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Chapter Three

Ashton

O n the flight to Arkansas, I decide to Google Night’s Deadly Deeds and familiarize myself with my new assignment. Blane mentioned that this band is increasing in popularity at a rapid pace, but they haven’t even crossed my radar yet.

According to Wikipedia, the band was formed five years ago, but just recently started touring.

There are four members, all named after Greek Gods.

Khaos is the lead singer, Kokytos is the backup singer and guitarist, Thanatos is the bassist, and Hypnos the drummer.

Each one hides their face behind different masks that are straight from a horror movie.

I pull up an amateur video from a recent concert, the audio is horrible, but the view isn’t too bad.

The stage is doused in red flashing lights, a rip of the guitar greeting the fans before the band does.

Out walks everyone other than the lead singer, taking their places.

A melodic melody croons from the speakers, entrancing everyone, building the tension before a hooded figure stalks out to center stage.

He takes his time turning his face to everyone and when he does, I’m captured.

His cloak sits open, revealing his torso.

Black paint covers every inch of his body apart from what his tight black jeans hide.

Each finger is wrapped in a different metal ring, while chains hang from his shoulder to his opposite hip.

My eyes finally reach his face, taking note of his mask, how it’s so different from the others.

It only covers the top half, from his forehead to his upper lip, leaving his black painted mouth for everyone to see.

It’s stark white with red streaks slicing over it, whereas everyone else’s mask is black.

And then he sings. I watch the video in a trance, mesmerized by their stage performance. It doesn’t hurt that the lead singer has a voice that lures you in like a spell. I hate to admit it – because I usually despise screamo – but their music isn’t as awful as I anticipated.

They demand attention yet none at all, which is part of the allure.

We all want what we can’t have, and it seems the more they hide, the more fans want from them.

I take the rest of the flight to catch up on their music, starting from their first album that was created two years ago to their most recent one.

Before I know it, we’re touching down in Arkansas.

It doesn’t take long to get to baggage claim seeing as the airport is a tenth of O’hare and Midway back in Chicago.

When I find both of my overly large suitcases, I call myself an Uber.

We drive through the city, which is just as beautiful as my hometown, but so very different.

The buildings aren’t as tall and clustered, instead they’re squarer and more spread out.

There seems to be more breathing room here in Little Rock. It’s refreshing.

My excitement quickly fades as we start driving past all the buildings and out of the city.

I’ve already shared my ride with Sam, but she’s states away.

I never stopped to think about what it would be like to travel alone as a single woman, but now as the buildings fade away and the grass becomes longer, I start to panic.

I try not to lose my mind completely as we pull onto a lot surrounded by an empty field with a wooden barn sitting in the center. This is definitely the destination because there’s a giant tour bus in front of it, but I don’t have a good feeling.

When I don’t immediately get out, the Uber driver turns towards me from the front seat. “Do you have a different place in mind? I can take you somewhere else.”

I shake my head slowly, “No. This is where I’m supposed to be.”

I take a deep breath and exit the car. The driver meets me at the trunk and hands me both my bags with a concerned look. I smile, trying to reassure him that he’s not leaving me to die, but I’m not really convinced myself.

I stand there, a bag on each side of me, as I watch my Uber driver pull away. I lug my stuff over to the tour bus and knock on the door. A guy nearly a foot taller than me answers.

“Can I help you?” He asks behind a black bandana that covers the bottom half of his face.

“I-I’m with Musical Genius. I’m joining the tour.” I explain, clearing my throat a time or two.

The air out here becomes thick, making it hard for me to catch my breath. My heart is pounding overtime, and the heat is next to unbearable. I can feel the sweat start to gather on my hairline as his grey eyes glare at me.

He’s obviously a band member and based on my earlier research, the one with the silver eyes is Kokytos, backup singer and guitarist for the band. He’s also the oldest one in the group at twenty-seven. I don’t miss the way he’s built like he works out in his sleep .

He nods his head in the direction of the barn, “You’re going to want to talk to Khaos. He’s in there.”

I turn my head back toward the greying, worn wood of the barn.

There are missing panels on the roof and siding.

It’s most likely been abandoned and even though this group has a beautiful tour bus with beds for each of them and granite counter tops with what I can see from behind this guy, the lead singer chooses to spend his time in a rotting barn in the middle of nowhere.

This seems totally safe...

“Are you screwing with me?” I accuse.

I hear a couple male chuckles from inside the bus and a sinking feeling fills me. I’m definitely being messed with. This is why I would much prefer Taylor Swift to this bottom feeder band.

Kokytos’ eyes light up from a smile hidden behind his black mask, taunting me, waiting to see what I’ll do. Not once offering for me to come inside to escape this southern summer heat.

“Okay then,” I huff, giving in.

I spin on my heels, leaving my bags in front of the bus and saunter over to the barn.

I grab the corroded metal handle and yank, the door squealing on rusty hinges.

The inside is empty, just a vast space with a dirt floor.

To the left are a row of three stalls, their doors shut closed and to the right is a long, extended sink almost the entire length of the wall.

It’s mostly dark, making it ten degrees cooler in here than outside. Yet, still borderline uncomfortable. Streams of sun laser down through the roof and make spotlights on the ground, illuminating the dirt floating around in the air.

Hesitantly, I call out. “Hello?”

No one answers. If this is some sort of messed up game they’re playing, I’m going to be pissed.

I decide to check the stalls kicking in the doors one by one.

By the third stall, I find a shirtless guy sitting in the hay, his back leaning against the wall farthest from the door.

He startles, amber eyes finding mine as he rips his headphones off, resting them around his neck.

Quickly, he shuts the notebook he was writing in and climbs to his feet, towering over me.

“Can I help you?” He snips from beneath a black bandana that covers the lower half of his face, similar to Kokytos.

I stammer, stunned, and paralyzed by his overbearing presence. The stall isn’t big, and his proximity is suffocating, trapping my words inside of me.

“I-I-”

“You what? Spit it out.” He growls, tossing the notebook at his feet before stepping forward.

“He told me to come in here, that I should speak to you.” I push past my lips.

My breath feels unsteady as my heart races, my thoughts all jumbling together, which hardly ever happens.

“What do you want?” Another step forward.

“I-I-” I swallow. “Ashton Crawford with Musical Genius.”

There’s a sudden shift in his posture, his once crowding body now straighter.

It makes him feel even taller. He takes half a step back before squinting down at me.

His thick eyebrows dipping in what looks like anger.

He sweeps his dark brown hair out of his eyes to get a better look at me.

I watch them trail over my features as if he’s inspecting me.

“Get out.” He growls.

My jaw drops, shocked by his abrasiveness. He steps into me, forcing me out of the stall and into the middle of the barn. I just stand there as he yanks a black T-shirt that was tucked into his back pocket and slips it over his head.

“Did I stutter?” He shouts, those glowing eyes piercing me.

“I’m not leaving.” I assert quietly .

“I don’t think you have a choice.” He snarls.

I watch him clench his muscles; anger evident in the way they twitch beneath his skin.

I don’t know what I did to piss him off already, but this is uncalled for.

I know celebrities can sometimes be dickish, especially if you interrupt their process, but he’s a nobody. He hasn’t earned that right yet.

“What’s your problem?” I snap, finally finding my voice.

Khaos has a dark presence that leaves you blind, but I see right through it. I’m hardly ever star struck and he’s no star. However, he is big, angry, and inching towards me like a predator hunting its prey.

“My problem is you.” He answers as his shadow envelops me, ready to devour my soul.

“You don’t even know me.” I point out the obvious.

He looks me over again, a glint of disgust reflecting in his eyes.

“I know a lot of things about you Ashton, but unfortunately for you, you know nothing about me.” His words slither out like a threat.

“Well, that’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” I laugh uncomfortably. “And what exactly do you know about me?”

“Enough to know you can’t handle us.”

“We’ll see about that.” I smirk.

His chest inflates as he huffs out a curt laugh, his abs brushing against my forearms that are tightly crossed and holding me together. He withdraws just enough for his eyes to find mine and when they do, they send icicles down my body despite this awful heat.

“I doubt that. I don’t want you here.” He mutters.