Page 28 of Oh No! There’s an Incubus in my Hot Spring (Getting Cozy with Demons #1)

twenty-eight

Worst Song Ever

T he Ghost Hunter Gabe special is just as cute, nerdy, and ridiculous as I thought it was going to be. I smirk at Apollo as Leonard goes on about the silly special effects used on the shadow in the corner.

At the end of the ten-minute video, he rated our location ten out of ten ‘ghosties’ for probability of hosting more wandering spirits. He said he could “feel the magic” in our place.

No doubt.

We get our free whisky tasting and my gag reflex triggers immediately as I remember the last night in my New York office. I sip like a lady and decline additional drinks but pay for everyone else to have one more. Apollo wraps his arm around my shoulders as we leave, and I place my hand over the crystal tucked under his shirt to check its power.

He grabs my hand and kisses my fingers. “I’ll be fine, lovely.”

My face heats and it’s not the whisky making me blush. His random endearments are so charming.

The last light of the sun behind the towering mountains winks out as we walk to the karaoke bar, sending the sky into twinkling deep navy. It’s chilly, but the whisky does its work in keeping us all warm—and Apollo’s arm around my shoulder helps.

It’s almost nine when we get to Tipsy Tunes, but I can see through the open door that there’s still a decent-sized crowd for a Sunday. Leonard holds open the already propped-open door with a flourish as if he were letting us into the most expensive restaurant in town, and we laugh.

The interior is pretty standard dive bar-ish. Neon signs all around, a pool table in the corner closest to the door, the bar along the left side with a mirror so bartenders with their backs turned can still see their customers, and ancient band signs littered throughout. At the very back is the little stage with two big speakers on either side and a stand with a TV screen. A younger blond woman is singing “Living on a Prayer” and not doing too bad. Most of the audience is singing along with her to help drown out any mistakes anyway.

We find a four-person high top and we’re quickly attended by a woman in her late forties with a serious pushup bra and a V-cut T-shirt that she altered herself. There are pink rhinestones across the front that used to say ‘Love’ with a heart for the ‘o,’ but she cut right through it.

“What are we celebrating?” she asks with a smile.

Leonard claps his hands on Apollo’s and Irene’s shoulders. “We just finished our first week of work and our boss is taking us out to party!”

The waitress looks at me with an overly large grin covered in immaculate red lipstick. “Oh, boy, you’re the new hot spring owner, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I say, reactively holding my hand out for a shake. “Sylvia.”

“Nice to meet you, darlin’.” She takes the offer, giving me a dainty shake. “I’m Trisha, and I’ll be helping you all night until close at eleven.”

“Great, thanks,” I say, placing my credit card on the table for the tab.

She keeps up her stunningly large grin as she looks between us. “What’ll it be?”

“Four Rocky Mountain Specials!” Leonard declares.

“You got it,” Trisha says and she’s off before I can ask what that is.

We clap for the Bon Jovi enthusiast, and the DJ calls out for Bobby to take the stage for “Chop Suey.” Irene runs over to the DJ and comes back with a song book and several slips of paper for our requests.

There’s no Sleep Token in the list—not that I could do any one of their songs justice on the stage—so I stick to a classic: NSYNC’s “Bye Bye Bye.” Of course, I demand that everyone has to go up with me and sing the alternating parts. Karaoke is always better with more voices, in my opinion.

Trisha returns with a tray loaded with drinks and starts distributing them. Apparently, the Rocky Mountain Special is a shot of tequila with a lime and a Coors tallboy. This is pretty far outside my norm, but we’re celebrating.

“I have to keep it just to this,” I say. “I’m still not acclimated to your elevation, and I need to drive home after this.”

“You can always crash at my place!” Leonard offers.

Irene laughs. “Make sure you ask your mom first.”

He scowls. “Hey, I pay rent. I can have friends overnight without asking my mom.”

“Plus, Britt loves me,” I say.

Apollo raises his shot glass. “To Sylvia, for breathing life back into the spring.”

“To Sylvia! Thanks for the job!” Irene says, clinking our shot glasses.

“Yeah, seriously, so much better,” Leonard says.

I grin. “You’re all very welcome, and thanks to you for making it possible for me to even come out tonight.”

I raise my glass, tap it once on the table, and shoot it back. It’s not terrible, but I chase it with the lime anyway. Apollo blinks both eyes separately once he’s swallowed, and then shivers. I hand him the lime and show him that I’m sucking on mine. He shoves the whole thing in his mouth and chews it, making me laugh.

Irene runs all our song selections up to the front, and we order a couple baskets of fries and chicken tenders to help me soak up the alcohol. I slip off my stool and dance along to the songs I know next to our table, the buzz lowering my inhibitions. Apollo’s eyes rarely leave me, and the feeling of being this desirable has my blood humming. I’m sure my unintentional arousal only makes it harder for him to tear his gaze away when Leonard asks him a question.

“Sylvia and the Ghosties, come on up to sing some NSYNC!” the DJ calls.

I look at Irene and she gives me an innocent smile as she tugs on my arm. We jump up on stage and the flashing lights block out the room. I’m not looking out there anyway. I’m watching my friends, and my love, as we belt out the millennial boy band hit. Even Apollo starts to get the dance moves by the end of the song, and we’re all…in sync.

Apollo wraps his arm around my waist as we leave the stage, and it feels so normal to stretch up and give him a gentle kiss. He smiles, his blue eyes sparkling in the disco lamp, and kisses me again.

I munch on fries and chicken as Leonard does a surprisingly phenomenal job of rapping, and Irene hits us with a Britney classic, “Toxic.” Everything is perfect.

“All right, thank you, Irene! Now, let’s slow it down for Jason singing some Lady A.”

It can’t be.

Please.

I stare helplessly as my ex takes the stage. The tequila turns to fire in my stomach, burning a hole through the bottom of it.

“Oh, fuck no. Not tonight,” Irene says, stomping off toward the DJ.

Apollo pulls me against his side and whispers, “You’re all right, my love.”

I nod and take a drink of water. The cold liquid does nothing to settle my stomach. Why does he keep doing this to me? Why can’t he just let it go?

Angry tears burn behind my eyes. Crazy-girl takes another drink of beer and I know if I don’t get out of here, I’m going to do something stupid.

“Do you want to leave?” Apollo asks.

I nod again, my vision blurring as I look toward the exit. “I need my credit card.”

“I’ll get it,” Leonard says, jumping off his stool.

“We’ll meet you outside.” Apollo grabs my purse and my jacket.

“This one’s for my girl, always running away,” Jason says into the microphone, pointing at me. All eyes in the bar turn my way and heat floods my face.

Despite there being no music, he starts singing. My legs lock and I stand there in the middle of the room, staring him down. How fucking dare he try to ruin every shred of happiness I have?

Irene gets the DJ to turn off Jason’s mic, but he keeps singing anyway—louder even.

“That’s enough, man, get off the stage,” the DJ says through the speakers.

But he doesn’t stop. He dodges Irene and keeps belting the words, telling me how much he needs me, how he’s missed me.

I wish he would just stop .

Jason chokes on his next word. His face furrows and he grabs his chest. He looks at Irene in a panic and stumbles off the stage, tripping and sprawling to the ground. People near him stand up and ask if he’s okay. He’s scrambling backwards, beating his chest with a fist like it might dislodge something from his throat.

Apollo presses his lips to the tip of my ear and murmurs, “As much as I love the show, he’s going to die right there on the floor if you don’t let him breathe.”

My hand is fisted at my side, and I realize I’ve taken control of the air in his lungs. I’ve pulled it all out and commanded it not to enter him. I release my hold and Jason gasps deeply.

He points at Irene. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“Me?” Irene balks. “Your dumb ass choked on your own spit!”

“He told me you were all into devil-craft and shit!” Jason looks over his shoulder at me. “I didn’t believe you’d get so fucking crazy.”

“Okay, let’s get back to karaoke before this gets too weird,” the DJ says loudly through his mic.

The crowd is murmuring the words “devil” and “magic” as they stare between me and Irene. She walks past Jason, and he flinches like she might hex him. I wish she could.

Leonard brings me my credit card and I sign the receipt quickly.

“You the devil’s whore now, Syl?” Jason demands as he gains his feet. “What would your mom think of that?”

Crazy-girl doesn’t think the world would miss Jason that much.

“Next up we have Tiffany singing Madonna.” The DJ desperately attempts to get the crowd back in order, but no one is looking at him, or the stage.

I slap the receipt down on our table and turn for the door.

“That’s right, just keep running!” Jason taunts at my back, and I know I should keep going. I know I shouldn’t try to face him down when I’m tipsy and angry. “You'll never escape that you're an empty bitch, and you'll never love anyone as much as you love your precious work.”

Apollo moves too fast, turning away from me. I whip around and he’s already across the bar, open hand raised, claws extended. He’s going to kill him…

“No!” I scream, throwing my arms out and begging him to come back to me. The air condenses in the room and punches Apollo backward. His hit barely misses Jason’s chest, but my gust of wind pushes everyone to their seats. Apollo falls at my feet with an oof and the room erupts in screams. His human guise has failed.

“Holy shit,” Leonard says, staring down at Apollo.

Jason’s wailing, cradling his unmarred face and chest. “He fucking tried to kill me!”

Crazy-girl dips and I’m left to figure out what to do. Adrenaline blasts through my brain and all I can think of is to get out. Jason’s not hurt, but Apollo is exposed.

I grab under his arms and tug. “Let’s go. Now.”

Irene grabs a side and helps me pull him up. I scoop up my bag and we run out into the cold, autumn night.

“What the fuck, you guys?” Leonard yells as he follows us to the parking garage. “When were you gonna tell me that Paul was a literal demon!”

“I’m sorry,” Apollo says, his face pinched in fear and agony. “I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let him talk like that. I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

I squeeze his side. “It’s okay. Nothing happened to him. He’s just scared and so is everyone else and we’ll just say it was makeup,” I ramble. “Yeah, makeup and an act. It’s to get attention for our springs, that’s all.”

“Just a big publicity stunt,” Irene says, nodding along.

“Hello! Is anyone gonna answer me?” Leonard yells.

I stop at my RAV and turn to face him. “I’m sorry, Leonard, but we weren’t going to tell you. Irene knew, and that was all. No one else was ever supposed to find out.”

Leonard’s jaw hangs open as he looks at Apollo again. “What the fuck.”

“What do you think would happen if everyone found out he’s not human?” I ask. “At best, he’d become some kind of attraction. At worst, the government would come knocking in the night and take him.”

Leonard’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks at me, wide-eyed. “I wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“You’re still not going to tell anyone,” Irene says, pointing a severe finger at him.

Apollo sighs. “It’s too late. Everyone saw.”

“No, we can fix this,” I say, the gears in my mind spitting fire as they crank.

Leonard scoffs. “No one’s going to believe makeup. Trust me, I saw him too.”

“Holograms are a thing,” I say. “Maybe we can get the DJ to corroborate a story with us about something like that.”

“Holograms?” Irene says with a wince. “No, girl, you made the fuckin’ wind blast his ass backwards. That’s not a hologram.”

Oh, fuck. I forgot I’d used my magic.

I pinch my eyes shut and rub my forehead. “Just let me think.”

Red and blue flashes behind my eyelids and I curse.

“There they are,” Jason says.

Car doors open and close in quick succession.

I open my eyes and glare daggers at the bastard. He’s got a cut on his face, shallow and superficial. But I swore Apollo didn’t hit him. His shirt is ripped, too, and right behind him stands the one person I’d rather not ever see, especially right at this moment.

Fucking. Mark.

The cop car’s floodlight shines directly on us and I shield my face as my heart beats at a furious pace. There’s no escaping this.

“That’s the man that assaulted me,” Jason says.

“Put your hands where we can see them, everyone.”

My arms raise of their own accord as my blood turns to ice.

A policeman walks past me, straight to Apollo. “Sir, put your hands behind your back. Don’t make this difficult for us and everything will go smoothly.”

This can’t be happening. I close my eyes against the blinding light and try not to give in to the tears gathering behind them.

Apollo doesn’t have any paperwork. He has no identity. If we get taken in, they’re going to know something is wrong. Gods, they’ll think he’s an undocumented immigrant, and then what’ll happen?

“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer begins, and I hear the cuffs clicking around Apollo’s wrists. He goes on with the Miranda rights and my brain rapid-fires options.

Run.

No, absolutely not an option.

Use magic to escape.

Also not an option. Running from the police is a felony.

Talk. Explain.

“Please, sir, if we can just—”

Someone grabs my arm and puts it roughly behind my back. I gasp as I feel the cold metal snapping shut around my skin.

What a fucking close to the week.