“Start talking, Soul Reacher.”

Lucifer sat on his throne, one leg over an arm rest as he leaned against his arm on the other. He stared ahead with slight irritation.

“I do come with news, my lord,” Jack said, kneeling before him. “Good news. The cambion contacted me.”

Lucifer raised his eyebrows and sat up. “He contacted you? How? Where is he?”

“Through our music video. I don’t know how he did it, but he obviously inherited Buriel’s ability of mind control. He got in my head somehow. I could talk to him and see him.”

Standing slowly, Lucifer took a step forward. “Where is he? What did he say?”

Jack knew that was the end of the good news and hesitated to continue. “Well…something interrupted him and the connection broke before he would answer my questions.” When Lucifer tensed, Jack began to tremble. “But at least I saw what he looks like, so if I see him in person—”

“What does he look like? What was he like? Does he seem like he’ll be difficult?”

“Well he looks just like a regular kid. A little shorter than me, dark hair and eyes, young face. Seemed curious, a little nervous maybe. But he said our music really speaks to him. I think the plan is working, my lord, we just need a bit more time. He’s coming.”

Lucifer smiled, then chuckled softly. “They told me I was crazy. That my plan was ridiculous and would never work. This is excellent. You’ve done well, Soul Reacher, as have your companions. Carry on with your tour. We will just have to wait for him to contact you again or come to you. Now go. Off with you.”

Jack stood and bowed. “Thank you, my lord.”

Soon he was once again in the back of the tour bus, and hurried out to update the others.

“Well?” Dorian asked. “What did he say? Is he pleased?”

“Yeah. Really happy. He says let’s just wait for him to contact me again. Says we’re doing a good job. I think we got this.”

Over the next two days Jack waited for the boy to connect again, and worried when he didn’t. Maybe he was afraid to, that he thought Jack was angry for him controlling his mind. But he didn’t want to believe that. This was a demon attracted by the music. Nothing should keep him away. Right?

He was onstage in Kansas City in the middle of a solo when the blast to his mind came. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, he tried to push it away. Not now. It released, but only for a few seconds, coming again like a fist trying to grab his brain. Not now! He imagined himself putting up a shield, and as he sang the last part of the song he could hear his voice was not as strong, all of his mental energy going to blocking a demon takeover in front of hundreds of people. When the song finally ended, the crowd was cheering but not as loudly as before. Quickly he went back toward the drum set to get a towel and cover his face.

Dorian was beside him. “Are you okay?” he asked, but Jack didn’t respond. The invisible fist grabbed tightly and Jack took a breath. He could see the boy in front of him in the field and felt himself falling. Not now, please! Give me half an hour at least! He reached out for Dorian to catch him as the grip on his mind released and did not return.

“It’s the cambion, isn’t it,” Dorian said, still holding Jack upright.

Jack nodded. “I told him to wait. I think he heard me.” After a drink from his water bottle, he returned to the microphone. “Sorry about that,” he said to the crowd. “Just a headache. I’ll be okay.”

But even without the interruptions he had trouble focusing on the show. He was anxious to talk to the boy again and willed his bandmates through their musical connections to play a little faster, make the songs go by just a tiny bit quicker. They didn’t, and Jack thought he felt actual refusal from Dorian. But he also felt them carrying him along, helping him stay focused so as not to mess up again.

The end of the show was a relief and Jack went backstage as quickly as possible. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been, but it didn’t matter. Within seconds the fist grabbed his brain and he fell into the world of the black and white field.

Standing before him once again, this time looking much more shy and nervous than before, was the boy.

“There you are,” Jack said.

“I’m sorry,” the boy pleaded. “Please don’t be mad about this.”

“I’m not mad.”

“You pushed me away.”

“Oh. See, I’m on tour right now and was on stage, and since I pass out when you do this—”

The boy gasped. “You do? I’m so sorry!”

“No, never mind that. Just, I’m off limits in the evenings, okay?”

“Okay.”

Not knowing how long they might have, Jack decided to dive into questioning. “What’s your name?”

“Joey.”

“Hi, Joey. I’m Jack.”

“I know.”

Jack chuckled. “Of course you do. Listen, I—”

“What do you know about me?” Joey stepped closer. “You know I’m a demon. I want to know more about who I am, and you know all about that, don’t you?”

Jack was stuck for words for a moment. This kid didn’t know his own history. “I want to meet with you in person,” he said. “Talking about this isn’t practical through a music video.”

Joey stepped forward and reached toward Jack, his hand going through him like he was a hologram. He said nothing.

“Where do you live, Joey?”

“Chicago.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s perfect. Listen, we’re performing a concert there on Saturday night. It’s at a place called Rockhouse on the southside, northeast of Chinatown. If you come, I’ll get you in for free and you can hang out with us backstage. What do you say?”

For a moment Joey’s face glowed with excitement. He looked like nothing more than a regular teenager being presented with the gift of a lifetime. But then the happiness faded. “I don’t think I can.”

Jack felt his own excitement fade. “Why not?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“There’s no way my aunt would let me go. I live with her now, and I’ve already lost a lot of her trust, I’m sure of it.” His voice was wavering. “I don’t think I can convince her, and I don’t dare try to sneak out.”

Confused that a demon would be afraid of getting in trouble for doing something rebellious, Jack had to remind himself that this boy didn’t know the details of his origins. “Do you think you can try? Convince your aunt, I mean. It’s really important we talk. Really important.”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay. If you can come, be outside the door by 5 p.m. If you can’t come, contact me. Just…promise to give me a little mental nudge first. And mind the time. Okay?”

Joey nodded.

“Good luck, kid. Hope to see you.”

“Thanks for not being mad at me.”

Jack smiled. “Of course.”

The grip released and he found himself on the floor backstage, his bandmates surrounding him. Their expressions were more anxious than scared.

“Well?” Dorian asked.

Jack sat up and rubbed his head, assuming the pain there was from bumping it when he fell. “He lives in Chicago. He’s gonna try to come to our show. The craziest part is that he knows he’s a demon but doesn’t know how or why or anything. I used that as a way to convince him to come. To learn more.”

“Nice work,” Cameron said, and they all helped Jack to his feet. “Should we tell Lucifer?”

“No. He said emergencies only. Hopefully next time we talk to him, I’ll have a soul in my hand.”

* * *

Annabelle stood in the dark kitchen, peering around the wall into the living room. As she watched Joey sitting on the couch and speaking to the video on his tablet as if having a conversation with it, she was torn between anger at being lied to and worry that she was losing him. She decided to let him finish out his conversation to get as much information as possible. He didn’t appear to be summoning anyone, but it was clear there were plans of meeting up with someone.

As soon as Joey stopped the video, Annabelle stepped into view. “I think you have some explaining to do,” she said, her arms crossed.

Joey jumped and dropped his tablet on the floor, his face filled with shock. “It’s not what you think,” he said quickly.

“You lied to me.”

“I—I’m sorry.” Joey stood. “I just…I knew you’d be mad, and you’re the only one who cares about me, and I was afraid that telling you about this would make you give up on me like everyone else. I’m sorry.”

Annabelle sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She put up her mental shield, knowing he was trying to read her mind. The thoughts and desires to lock him up for safety were inevitable, but doing that would only make things worse. She opened her eyes and looked into his.

“There is nothing in this world that would make me give up on you,” she said. “To give up on you means I give up on my own life, and that’s not an option. All I ask is that from now on you please be completely honest with me about everything. It’s hard to hold trust when you keep secrets like this.”

Joey nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.” He sat on the couch and Annabelle sat beside him, mentally bracing herself for whatever bizarre story she was about to hear.

“Remember that day that I connected to Grandpa in the TV? Well, I kind of honed that ability and connected to the singer and guitarist of this band. Apparently I actually got into his head through the video. I felt really bad about it, especially since he said he passes out when I do that, but he was nice in the end. He actually invited me to their concert on Saturday. Said he’d let me in for free to see the show and hang out with them.”

“And you said you didn’t think your aunt would let you go.”

Joey sighed. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you said you wouldn’t sneak out.”

When Joey said nothing, instead staring at his hands in his lap, Annabelle wondered if he indeed was thinking of doing that.

“Who is this guy? Why would he be nice to a strange kid who takes over his brain through a tablet?”

“I don’t know. He was mad at first, but then he was okay. I think he understands me. He knows I’m different and wants to help.”

Though the guide voice did not speak up, Annabelle felt a strong need for protecting Joey. “There are bad people out there, Joey. People who prey on teenagers, trick them. This just sounds too good to be true. I think maybe he sees you as vulnerable and has other plans in mind.”

“I really don’t think so. But maybe you could come with me. Protect me like you always do.”

Annabelle raised her eyebrows. “Me? At some heavy metal concert? A secular one, no less. Besides, I could barely stop Grandpa from killing you, and I couldn’t stop that boy from trying to kill you at Yellowstone. What makes you think I can stop this guy, or all four of them even, from hurting you?”

Their eyes met once again, and Annabelle kept the question in her mind to hide the fact she wanted nothing to do with the concert at all.

“Because you’re my guardian angel. Though I don’t understand why God would give a demon a guardian angel, I know that’s what you are. You know it too. These guys won’t hurt me, but either way I know I’ll be safe with you.”

Guardian angel. He kept using that term, just like Miranda always did, and she had always shrugged it off as simply an endearing reference. Aside from a voice occasionally popping in her head that might be God’s and mystery healing powers, she couldn’t feel more human.

“I’m not an angel,” she said. “Just blessed.”

“You really don’t believe you’re an angel?”

“No. I am a servant of God, but I am certainly not a celestial being.”

“Well, you are, whether you agree or not.” Joey sighed. “I guess you won’t take me, huh.”

Annabelle remained silent, allowing him to read her apprehension if he wanted.

“I know I don’t deserve it. After all the lying I’ve done, all the sneakiness, causing trouble with my powers…I don’t deserve this privilege. I promise to be better, to earn your trust again. Though I’m sure it won’t be enough by Saturday.”

Despite her fear of him falling prey to a potential predator, she began to worry more about him sneaking out in desperation. Surely that would set him on the path away from God. True rebellion. There was only one way to avoid that.

“I’ll think about it,” she said softly.

Joey looked at her in surprise. “Really? You’ll consider it?”

“If you prove to me these next few days that I can trust you, that you’ll stay on a righteous path, I might allow it.”

He threw himself at her, squeezing tight. “Thank you. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

* * *

Though Annabelle was secretly terrified of leaving Joey home alone unsupervised while she was at work every day, there was no choice. He now had the freedom to move beyond one specific room, to go outside if he wanted, though Annabelle suggested to him he simply sit on the balcony if he wanted fresh air rather than wander streets he was unfamiliar with. Returning home after her first day leaving him alone she found him doing just that, leaned back in a chair with feet up on the railing, listening to music. He proved to her he still only listened to Beautiful Apocalypse, so she allowed it.

As each day went by, she was pleasantly surprised to see Joey doing unexpected things like cleaning, preparing food for himself and for her after she taught him how, and studying the Bible on his own. He seemed so relaxed, so happy. Freedom was not making him do things he shouldn’t. And he was back to being passionate and curious about spirituality again. She had to admit this was what he needed all along.

By Thursday she knew she needed to come to a decision about the concert. Joey had not asked her about it, but he probably read her occasional thoughts about it and had decided to not pester her. Part of her felt it wouldn’t be right to deny him this privilege; he had proven himself more than she had expected. But she still worried about the strange man possibly luring Joey, not to mention her own discomfort at being in a place she knew she didn’t belong.

Sitting at her desk that night she put the band’s name in a search engine, finding all sorts of results. Among articles with headlines like “New Progressive Metal Band Takes the Genre by Storm” and “Beautiful Apocalypse Dominates the Prog Metal World” were photos and videos of their recent performances. She had no interest in listening to their songs, but she studied the pictures. The band members all looked around her age or slightly older, and appeared happy, not menacing as she would have expected. Even their professional photos had them looking harmless despite their very serious expressions. And she despised herself for still finding the front man attractive, glad that Joey wasn’t in the room to see her blush.

There wasn’t much information on the man himself, however, other than his name, Jack Harper. The band had a page on an online encyclopedia, but even that information was sparse. What was there was cited to a recent interview with drummer Cameron Sunderland, which she decided to read despite much of the music discussion being beyond her comprehension or interest. All she learned was they were from Chicago, had met in college there, and just recently decided to start putting their music into the world. No details to help Annabelle feel comfortable about meeting them. She’d have to have the courage to ask questions herself.

When she woke on Friday morning to breakfast waiting for her, she couldn’t withhold a decision any longer. “I’m really proud of you,” she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. “You’ve shown me what a great young man you can be. I’m going to let you go to the concert. But I will be with you the entire time.”

She had not expected tears, but Joey nearly sobbed into her neck as he hugged her tight. “You really are the best. This means more to me than anything.”

“I know. Keep being this great person you are, even after this. Besides, I have to admit I like being spoiled with a clean house and meals waiting for me. There is more kindness in your heart than I think anyone imagined.”