Page 14 of The Night Prince 6

But still he hesitated to accept the existence of his son as good.

Why?

It was then that he heard the music. A raw, pulsing, air-rending sound that called to his soul. His head shot towards a large circular tent that was set up just outside of the third concentric circle of Hope. The tent was made of heavy fabric that was staked into the earth. It had once been white, but dirt had been ground into the material to make it more an uneven tan. It was large enough to fit at least a hundred people inside. Two flaps were pulled back and tied off to form an entrance. The music was coming from inside. His hips swiveled and he found himself unerringly heading towards the glorious cacophony of sounds.

He passed through the opening into the slightly shaded interior. He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. It had been some time since he’d spent this long in the Sun. Spells were all well and good, but his natural habitat was not beneath the Sun’s rays. The tent’s interior was hardly dark though as there were plastic windows in the top of the tent that let sunlight filter through and in the very center was an opening to allow fresh air inside.

There was a seat of long row of wooden tables with benches on either side. They were swathed with brightly patterned and mismatched fabrics. Tablecloths, he realized. These tables were packed inside, allowing only narrow walkways that led to the center of the room where a stage had been set up.

On this stage were three men and two women who were all standing around another man who was seated on the edge of the stage. This seated man had a hand to his forehead and he was slightly swaying. His cheeks were rough with dark stubble. His hair was lank and fell in loose, thin strands to his chin. He wore a stained white tank top that revealed a wiry frame. He had on a set of dirty jeans as well along with pointed toed boots.

“Jake, I can’t believe you!” One of the women said with an angry shake of her head. Her blond hair fell in curls below her shoulders. She, too, had on a pair of jeans and a white tank top, but she also had a flannel shirt tied around her waist.

“What’s to believe, Cynda?” This droll observation was from the other woman who was as different from the first as night and day. She had closely cropped black hair with dark eyeliner beneath her large, gray eyes that made them look deeper and larger. Black oversized pants and a white t-shirt completed her outfit. She held a pair of sticks in one hand, thumping them against her thigh to a beat only she could hear. “He’s always drunk or high or planning on getting that way.”

“But we have a gig, Tish! A big gig they’re actually paying us for! The Sun King might actually attend and Jake’s sloshed!” Cynda wailed and threw up her hands before stalking off to the back of the stage.

One of the men who was standing had a bushy beard and equally long gray hair. His paunch was covered by a gray t-shirt overlaid with a denim shirt and jeans. He had a musical instrument slung over his shoulders and resting against his paunch. He was staring down at Jake with pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

He began, “Maybe we can feed him enough coffee–”

At that moment, Jake toppled over on his side and began to snore. Loudly.

“There’s not enough coffee in the world to bring him back in time, Hank,” the other man, also lean, but with a scraggly beard that he scratched said.

“Do we really need the two of you to play bass? Can’t one of you take over the guitar for him? C’mon, Mike, can’t you do it?” Cynda pleaded, having stalked around the stage and came back to them again.

Mike, the scraggly bearded one, gulped and scratched his already reddened neck some more. “Ah, no, no way, Cynda. I don’t sight read. And I can’t do those solos so…”

“Hank?” Cynda’s large eyes swung towards the big man.

Hank snorted. “Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Cynda. You might as well ask Tish here to do it, but she’d never leave her drums.”

“Damned straight,” Tish nodded as she continued to thump her leg with the sticks in her hands. “Besides, the only thing I want to do right now is beat things after watching that loser sleep it off.”

“Can we play without him?” Cynda was really pleading now. Her eyes flickered among her bandmates.

None would meet her eyes. It was clear that none of them believed it would sound any good without this guitar.

Tish headed back dejectedly to a seat behind a drum set while Mike continued to scratch his neck raw. Hank played with some knobs on a black, squat square with a perforated covering on one side. There was a hum that came from it. He strummed the instrument–a bass, if he recalled correctly–and the music emanated from the black square. It was amplified by the black square.

“Great. Just fucking great!” Cynda pinched the top of her nose. “We might as well get out of town now before Rohannan realizes we’ve messed up his big festival.”

She went over to Jake’s unconscious form and made to kick him off the stage. Her mouth screwed up in frustration and anger. That was when Vex made himself known.

“Hello there!” he called to the group who all jerked towards him in shock. He hadn’t wanted them to notice him until now so it must have seemed as if he appeared out of nowhere. “Sorry to have frightened you!” He chuckled. “But I couldn’t help but overhear your predicament.”

He gestured towards the unconscious Jake.

Cynda, whose lips had been parted in shock at his appearance, blinked a few times as she took him in. “Oh, yeah, he’s… he’s down for the count. Our guitarist and male vocalist. I’m the main singer. Cynda. Cynda Dahl. And you are?”

He flashed a smile that showed his sharp, white teeth. Predatory, but still friendly. “You can call me… Xel.”

“Xel, huh?” Tish tilted her head to the side, her sticks moving restlessly between her two hands. “You mentioned you heard our predicament, you have a solution?”

“I might.” He strolled up to the base of the stage, hands crossed at the wrists behind his back, smile firmly in place.

“You a musician?” Hank’s thick eyebrows furrowed.