Page 16 of The Music Demon

Gray gaped for a couple of beats before asking, “Got a sister?” as he eyed the beer being passed from Shivaun to Lyric with envy.

“Aye,” Shy replied. “She’s taken. Did you want a beer, too?”

With a slight shake of his head, Gray said, “Figures. So y’all are the real deal. Like devils?”

Shivaun scowled, her brow furrowing. There was no doubt she didn’t like the sound of that. “Devils?”

“He can’t help it. His grandmother had odd ideas about things,” Lyric said.

“Can we get back to what you said about me bein’ a project?” Gray implored. “You were sayin’ about the catch?”

“I said nothing about a catch. You did,” Lyric replied.

“Whatever. Is there one or not?”

“There is, but it’s not like you think. Thecatchis threefold. First, if I put you in 1967 and give you a chance to play the music you love in its peak decade, you can’t come back to this time. No matter what happens.”

“Wow,” Gray said quietly. After a brief pause, he said, “Let’s hear it all.”

“You will die before 1997. A year before you were born.”

Gray sat down on one of the chairs. “Go on.”

“You can’t steal from the future.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can’t recreate songs that were written and performed by somebody else and pass them off as your original work.”

Gray looked a little offended. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m not suggesting you would. Just covering the terms of the contract. There are people who, if they found themselves in 1967, might just ‘create’ ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ or ‘Stairway to Heaven’ in a weak moment. It’s not personal and no offense intended.”

“Yeah. None taken.”

Shivaun stood quietly off to the side. She was curious as to what they were talking about, but didn’t want to interrupt.

“So, I’d be trading a possible seventy years ofthis.” He paused as if imagining that. “For thirty of that. Plus, can’t come back and no theft.”

“Your grasp is elegantly succinct.”

“What?”

“That’s the deal.”

“Uh-huh. Well, even if I was tempted, and I’m not saying I am.” Of course, admitting that would be redundant. One wouldn’t have to be a demon to see that he was definitely tempted. “I can’t leave my sister high and dry. She wouldn’t be able to make ends meet if I didn’t contribute. Income and babysitting.”

Lyric reached into his pocket and pulled out a lottery receipt. Holding it up between his index and third fingers, he said, “This is worth twenty-six million dollars.” Gray’s eyes darted to the little paper and stayed there. “If you decide to go, we will stage your disappearance. You’ll be presumed dead. Your sister will inherit the money, half of which will be entrusted to someone reliable to ensure that she and your niece are always secure.”

“How would I know for sure? That they were gonna be taken care of?”

The demon shrugged. “I can arrange proof before you go. But here’s the thing. You have toknowthis is what you want. Since it can’t be undone. I’m not a doom demon. I want you to be happy and make great music. That’s why I’m going to give you some room to think this through.”

“Room?”

“Take a few days. Immerse yourself in the culture. Watch news videos and sitcoms from 1967. Learn about the politics. Understand the history. Get sure about what you want to do. In a few days I’ll come back for your answer.”

“This is, ah, a lot to take in.”