Page 64 of The Music Demon

“The little needle is the worst of it. The only other potential side effect is the chance of stomach upset. Are you squeamish? As a rule?”

“Ah, no. Not as a rule.”

“Perfect. Since we’re only traveling through time and not space, this won’t take long and you may not feel a thing.”

“That’s the sort of thing doctors always say just before the torture begins.” Doo’s eyebrows were raised.

“Yes, well,” Lyric began, “fortunately for both of us, I’m not a doctor.”

In a flash Lyric changed into hip-hugging jeans and a tapestry vest that revealed the perfection of his upper body since he’d opted for no shirt underneath. He was also sporting sun highlighted hair that stopped just above his clavicles.

Shivaun gave up a moan of approval that only Lyric could hear and he smiled in response, tucking away the information that she liked the sixties look on him.

He cuffed Doo’s left wrist to his right then turned to Shivaun. “Don’t get lost. But if you do. Go home.”

“Just try to outrun me, old fella.”

Lyric snickered then said, “Ready?”

Doo was thinking about nodding his ascent when he found himself moving, at what speed he couldn’t tell, through billowing clouds of mists swirling in perpetual motion. An occasional ribbon of something maroon-colored would fly by, giving the environment the look of an abstract painting. Before his brain had the chance to adjust to the alien experience, they’d come to rest in an alley. Lyric removed the handcuffs magically, which meant they simply disappeared.

The demon had told the truth. Doo didn’t have an adverse reaction.

He looked around. The cross street was just a few steps away.

The scene looked more like a megafestival than a Tuesday morning. Throngs of people between, mostly between eighteen and thirty, teemed in the street because the sidewalks were entirely occupied by people sitting on concrete as easily as if it was a living room rug. In his time, the time of Gray Darby, the clothes would have been called costumes.

Every few yards someone was sitting on the sidewalk playing an acoustic guitar, either performing or leading singalongs of favorites like Country Joe and the Fish “Vietnam Song”.

And it’s one, two, three,

What are we fighting for?

Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,

Next stop is Vietnam;

And it's five, six, seven,

Open up the pearly gates,

Well there ain't no time to wonder why,

Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

A huge burst of laughter erupted from Gray’s *solar plexus. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he hadn’t believed it would actually happen. Maybe deep down he’d believed the adventure would turn out to be the most elaborate prank ever devised. But the evidence was clear.

It was no prank.

It was 1967.

Lyric and Shivaun hung back and let Doo make his way to the head of the alley so he could soak in his new life. Shy turned to Lyric who was wearing a goofy little crooked grin on his face. Like a parent enjoying Yule morning more than the receiver of the gifts.

Since he didn’t notice her watching, she took advantage of the opportunity to stare. The demon who insisted that he was heartless made things too confusing when he gave the appearance of having heart. In spades.

She was frequently provocative with Sheridan regarding the former Z Team knight her sister had taken as mate. But there was more to it than good-natured teasing. She knew Sher had lucked into the perfect match when she fell for a another transformed hunter. Sheridan was happily paired with someone exactly like herself, right down to being Irish elf. Her sister hadn’t settled. She’d found love. And, in her own heart, Shivaun knew that no amount of beauty, sexiness, charm, and fun could make up for something so simple, so free, but so necessary.

Being lost in those thoughts she’d failed to recognize that Lyric was no longer unaware of her attention.