“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.”

Joey sat in the living room, arms crossed as he watched the replay of that day’s sermon. He knew where his grandfather would be going with his bombastic rant, and he was tired of being the topic almost every week.

“The devil’s schemes that Paul speaks of are the demons that are all around us. On the street, at the store, and even in our homes. Therefore you must put on the full armor of God so that when the day of evil comes—the day the demons come—you can stand your ground, stand firm with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace and the shield of faith, you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil ones.”

At that moment, Robert stopped his pacing of the stage and turned to look directly at the camera. He often did this during parts of his sermons to be sure his viewers at home felt included. Joey was also certain he did it knowing his grandson would be watching.

“The demons that inhabit the bodies of those around us deserve nothing but death and eternal banishment.”

Annabelle, who was sitting beside Joey, stirred slightly at that comment. Joey glared into the eyes of his grandfather through the screen.

“Let the power of God fuel your hatred of these demons and their evil.”

Joey glared harder, his mind creating a schematic of the TV’s circuits just as he did with his tablet.

“The Bible says ‘Let those who love the Lord hate evil.’ Do not be afraid to hate! For He guards the lives of his faithful ones from the hands of the wicked, the demons that deserve their death.”

The circuits within the TV led the glow from Joey’s glare to center around Robert’s head. The screen flickered and within his mind he saw a flash of being in the church standing before the pastor, but it disappeared and a loud grunt of pain and the sound of something ceramic falling and breaking came from the room where his grandfather was. Within moments the man burst into the room.

“What in God’s name did you do?” he boomed.

Joey looked at him innocently. The TV was back to normal as if nothing had happened. “Nothing,” he said, hiding his own shock. Robert’s thoughts told him he had seen what Joey had seen.

“If you think you can destroy me, you are wrong, and you will pay with your life.”

Annabelle sat up straight. “Daddy—”

But Robert left the room without another word.

Joey met his aunt’s gaze and read her thoughts. What on earth just happened—

“Did you just do something?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” Joey looked back at the TV where Robert was once again addressing the congregation. “I got mad and I don’t know what happened.”

Annabelle sighed. “I know that what he says is cruel to you, and I understand that it hurts. It hurts me too. Maybe just tune out those parts of the sermon rather than let it get to you and you…blow up the TV or something.”

Joey nodded. He didn’t want to ruin a fairly good streak of Robert not trying to kill him. The events of the camping trip had not reached the pastor and he had yet to get caught listening to heavy metal. But the distrust was still there, shown publicly every Sunday.

After the sermon was over they went up to Joey’s room for Bible study. He sat on his bed and sighed. It was getting harder to feel passionate about it anymore.

“Joey,” Annabelle said softly. “Don’t be discouraged. Keep your faith going. Remember all the inspiring verses we’ve read.”

“It’s hard to be inspired when someone who supposedly follows the Bible to the letter doesn’t think any positive part of it applies to me. I don’t even want to try anymore. What’s the point?”

Annabelle put her hand on his arm. “The point is to stay strong despite the struggles. Nothing will show him better than you remaining faithful after all he’s done to you.”

“I’m going to Hell no matter what I do. Reading the Bible every day and praying and being good isn’t going to change that.”

Joey felt Annabelle’s grip tighten and her voice became nervous. “Joey, you can’t give up. Please. I need you to stay on this path. I need you to stay good. I know you will be rewarded with eternal life in Heaven. God no doubt sees all the good in you.”

He listened as she read through Matthew with him, more to please her than anything, the one person who actually cared. He tried to soak in the words as her voice seemed to bring fresh power to them, but he was not nearly as inspired as he used to be. After their lesson, she closed the book and said, “Well, I’m going to head home now. I have work early in the morning, but I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

“I hate it when you leave. Why can’t you still live here?”

“Because commuting for over an hour each way almost every day is not something I want to do. As much as I want to stay with you all the time, as much as I worry about you, I really like my job and it’s better I be closer to it. And that’s why it’s even more important that you stay on the good path. I can’t protect you all the time, as much as I want to.” She left him with a hug and kiss on top of his head.

Joey got out his tablet, knowing that music was the only way to fill the void of his rock no longer living in the room down the hall.

More. There’s more.

He hadn’t had the urge to hunt for more music in awhile. The Christian metal bands had been quite sufficient even though he felt the words were no longer strengthening his morale. He would just focus on the music instead, letting it comfort his heart. Now the craving was back.

So much more.

Hacking into the forbidden music streaming app he broadened his search for heavy metal. Just searching for it felt like committing a huge sin. What if it all was indeed satanic? What if just listening to it made him into a Satan worshipper? It wouldn’t hurt to just try one song. If it had satanic lyrics, he’d stop listening and go back to the clean stuff he could defend. No problem.

There was a featured band in his search. Beautiful Apocalypse was listed under top artist and most popular and top albums. He tapped it and looked at the song titles; they all looked harmless, nothing about Satan or demons or evil. The song “From Whence I Came” had the most streams so he selected that.

His jaw dropped within the first few seconds. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before. The complexity of it was powerful and increased with each passing moment, the alternating time signatures grasping onto his own intelligence. Intelligent music. It flowed through the circuitry of his brain the same way he filled the circuits of his tablet and the TV. Nearly two minutes passed without any vocals and he began to wonder if it was all instrumental. But then the words came and he listened intently.

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“For many years I’ve lived in seclusion

Hiding from the eyes of the world.

It’s time to find those who understand.

I know they’re waiting for me.”

Joey didn’t think that sounded satanic, so he continued listening.

“The dark place from whence I came

Is not where I want to be.

It’s time to find the power within

To be what I want to be.”

The words seemed to be speaking to him. Like they were for him.

“I’m invisible now

I don’t want to be.

I’ll find you.

I’m coming.”

He stared intently at the album cover as he listened to the chorus. The silhouette of a running person looked like a teenager, like it could be him, running, searching for those who understood. As another instrumental stretch began in the unusually long song, he lay back on his bed, closing his eyes and letting his body be completely taken over by it. The guitar solo sent a particularly warm and exciting jolt through him, like the notes were filling his soul with comfort, happiness. There was no evil. He allowed himself to be inspired by it more than any Bible verse could anymore.

Even if I’m going to Hell in the end, I can live happy. This is peace.

Every song on the album was similar, and when it was over he continued to lay still, his body numb. He stared at the ceiling until the numbness subsided, then the craving for more hit. More of Beautiful Apocalypse. But there were no other albums by them. Then he remembered the internet, the thing Annabelle had used to show him information about the Disciples Rising camp. There was an icon on his tablet that looked exactly like hers and he tapped it. He typed the band’s name in the search bar and received various results. Knowing nothing about how the internet worked or what he was looking at, it was a bit overwhelming, but at the top was a video. It was titled “From Whence I Came,” and the small picture showed a man playing guitar. He tapped it and his screen filled with the video.

There were four men, all standing with their instruments in a field of ankle-high grass. The entire video was in black and white and consisted mostly of the band members performing their song. He was drawn to each of them, not a single one of them looking the least bit evil or what he might imagine a devil-worshipper to look like. Only the drummer had long hair, but he didn’t feel out of place next to the sophisticated looking bassist and keyboardist. But there was something different about the guitarist and singer. It wasn’t his scruffiness or messy hair, and it wasn’t just his voice or his hands flying along the neck of his guitar. He looked at the camera often. That’s what it was. The connection wasn’t just the music. It was the man himself.

Joey’s brain connected to the tablet, deep into the circuits like he’d done with the TV. The power collected around the man’s head, into his eyes, and a flash of standing in the field in front of the musician came and went.

He stopped the video and put the tablet down. If he had just done what he’d done to his grandfather, then that man, whoever he was, just saw him too. He felt guilty for doing it, for probably scaring a stranger. Picking up the tablet again he looked at the paused picture of the musician. Tentatively he tried to connect again, but it didn’t work. The video would have to be playing.

Closing the video, he went back to the music app. That was safer, just letting that music take him over rather than be tempted to use his powers to connect to someone he didn’t know. But as he listened to the lyrics again, he pondered that decision.

“It’s time to find those who understand…

I’ll find you

I’m coming.”

Do it. Find him.

With a deep breath, Joey went back to the video. Every time the guitarist looked at the camera he tried to connect. Sometimes he got a flash, sometimes it didn’t work. Twice he watched the video in its entirety and he never got more than a second in the man’s presence. With his head now throbbing, he decided to try the next day, and would try every day until he could get it to work. The urge to find him was getting stronger.

* * *

Jack walked down the middle of their tour bus toward the front, rubbing his eyes. His head buzzed with a mild pain that had become almost constant for the past week. He wondered if the stress of their tour was getting to him. Or maybe there was something hidden in his mind.

Being the center of human attention on a daily basis was incredibly awkward. Constantly he felt the need to hide, the need to grasp his pendant to escape, but reminded himself this was what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to be some level of famous. The first time someone asked for his autograph he had frozen. He knew what that was, but he’d never signed his name before, had never even written it in any way, so he had to come up with something on the fly with strange humans staring at him. Pictures with the fans were scariest. Photographic evidence of demons among humans on Earth? Isn’t this a bad thing? But Lucifer was not concerned. He was pleased. So Jack went with it.

It had taken a few shows to get used to being on a stage in front of hundreds of people, having to address them. Performing the music was easy, and soon the entire stage performance became so routine that he didn’t mind it so much. He enjoyed watching all the auras become bright yellow as they played, and chuckled at the idea of demons bringing joy to Earth, unbeknownst to the humans.

But now, halfway through their tour, the headaches were making it harder to focus. Multiple times a day he’d get flashes of standing in front of someone he’d never seen before, always the same person, always the same place. And it was getting worse.

He was afraid to ask Dorian for answers. Even though the demon would likely be able to explain what was happening, he knew getting berated for ignorance wouldn’t help him feel better about it. Instead he went to Miles, who was sitting alone on a bench at the front of the bus and sat beside him.

“You know how Amdusias put stuff in our brains? Knowledge and skill?”

“Obviously.”

“Do you think he put other stuff too? Maybe by accident. Like memories or something.” When faced with a skeptical look, Jack explained the flashes he’d been having. “I had weird flashes during the procedure too. Maybe it was memories.”

Miles shrugged. “I did too, but not anymore. Maybe you got bonus stuff, I don’t know. Ask Dorian.”

“No.” Jack rubbed his aching head. Another flash came, a strong one, almost clear but still too short to see the person clearly enough. “Do you think maybe when we had our memories taken out at the beginning, we saw flashes too? Like them fading away.”

“Maybe. But all of that is obviously gone now.” Miles sat up. “Do you think it’s an old memory you’re seeing?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is, I wish it would stop.” Jack sighed. “I’m gonna go lay down.”

He stood and took a few steps toward his bunk. Before he could get any farther, he felt his brain freeze in time as if something had completely taken it over. Wincing, he closed his eyes, and after a moment of feeling like he was falling, he opened them when he felt his feet firmly on the ground.

It was no longer the solid floor of the tour bus. It was soft grass that came to his ankles. But as he looked down he saw he was holding his guitar, strapped around him, and a pick was in his hand. His skin was gray. In fact, everything that should have color was in various shades of gray except his clothes and the guitar itself, which were black as normal. A slight breeze blew past, the scent of grass wafting along.

He looked up to analyze his surroundings more but the person standing before him caught his attention instead. A teenage boy in a dark gray T-shirt and pants—perhaps a different color but there was no way to tell—stood still with arms at his sides. Just by the shape, the size, the position Jack knew this was the vision he’d been having all this time.

But now he could see the face. The boy stared in awe, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. Finally he spoke. “I did it,” he whispered. “It worked.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jack asked, staring. Naturally he looked for an aura, but with the black and white shading of the world he saw nothing.

It became clear where he was now. There were hills and trees in the distance, the same ones that had surrounded them when filming their music video. He looked behind him and to the sides but his bandmates were not there. The cameras and film crew were not there either. Just him, his guitar, and the strange boy.

The boy was trembling now but took a step toward Jack. “Are you real?” he asked.

“I should ask the same of you,” Jack said. He stepped back. “Who the fuck are you and how did you do this to me?”

“I’m sorry.” The boy looked at him sheepishly. “I—I just really like your music and wanted to find you. This is the only way I could.”

Jack froze. Could this be him? Only a demon could do something like this. Only a demon descendent of Buriel, a master of mind control. Before Jack could come up with a way to find out, the boy spoke.”

“You’re looking for me too? You know I’m a demon?”

How the fuck did he—

“It’s complicated,” the boy continued. “Please don’t be mad. It’s just that your music really speaks to me, and I feel like I needed to contact you somehow. Like you were calling to me. And it’s true, isn’t it. How do you know about me?”

Jack held his breath. The boy seemed so innocent other than taking over his mind entirely through a music video. His gaze was nervous yet hopeful. Like the faces of the humans that came to their shows and asked for his autograph. Where was the dangerous monster he was supposed to find?

“I’m not dangerous,” the boy said. “I didn’t connect to you to hurt you. I just know I need to find you. I—” The boy suddenly looked to the side and gasped. There was nothing there, but he saw something. “Oh no,” he whimpered. “I have to go.”

“No! Wait, come back!”

But the boy disappeared. The pure fear on his face was the last thing he saw before it went dark and he opened his eyes again. This time he was on the floor of the tour bus, lying on his back and looking up at three terrified faces.

“Holy shit, Jack, what happened?” Miles was shaking.

“I found the cambion,” Jack said.