Dark Muse (11 page)

“Course, I figured he was either high or owed
money to some mob guys who gave him the dope. But then when he
stepped up to the plate with that look, I knew he believed in what
he said. And that was good enough for me. I had nothing really to
lose. Or so I thought.

“‘
Man, blues in B-flat. Keep it simple.
Eight bar pattern. Real simple, but let yourself go. Let it
all
go, that’s the key—and this here spot where our feet
are—is the lock. Let it go like you never have before. Forget who
you are, what ails you and just
touch
the music’.

“‘
What are we trying to open?’ I
said.

“‘
Don’t
screw
with me,’ he said.
‘You might not live to regret it.’

“‘
Geez, man, I’m just askin’,’ I said.
‘Relax.’”

“‘
No,
you
relax.
Close your
eyes and just play. Now.’

“So I did. Both of us did. We played tighter
and yet looser than we ever did on stage. Soon, the thoughts of
confusion and doubt fell away. In a heartbeat, the ground beneath
my feet just wasn’t there anymore. I
fell
—just fell away and
down into that place, that River that you swam in last night. I
wanted to ask a million questions, but they melted just as fast as
they formed in my mind. All that stuck was the music and yet, I
didn’t
try
to play. I just bled music. The current took me
and swept me away with Houston, along with any words that tried to
voice themselves. The most pleasant drowning sensation
imaginable—you probably felt that last night—washed over me and
filled every inch of me with its blue ‘water.’

“I heard myself playing, but certainly wasn’t
thinking, wasn’t attempting any lines, riffs, solos or songs. It
just happened, like someone, or something sliced me open at the
soul and bled the music from me like a sieve. And I liked it. The
waves kept pushing and rolling me in currents of sweet song until
the tide swept back out to sea quicker than Madonna changes her
image and politicians lose IQ points.

“We found ourselves in that same spot as last
night, probably feeling the same thing as you guys. And of course,
within minutes, something came to greet us.”

“‘
Holy mother of Ella Fitzgerald!’ I
said to him. ‘Where are we, man?

“Houston just grinned and froze me. ‘Science
lesson 101, my man. Welcome to the crossroads highway.’

“Where are we?

“‘
Wherever the crossroads
lead.’

“‘
Damn, man, are we in hell?’ I said.
‘Didn’t Rob—’ “‘Old Robert Johnson didn’t meet no devil, at least
not the one you’d expect. No deals here, but it’s pretty damn easy
to lose yourself here.’ “‘How?’

“He just smiled and started walking away from
me. ‘Just wait…you’ll see.’”

A silence followed that ached more than when
you watched a horror movie and knew the killer lurked only seconds
away.

Silver Eye Watkins smiled that wicked smile
as if he held the secrets to the universe behind it. “Go ahead. You
can ask questions now.”

Muddy thought they must have resembled the
rejects from the
Dumb & Dumber
movies. He slapped the
arms of the beat up recliner and hacked a long, stuttered
laugh.

“Something wrong with you?” Silver Eye asked.
“I finally want your response and
now
you act like those
idiots on the streets who act but don’t speak?”

“They’re called mimes, Grandpa.” You couldn’t
shut up Otis for long, but even his rebuttal lacked spice.

Poe rarely lost focus, however, which seemed
sort of ironic. “You didn’t finish the story,” she said evenly.

Silver Eye sighed, head hung low. “I went
there with him couple more times, but he got greedy.”

“Where is he now,” Muddy asked, hands white
on the guitar.

“Next topic, please.”

Corey whistled to himself.

“If there’s no ‘selling of the soul to the
devil,’ then what harm is there in traveling? Besides those drummer
apes, of course,” Poe said.

Muddy had a feeling Poe’s tongue was loose
because she’d tasted sight for the first time since forever.

“Honey,” Silver Eye cooed, “the devil would
be chewed up and spit out if he took up residence over there. That
little vignette you breezed through—”

“Breezed through?” Muddy sputtered. “Those
oafs nearly killed us!”

“If you think they were tough, you’ve got
another thing coming.”

Corey tried looking cool, but his eyes told a
different story. “Like what? Jumping thunder sticks? Humongous
hungry horns? Hordes of little people tooting flutophones?”

If one eye could pierce someone’s soul, that
bluesman accomplished just that as he stared back at their horn
guy. “You wouldn’t survive
one night
there, buddy.”

“Who?”

Silver Eye waved them away. “Don’t matter
none. It ain’t like you’ll be getting that far, anyway. By the time
you reached the real dangers, the ones you’d have to beat to get
your brother back, I’d be able to find you by the trail of body
parts the rest of that world’s horrors left behind.”

Muddy sighed, knowing the answer to his
question. “You’re not going to tell us, are you?”

“What would be the fun in that? Did Obi-wan
tell Luke Skywalker about the trials he’d face in all of the Star
Wars movies? No, he let the kid fumble and tumble through those
Jedi thingamabobs. Did Morpheus tell Neo how to do all those wacky
kicks? Nope, he let Neo fall flat on his face until he was
ready.”

The band sat there, allowing it all to sink
in, brains brewing, but silent. Of course, the absence of sound
could only avoid the vacuum that was Otis for so long.

“So, does this magic work in this world? Or
just in the land of the hairy drums? You going to let us in on that
secret or what?”

“Your mama ever whoop you? Recently?”

The little drummer shivered. “Um…”

“I thought so,” Silver Eye said, a knowing
glint shimmering in his eye. “Maybe if she kept it up, you might
learn to think before your lips flap.”

The others giggled, knowing that Otis’ mom
was the one person in this world who could zip those lips. Muddy
often wondered if something existed in that other world that
rivaled the thunder that torched their ears every time she got
ticked.

“And the answer is?” Corey asked, hands
conducting in the air.

The old man grumbled to himself and tapped
out a rhythm on his thighs.

“Umm…”

“Yes?

“Tomorrow’s Friday. Come here after school.
We’ll train more, and then I’ll answer your questions.”

A cacophony of mumbled curses drowned out
whatever he said next. Why would they have to wait another day just
for an answer?

Obviously, Silver Eye knew this was coming.
“If you’re serious about this, you’ll have no problem with
tomorrow. Luke, Harry, Neo and Frodo didn’t become heroes
overnight.”

“But—” Muddy tried to step in.

“Yeah, I know. He’s your brother. He’s over
there, I understand that. However, you remember what happened when
Luke rushed to fight Vader? Or how Vader became Vader?”

Of course they did. Everyone knew Star Wars,
either the first or second trilogy. The group might wind up losing
more than a hand over there if Silver Eye wasn’t bluffing.

“The bottom line is, you need to wait
.
Got it?”

A few mumbled, frustrated but dealing with
it.

“You gonna listen to me? Speak up!”

Grumbling a disjointed “yes,” they nodded,
four heads in defeat.

Poe stood up, but instead of heading toward
the door, she ran her fingers over the odd keyboard-ish thing the
old man gave her. “So, what’s the agenda?”

“What?”

“You said we’re not ready yet. Fine. I can
deal with that. But tell me what we have to do to get to Zack. You
say we haven’t hit the tip of the scary iceberg that comprises that
little “crossroads” world of yours. If that’s really true, you’re
missing the main point.”

“Which is? Tell me, little angel.”

Even with those cloudy eyes, the fire that
sparked in them couldn’t have been missed. “Don’t call me that, old
man,” she said and tossed the instrument back to him. “I’m not your
angel or anyone else’s.”

Silver Eye raised his hands in mock defeat.
“My apologies, Miss Poe. So, do tell, what am I missing here?”

“He’s been there for nearly forty-eight hours
and
if
you’re not shoving a pile through those lips of yours
and
if
scarier things exist than what we’ve seen over there,
then there’s a good chance—”

“Don’t,” Muddy whispered, mind already
forming images of what could be.

“You’re thinking the same thing, so grow up
and deal with it, Edgar.”

He couldn’t believe she’d just said that. He
sunk inside.

Otis mouthed the “D” word to him, attempting
to lessen the blow. Muddy did understand, but the lash from her
tongue still stung. She knew how his mom’s passing had affected
him. “He’s not dead.”

“He might be and you have to prepare yourself
for that,” she said.

“So, then why do you want to go?” He felt the
filter slip off his lips, not typical of him, even with the band.
“Want to check out a dead body? You never liked him, anyway. Might
be a thrill ride. Right?” Flames nearly followed the words out of
his mouth. Regret immediately trailed behind. Instead of spewing
fire and brimstone, Poe executed the worst retaliation of all.

She stared right through him, a sheen of
salty liquid coating the clouded lenses of blue. Oh crap. Nothing
else needed to be said. He’d stepped in it, rolled around in it and
had submerged his head until both ears were clogged. He would pay
for this. Didn’t know when or where, but it would come.

Silver Eye whistled a dire tune. “Boy, you’ve
a lot to learn about women.”

Despite any intended comebacks storming
within his head, his lips knew the battle was pointless. “I want
all of us there when we go,” the guitarist managed. “Without the
whole group, it won’t work, anyway. I really—”

“Shut up,” Poe said, wrapping her arms
tightly around herself. “I’m going. The band needs me and I don’t
let people down.” She refused to make eye contact, which was just
fine with him for the moment. “So when do we go?” She looked right
at Silver Eye, the tears already burned away.

There it began, the would-be woman who
normally reeked of sunshine, was now showing the first signs of a
crack in her armor. Whether it would help or hurt her would reveal
itself soon enough. Muddy wished that when it did, they’d be there
to help her.

“The lady asked, ‘When do we go?’ “ Otis
sometimes wavered in his bravado, but never his
straightforwardness. “I think we’ve got ourselves a mission.”

The old man stared at the group for a tense
moment then spoke. “In time.”

“What?” Muddy spat. “We just agreed that Zack
might be, well, he’s not going to last long there on his own.
You’ve made that clear.”

“You’re not ready. I said that already. You
go there now and people will die.”

Corey’s head shot up. “You don’t know that.
If we don’t go there, someone will definitely die.”

Silver Eye shook his head slowly, as if he
held a deep, dark secret. “You’re not going. Said and done.
Remember the ‘respect your elders’ thing? You need training. I’m
not about to sacrifice four pains in the butt just because they
want to go, go, go. This ain’t some videogame where you can read a
book of tricks and beat the thing! People who know what they’re
doing sometimes don’t come back.” He let his gaze hit the
floor.

“Houston’s still there, isn’t he,” Muddy
asked. “That’s what you believe, isn’t it?”

A wave of an old hand cut the air. “Probably
nothing left of him now. Stupid greedy fool. He
had
to go.
The place is magnetic—it pulls you in—you’ll see.”

“When did you last see him?”

Muddy swore a tear formed in that one eye.
“In nineteen-sixty-nine. He desperately wanted to do Woodstock and
blow the place wide open.”

“Like Hendrix did,” Corey added.

“Yep, like Hendrix.”

“But, he never returned.”

Sighing, Silver Eye continued. “Nope, and
people here thought he’d just picked up and headed for Chicago or
New Orleans or some blues capital. I knew the truth.”

“What happened to him? Was it the Dark
Muse?”

The others turned to him, a million questions
in their eyes.

“You think he’s still alive? Him or the
muse?”

Silver Eye’s head turned toward the wall of
photos. “The Dark Muse…it ain’t always the same. I think the
River—and what rules the other side wears them out from time to
time.”

Muddy felt worry wash over him. “They grow
evil of that magnitude there?”

“Doesn’t every world? When Hitler died, we
got a whole slew of new demons, no shortage of them. Did it stop
when Bin Laden got killed?”

“There’s darkness everywhere,” Muddy said,
understanding.

“You got it, boy. Sometimes people even go
looking for it.”

“So what do
you
think happened to
him?”

That eye, the silver one, seemed to come
alive and bore straight into him. “Probably the same thing that’ll
happen to you if you head over there before you’re ready.”

“Okay,” the boy replied, even though he
didn’t know to what he was replying.

“So, you’ll complete your training with
me?”

His lips released the words before Muddy’s
brain registered the question. “Of course.”

* * * *

The moment they left the house and crossed
the street, Otis spoke. “So, when do we leave?”

Muddy didn’t hesitate. “First thing tomorrow
morning. Pack your gear.”

“We’re skipping school?” Otis sounded giddy
at the thought.