Angel Dares (10 page)

‘Yeah, the one you wrote last night.’

I could tell Marcus was really reluctant to expose something so new and raw so soon. He cast round for excuses. ‘The guys don’t know it.’

‘We’ll pick it up,’ said Pete. ‘Kurt’s right: it’ll be more fun than going over the old stuff.’

Marcus’s gaze swept the field as if looking for someone. I ducked even further behind my speaker, hugging myself in delight. It looked like I was going to be present for a world premiere of Black Belt’s freshly composed track. I was so glad I had taken the risk and sneaked in.

‘Go on, Marcus. What have I told you? You’re an artist; you know it needs to be sung before you really know if it works,’ urged Kurt.

Marcus gave Kurt a ballsy grin. ‘All right then. This is for you, Kurt, and … er … someone else.’ He shifted the capo another fret and struck up the opening.

Oh. My.

It was the first time I’d been present with Marcus making any music and the experience was unlike anything I had ever felt before. The notes seemed to reach right into me and connect to my nerve endings. It was like being
inside
the song—even this simple, haunting guitar refrain. The feeling was so exposing it was almost painful. Listening to this outpouring of melody, I knew what it was like to be that major chord moving into the minor. With him, I discovered another dimension that had hidden just out of perception, a world of pure music. Why hadn’t I ever seen things this way before? It was so obvious now he had showed me.

Wake up, girl! Clever Angel slapped me around the face. This was no ordinary talent; the acute sensations he generated had to be thanks to a gift. If I closed my eyes, I could sense the psychic energy pouring from him, spreading out to the listeners. We had to get to him quickly—tell him the danger he was in from Davis and his fellow journalist investigators. I only managed to hold that thought for a second before the melody sucked me under again.

So swept away by the experience, it took me a while to register the words to the song.

Girl, when I saw you, everything round you shone,

Face of an angel, but I sensed the demon

Sent to torment me, say what’s going wrong.

Keep your distance, baby,

Fly back where you belong.

Was this … was this about me? I dug my fingers into the grass, clenching my fists.

Then he moved into the chorus:

Demon Angel, got my soul on the rack

I wanna kiss you, baby, but I’m scared you’ll kiss me back.

There ain’t no escaping all that we can be

Move one step closer and I’ll never get free
.

It had to be a coincidence. My name was a common concept in songs. If I took every song personally I wouldn’t be able to sit through a Christmas carol concert. But the lyrics got worse: he then sang about a whirlwind dancing—a teasing girl who flirted with everyone—a party girl. Ouch. He really didn’t like his subject very much.

The song came to an end. Marcus leant towards the mic. ‘There you go, Kurt. Happy now?’

‘Very. The chorus needs work but it’s coming along well. What’s it called?’

‘
Demon Angel
—kinda like the opposite of the guardian one.’

‘So you’ve got a new muse. Any particular reason why you came up with it last night?’ Kurt was smirking—you could tell from his tone.

‘No reason.’ Marcus glanced up at the sound box. ‘Did that sound OK to you, Margot?’

‘Spot on, Marcus—and the sound levels were good too,’ she replied.

He grinned at the compliment to the song. ‘Thanks. I’ll polish it up then and maybe we can add it to the next album. Let’s run through the opening to ‘Out in the Cold’ just to be sure there are no glitches.’ Moving on as if he hadn’t just destroyed me, Marcus counted in his band mates.

I turned away from the stage and sat numbly with my back to the speaker, feeling the sound pound into my shoulder blades. That little byplay in the trailer now made sense. Kurt had noticed the lyrics on the table and assumed Marcus had written it about me. But I hadn’t done anything to Marcus to provoke the demon thing, had I? I’d just had a good time and tried to involve him in the fun. I was used to people finding me a little overwhelming, but no one had actually disliked me enough to say I was bad for them.

It might not be about you, I told myself.

But it felt like it was. Kurt thought it was. How could I face any of them again?

I pressed my knuckles into my eye sockets. Suck it up, Angel. You are here for Will. What does it matter what some boy thinks about you?

But if I was right about his gift, Marcus was a savant.

He was seventeen—same age as me—and I was strangely attracted to him. All I needed was to discover he also had a March birthday.

Damn and blast with bells on: I was so screwed.

* * *

So I did what any sensible girl would do: I ran away and phoned BFF Summer.

‘Hello?’

‘Summer, please, I need to use telepathy: it’s an emergency!’

She laughed. It was true, I did overuse that phrase. Now it had returned to bite me on the bum like in the fable of the boy who cried wolf. ‘Calm down, it’s not an emergency. You know you can’t take a risk like that.’

‘You don’t understand! I’m not exaggerating.’ I dropped my voice to a whisper and checked the instrument storeroom was empty. Black cases and boxes surrounded me with no person in sight. ‘That Marcus guy—I think he’s a savant.’

‘We did suggest it might be a possibility that Gifted and Black Belt have some savant gifts.’

Why was she so unruffled about all this? ‘But Summer, he’s seventeen like us and I’m irrationally attracted to him. Wasn’t that what Misty said about her and Alex? She couldn’t stop herself thinking about him even when they were arguing?’

Summer sighed. ‘Angel, don’t you think you are, you know, getting a little worked up over nothing? I would guess that several hundreds of millions of people are seventeen at this very moment. Why does it have to be him?’

‘Did you miss the bit when I said he was a savant?’

‘OK that reduces the odds but still—it’s a stretch. What’s his gift?’

‘Music.’

‘Angel, being musical isn’t a savant gift.’

‘His kind is—he seems to draw you inside the song. I know you don’t think I’m very perceptive but trust me on this: I know a savant gift when it turns my insides into a shimmer of gold.’ I had an echo of the feeling even as I described it.

‘All Danae to the stars,’ muttered Summer.

‘What?’

‘A line by Tennyson. The god Zeus visited Danae in a cloud of stars.’

Summer is what Matt would call ‘a classy bird’. ‘That’s it exactly. A visitation by a higher power. I felt the music sizzle inside me even though it was a song insulting me and everything I do.’

‘Oh.’ Her little bubble of romantic allusion was popped by that admission.

‘Yeah. This is not a one-way street of attraction going on, though at the moment he is reading it as repulsion. That’s why I need to use telepathy. I can find out if he’s the one. If not, I can kick him where it hurts for being rude about me. That can be his next song: “The Girl Who Brought Me to My Knees in Much Deserved Agony”.’

‘And if he is your soulfinder?’

‘I still kick him where it hurts but tell him he is stuck with me and has to live with it.’

Summer was silent for a few moments. ‘Be careful, Angel: he might not know what he is.’

‘How can he not? It can’t be coincidence he is hanging out with Will’s girl. I’ve not had a chance to work out if Gifted are also gifted but the smart money is on them having hidden talents.’

I didn’t need to read minds to tell that Summer was now worrying about what I was planning. My friends all regard me as a bit of a wild card due to my impulsive side, but I can’t seem to help myself. I was at the back of the queue when self-control was handed out; actually, no, I probably hadn’t bothered to wait around in the queue for it.

Summer sighed. ‘Look, come back to the tents, Angel. We need to talk about this. If you’re going to use telepathy on him, you need to be a hundred per cent sure Eli Davis and his people aren’t nearby.’

She wasn’t dismissing my hunch: that was good. I glanced at the time on my phone. ‘Sorry, can’t. I have band rehearsal now. I’ll try to get away between that and our performance. If I don’t, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

‘When is help arriving?’

‘Uriel is bring Victor from the airport when he lands this evening. They’ve both taken a keen interest in Eli Davis ever since Cambridge.’

‘I bet. OK, must go.’

‘All right, but don’t do anything, you know, Angel-ish before we’ve had a chance to plan this.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘I should’ve phoned Misty. She would have encouraged me to just go for it.’

‘That’s why you phoned me. Deep inside, you know you needed a counter balance to—’

‘To being Angel. Yes, I do, I know. I’m stupid.’

Summer hates it when Misty and I run ourselves down. She can always be counted on to bolster low self-esteem. ‘You are not stupid! You are wonderful—vibrant—talented.’

‘But seriously lacking in caution?’

‘Well … yes.’

I chuckled. She understood me so well. ‘Let the others know what’s going on and I’ll phone later.’

Seventh Edition were practising in the performers’ lounge, a tent set aside for tune-up and run-throughs. I arrived on time with Black Adder under my arm to find Jay was already scowling.

‘I can’t see how we’re expected to perform at our best if we can’t get onto the stage beforehand.’

Henry checked her clipboard. ‘Sorry, Jay, but the stages are either being made ready for tonight or there are already acts performing. Only the headliners get to use them in advance—we just can’t accommodate all the bands who want to do their own tech.’

Jay squeezed the neck of his guitar so his knuckles went white. ‘This is a crap system.’

Henry carried on with her kind and reasonable tone. ‘I’m sorry if you don’t like it but there is nothing I can do. Make sure you arrive at least twenty minutes before your set and check your sound requirements with the team. They’re very experienced at a quick setup.’

Matt started playing the high hat, a little brush of percussion to remind Jay that time was a-wasting.

‘All right, I suppose we’ll have to make do.’ Henry gave him a curt nod, me an eye roll at Jay’s behaviour, then hurried out.

‘Angel, pleased you’ve finally decided to join us,’ snarled Jay.

‘I’m not late.’ I opened my case and took out Black Adder. ‘Do you have my amp?’

‘As a session musician, you are responsible for transporting your own equipment.’ Until this point, Seventh Edition had always included my amp on the bus. I hadn’t thought Jay would sink so low as to sabotage the band’s sound just to spite me.

‘You’re kidding?’

‘It’s OK, Angel, I’ve got it here. I made sure it went on with my kit. Jay knew I had it—he just wanted you to sweat a bit.’ Matt pulled it out from behind his bass drum box.

‘Thanks, Matt. Not funny, Jay.’ I glared at the louse and set up as far from him as I could manage without actually leaving the tent. ‘Oh, I have some good news.’ I kept my tone purposely airy.

‘Not now, Angel. Some of us don’t have time for gossip. We’ve got a gig to prepare for,’ said Jay stiffly.

‘No, really, you’ll want to hear this.’

‘I really wouldn’t.’

‘Bet you your classic rock vinyl collection that you do.’

He snorted. ‘I’m not taking that bet. OK, tell us. You won’t shut up otherwise, will you?’

I plucked a string to check tuning. ‘I ran into Kurt Voss this morning and he has invited us back to his trailer this evening for pizzas. Gifted and Black Belt are all going to be there.’ I looked up and watched the shock roll through the boys.

Jay gaped. ‘Invited who?’

‘Me and my band mates—but I suppose if I’m not officially in Seventh Edition, only a session musician, I don’t have a band and I’ll have to go alone.’ I ran a scale on Black Adder.

Kyle dumped his bass guitar and scooped me up for a celebratory spin. I held bow and instrument out like wings. ‘You are not going anywhere alone, Angel. That is so awesome! Hey, guys, Angel’s in the band, isn’t she?’

‘Sure is,’ agreed Richie, then played a little flourish of notes on the sax.

Owen grunted and gave a thumbs up.

‘I never said she wasn’t.’ Matt winked at me. ‘Jay?’

‘I … ’ Jay looked as though he was chewing razorblades.

I knew exactly the carrot to hold before the jackass. ‘Think of all those useful contacts, Jay. Record producers, industry movers and shakers. Oh and Kurt also said he’d try to come and listen to us play today.’

‘You’re joking?’

‘No. Deadly serious.’

Jay swallowed. ‘Of course you’re in the band. I don’t know where you got the impression you aren’t.’

This was such barefaced cheek, even from Jay, that I was left speechless.

‘Girls—chicks like you—get these strange notions in their mind, make a big deal out of a few disagreements. Irrational hormonal reaction.’ He settled his guitar across his chest. ‘Now we know we’ve got a special audience, we’d better get down to some serious practice.’

‘Do you even stop and listen to yourself?’ I muttered. ‘You make politicians look like straight talkers.’

He ignored my insult. ‘If Kurt has taken a shine to Angel, I think we’ll kick off with “Star-Crossed”, OK?’