“Jack? Are you asleep or are you dead?”
Miles was shaking Jack awake. How had he fallen asleep? “I’m both dead and asleep,” he said, opening his eyes.
The room was lit by a light in the corner, and outside was dark. Jack sat up and looked at Miles.
“Dorian says he’s done with all that mixing stuff he was doing.”
“Already? How long was I out for?”
“I don’t know, I’m not used to paying attention to time. Plus, Cameron and I were watching that TV downstairs. It’s addicting. Anyway, Dorian’s as much of a machine as those damn computer things so it’s not surprising he’s done.”
Jack followed Miles down to the basement to meet Cameron and the grinning Dorian. “Put your headphones on, gentlemen,” Dorian said. “Feast your ears on perfection.”
It was a strange experience to hear the music without playing it himself, and even stranger to hear his own voice without actively singing. It sounded so different than what he heard when singing, but he liked it. Maybe the giant microphone changed his voice or Dorian had done something to it.
“Is that how I actually sound?” he asked. “Or did you make me sound better or something?”
“That’s how you normally sing,” Dorian said. “It’s common biology, Jack. Your voice sounds different to you because when you talk or sing, it echoes in your head. What I hear when I talk is different from—”
“Whatever, genius,” Miles said. “You’re a natural, Jack. Just roll with it.”
Jack shrugged and they continued listening. He still couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it felt to listen to their creation from the outside. This is what the humans would hear. What the cambion would hear. And they would supposedly like it.
Once finished listening, Dorian proudly relished in the praise the others gave him, then insisted they go upstairs because he was tired of staring at a soundboard for days and days. In the kitchen Cameron said, “You know what humans do when they want to celebrate something? Like an accomplishment?”
“They drink,” Dorian said. “A wise man like you should know that’s a bad idea.”
“Why? Drinks don’t harm demons. Zagan chugs wine all the time. Don’t pretend Asmoday doesn’t get kegs of it for himself.”
“And how are we going to get drinks?”
Cameron smiled. “Remember how you wanted to see me make stuff? Watch this.” He went to what Jack knew was a cooking device called a stove and ripped off one of the plastic knobs on the front, held it in the palm of his hand and squeezed it. Within seconds it morphed into a plastic cup. He grinned as everyone stared in awe. Then he went to the sink, turned it on, then placed his hand on the spout. The clear water instantly turned red. He placed the cup under it until half full, then drank. Smacking his lips he said, “Who wants some?”
Each of the other three stove knobs were transformed into cups and filled at the sink under Cameron’s magic touch. They sat around the table and drank.
“So, what now?” Miles asked. “Caleos said after we record he’d get it out into the world. Does that mean we just sit here and wait? I’m fine sitting here and drinking.”
“I don’t know,” Dorian said. “I don’t feel right just sitting around. We’re on a mission. We should be doing something.”
Jack felt a pulse of warmth under his shirt. His pendant was glowing. He sat up suddenly, heart pounding. “We’re about to find out, I think,” he said.
After a few seconds he was in the chamber of Gaap’s seal. Never had he been so nervous to step through the portal. What if Lucifer had wanted them to do more during that time and was unhappy with the progress? What if there was a problem? With a deep breath he stepped through the portal and was back in his servant clothes. Gaap and some guards were waiting.
“Everything all right?” Gaap asked, his hand out to take the pendant.
“Yeah.”
“Good. The seal is closed until you return. Lucifer is waiting for you.”
The guards led him to Lucifer’s castle, and Jack kept his head down to avoid the grotesque statues. Inside the throne room, he knelt immediately, only briefly gazing at the supreme leader sitting before him.
“Well?” Lucifer said. “What news do you have?”
“We…we finished our recording. It’s ready.”
“Excellent. I will have Caleos move forward then. Tell 1901 to pay attention to everything on the telephone device provided. He should know what to do.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
“Things will move fast now. Don’t get too comfortable. In the meantime, prepare for the concerts you’ll need to perform. It will be here before you know it.”
“Understood.”
“Good. Go. There’s work to do.”
Jack was led back to Gaap, shocked and relieved at how quick the meeting was. He received his pendant back and was off to the seal once more, muttering the command to leave. He found himself back in the kitchen, the others staring at him.
“That was fast,” Miles said. “Did you talk to Luc?”
Dorian gasped and stared at Miles.
“Calm down,” Miles said, then turned to Jack. “Well?”
Jack sat in his chair once again and told them what Lucifer had said. “I have no idea what’s about to happen, but I think we’re doing okay so far.”
* * *
Over the next few days, the band did as the Dark Lord instructed. They practiced their songs over and over, confident they could play them as flawlessly as they sounded on their album. Cameron was glued to his little phone, exploring all the little square things he called apps, telling them all about music streaming and social media and how their band had its own profile on all of them. Cover artwork had been created for them as well: a black and white picture of a forest with the silhouette of a boy running out, entitled From Whence I Came.
Cameron excitedly updated them on how many streams there were each day, how many new followers they had, and he was starting to make posts and interact with humans. “They love us,” he said one evening. “There’s people from all over the world on here. We’re getting famous and we barely do anything. Caleos knows his shit I guess.”
“The west does something good for once,” Dorian muttered. He was sitting at the dining room table with the television in front of him, currently in various pieces that he studied and organized.
Ignoring the insult to his home region, Jack leaned over to look at Cameron’s phone. “What are they saying?”
“Well, they think you’re some new guitar god or something. A god, ha! How ironic.”
“Why do they think that?”
“Because you’re insanely great at it. Humans think all skills and talents are gifts from God or something. Certainly not a gift from some demonic ruler of Hell, right?” Cameron laughed.
“We’re a heavy metal band,” Dorian said, running a finger along the surface of a green piece of plastic covered in tiny gold zigzags and prongs. “The average human would not think that of us, that ‘god’ ridiculousness. And by average human I mean those who are not attracted to our music or other bands in this genre. I’m not saying those who like this style of music are satanic or believe in demons or what have you. Despite being non-religious beings, they use the term ‘god’ loosely to express a type of ‘worship’ in which they see you as someone with talent so immense that it warrants extreme praise. And not in the ‘praise God’ sort of way, but—”
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“Will you shut up?” Miles was sitting across from Dorian, leaning back in his chair with arms crossed.
Dorian stopped and stared back, raising an eyebrow. “You’re just upset that I took apart your precious television. Once I’m done studying it, I’ll put it back together. So, as you might say, calm the fuck down.”
Jack scratched his chin and smirked. Guitar god. The irony amused him, and thinking about the mass of humans that loved him made him feel like he could possibly have more power than Lucifer himself.
“Do you think the cambion’s heard it yet?” Jack asked. “I have a hard time imagining a vicious demon beast having access to something like digital music.”
“He is likely in human form,” Dorian said. “Or at least has a human form in which he can hide among the general population. As much as I question the sanity of the Dark Lord for this whole plan, I can’t imagine him doing this without knowing the cambion’s chances of hearing us. And I really hate calling him a cambion. It’s just not accurate.”
“What do we call him then?” Miles asked. “What is he really?”
“I honestly have no idea.”
“Wow, for once Dorian doesn’t know something.” Miles stood and went toward the front door. Jack felt the need to follow and was grateful his friend didn’t tell him to go away.
They sat on the front steps of their house, something they often did in the evenings when the summer sun was still high enough for them to enjoy its warmth. The steps were crooked and cracked, but neither cared. Many of the houses on the other side of the street were in better condition than theirs, making them the blemish of the neighborhood. Jack liked thinking about the humans that lived there, going about their lives completely oblivious to the fact they were neighbors with demons.
Miles sat silently, staring at the cracked sidewalk.
“Is this all because of the TV?”
“No, but Dorian the dickbag sure isn’t helping things.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
Miles sighed. “Do you miss how things used to be? Our daily business in the city, hunting people. Do you miss stealing souls?”
“No.”
“No? You liked being stuck in Hell endlessly hunting through thousands of people for the needle in a haystack for years and years?”
“No, I hated that too.”
“You have to admit life on Earth was better before that. Yeah it was work but it was easy work and we were good at it and got rewarded once in a while. You got a fucking strawberry, remember?”
“But now we get to drink wine whenever we want and sleep in a bed and, you know, we should get some food. We have money.”
Miles blinked. “So you like it better now?”
“Yeah. It’s like we’re living a good life.”
“Have you forgotten the real reason we’re here? We’re going into battle with some beast we know nothing about. I know we can’t die but we could get hurt and worst of all fail. Failure is possible and it’s terrifying.”
Jack looked at Miles, wanting to read his soul like he had before, but chose not to. It was clear enough that the guy who normally had no fear was now overcome by it.
“How are you not scared?” Miles continued. “You’re the one that has to grab the literal soul of a monster. I know you’re strong, you proved that, but aren’t you worried something will go wrong?”
“Of course I am. I’m terrified. So much rests on me. But I’m trying not to think about it right now. We’re not there yet. I just want to enjoy what we have right now before it’s gone.”
“I do too. But what scares me about that is how much it’ll hurt once it’s taken away. Even if we succeed, this will all be gone. But maybe that’s part of our eternal torment, getting a taste at human life again before having it taken away.”
Jack nodded. “Sometimes I think emotional torture is worse than anything. And I don’t think any reward Lucifer can give would be as great as what we have right this moment.”
* * *
Lucifer had been right; things moved very fast. Their music was booming so much that Caleos insisted the band immediately get promotional photos taken and create a music video. It was their first time with in-person human involvement, and Miles did well with controlling them subtly, though he couldn’t help but convince the female photographer to flirt with him a bit. “I haven’t gotten to tempt anyone in over a decade,” was his excuse. “Just let me have a bit of fun.”
It was so strange to see photos of themselves. Jack found himself staring at them often. They looked so human, so normal. He knew that was the point though, that they had remained in human bodies since their arrival in Hell so they could fit in, but looking at photos, permanent records that the world was seeing, made him see some human qualities inside.
The music video was the hardest to comprehend though. Pretending to play and sing in front of cameras while in the middle of a grassy field was weird enough, but to watch the final moving pictures, the quick flashes between each of them performing as well as acting out scenes of escaping darkness and running toward an invisible desire, was the most bizarre experience. Jack felt a little embarrassed watching himself, but it mostly made him nervous. After decades of trying to be hidden, now they were trying to be seen by millions around the world.
Then came Cameron’s turn to really shine. He spent countless hours on his phone and on the computer that Dorian reluctantly allowed him to use in order to plot out a tour. He had the invisible force of Caleos behind him though, who made venues across the country suddenly have openings, and the drummer’s quick and witty words convinced promoters to welcome a band that had only been known for barely a month. Their tour would begin in September, they would headline small venues, and the growing number of fans began buying tickets immediately.
During one of Jack’s weekly meetings with Lucifer, the Dark Lord had suggested the group go to a concert themselves and witness what they were expected to do. “You need to do it right or you will lose them. And the cambion.”
A week before they were to hit the road, the group went to a concert at the small venue they planned to play at on their own tour. None of them were used to crowds of humans; their external servitude always required them to remain as hidden as possible. Now they were surrounded, but none of the humans seemed to pay any attention to them. The four of them clustered together, silently choosing a spot toward the back to watch.
As they waited for the show to begin, Jack decided to analyze some of the auras around him. Seeing so many at once was overwhelming at first, but once he focused on one at a time he was able to tune out the rest. To his surprise the majority of auras were white or yellow. He had expected a lot of red and green as even he had fallen for the stereotypes of metal fans being bad people in various ways. There were some of those present, but no more than when he would walk down the street any other day.
“Would you believe me if I told you at least eighty percent of the people here are guaranteed to go to Heaven as of now?” Jack said just loud enough to be heard over the house music.
“Not surprising,” Dorian said. “It will probably be similar at our shows.” He chuckled. “Now that’s irony.”
The show began and the first of three bands appeared. Jack watched intently as the band members bounced around on stage, banging their heads and whipping their long hair around. He couldn’t imagine himself doing that even if he did have long hair. He looked at Cameron, wondering if he would do that, and found the drummer smiling. Dorian on the other hand appeared to be struggling to hide his distaste.
“Not gonna bang your head, Dorian?” Miles asked once the band had finished. “It’s the thing to do apparently.”
“Absolutely not. We are a sophisticated band. I won’t stop you from doing it, but you’ll look like a fool.”
The second band’s performance wasn’t much different from the first. Jack found himself looking at the audience more, watching their auras morph into a lot more yellow, even the souls that had previously shown a sense of evil or pride. They, too, were banging their heads and putting their hands in the air with forefinger and pinky pointed up.
“Is that sign language or something?” Jack asked. “A symbol?”
The others shrugged, then Cameron took out his phone. After a few moments of searching he burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“It’s devil horns!” Cameron was doubled over. “They’re fucking making devil horns. People who you say are going to Heaven are doing a devil symbol!”
“Humans are weird,” Jack muttered.
“God is weird,” Miles said. “Wouldn’t you think he’d frown upon that sort of thing?”
“Regardless, it just brings more hilarious irony to our own shows,” Dorian said. “People on track for Heaven doing a symbol of Lucifer for a band made up of demons. I think I’m going to enjoy this.”
After the second band had finished, Jack felt anticipation fill the room. The humans were even more excited, their yellow auras even brighter. He tried to read a little deeper into them, but they were mostly the same generic happiness about what was to come. Then his eyes came upon two male humans looking directly at him while murmuring to each other. As their eyes traveled between his face and that of his companions, their yellow auras soon had a thin inner lining of purple. They’re scared. Do they know we’re demons?
They approached but Jack didn’t have enough time to read into their minds before they spoke.
“Are you guys Beautiful Apocalypse?” one asked.
“Sure are,” Cameron said, smiling. “You’ve heard our stuff?”
“Hell yeah. You guys are awesome. Already got tickets to your show next month.”
Jack was still watching the aura. The purple was fading, the yellow brightening. The man who had spoken turned to him, their eyes meeting. Jack got a speedy glimpse of what was inside.
Wow-crazy-insane-wow-Jack-amazing
“Love your playing style, man,” the fan said, holding out his hand.
Jack hesitated for a moment. He had only ever touched a human by tackling them and reaching into their chests to steal their souls. But he knew this was a common human greeting and socialization was now a requirement. He took the outstretched hand and shook it. “Thanks,” he said.
The others received similar compliments and handshakes from both humans and were forced to field questions. No one had prepped them for answering things like “How long have you guys been together?” and “Are you all originally from here?” and “What other bands are you into?” But Cameron seemed to know the answer to everything, not missing a beat with his witty responses. It was clearer than ever that he had been the right choice for the mission.
The humans left them alone once the last band started. Jack paid closer attention this time; this band was the star of the show, what they would be, and he needed to study what made the fans glow so much with happy auras. He would need to talk to the crowd, get them fueled up between songs, and he wished Cameron could be the one to talk. But he was the front man, and just like these other bands he needed to do it. And he would have to move around on the stage like he was having fun. Playing music was fun. I can probably do that. Maybe.