by Karina Halle
I didn’t even blink. There’s no way demons would let it all end in a plane crash, no matter how dramatic the storm. This was just a welcome mat. This was their way of letting me know that they were here in Prague, in this ageless, dark city and that they were waiting for me.
I knew from the minute I stepped off the plane and onto the slick, wind-whipped tarmac that this city was where it was all going to go down.
The chances of leaving Prague alive were slim.
We had a day to explore the city and have fun before the show the next night, but after that landing, and when you factored in the stormy weather, no one was really interested. I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Sit in my hotel room, paranoid that Sage and Max weren’t really Sage and Max, and wait for whatever doom was coming for me? Or go out into a storm, into the wilds of Prague and—as Sage would say—live a little.
I chose the latter, with Sage, Max, and Jacob accompanying me. In some ways, I wished I could go off on my own, have time to breathe, to think, to prepare for what might come. But after the previous night, there was no way they would let that happen. They wanted at least two of them with me at all times. In no way would they desert me; it didn’t matter if the Prince of Darkness showed up and wanted a private conversation.
Which he kind of did.
The rain had let up as the storm passed over, though the wind still spun us around in its gusts. We had checked into the hotel—a very opulent building compared to the grey concrete blocks around us—and set out into the streets. Though it was eight at night, there were people about, some of them drunk and leaning into each other as they walked down the street, others somber-faced and wearing drab clothing. A pair of women in plain grey shifts stared at me as we walked past, eyeing me like I was a piece of meat.
“Why is everyone staring?” I whispered to Jacob, though his suit today was composed of forest green and yellow and was attracting a few stares itself.
“Hmmm?” He looked me over. “Probably because you’re wearing jeans and you look very fashionable. Denim is hard to come by here, as are Western clothes in general. You forget this is a communist country, love.”
“I thought they were, uh, getting reformed,” Sage spoke up, and I was impressed by his knowledge of politics.
“Slowly,” Jacob said, his eyes taking in every nook and cranny of the medieval streets. “Change takes time. In fact, just up ahead is Wenceslas Square. In 1969, a student lit himself on fire. It was his way of protesting the regime.”
I shuddered and when we turned the corner and saw the large “square” (it was shaped more like a rectangle), I could almost see the flames, the place where the student burned to death. Such a horrible way to go, and I couldn’t help but wonder with morbid curiosity if that would be my fate.
We stopped at a café near a giant oxidized statue of a man on a horse and went inside to grab a drink. The green leaves on the trees that lined the square were being ripped off, the branches creating a skeletal sound, and bits of garbage danced in the air. It would have been pretty at any other time. At any other time, we would have sat outside on the patio chairs, which were now knocked over, had a beer, and laughed. And I would have stared at Sage, my golden god, and thought about how lucky I was to have found him, or for his music to have found me. I would have thought that he filled up a void I had inside myself all these years, the void that was brought on when my mother died, that feeling that no one would ever take care of me, and yet here was Sage, promising me just that.
What a fucking shame it was to finally find that in someone, find the man who could protect you, not because you needed it but because you deserved it, and then find out that it was useless anyway. Sage couldn’t help me now. So instead of having that moment, the one I should have had, I had a sip of Czech pilsner, grabbed Sage’s hand under the knotted pine table, and squeezed it, looking deep into those grey-green eyes and trying to tell him thank you.
He squeezed my hand back, his jaw set strong, but his eyes so very soft, so sad. We sat there drinking while Jacob told us tales of when he first started managing Hybrid and the shenanigans that they had gotten up to. I wondered if Sage still felt guilty, if he was still beating himself up. There’s no way he could think that he escaped unscathed now. He probably thought that what was happening to me was his own form of punishment for making his deal in the first place. As if he hadn’t been punished enough.
When I was done with two beers and a teensy bit tipsy, with only some weird kind of beet soup to tide me over, I excused myself to go to the bathroom.
Max got up with me.
“I can go by myself,” I told him.
He raised his brows. “I’m not going in the washroom with you, but I’m at least standing guard outside.”
“Fine,” I said, grabbing my purse. We walked through the café, with its high ceiling of wooden beams, hardwood floor, and metal beer steins displayed on the walls. The bathroom was a single room with an old-fashioned doorknocker on it and a picture of a girl in a dress, bending over to smell flowers.
Max opened the door and peered inside. It was bare, just a toilet and sink and red walls, which made it seem smaller than it probably was. He nodded, satisfied, then leaned against the wall across from the washroom. I closed the door on him, wondering how long this was going to go on, how long I’d have him as my shadow.
I tried not to think about how the bathroom was like being trapped in a box full of blood, then washed my hands and got myself ready at the sink. I hadn’t looked at myself since that morning and let out a tiny gasp at the sight.
My hair was tangled and wild but not in a pretty way. It looked dry and ragged, with split ends and flyaways. Even the color seemed more of a dull rust. My face was pale and sallow, my cheekbones more pronounced than ever. My freckles all but seemed to disappear, and my eyes were puffy with dark purple-blue crescent moons underneath. I looked like hell. I looked exactly how I was feeling.
I sighed, trying to find the passion inside me to care. I pulled out a stick of concealer from my purse and tried dotting it under my eyes, hoping it would make me look more presentable. It wasn’t really opaque enough, but I did what I could.
It was then that I heard a drop behind me. Something splattering lightly on the floor.
I sucked in my breath, my shoulders tensing up, the hair on my arms prickling. Looking in the mirror, I could see there was nothing behind me, but that didn’t mean anything. I very slowly turned around and looked.
Nothing. Nothing but a drop of sticky, shiny blood on the floor.
Another spot formed beside it.
I gradually raised my head and looked up at the ceiling.
She was there—my mother—flat against the ceiling, legs and arms splayed, facing me. Her black dress hung off of her like Spanish moss, and her eyes were closed. Blood dripped from her white wrists.
I swallowed hard, not wanting to scream, not wanting to move.
This was not my mother, but she had answers all the same.
But before I could open my mouth to say something, anything, her eyes flew open, completely yellow, like globes of glowing saffron, and fixed themselves on my face.
“Tomorrow,” she said in that dark, depraved voice that rumbled with animalistic origins.
Then she was gone. I blinked and there was nothing on the ceiling anymore except stucco and wood. I looked down at the ground. The drops of blood were still there, a reminder that the things that didn’t seem real still were.
I opened the door and saw Max waiting, brow furrowed in concern.
“What is it?” he asked. “I thought I heard you say something.”
I shook my head and gave him a weak smile. “I think I was just told that I am going to die tomorrow.”
The good news is that I didn’t die at midnight and I didn’t die in my sleep. I woke up in one piece, with Sage at my side and Max on the other bed. The weather outside was still dark and grey, like winter had decided to extend
one last bony hand into spring.
I’d told Max about my mother-turned-yellow-eyed-demon in the bathroom and made him promise not to tell Sage. Maybe it was wrong of me to keep another thing from him—after all, he still had no idea about the man in black on the train to Italy—but the show tonight was the biggest one on the tour, and I did not want to screw it up for him. If I couldn’t be all right, I needed to know that he would be.
So, with that in mind, I tried my best to put on a positive face—for Sage. I accompanied him to soundcheck and, as I let the music wash over me and really watched this man, this panther of the stage, give it his all, even in practice, I started writing my article. If anything were to happen to me—and let’s be honest, there was no doubt about it—I wanted something to leave behind that covered not the journey I’d been on but the journey that Sage had been on. How he picked up the pieces following the tragedy of Hybrid and proved to the world, or at least to Europe, that he was a talent and a force to be reckoned with.
After I was done writing, unsurprised by the tears that had come to my eyes given the fact that after today there was a chance I’d never hear his beautiful music again, I went back to the hotel with Max and Jacob and got ready for the show. I decided to go all out. I slipped on the only dress I had brought, a long dark red one with a braided rope belt. I put my hair up into a messy bun and put on a ton of makeup. It still didn’t hide the tiredness that crept up around my heavily mascaraed eyes and bright blue eyeshadow, but it helped.
“You’re looking good,” Max said from behind me as I put on my final touches of rosy pink lipstick. Jacob was sitting in the corner of the room, trying to read an English-language newspaper and periodically checking his pocket watch. It’s funny how used to being around them I was. We really were the ginger trifecta. Would have made an awesome band name.
I turned around from the mirror and smiled. “Thank you. I figured I might as well go out with a bang.”
Max frowned uneasily. “While I reckon its fine and dandy for you to be putting on a happy face, don’t dismiss this threat as final. We don’t know what’s going to happen today. But we do know it’s something, and this doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”
Jacob snorted caustically, crossing his legs so I could see bright green ankle socks peeking through. Without looking up from the paper, he said, “Come off it, Mr. Sunshine. We all know it’s bad. No matter what happens to Dawn, it’s going to be bad.” He shot me an apologetic look. “Sorry, love. No point sugarcoating it. No point even thinking about it. Max and I will do what we can to help you, but as you know, we have no idea what to expect. As Mr. Churchill said, we just have to keep calm and carry on.”
The funny thing was, it wasn’t hard to do. I’d already felt like I was sleepwalking through the whole thing. I finished getting ready and together the three of us went to the show. It was tough for Jacob because he had to be in the bowels of the venue, working with the promoters, talking to the box office, dealing with the band, so I just stuck by his side as if I was a manager myself.
I didn’t see Sage for quite a while—I guessed he was in his dressing room doing some heavy thinking or drinking—but when he finally came out, his jaw dropped in surprise when he saw me. Appreciative surprise.
“Dawn,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around me while Max and Jacob and a promoter looked on. “You look absolutely fucking stunning.”
And so did he. For once he wasn’t wearing all black. His pants were still black, but his shirt was a vibrant green that brought out the color in his eyes. In his usual fashion, he made it more rock and roll by unbuttoning it halfway, the more to show off his pecs and the large cross he wore around his neck.
“God, I wish I had you alone for a minute,” he murmured with his mouth to my ear. I could feel him hard against my thigh and suddenly that’s all I wanted, too. I wanted a place for just him and me, where we could talk, really talk, and make love one last time. The last few days, we hadn’t had a moment to ourselves, and without realizing it, it had worn on me terribly. I wanted to feel his body in my hands—those strong, rounded shoulders, the smooth length of his back, his muscular ass. I wanted more than just his lips on mine. I wanted him inside me, the real him; I wanted him to erase the damage that had been done.
I heard Jacob clear his throat, and we broke apart from our embrace. I could have held onto him and stayed in his arms forever. There was no forever.
“I think it’s time you get ready,” Jacob said to him, looking at least a little sorry for breaking up our moment. There was no opening band for this show, just Sage, and it had still sold out. I could hear the crowd in the audience, the excitement building for them. He turned to me. “Dawn, this time we’re mixing it up. I know you can’t really get the full experience from the side stage, so we’ll be sitting up at the front of the balcony.”
Sage growled, “I don’t think that’s wise.”
Jacob shrugged. “She is still writing the story, isn’t she?” That was beside the point, though. I knew Jacob was afraid of something happening to me during the show and if it happened on the side stage, the chances of Sage getting involved were high. We really wanted the show to go on as much as it could.
I reached up and touched his cheek, smoothed his black eyebrows, ran my finger down the bridge of his broad nose. “You go play me a good show.”
He stared into my eyes until I could feel him in my soul. Then he kissed me with determination. “I will.”
He disappeared down the side of the stage, going to get his bandmates for their pre-show huddle. I watched him go, committing him to memory. I didn’t want to move, to let go. But Jacob pulled gently at my arm.
“We better go now before the house lights go off.”
I nodded absently and let him and Max take me off the stage and down into the crowd. We had an usher escort us to the balcony. Our seats were at the front and gave an outstanding view of the theater. Like most of Prague, the building was old but opulent, with maroon velvet seats and gold walls with intricate moldings. A large chandelier hung high above. Below us was the orchestra pit, filled with writhing teens, and the empty stage, just waiting for its players.
We took our seats. It seemed the demure side of the crowd, mainly young women, were all up here, where they could watch the rock without being trampled on. Seconds later the lights went off and everyone cheered. A voice came on the loudspeakers, rattling off a bunch of Czech and then pronouncing “Sage Knightly” with a forced American accent.
The lights popped back on with the swagger that only Sage’s guitar and Tricky’s bass could produce. I felt like I was seeing him for the first time all over again, not just as a lover but as a fan. As his biggest fan. The growl of his voice, his fingers as they slid effortlessly over the guitar, his commanding presence that showed the utter ease he was in his role as a damn fine rock star. He took my breath away and yet breathed life into me. Music, his music, always music, always my lifeblood, always the thing that gave me strength.
We were midway through the second song when a heavyset teenage girl to the side of Jacob cried out. At first I thought she was just really getting into it, having something like a Beatles’ fangirl moment. Then I realized she was screaming, screaming bloody murder. I craned my neck around Jacob to see the girl getting out of her seat and yelling something over and over again as she climbed onto the edge of the railing, holding her head.
Holy shit, she was going to jump.
Jacob sprang up and grabbed the girl’s arm just as she jumped. She went over, nearly pulling him down with her. “They’re in her head,” Max mumbled as he pushed me aside and went to help Jacob, trying to grab on to the girl’s other arm. The band had stopped playing, and I could see Sage staring up at me, pick dangling from his fingers. His eyes widened in horror.
One second was all it took for Max and Jacob to be preoccupied. One second was all it took for me to be alone and exposed.
“Remember us?” I heard a thr
oaty, cold voice say from behind me. Fiery hands reached for both my arms. On one side of me was Alva; on the other was Sonja, another GTFO. White hair, empty black eyes, mouths full of razor-sharp teeth. They had come for me, to collect me, and now they had me.
I couldn’t scream or call attention to myself if I had wanted to. I felt helpless, compelled, just like the girl that Jacob and Max were now hauling to safety. I watched Sage as I was being lead away, mouthing the words “I love you” to him.
I hoped he knew how much I meant it.
Chapter Fifteen
Sage
It all happened so fucking fast. The chunky chick on the balcony was screaming and jumping over the edge, and if it weren’t for Jacob’s quick thinking, she would have plummeted onto the panicking crowd below. Max then went to lend a hand.
And I saw Dawn, standing there like an angel in red, all alone and unprotected.
The skinny, shimmering shapes of Alva and Sonja came gliding down the aisle like insect-like ghosts. I watched as they grabbed on to Dawn with each hand and said something to her.
Dawn stared right at me in frozen horror and told me she loved me.
And then she gave up. She let them lead her away.
But I wasn’t going to give up. No way in hell.
I yelled, “No! Stop them!” hoping someone would see what I was referencing. Then I tossed aside my guitar, took a running start, and leapt right off the stage and into the crowd in the ultimate stage dive.
I plowed right into the fans, most of whom were quick enough to catch me without injuring themselves. They set me down without much fuss, and I ran through them as quickly as I could, sprinting up the stairs to the balcony level.
People up there were crying out in confusion, and everyone was in a mass panic. Ushers had already reached the girl who had tried to jump, who was holding her head like something was trying to come out of it, thrashing in a seat with Max trying to hold her down. Jacob was nowhere in sight.