The Devil's music

There weren’t always dragons in The Valley. The charred purple doors used to be covered in band merchandise and the bouncers used to be…well, less assholish. The music was languid and soaring, a classic rock haven for the outcasts of pop. You wouldn’t believe the people who used to come storming into the bar, guitar out and ready, a song woven from a beer misted breath. The bright blue couches weren’t faded and covered in cigarette burns. Sunday morning was a song everyone understood instead of a dire threat to people unprepared for the next hungover day.

I used to beg to see my dad when he worked the night shift, amazed at the music normal people could create.

“This is the Devil’s music, hun. Isn’t it lovely?” He used to say and I would chuckle.

“It’s divine.” I would always reply and Sandrine, the manager and owner, would pinch my cheek and call me a cutie. But those days were long gone. Because my daddy was dead and the magical dragons had invaded the bar and made it a shrine to pop music and angelic drivel.

I worked the night shift now and, by god, the only magic was the dragon’s showy powers and the various pills they swallowed.

“What’s a dragon?” Sandrine’s little nephew asked one day. I twirled a strand of night dark hair around a finger.

“A magical species descended from angels, boyo. Demons are descended from devils. They’re always fighting over their neighbourhoods.” And making a mess for us normal folks in the city of Temper.

He sucked his thumb, somehow still looking condescending. He was definitely related to Sandrine.

“What are we?”

“You’re human, Nico.” He stared at me, his black hole eyes luminous.

“Wha’ bout you?”

That was a good question. So I avoided it and started humming Led Zeppelin’s Ramble On.

“You got a black eye, Vangie?”

I glowered at Bruh and Bro. Their gelled hair was unusually greasy and they both stood casually at the door of The Valley, their arms bulging out of their black t-shirts. Steroid junkies, I thought. Bruh flashed a smile at a pretty girl standing behind me. Her pink dress was over the top; most of it was cut out to show bare skin, diamonds of tan gleaming in the darkness.

“It’s eyeshadow.” I snapped and Bruh laughed. I think his real name was Colin or something.

“We know that, bruh. I’m just joking around.” He drew out the last word, automatically giving me a headache.

I glanced upwards as I shoved past them, the glowing letters spelling The Valley in neon red. As if the devil himself had scrawled them there. They made me feel sad and I swallowed the feeling, pushing it deep down. Dad was gone. So was the past.

Some Justin Bieber trash was desecrating the bar when I walked in. The old familiar scent of beer clogged my nose but it was mixed with the newer scent of sambuca and a chemical smell I associated with dragons’ drugs. The bar was dark and dingy; the plain stage which had hosted so many geniuses filled with dancing dragon girls. They swayed, their slitted eyes half shut.

A dragon boy shouted something and one of the girls wiggled her hips harder. I sighed, the pain in my chest twisting like a knife. The reason they were called dragons was because of those strange slitted eyes. And the fact that some of them could control flames. They were also rather good-looking and thought they were better than everyone else. The demons were pretty much the same. What in the hell had The Valley become?

The clicking of heels told me she was approaching. I pushed my way past irritating boys talking trash and girls screaming lyrics. When I met Sandrine’s eyes I cringed.

“You’re late.” She said coldly. When I was young, Sandrine was full of cheeky grins and her hair was always backcombed and wild. She laughed with my dad and they shared intense looks I wasn’t meant to see. Nowadays Sandrine had become a corporate clone of herself. She was wearing a skin tight dress and her hair was scraped back into a bun. She never grinned anymore. Maybe that person died with Dad.

“Not very.” I replied. “I’ll be at the bar in a minute.”

“Hold on one second.” She held a blood red nail to my chest. “You need to get it together, Evangeline. I know you don’t like what this place has turned into-“

“-you mean a sell-out for dragons to ruin?” I snapped. I couldn’t help myself. That feeling was back, tearing into me.

“We’ve spoken about this. And…I know I’ve made allowances for you..when Charlie died…” She hesitated and I shook my head. Tonight was not the night for that conversation.

“You need to show up.” She continued. “This is a job. Not something you can do when you feel like it…”

I would live and breathe this place if she hadn’t sold out. But The Valley was all I had left, as sad as that was to admit. The worn bar was all that remained of Dad and the life we had.

“Maybe if you brought this place back to life…” I began but Sandrine shushed me.

“It is alive. Look how busy we are!” I could almost see the money in her eyes. Sandrine was swimming in new cars and personal trainers.

“Yeah.” I said. “Okay.”

There was no point arguing with her. Not if I wanted to keep my job. She opened her mouth but then her shoulders drooped. As if she knew I was a lost cause. I made my way behind the bar, saying a quick hello to Peachy and Craig. Then I went into the back room to put my bag down and sort some stock. I needed a moment.

The stock room was a dirty brown a bit like mud. There were boxes of booze littered on the floor, the glass shimmering when I cracked open the door. I felt as if I was buried on some old pirate ship surrounded by rum. The vanilla scent itself made me feel drunk. I could imagine Dad being in here, laughing the way he always did. You’re special, Vangie. Don’t you ever forget.

I popped my ear buds in and began to organise the boxes, the otherworldly guitar chords of Pink Floyd guiding me.

All in all, you’re just another brick in the wall.

Another brick, another bottle, another dead man pushing his way through the earth, another pair of slitted eyes-

-I swayed, pushing my feet off the floor like a ballerina. Spinning around, I danced with the bottle, as if I were light as air, floating away…

I was dancing and I brought the bottle to my lips in a parody of drinking. As I was spinning, I thought about the Devil. It was funny that despite being his descendants, the demons never understood him. His music, his words, his evil. Just like the dragons never understood God, despite praising him to the skies. Humans were the only ones who ever could.

The song switched and the howling singing screams of The Great Gig in the Sky sent shivers through my core. Maybe that was why God loved humans the best. They contained everything inside them and then they released it in the most burning songs and good and evil melded and lived and became mortal-

-a shattering sound burst through the music and I fell to the ground, my body shaking.

“What the hell was that?!” A voice screamed and I pulled my earbuds out. The door slammed open.

“What the fuck?!” Sandrine shouted and I returned to myself and I stared in shock. Every single bottle in the store room had shattered. Drink oozed out onto the floor and the scent of rum became potent.

Peachy ran in, her boobs straining against her top.

“Why…?” She turned to me. The earbuds were still in my hands.

I looked at the bottles, really looked at them, and saw they had all shattered into five pointed stars. A faint glow was spilling from them along with drink and the awful strains of Bieber from the bar made the situation entirely worse.

The sound of Hey You infected the room and it was as if the main bar was banished for a heartbeat.

Hey you, out there in the cold

Getting lonely, getting old,

Can you feel me?

The lightbulb flickered and Peachy let out a small squeal. Something burned inside me and I felt sick. Sandrine’s eyes went wide and the music faded until I was sure the earbuds must have stopped playing.

“Charlie.” She whispered softly and I started shaking. What? My dad wasn’t here…only me. But she stared at me as if we were one and the same.

Bruh and Bro appeared and elbowed their way into the room. I scowled, recovering somewhat.

“Sandrine?” Bro asked and she shuddered, her eyes still haunted. He placed a hand on her arm. She jumped.

“What? What is it?” She said suddenly, whirling around.

“How did you do this, Vangie?” Peachy whispered, hesitating to touch me. As if there was something wrong with me. Her bright orange hair hung in loose curls, making me think of flames on a dark night.

“I…” I had no answer. Perhaps God had heard me. Or, more likely, the Devil. Maybe I could understand life the way the greats did when they wrote those songs…maybe I could finally be human enough for that.

“Sandrine.” Bro said loudly. Sandrine ignored him, her eyes fixed on me once again. “Sandrine.”

“What?!” She snapped.

“There’s a dragon at the bar asking to see Vangie. He says he’s her grandfather.”

The insidious earbuds began to play Is There Anybody Out There and in the plucking guitar I was sure I heard mischievous laughter.