by Nico Rosso
With the sounds swirling, she looked about for the images. Trevor was backlit by the reflected sun. Shifting focus, she could bring the viewer’s attention from his ringed fingers to his face. His pensive expression would be underexposed, revealing more mysteries than answers. It had been a long time since a video project had connected to her life. Everything else had just been a struggle to try to get her voice out. With Trevor, she could express a new side of herself. And show his fans an insight only she could bring.
In a way, she wasn’t losing all of this around her. She gained a new perspective. What she didn’t have, though, was the same relationship to it. Misty had discovered there were others who walked these cities. Then she became one of them. Not above it, but different. In that new view of the world, there was still inspiration.
Could any of these people know what happened last night? Many of them had fought their own battles. Some might have escaped death too. Perhaps not at the hands of a Philosopher or a Shroud, but the struggle to survive was universal.
They drove deeper into the day. Her body had changed. Wood and stone and fire. She still knew weariness. It sank into her bones. The night had been as bright as the lights above Trevor’s stage and as dark as the smoke cage that threatened to choke her to death.
But all through it, he was there. Seeking her when she ran, fighting for her when she needed him.
The man who’d somehow defeated an agony hound sat in the back of a hatchback next to her, tapping his hand on the open window frame. His rings ticked an even rhythm against the metal. Sharp eyes glanced about, taking in the passing scenery. His face was quiet, mouth a line without expression. He’d sung songs that shook her. He’d moved her body in otherworldly sex. And now he was still.
A hot wave rolled through her. Another attack? Would the Philosophers be so bold as to try it in exposed daylight? But Trevor didn’t tense next to her. He maintained his steady beat on the window. His eyes turned to look at her, and smiled, while his mouth didn’t move. Easy and quiet.
Another wave of heat. She remembered it. From the nightclub. From their sex. The red glow, edged in gold. He fed her. This time it wasn’t in the midst of crashing passion. A simple moment. Their connection was a steady north star, despite roiling storms or calm skies.
She glanced at his tapping hand. “Writing another song?”
“Always.”
“Can’t wait to hear about all the music you’ve worked on. All of it.”
He chuckled. “Rock and roll shook the world. The waltz burned society to the ground.”
“Good for you.”
“Good for everyone.” He waved his hand at the passing city. Then he tapped Ruben’s shoulder. “I already know your sister has kick-ass taste. What music do you go for?”
The driver shook his head. “You wouldn’t know it, bro.”
Trevor nodded slow. “I bet I know one or two of them.”
They spent the next few minutes talking about hip-hop, hardcore rap and speed metal. Trevor didn’t let any secrets slip, but she could tell from little glances he gave her who was a demon and who wasn’t. Then they surfed through the radio and Trevor shared rock trivia as if he’d read it in a book, rather than living through over sixty years of its history.
She remained silent. One life departed, another began. Where was she?
Before a conclusion arose, Ruben slowed to a stop at the address she’d given.
“This is it, right?” He kept the car idling.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
He killed the engine outside the post-production house where she worked.
Chapter Eleven
Less than twenty-four hours ago. She’d stood in that two-story building and made the decision to get to Trevor’s show. She returned very different.
Misty opened the hatchback’s back door and stepped into the bright parking lot. Trevor joined her. Reuben unfolded a remarkably tall body from the car and held out his phone.
“Deal, right?”
Trevor put his arm around Misty’s waist and sat with her on the edge of Ruben’s hood. “Get this one.”
Ruben brought the phone up and shirtless Trevor made devil horns with his hand. Misty knew she looked like hell. Dirty and rumpled. Fuck it. She made the devil horns too, and smiled like the kind of woman who knew what it was like to face the hounds of Hades.
“Awesome. She’s going to freak.” He brought the phone around so they could all see the shot. To most it would look like she and Trevor had just survived a night of hard partying.
Trevor gave him a pat on the arm. “Delivery driver makes his money on tips, right?”
“Yeah, bro.”
The rocker pulled out his wallet and produced a stack of hundred-dollar bills. “Appreciate the ride.”
Wary, Ruben only stared at the cash for a second.
Trevor pushed it closer toward him. “You got us all the way to Santa Monica just for your sister. This is yours, dude.”
Ruben took the wad and slipped it into his pocket without counting it. “Thanks.”
“We’re thanking you.”
They shook hands.
“What’s going on out here?” A man’s voice cut across the parking lot. She knew it would be Jesse.
She turned to Ruben. “You don’t need to stick around for this.”
“No fucking way.” He folded himself back into the car, started it and sped out of the parking lot.
Jesse waved his arms like he was scattering pigeons. “This is a private parking lot, you can’t be doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
He looked right at her, but kept the same disdainful furrow between his brows.
“I know it’s a private parking lot, Jesse.”
Then it hit him. She wished she still had Ruben’s camera to capture his shocked expression.
“Misty?” He looked from her to Trevor, who smiled with a challenge back at Jesse. “And...Trevor Sand?”
She put her hands on her hips. “I made it to the show.”
“Holy...holy shit.” He smoothed down the front of his tucked in plaid shirt. “That’s cool. But...but the day just started. There were some emailed revisions. We have a lot of compositing...”
“We don’t.” The building seemed very small now. “I quit.”
He shook his head like she was trying to hand him a moldy sandwich. “There’s too much to do. And you can’t quit to me. You’ve got to take it up with Susan or James.”
There was a time when she would’ve followed all the proper channels. “You came out here first. You tell them.”
He glanced between her and the building. “No, that’s not the way...”
A large touring bus pulled up on the street outside the parking lot, breaks squealing to drown out Jesse’s protest.
Trevor gave her a pat on the ass. “That’s our ride.”
“Tell them I’m gone, Jesse.” She shooed him toward the building. “Goodbye.” Last night, she learned the crowd at a concert was more powerful than she’d ever imagined. Now she learned the potency of the word “goodbye.” It snapped her connection to this past. No return.
Jesse must’ve understood the finality. After backpedaling a few steps, he turned and disappeared into the building.
The door to the touring bus opened, revealing Lee.
Trevor moved into her vision, keeping a respectable distance. “I meant what I said. If you don’t want this, we’ll find a way to arrange—”
“Do you want it?”
“Forever.” Eyes dead serious.
“Because I’m your Muse?”
“Because you’re Misty.”
She stepped toward him. “I want this. With you.”
The final distance closed. He slid his hand over the side of her neck, cupping t
he back of her head as they kissed.
They pulled apart, but their fingers laced together. He glanced at the bus.
“I’m not taking you into my world.” She chilled a little at his words, but he tightened his hand around hers. “My world changed with you. This is new for me too.”
“Let’s find it all.” She squeezed his hand, feeling her strength and his.
One night changed everything. One step farther. Toward the bus. Trevor moved with her. The engine idled, growling. They strode toward the open door.
Epilogue
She focused on his hands. Running up and down the neck. Nimble fingers. A sweet shiver rippled through her. Those hands were hers. And she couldn’t help seeing how his hips thrust forward either. The shiver bloomed hotter.
It was all hers. But she’d have to wait.
Trevor was in the middle of a guitar solo. A couple thousand people bounced to the music. Misty panned her HD video camera off Trevor and swept over the rocking St. Louis crowd. Stage lights flared in the lens, but the mass of people could be seen dancing and throwing their fists up in appreciation. The glow from the stage did illuminate some of the people in the first few rows. Misty gave Kim some good screen time and knew how she could edit the shots of her grinning friend into the concert video.
Meeting up with her old friend again had convinced Misty that her new life wasn’t just a supernatural imposition, but what she’d always needed. At first it was a little awkward, introducing Kim to the rock star Trevor and his band. But the guys were so down to earth, and Misty herself was so comfortable with them, Kim was soon in the groove. Not that Misty wasn’t still a bit of a mystery to Lee and Wolfgang. But at least they weren’t looking at her like some kind of lava monster that threatened to burn their world down.
Misty moved upstage, skirting behind Trevor to get a shot of his silhouette against the stage lights, with the crowd a roiling sea beyond. Fuck Hollywood. They never would’ve given her the chance to do this work. And it was important. Not only was she recording the concerts, but also the towns where they traveled, the unique stories and individual struggles that people wouldn’t normally get to hear.
And it meant she was onstage with Trevor while he rocked. Wave after wave of energy crested from the audience and poured over the band. She soaked in the power, still amazed by the charge in her limbs.
Trevor’s guitar solo ended and he stepped back up to the mic.
You run
Chased by thunder
You run
From me under
The rain
The edge awaits you
Terrifies and baits you
The crowd sang along for this part.
Jump
Jump from the cliffs
But the crashing sea
Will never be
Your final end
Jump
Jump from the cliffs
Crush the rocks to diamonds
Boil the water with your skin
Jump
Jump from the cliffs
Then everyone fell silent as Trevor growled out the crescendo.
It’s me who finds you
Lashes and binds you
It’s you who jumps
But it’s me who dies
Drowning myself
In your eyes
Wolfgang’s crashing cymbals ended the song. The audience erupted in cheers. Trevor waved to them and turned back to the drum set for a bottle of water. He caught Misty’s eye and gave her a wink. A room full of thousands, and it was just the two of them.
The energy from the crowd dimmed as she drew off the fire between her and Trevor. His wicked smile broadened. For her.
On the other side of the stage, Lee stepped up to the mic. “You St. Louis motherfuckers know how to rock.” The people howled back. “I’m just an asshole from out of town, can anyone recommend a place to get a drink after the show?” A thousand answers shouted back.
Lee continued bantering with the audience, giving Misty a chance to pause her camera. There were other remote units out there, so she wasn’t missing anything. More important than the footage was stepping into the wings with Trevor. They stood in the cool of the first shadows of the stage lights.
He brushed a length of her hair behind her ear and gave her a quick kiss. “I love doing that song for you.”
“Saw you thrusting your hips.”
“You inspire me.”
“I’m inspired too.” She ran her hand suggestively along the length of his guitar neck.
“We have a hotel room.”
“It’s a warm night. There are woods.”
“Even better.” He gave her another kiss, then backed toward the light. “I’m starting to write a slow ballad and need some help working out the kinks.”
“Let’s get kinky.” She turned the camera on again and followed him onto the stage.
The energy from the crowd washed back over her, but it couldn’t overpower the heat between her and Trevor.
He walked to his mic and pointed at Lee. “You find a date for tonight?”
Lee put his hands out toward the audience in question. Hundreds of women called back. He nodded and spoke back to Trevor through his mic. “Looks like I’m booked.”
“You at least got time for a few more songs?”
The audience answered for Lee with resounding yeses. He simply said, “Fucking rock it.”
Trevor leaned closer to his mic. Misty zoomed in to his face. His low voice quieted the crowd for a moment. “This one changed everything. A dark night. I had a handful of gold, but it slipped through my fingers. I thought it was gone. I thought I was done forever. But that gold shined so bright. It found me. Saved me. From the terror on the Sunset Strip.”
Still facing the audience, he pointed at Wolfgang behind him. Steady like a clock, the drummer ticked his drumstick slowly against the closed hi-hat. Trevor moved his hand to point at Lee. The bass thundered with crushing notes. Trevor nodded with the beat, then brought his hand to his guitar.
Grinding chords rose up, slamming into the baseline. Wolfgang brought more drums and symbols in, pushing the fury higher. The instruments clashed for a few more beats, then suddenly locked into rhythm. The whole song drove forward. It seemed like a giant mining drill that could tear a mountain apart.
The crowd loved it. They roared louder. Their energy swirled hot as coals and cool like marble. The music mixed with the power and pulled it back toward the stage. Trevor and the others soaked it in. Her body also opened up and fed.
Trevor pounded on his guitar and growled into the mic.
Clawing up
From the night time
On the cusp
Of the fighting
Be the bitch
She’s the witch
Who’ll grind them down
She was the witch. Changed into what she always needed to be. Holding the camera low, she stayed near the wings and swept the lens over the band.
The music she loved had come from a rock star. He became a man. He transformed into a demon, taking her with him. It started with terror on the Sunset Strip. The end was perfectly unknown. The concert light still hit her, she was onstage, feeling the flow of the crowd through her. Trevor whipped the people up with the song. His energy radiated out, filling her and only her. It would never get old. Neither would she. Which was just enough time to discover everything she wanted to see in the world. And seek all the chambers, light and dark, in Trevor. Herself as well. Together, they’d walk every path.
He glanced at her, eyes flashing wild with the song.
Cage of smoke
Opens with hope
Be the bitch
She’s the witch
W
ho set me free
* * * * *
About the Author
Nico Rosso was a writer in search of a genre until his wife, Zoë Archer, brought romance into his life in more ways than one. He created the sci-fi romance Limit War series, and set off the apocalypse in The Last Night. With the steampunk Ether Chronicles, he got to write more closely than ever with his wife, trading off tales that span the globe. In Demon Rock, he takes you into the dark world of satyr rock stars and the muses who feed them.
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ISBN: 9781426896408
Copyright © 2013 by Zachary N. DiPego
Edited by Bryon Quertermous
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