Living Proof (Tyler G Book 2)

by P. S. Power

  So, real, most likely.

  That, or a thing that Zack had put together to show him not to trust Demons.

  The man darted, actually hurrying, out the front door and vanished. The only thing that proved he'd been there at all was the letter in Ty's right hand. It was sealed, with a large blob of wax on the back, that had a seal impressed into it. Not that he was tempted to open the thing. After all, it was probably just a goodbye, from the way things sounded.

  Tyler didn't know what to do, however. The idea that you were supposed to kneel and say heartfelt words came to mind, from a few television programs over the years, but that was all he had. To that end, and not wanting to call down any hunters either, he walked outside, and started to jog away from the mansion.

  After an hour at about half speed, he stopped. There was nothing around for a long way, which meant it was probably about as good a place as any to get rid of the letter. It was still in his hand, and bone dry, since he didn't sweat. One of the good things about being dead.

  Then he looked around, to make sure he was alone. Sinking to his knees, in case that was important, he started, feeling like he was addressing a letter, more than anything else.

  "Um, Dear Lord. I'm contacting you today about your, er, servant, The Cleric. He's being tracked and hunted and thinks he's going to be killed or destroyed. He, ah, gave me this letter, for the Archangel Michael? I was told that you could send him along, if you wanted?" Then, because feeling stupid or not, he was the head of the Coalition of Nations, he tried to put a word in for the guy. "If it works for you, maybe you could help your guy out? He seemed okay to me. Not that I'm telling you what to do. If you get a chance though, maybe you could think about it? Thanks."

  Then he waited, wondering what would happen, if anything. For a long time nothing did, so he got up and brushed off his knees, which were very dusty. It was a fine and powdery thing there, he noticed. After a while, wondering if he'd messed it up, he saw a man walking down the side of the road. He looked like a farmer. Complete with dusty brown boots, short hair and overalls. As he closed with him, it was clear the guy had a large flesh colored mole on his chin, just under his mouth. His eyes were ice blue, but he had lines, and seemed pretty normal.

  Ty waved, and got one back, along with a charming smile.

  "Hey! You have a letter for me?" The man gestured at the thing in his hand.

  It seemed a little unlikely that this was the right person. He seemed too normal. Average really.

  "Are you Michael?"

  "Yep, that's me. I was told you were waiting here. Good place for it. Quiet. Thank you, for your effort. I know that it can't be easy, being asked to do this kind of thing with no notice." He stopped about three feet away and started to reach for the envelope, but stopped dead.

  Ty finished the move, passing the thing off.

  "No problem. I... Do you need any help with things?"

  That got a slow head shake, but the Angel seemed pleased to have him ask.

  "Thank you, no. I... Do have a message for you. From Him?" There was weight to the word, and meaning. Depth and breadth in a single syllable that normally couldn't exist. It impacted Ty like a physical force.

  Him.

  "Um, all right?" It could be anything, he knew. Probably that his kind of gay ways, or having sex with Shifters and Vampires, was evil.

  Mike the Angel just looked away.

  "He wants you to know that all His children are as He made them. Even those that vex you, or who have done you harm, are what they must be. Accept them."

  "Okay, that's different than I figured on. I'll give that a shot?" It was, clearly, an order, but he didn't really get to do whatever he wanted all the time.

  "That's all that is asked of you. Do your best, in all things. The rest... Well, the plan is harder than most understand. Those like us, you and I, we're not important, even while we clearly are. All beings are like that, from the greatest to the smallest. Accepting them... It can be the task of a lifetime, learning to do that. I'm not certain that I have, truly. Not yet. I work on it each day, however."

  He nodded, since he could do the same, if he tried hard enough.

  "Cool. Well, nice meeting you. I don't know if you can help The Cleric out, but if you can?"

  "Then know that your plea has been heard, and if it can be arranged, it will be done." The man, clearly different than a Greater Demon, turned and walked away, waving over his shoulder when he was nearly out of view. Then he vanished.

  It was a more organized thing than he'd seen before. Ty was watching, but couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that the man faded from view. Not that he was actually a man.

  Then, as he jogged back toward the funny looking mansion, he started to make up a new song. It was set to the beat of his feet against the ground, and had to do with just what he'd been told. Learning to accept people for what they were. It was kind of catchy.

  The rest of the day was spent on that, first writing out all the lyrics then coming up with the tune. Steve helped with that part, since, as he said, it was do his work, practice chords, or watching cartoons.

  That got Tyler to think back into his own life.

  "I can't remember the last time I watched any of those. It's been a while."

  "Yeah. I like them, being that I'm a child at heart, but most of the time I just practice. I don't know, ever since I touched my first guitar, I've just done it. It's pretty much the most important thing in my life. Is it like that for you, too?"

  He didn't answer for a while, since he was almost certain that Steve York didn't know he was a slave. It wouldn't help him to find out, either. There was no escape for him, and he was being treated pretty well, so far. Not that situations couldn't change.

  "I think it's pretty much the same for me, yeah. Anyway, what do you think of this?" He changed the automated beat a bit, and played the whole thing through.

  They made changes, and kept going until Rebekah and Scotty both got up, and had some blood. Steve needed to eat, and wanted to order some pizza, but looked at the others and shook his head.

  "Ordering food for one person sucks. You don't eat do you? I don't know all the rules there. Keeley said you were like a Vampire?"

  That she'd said that much about him was amazing, really.

  "I don't drink blood, and don't have a lot of the cool powers. I don't feel pain, and heal from pretty much anything. I don't get tired. So I'm kind of strong, for a regular guy, but not like one of them. I could beat you in a footrace, probably, but maybe not, if it was short enough. Over the course of an hour or ten, I'd win, since I don't slow down. Like that. I can eat. I like it, but I don't need to. No meat however. I, um, kind of crave Human flesh, so compensate by not eating anything that was an animal once. It's a discipline thing." Plus not getting a taste for it. Not that he'd never accidently had anything like that. He had.

  Mainly people sneaking things into his meals by pretending it was vegan when it wasn't.

  Rebekah was watching him closely, curious, but not judging him.

  "You can eat? I wish I could. I can have tiny bits of things, as long as they're mainly protein. Not a lot. You can just have whatever though? Cake and pie?"

  "Yeah. I can't get fat either, so I could eat all day if I wanted. Or not eat. I also don't have to breathe."

  Scotty smiled then, nodding a bit.

  "Oh? That works for me, I can think of some things you can do that will be nice then. I think there's a hot tub out back. You can take turns servicing us all under water..."

  The words were less playful than they could have been.

  "Um, sure. I guess. Steve are you in?"

  He didn't ask Rebekah, since he meant in on the pizza.

  "Half vegetarian? Extra cheese?"

  The red headed boy gave him a really suspicious look then and nodded.

  "Half a pie. Not the other thing. Me loves the women, thanks." Then he spread his hands his face blank. "Besides, I think that sleeping with band members should be agai
nst the rules. I can't see that ending well. Even if it means I don't get a chance with Bekah, which has been a dream of mine for years, by the way. It's not like I'm not sacrificing for the team here."

  Their leader, Rebekah, tilted her head and finally sighed.

  "You aren't wrong. Don't worry Scott, we'll have a party soon and get some people in for you. Tomorrow night? Now, I heard a fresh tune earlier? Can you play that for me Tyler? While Steven gets your meal set up?"

  She didn't like the words really. No, she seemed to hate them at first, when he sang them, even though it was catchy. Melodic and a little sad. That was what he thought at first, until she spoke.

  "Damn. Damn." She locked eyes with him, her blood red orbs not having any whites to them, or anything except the one color. "Accept them all? We should use it as the title track. Hell, we should name the album after it. Can I try singing it?"

  "Sure. We can try everyone on it, if you want?" He didn't care about who sang things, really. Whoever did it best worked for him. It would probably be the woman, but after she did it a few times, making little changes, she shook her head.

  "I'll do backup for you on it. I do have something for us to try, once the boys get back. I wrote it, but I think it's okay." Given that she'd written three hit songs, that was probably just the truth. None of them had been number one on the charts, but they were all top one hundred.

  He didn't know how close town was, but it seemed to be in the other direction from the one that he'd run earlier, when he met up with Mike. The pizza was there inside half an hour and was still warm and made to order, which meant the place had to be pretty close.

  It was decent, for takeout. No better than that, but he wasn't that picky.

  As he ate, the slice in his hand dripping a little bit of sauce, the cheese still gooey, the scent hitting his nose on waves of warm air, Tyler counted up the days in his head.

  "Hey, um, is it all right if we don't get the studio on Wednesday or Thursday? I have to work." It seemed an innocent enough thing to say, to him, but Scotty and Steve both looked at him like he was insane. Possibly on drugs, even if that wouldn't have worked on him. They didn't know that yet, of course. It was the Bat Vamp that spoke, his voice holding a slightly thicker accent than normal. It was English though, for all his name could have been taken to mean he was from elsewhere.

  "I'm pretty sure that the idea of being a carefree musician is so that you won't have to keep your nine to five, mate. That and getting groupies. What do you do anyway?"

  Rebekah just nodded a bit abstractly, and looked into the mug she held, which, if he had the right idea had warm water in it. It was kind of an affectation then, since Vampires didn't need water any more than he did. He still drank it however, though liked his cold. The raw fact was that, even if he didn't need that kind of thing, his body sort of magically handled it a lot better than theirs did, as a group. He still had to go to the bathroom, but it was a pretty normal seeming thing that way.

  As far as he knew, Vampires couldn't do that kind of thing. It just didn't work for them.

  "I'm a clerk in a bookstore. Wednesday and Thursday are order nights, and the boss asked if I could stay on for that, since it's kind of labor intensive."

  The Vampire lady, her red eyes shining a bit seemed fine with that.

  "We can schedule around it. Thanks for letting us know ahead of time. Studio time is expensive. I need to see to my businesses too, anyway. Those are good nights for that. We can call that our weekend? It isn't like we aren't just playing around the rest of the time. The life of a musician isn't that hard, and drugs do nothing for me. Literally."

  Tyler didn't know about that one for himself for certain, but was willing to guess it was kind of the same thing. He didn't need them anyway. That had simply never been a thing in his life. No drinking either. It had always seemed a bit off to him, in health class, back in school, how they had to warn everyone away from those things so strongly. It had been enough that he'd been told the things were bad for him. Lucy had done it early on, when he was about twelve.

  Now he got that she was just getting out of the work that him being high would require of her that way. Telling him how to feel high would be harder than him just not seeing the need for that kind of thing.

  Steve, rather cutely, nibbled a slice of pizza that had three kinds of meat on it. That smelled... Really good. Better than what he was having. The green peppers were nice, but for a few seconds he felt a nearly overwhelming urge to grab one of the other pieces and go to town.

  Resisting that was harder than it should have been.

  It was the pork on it he knew. The smoked and cured ham. It was, essentially, Human flesh, from a biological perspective. How he knew that, well, he had no clue, but it was the truth. It was why he had to avoid it. No matter what.

  Distracting himself by looking at the new boss, he nodded abstractly.

  "I don't need them either. Drugs... Not my thing. We should do some kind of anti-drug thing, if we ever make it big enough. 'Hey kids, we're rich and famous and don't need drugs to escape from our lousy lives, so you shouldn't either!' Oh, wait. That one might not work too well." Grinning he ate more, trying to ignore the hunger that never went away.

  Normally he managed it pretty well, really.

  There was a long pause, then a group laugh at what he'd said. Scotty, moving faster than Calley ever did, flapped his hands like he was trying to fly. It didn't work in his current shape, but the movements made a certain amount of sense now. He was, in a very real fashion, using his wings. It was micro-movements, but there because of his other shape.

  How he'd never gotten that about his own girlfriend he didn't know.

  The Bat fellow gave him a long look and shook his head.

  "That wouldn't make us look cool. We have to keep that in mind, at least until we hit so big that being straight edged losers won't harm us anymore. No one wants to idolize the stick in the mud. You should know that one, bad boy."

  Steve changed the conversation then, his voice higher pitched than it had been, but not fake. It made him sound younger however. Like a kid, instead of a man that just happened to be not all that old yet. It made a big difference to how Ty thought of him, even if they were pretty much the same age.

  "There's a lot of things that go into this that I never considered. I mean, should I get a job too? What if this fails and I can't make it playing? I worked all my life, practically, to try and get good enough that wouldn't be a problem, but there's luck involved, too. What do I have to fall back on if I can't make it happen? I don't control what other people like, or what becomes popular." It was a real enough, and deep enough thing.

  After all, nice house to practice in or not, they were just starting out and most groups didn't make it.

  Rather than tell him that he could do it, because they were all pretty good, Ty nodded along for a bit.

  "That's a real enough point. Even if it works, it will probably only be for a limited time. That makes keeping my day job a good plan. I have two of them anyway."

  That got him going for a bit about the bookstore, of all things, and then the Coalition of Nations, which everyone agreed was far more impressive sounding. Rebekah had her bottled blood business, so she was set that way.

  Even Scotty had invested some of his money in a chain of clothing stores, for when the inevitable changes came.

  "That's the good and bad of living for a very long time. Everything will eventually fail. You never get to truly rest for long. The money you make today will be gone tomorrow, or at least sooner or later. Even if you don't spend it, there will eventually be wars, and social upheaval. The government goes from capitalist to a monarchy, to socialist to something we've never heard of and nothing you had before means much. All we can do is work and keep in front of it as best we can. Save your funds, of course. A nice car now won't help much, but land is a good investment. Buy cheap and build with your own hands. Be modest that way and you'll end up with a lot more in the end."
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  That sounded like really good advice to him, since Tyler understood that he was going to be around for a while that way. Nothing had killed him yet anyway. One day that might change, since nothing lasted forever, but until then he had to start planning for it like it might. Saving what he could, investing it in the right places and being ready for the fact that, if he existed long enough, it would all go away. Not just once, but over and again.

  It could have been dismal, but when he thought of it, the idea of working to make it just seemed fair. Everyone else had to as well, one way or the other. He could accept that, actually.

  Steve seemed really troubled by the idea, but the others were older. Actually, a lot so, he was willing to bet.

  "Say, I don't know a lot about any of you. I... What's the deal with you? How old, and all that? Favorite color?"

  The bone white, many fanged, and brilliantly red eyed woman smiled at him. It could have looked mean, but didn't.

  "So you want all my secrets? I'm two-hundred or close enough that I stopped counting. My favorite color is pink. I'm a Manthori Vampire, obviously. I have a boyfriend, Jonas. He works with Richard Swerlin, as his office man. I also own the Human blood concern." She said it like they were all meeting for the first time, but it was important.

  Pink. It might be useful to know that some day.

  Scotty looked around and then shook his head.

  "Now me, I'm a youthful one hundred and sixty, myself. I enjoy blues and greens. I hold a majority share in the Brand Village chain of stores now. I'm not currently seeing anyone in particular, being a Bat Shifter. That's rare for my kind, until we marry. Also Classic Vamp."

  Steve made a face, but brought up a great point.

  "I'm in a band? Nineteen, and single, more or less. So I call dibs on the groupies, when they start showing up. Brown is my favorite color, because I'm manly that way. Tough and butch. So, what do we call ourselves anyway? The Band has been used before, so we might want to be a little more original than that."

  No one spoke for a while, thinking of things then. Nothing came to him, in particular, so he started to play one of his songs. One that they'd all practice together the day before. After the first bit they all started in on it too. There was no reason not to.