sir, don’t I … know you … from somewhere?” Rebecca whispered

  She reached out a dirt-encrusted hand to touch Justyn’s cheek. It was almost scary how he could look at her with such a heartless, emotionless stare, as though she were a complete stranger. Sweeney Todd refuses to see—refuses to recognize the very love he had fought and killed for was right within his reach. He hears the judge coming up the steps, and he’s so afraid he’ll lose his chance at revenge, all else is forgotten. His blade slices across Lucy’s throat.

  Rebecca felt the red paint splash cold against her bare neck. The shock of it made her eyes widen. She left them that way, open in the terror of near death. She did her best not to blink until, with a well-concealed smile and a secret wink, Justyn opened the trap door, and she was swallowed into the darkness.

  Rebecca slid down the small chute, expecting to hit the air mattress as usual. Scott would be in the corner, whispering snide comments, until finally Chad would shimmy down and join them. Then the scene would be over, and Rebecca would get to spend the rest of the play as a lifeless corpse. However, Scott had forgotten to move out of her way. She cried out in surprise as her rump landed on his chest. Luckily, her cry didn’t overpower the duet that Chad and Justyn had already begun.

  “Scott, what are you doing?” she demanded in a whispered hiss. “Move over!”

  Scott didn’t move. He didn’t speak or even try to pinch her butt. He just laid there, still and silent. For a minute, Rebecca was brought back to the opening night of Phantom. For one horrid second, she saw Wendy’s body hanging from the rafters, so silent, except for the slight creak of the swinging rope. Then she realized she was being ridiculous. Scott was probably trying to get back at Justyn by playing a mean joke on his high-strung girlfriend.

  “Get up, Scott. You’re not funny.”

  Still no answer. Rebecca strained to listen for his breathing. But above them, Justyn and Chad belting out the Pretty Ladies refrain was drowning out all other sound.

  “Scott, I’m serious. Move!”

  She tried to shove him aside, and though he was heavy, she somehow managed to shift his weight. She heard his body hit the floor with a decided thump, but he didn’t complain. And he still didn’t move of his own accord. Rebecca’s eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of their hiding place. She strained to see in the dim light that crept in through the cracks of the wooden prop. She could just barely make out Scott’s face. She could see he was covered in fake blood, but she saw something else—something much more horrible than stage makeup. Even in the dark, it was getting easier to see the white pupils of his unblinking eyes—eyes that were wide open and glazed. She also saw his mouth was hanging open with an outline of foaming saliva coating his phony goatee. What she didn’t see was him moving. Or breathing.

  Above her, Justyn in his role of the demon barber cried out his rage as he finally killed the evil judge who ruined his life. Below him, Rebecca screamed out in almost perfect unison when realization dawned on her. Scott wasn’t playing games. Scott would never play games again.

  Scott was dead.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was like the opening night of Phantom all over again. Rebecca stood trembling on the sidelines, wrapped in the security of Justyn’s arms, while Scott’s body was carried away. She watched Livy sob and Chad’s shocked, emotionless face. Even Professor Carter showed the first signs of human emotion as he spoke to the officers and
E.M.T.s on the scene. He had to clear his throat more than once as he explained the situation.

  After some prompting, the director got Chad and a few of the other guys to admit to seeing Scott messing around with drugs before practice. It didn’t seem that any foul play was involved. Yet, later that night, Rebecca still found herself staring blankly at the television screen. She didn’t even see the sitcom that was playing. Instead, she saw the reflections of Wendy hanging from the rafters, of Jay and his cocky smile, and even the poor old janitor Mr. Russ. Now Scott’s blank stare was added to that endless parade of ghouls who haunted her dreams. It didn’t even matter that it wasn’t murder—that his death had been of his own making. His lifeless face would still haunt her for the rest of her life.

  “Are you all right, Becca?”

  Justyn came and sat beside her. He handed her a mug of tea, chamomile by the scent of it. She accepted the drink, but had no idea how to answer the question. She wasn’t catatonic yet, but that didn’t necessarily translate into being all right. Really, how many bodies could she stumble upon in one lifetime before she was completely certifiable? Still, she didn’t want to make Justyn worry, so she tried to take a tentative sip of the tea. The only problem was her hands trembled so badly all she managed to do was spill half the cup on her sweater. Justyn immediately jumped up and grabbed a towel.

  “I’m such a klutz.”

  She tried to laugh it off, but there was a definite underlying tremble in her voice. Justyn eyed her warily as he dabbed the tea away, as though he were worried she would burst into tears or have hysterics at any second. She was a little worried about the same thing.

  “Did you get burned?” he whispered gently.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”