The Devil's Reprise (15 page)

Even though I’d heard a version of this from Jacob last year, I still had a hard time wrapping my head around it. I guess it made sense in some ways, but even so, it was a lot to take, especially after witnessing my demon mother in the bathroom.

“Am I someone who sees and fights demons?” I asked. If I was, I certainly failed in the bathroom. My throat was still unbearably raw.

“I wish you were, little lamb,” he said. “Would make my job a whole lot easier. But no. In this role, I’m a manager. I’m here to protect you and the contract you signed and do whatever I can to ensure that it is handled fairly.”

“Handled fairly!?” Sage erupted. “She was fucking attacked by a demon in the bathroom while I was sleeping. How is this being handled fairly!?”

Max raised a brow. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much control over how the demons will appear to you, Dawn. I just know that now they’re getting set to collect on you. They want what you owe them.”

“But I don’t know what I owe them,” I cried out in frustration. “I
don’t remember
making the deal!”

“I know,” Max said. “And they know it, too. This is why it’s a bit tricky. But they can’t do anything—shouldn’t do anything—right now, not until we talk to them. If you don’t remember the deal, then it shouldn’t be in place. We can get you out of it on a technicality.”

I sat up straighter. “You can? Then do it! Talk to them.” I looked at Sage. “You talked to the woman, the housekeeper, in Paris. Let’s go back there. Pass the message on through her.”

“No,” said Jacob. “Sage has a tour to do.”

Sage’s mouth dropped open. “Fuck the tour! Fuck all of this. I’m not doing anything until we deal with Dawn.” He looked at me with wide eyes. “I am not going to lose you.”

“You can’t do anything for her, Sage,” Jacob said, colder now. “You outsmarted these demons before, and they would love nothing more than to have your new career thrown away. You can’t let them win. You have to go on, and Dawn will go on with you, as will Max. He’s her manager, and he will keep her safe. You keep living your life; it really is the best way to stick it to them. Don’t involve yourself. Just be there for her and trust Max.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I felt the walls around me closing in, the voices turning to mush. This was it. I’d entered a contract without knowing it, and now they were coming to collect. All those months of feeling like there was a catch with my brother and my father—I was right. The guilt was right. I brought this on myself.

“What about my family?” I asked quietly. “I should be with them. I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“Your family will be okay for now,” Max said, getting out of the chair. He stood beside Jacob, arms folded across, and I was suddenly—dumbly—struck by how similar they looked. An old Jacob and a new one. “But you need to be here with me, with Jacob, with Sage. If you go home, you risk bringing the problem with you. Your family is safest if they stay in their lives, none the wiser.”

I nodded, knowing that made sense.

“Dawn,” Jacob said, bringing the photograph forward. “Do you recognize this?”

I took the photo into my hands and immediately dropped it. I felt sick to the bone. “Where did you get that?”

“The hotel manager in Paris gave it to me,” Sage said, placing his hand on my arm and giving it a comforting squeeze. “He said it was from the housekeeper. That’s all that was in it. You recognize it, don’t you?”

“It was my stuffed horse. Miss Piggy. From when I was a little girl.” I gingerly picked the photo back up. I had no idea why there would be a photo of this, but I guess it didn’t matter. I flipped over the back. “She won’t doubt me next time,” I read aloud. “No, I certainly didn’t.”

“What happened to the horse?” Sage asked.

I frowned, wondering why his voice trembled. “My brother tore it apart. Had a fit. Why?”

He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and said, “Angeline. She saw the photo. She said—”

“Little brothers can be so cruel,” Jacob filled in quietly. We all looked to him. “I think I need to have a talk with Angeline.”

“I knew she was a fucking GTFO,” I growled.

“I don’t think so,” Max said with a shake of his head. “I’ve suspected her, and I’ve been watching her…but I don’t think she’s a demon. She does, however, have something to do with this.”

He and Jacob started walking for the door. I felt a pang of fear at the idea of Max leaving me, but even though he’d told Sage he could do nothing, I still felt safe with Sage by my side. For being able to do nothing, he had still saved me from the demon in the bathroom.

“We’ll be back soon,” Jacob said. “Don’t open the door for anyone else. And I mean anyone.”

They went out, closing the door behind them. Sage watched me intently for a few moments. “Mind if I get in with you?” he asked.

I smiled despite myself and moved over so he could get in under the covers. He opened up his arms for me, and I carefully nestled in them.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said determinedly, kissing the top of my head.

We both knew he was lying. But I let him lie to me anyway.

Sage

I felt like someone inserted a toothbrush into my brain and royally fucked me with it. Everything I knew or thought I knew was scrubbed clean, and here was this brand-new world that I had to make some fucking sense of.

It wasn’t that I hadn’t gone through this before—obviously I had. And obviously I knew there was something bogus going around concerning Dawn and the supernatural. But for all the shit I’d seen in my life, for the cryptic messages from a man in black and weird old photos and nearly drowning in Lake Shasta last year, I did not expect to see a seven-foot-tall demon in my bathroom, one bloody tentacle down Dawn’s throat. I did not expect to feel the fear in knowing that she was really, truly in debt to the Devil. And I really did not expect for Red Potato to be a motherfucking redheaded notary public of the angelic kind.

But the show must go on, Jacob said. And so I tried to bury this new truth by knocking on Tricky’s door and seeing what kind of uppers and downers and drowners he had. I’d been sitting in my room by myself going all sorts of crazy. Dawn was with Max somewhere—apparently safe, yeah I knew that, but it still bothered me. Jacob was still trying to track down Angeline, but I’m assuming that was a lost cause. Early that morning, he and Max had gone to find her and get to the bottom of all of this, her role in everything, but she was nowhere to be found. The hotel staff said she checked out of her room about the same time as all the demon shit went down with Dawn in the bathroom.

Jesus. A shiver rocked through me. The creature’s eyes were pure yellow orbs, like gumballs. I’d never be able to get the image out of my head, the look of horror in Dawn’s face, the utter stench of evil that rolled off the beast—but I was going to try.

I pounded on Tricky’s door even louder until it finally opened and a bleary-eyed Tricky was staring at me in annoyance, one hand covering up his junk.

“Could you have at least put on some pants?” I asked him.

His expression was dry. “What do you want, Sage? It’s eight in the morning. You know Tricky doesn’t like this hour.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I,” I said, leaning against the doorframe and trying not to look or sound desperate. “Do you have anything? Anything at all. I need my brain erased, badly.”

He looked put off. Maybe I failed at the nonchalant thing. “Yeah, I got stuff, Sage. But it’s early, even for you, and we have our show tonight.”

I closed my eyes and groaned, not wanting to beg. “I don’t need a lecture, Tricky. I just need to get floating. Help a brother out, man.”

He sighed. “Okay, okay, come in. I might as well take a ride with you.” He opened the door and let me in, and I had to avert my eyes from his package. With Dawn at my side, I’d never have to see Tricky naked again.

If you can keep her at your side
, the voice in my head threatened.
If you can even keep her alive. You’ll lose the one thing you love, Sage. You’ll lose her.

I grunted, wanting to smack the thoughts out of my head, and picked up Tricky’s pants, which were lying on the floor, and threw them at him.

“Naked days are over for me,” I told him, sitting down on a chair and running my hands up and down my thighs anxiously. I eyed his bed, which was empty. “I’m surprised there isn’t a naked chick or three.”

“Nah,” he said with a shrug as he did up his pants. “Angeline didn’t stay the night.”

My head snapped up, the taste of bile filling my mouth. “Angeline was here?” Of course I hadn’t thought to check Tricky’s room.

He frowned. “Yeah, man. Just for a lay and then she left.”

“What time was this?”

“I don’t know, I was at the bar till it closed and then…maybe one a.m.? Why you sketching out? Where were
you
last night?”

“I was with Dawn.” There really was no point trying to explain to Tricky what had happened. Anyone worth their salt wouldn’t believe me at this point.

“So are you and Dawn like that now?”

“Yes, me and Dawn are like that.”

“No sharing?”

I narrowed my eyes. “No fucking sharing.”

He fished out a baggie from his duffel bag, grinning to himself. “All right. Well, good for you, man. May you both fuck for a long and happy life.”

There was a sharp pang behind my heart. I didn’t know long and how happy it would be.

Five minutes later, though, I didn’t really care.

I don’t know what I did for the rest of the day, not clearly, anyway. The morning was just a pleasure cruise, with me and Tricky walking around the round-pebbled beaches of Nice, spying on topless ladies sunbathing and drinking rosé wine. The afternoon was a sloppy soundcheck at the venue we were playing at, a tiny hole-in-the-wall-type bar that barely had a backstage area. I should have been nervous about that, nervous about the crowd and how close they were to me, but I didn’t care. And I liked that.

I knew Jacob disapproved. He always disapproved. That was his thing. He never said anything to me, though, just watched me like a hawk with those golden eyes of his, thinking, calculating. I know he wanted to say something so badly, to put me in my place, but he was really exercising his own discretion. He gave me the freedom to self-destruct, to treat the Nice show like it meant nothing, like it wasn’t just the fucking second show of the tour, like it wasn’t important.

I knew it was. But it was so hard to care about anything, especially that. When I could think, all I could think about was Dawn. I didn’t want to be rehearsing, I didn’t want to be figuring out the setlist, I didn’t want to get up on the damn stage and sing and play my heart out to the fucking French crowd when my heart belonged to Dawn. She’s the one who needed it.

Or did she? I didn’t get to see her much during the day and after some time, I got the impression that it was done on purpose. Maybe it’s because I was fucked up, I don’t know. But it stung. Or it would have had I been able to feel anything.

The show went okay, I guess. I was on autopilot and the crowd ate it up, so at least I had that going for me. I fucked up a few times—sang the wrong lyrics, missed a verse here and there. At one point, a drunk chick wanted to climb onstage, so I helped her up. Got Tricky to play a slow beat and made her strip down to her skivvies before Jacob came storming on stage and pulled her off.

Sorry, Nice, hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.

When the encore was over, the high started to leave my system. Sometimes it was hard to tell if I got high from the crowd—just the exquisite adrenaline rush of playing my soul to an audience, people there for me, to hear me, see me, really get me—or from the drugs and alcohol. I think most of the time, the high from playing live won out. When I was in Hybrid and playing shows, I could be sober as hell on some days and I’d still be walking off the stage absolutely buzzing—dick hard, heart racing, hands shaking, nerves on fire. Such a fucking sweet, organic feeling that not many people would ever get to experience.

I was staring at an empty bottle of rum—someone had left three-fourths of it in the dressing room—when Jacob rapped at the door.

“We need to talk,” he said. It was the voice he used when I was in shit and he had to be the manager of the year and change my diapers.

“Go away,” I said. Then I thought better of it. “Actually, can you bring Tricky in here?”

There was a pause. “Tricky gave me something to give to you. I don’t know what it is. It’s wrapped up in tinfoil.”

Bingo. I got up and opened the door, smiling lazily. Jacob leered at me.

“Such a trollop,” he said before he quickly shoved me back inside the room and squeezed in through the door, slamming it shut behind him so hard the walls shook.

I raised my brows, suddenly uneasy. “What the hell is wrong with you? Where’s the tinfoil?” I asked, noticing his hands were empty.

He marched right over to me and grabbed me by the shirt collar then spun me around until the back of my head hit the wall. “Fuck, Jacob,” I grimaced as the room spun.

“Fuck
you
,” he grunted. “Fuck you for being you.” He shoved into me once more, his face as red as his hair and sweat beading at his temples, before removing his hands and walking to the opposite side of the room, his fists closing and unclosing at his sides.

I watched him pace back and forth like a caged animal. I was sobering up fast, unsure of what he was going to say or what he was going to do next. So I shut my mouth, smoothed out the collar of my shirt, and waited.

Jacob stopped in the middle of the room, gaudy checkered-suit-back to me, and stared at a framed picture on the wall, one of the Nice waterfront.

“Did you know I lived in France a really long time ago?” he asked, voice dry but pleasant. Calm. It was unsettling.

“No,” I said slowly. “You speak shit French for someone who did, though.”

“My French is perfect, you wanker. I just choose not to speak it. I worked in a manor, just north of here, outside the town of Grasse. I was the butler to a wealthy family who owned one of the perfumeries. They grew a lot of lavender. Had a lot of money. They also had a young daughter, Yvette, who was beautiful, smart…they wanted her to marry rich, marry well.”

This was starting to sound like a Jane Austen novel. “Uh, when was this?”

“Last century,” he said matter-of-factly.

I blinked. “Right. But Max said that you don’t remember all your lives.”

He still didn’t turn around to face me but clasped his hands behind his back. “He was oversimplifying. He’s not been around as long as I have. You often do, just not all of them and not all of it. But you remember the important ones. I remembered this job because I failed.” He paused, his head turning slightly so I could see his profile. “I failed Yvette because I thought I was all she needed. I was her guide at the time, you see. She was being plagued by visions, visits from the other realm. Slowly, carefully, I revealed who I was and how I could help her. I taught her how to use the Thin Veil, how to communicate, and sometimes, how to help the dead who were lost. But in those visits to the Veil, and every time she opened herself up to another realm, there were spirits—and worse, demons—that would come over. They tormented her. They made her feel insane. And I was all she had.”

He sighed and looked to the ground. “Except there was a boy. Her friend. He was lowly, to her family anyway, and worked on the farm picking the flowers for pressing. Jacques. But they were close—she loved him, even though she had to hide it from her family, and he loved her. Still, she never confided in him what she’d been going through. I told her not to. I thought I was protecting her, that Jacques wouldn’t understand, that he wouldn’t be there for her at any rate.
I
was her Jacob. It was my job to help her through—no one else’s.”

He slowly turned around to face me, and I saw a vulnerability in his hardened, pockmarked face that I hadn’t seen before. “She killed herself one morning. Drowned herself like Ophelia in the creek outside the property. She told me she was going to do it, too, I just didn’t realize how serious she was. She said she was sick of being alone through this. Even though I was there with her, I wasn’t like
her
. I wasn’t mortal. And most of all, she did not love me. She loved Jacques. And she slowly went mad without him there to shield her from it. The ghosts, the madness, this impossible life she’d been living. Had I just told her to confide in him, to involve him, maybe she wouldn’t have died. Maybe just knowing that she wasn’t suffering alone would have been enough to save her. Her ghost haunted me for a very long time…decades, even, through many lives. Just reminding me of the time I failed.”

Walking over to me, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed the cap and took a long swig before handing it to me. I took it gingerly, afraid to partake. He nodded at it. “It’s one-hundred-year-old scotch,” he said. “Have some.”

I did. Nothing tasted smoother.

He took it back from me and took another shot, wiping his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. “Sage, I don’t want to fail with Dawn. I don’t want her to think she’s alone in this.”

“She has Max…and you. And she has me.”

“No,” he said with a sad shake of his head. “She doesn’t have you. You’re somewhere else, as you always are. You’re trying to take the easy way out again, trying to escape. You did it when you were in Hybrid. You did it in Hybrid A.D. And you’re doing it now. Whenever life throws you a curveball, you run and you hide and—though you may be standing here right now, though you were standing on that bloody stage playing your music that at that moment meant nothing to you—you’re numb to living.”

I didn’t want to hear this. “Curveball? That’s a pretty nice way of putting it. Putting out a shitty album or spilling coffee on your dress shirt, that’s a curveball. I have fucking demons after me, after my bandmates, after my girlfriend!” I tugged at my hair in frustration, turning away from him, feeling the anger rising out of my chest. “My mother was raped and murdered when I was fourteen. That’s not a fucking curveball. That destroyed me. That destroyed my whole life.”

“Sage,” he said delicately. Oh, how I wanted to punch him in the face. “In the grand scheme of things, they are all curveballs. It doesn’t matter what happens to make you want to derail, it’s how you handle it. It’s how you
don’t
derail. Right now, this is unacceptable. Right now, this is not about you. You and your rock star bullshit ego. This is about Dawn. She needs you now. She saved your life once, remember? You didn’t love her. Now you can and you can use that love to save her.” He took a step toward me, breath like whiskey, and handed me the flask again while his eyes bore into my soul. “I know the thought of losing her is painful. I know you think this is helpless, that you can’t do anything. I know you’re afraid. Well, boy, I’m afraid, too. The joys of being mortal. But you have to be there for her. She needs
you
. This is how you’ll save her—just by showing up and giving her your all. Don’t let her go through this alone. She deserves better than that.”

I slowly swallowed down the alcohol, enjoying the burn. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to be around her,” I said quietly. “I thought Max was trying to keep her from me.”