Wicked Harmony

Chapter 7 | Cal

Chapter 7

Cal

I like the quiet.

It sounds ridiculous; I know. I’m the drummer in a metal band, an Orc, and a guy who’s spent the past decade making a ton of noise, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Whenever I’m forced in front of a microphone or camera to do interviews, they ask the same damn question: what inspired you to become a rock star.

It’s a lazy thing to ask and I know what answer they’re looking for. I look like a tough sonofabitch, so they want me to say it’s all for the lifestyle. Late nights banging the drums and then banging some groupies.

Too bad that’s not me at all.

I also suck at answering questions interviewers put to me. My mouth and tongue get confused and refuse to cooperate, and I wind up grunting out a couple of monosyllabic words and then just glare at them until they move on.

It’s not surprising I’ve wound up with a reputation as a standoffish asshole.

The actual reason I got into drumming is pretty simple.

I just like to hit things.

Always have done.

I grew up the one quiet kid in a big family. Six siblings and four dads under one roof, plus my poor mother, trying to keep us all from accidentally killing ourselves. I kept to myself most of the time. At some point, when I was about six, one of my dads decided I was too damn quiet and it was freaking him out. He handed me a pair of handheld drums and that was it. I was hooked.

Every chance I got, I used to take off deep into the mountain caves close to where we lived and beat the shit out of my drums. It gave me something to focus on and took me out of the chaos of four older sisters and two younger brothers, who all communicate by yelling instead of speaking at a normal volume.

When I hit my pre-teen years, we moved from our house in the mountains to a town that had never laid eyes on Orcs before. As a people, we’d only made ourselves known to humankind within my parents’ lifetime and most Orcs have never left our community in the mountains. It led to a lot of shifty eyed glances and mistrust, and meant the only house we could afford had four bedrooms for all eleven of us.

I love my family with everything I have, but it was a lot to grow up with.

We Orcs are a family obsessed, boisterous lot. We like to eat, to laugh, to fight and fuck. Gatherings don’t end until there’s been at least one brawl. So you can imagine what a bunch of Orc kids are like growing up. Cram that into a small space and add to that the awkwardness of being the only introvert, and you can picture how out of place I felt growing up.

Losing myself in drumming was the only outlet I had as a kid who couldn’t quite work out my feelings, much less give a name to them.

I’m a long way from that place now. But some things don’t change.

A couple of decades later, I’m still a long way from anyone that looks like me. Orcs still mostly stick to our own communities in the mountains, and it’s not like I’m Micah, who can pass as an abnormally attractive human. Or Dorian who just comes off as a douche in his shades. Iri looks like a demon, but he has the uncanny ability not to give a shit what anyone else thinks.

For me, though, I’m always hyper aware of how much space I’m taking up. How most of this world isn’t designed for people who look like me.

I’m six and a half feet tall and built like a brick shithouse. Gray skin. Shaven head. I’m an Orc. You can’t mistake me for anything else.

As we walk through the sleepy streets of Willow Ridge toward the shop where this Saint person works, the back of my neck prickles with awareness. There are eyes on us.

“Is it just me, or are you feeling like the walls have eyes in this place?” Dorian mutters from beside me and I grunt in agreement.

I’m not sure why we were the two selected to persuade this Sinjin woman to join our tour. Probably since Micah and Iri failed to seal the deal last night, Iri wanted to change tack and see if we had better luck.

I can’t see the logic myself. Neither of us are known for our social skills. Sure, Dorian can charm the pants off anyone when he wants to, but he can also be a real ass and he’s taken an instant dislike to this woman.

We tromp inside the shop and I instantly feel too big for the space. The inside of the shop is cramped and cluttered with gadgets and a random array of junk. I’m fairly sure one wrong move and I’ll knock half this shit onto the floor.

There’s no one behind the counter, so Dorian strides over and rings the little bell a bunch of times while I stand as still as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you and I’m coming,” a feminine voice calls from the back .

My nose twitches as my senses fill with a sharp, rich scent. Bergamot and chocolate, bitter and sweet mixed into one. My mouth waters and I swallow hard.

And then I catch sight of her.

Saint is right. A rogue ray of sunlight catches right at the moment she steps into the room, lighting up the back of her head. Two dark eyes flick my way and take me in before scanning over Dorian’s form.

She gives a little half smirk as her attention flicks back to me and my heart tumbles over itself.

It’s a weird feeling, like I can’t quite catch my breath.

“Are you looking to purchase a clock, by any chance? We have a selection,” she says, waving her hand toward the wall covered in them.

“This is where you work?” Dorian asks.

I don’t speak. I’m not sure I could if I wanted to. It’s like my tongue has crawled to the back of my mouth, waiting to see how this plays out.

“We didn’t get properly introduced yesterday,” she says to Dorian, that half smirk still on her face. “I’m Sin.”

“When you assaulted me with your magic in the elevator, you mean,” Dorian snipes back.

“When you were a presumptuous asshole and forced me to ride the elevator down when I was already heading up, you mean?” she replies.

Huh, he missed that part when he was describing their meeting.

“Dude,” I grunt at him. His mom would tan his fucking hide if she found out that’s how he’s been acting. And Dorian’s mom is scary as hell. She’s not someone you want to get on the bad side of.

“It can’t have lasted longer than ten minutes,” Sin adds, but Dorian folds his arms over his chest, unimpressed .

“That’s not the point. You can’t just make people feel random emotions when you feel like it. That’s messed up.”

Sin looks chagrined for a moment. “Yeah, I know. It’s not something I make a habit of.” She shrugs. “But you really pissed me off.”

I try to fight a smile at that, but she must catch the quirk of my lips as she shoots me a conspiratorial look and I find my cheeks going warm.

“I’m Cal,” I grunt. “This is Dorian. We’re both part of Orpheus Underground.”

“Yeah, I’d gathered as much.”

Of course she had. It’s not every day you have an Orc and a dickhead waltzing into town—especially not this town, by the looks of how quiet everywhere is.

“All right then, you know why we’re here. Save us some time and agree to come on tour with us.”

I’m pretty sure Dorian telling her what to do isn’t the right way to go about this, but what do I know? He’s a lot more persuasive and charming than me when he wants to be.

I shift slowly closer to the counter, so Sin’s not having to face off against Dorian’s attitude. Once I’m close enough, I nudge him in the ribs to let him know to back off.

“You can make things, right?” he asks. “And you clearly have some kind of magic to change people’s emotion, if last night was anything to go by.”

She freezes in place, her fingers blanched white where they clutch the counter. “I guess I only have myself to blame for you knowing that.”

“Why don’t you do something with it?” Dorian asks. “If you can mess with other people’s emotions, why not use it somewhere you could be useful? You could do anything and it’d be more than hanging out in a tiny backwater town, hiding from the world and selling this crap. ”

I shift awkwardly on my feet and the movement somehow causes me to knock into something on a shelf behind me with my bubble butt. Dammit. I wince as something crashes to the floor.

“Shit. Sorry,” I mutter. “About the mess. And about Dorian. He clearly left his fucking manners at home.” I shoot him a look, which he ignores entirely.

The two of us have been friends since we were kids. He was my first and only friend in that town we moved to. And most of the time, we get along great, so I don’t know why my protective instincts are being triggered right now. And instead of being directed at my best friend, they’re targeting Sin.

Maybe it’s because I know what it’s like to want to live a quiet life.

“It’s all right. He’s right. Most of the stuff in here is useless crap, anyway,” Sin replies without missing a beat.

I grunt, glancing around at the pile of stuff on the floor behind me. “I’d offer to pick it up, but I’m pretty sure I’ll knock something else straight off.”

She shoots me a soft smile. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.”

My cheeks heat again and I shuffle awkwardly from foot to foot. I don’t know what to do with my hands right now. They feel weirdly disconnected from the rest of me, and I really don’t want to make things worse.

“How long have you been hiding here in this shitty little shop?” Dorian asks.

“Dude,” I growl. “Back off. We’re not exactly brain surgeons. We can’t fucking judge.”

She raises a hand to me, like she’s asking me to stand down. “He’s not wrong. I’ve spent years hiding. I know this. I know I could be doing something more worthwhile with my time, but I’ve been a cowardy custard.”

I stifle a smile. She’s cute.

“At least you can admit it,” Dorian replies.

I don’t know what the fuck he’s aiming to achieve here, and, unless it’s pissing Sin off, he’s chosen the wrong track.

She bristles. “Says the man wearing shades indoors, again. Tell me, what are you hiding behind them? A serious case of pink eye? Too many sex juices in your face caught up to you?”

This time I can’t stifle the chuckle that bubbles up inside me, especially as Dorian shoots me a look of betrayal.

What can I say? She’s got his number. And sometimes it’s good for him to have his ego popped so he doesn’t convince himself he’s actually a gift from the gods, like our fans try to convince him.

He leans closer to her over the counter. “You want me to take them off, Sinjin?” His voice lowers to a purr as he wiggles his shades on his face. “Convince me and I’ll do it right now.”

“Don’t,” I bark, causing Sin to look up in surprise. I know he’s just fucking around, but Sin doesn’t know that or what it means to see Dorian’s bare gaze. “He’ll freeze you where you stand.”

She snorts, but her amusement quickly disappears as she realizes I’m not fucking around. “Seriously?”

“I’m part Gorgon.” Dorian shrugs, taking a step back. “I can’t exactly turn it on and off.”

“It only lasts somewhere between a few minutes and an hour, but it’s uncomfortable,” I add.

It’s also disconcerting as hell. You’re fully aware that you’re trapped inside your own body, stuck there until it wears off.

“When we were kids, he used to do it all the time. Playtime was no fucking joke,” I add.

Sin shoots me a grin that has my heart pumping harder in my chest. “I can’t imagine you as a kid or any smaller than you are right now. ”

My size is something I’m usually self-conscious about. Chairs threaten to break under my ass and I can never find a bed that works for me when we’re staying at hotels. But right now, I smirk at her.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Dorian continues. “Tell me there’s nothing more you could be doing.”

“Lay off,” I growl at him, still feeling weirdly protective of the woman smiling up at me.

“As much as I appreciate you coming to my defense, Cal, he’s right. I’m thinking about it, all right? It’s not every day you get an offer like this.”

“This tour’s supposed to be our last before a big break,” I blurt out. “We want it to be a big sendoff.”

She nods. “Iri said as much. You want to make it an experience people will always remember.”

“Maybe it’d be a first step in doing something positive. We could help you find connections or whatever so you can do what you like afterwards. Plus, maybe we could help you with whatever it is you're running from,” Dorian adds, causing Sin’s face to pale.

It seems like he’s hit the nail right on the head.

He might be an ass, but that doesn’t mean he’s not perceptive behind those douchey looking shades.

“You don’t have to decide now,” I tell her.

Dorian raises an eyebrow at me and then lets out a long-suffering sigh. Because we both know she needs to decide pretty quickly.

“We’ll grab a coffee down the street,” he says. “We’re gonna be spending a long time on the road today.”

“You could meet us there.” I suggest. “If you have questions. We can answer them.”

She nods and lets out a long breath. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll meet you down at The Daily Grind in like ten minutes.”

I turn on my heel and get out of the shop without knocking anything over. Neither of us speaks as we head down the street, but Dorian’s jaw is tense and the back of my neck is prickling with an awareness of more eyes on us.

As we head along the main street, there are people gawking out the windows, their phones in hand as they no doubt video our movements.

I guess our appearance in this sleepy town is big news.

It’s a similar story in the café. Micah and Iri have grabbed a table in the corner, but they both look conspicuous as hell. The queue is held up with people clamoring around to get their autographs, including a couple of women wearing Daily Grind uniforms.

“I guess it looks like we’re not getting served soon,” Dorian mutters.

The café is not large, and it’s crowded and airless inside. Standing in the doorway, I’m hit with a wave of scent and heat, and my instincts urge me to return to the fresh air outside.

“Gonna head back and see what Sin wants to order,” I grunt.

It’s mostly an excuse to get out of there and Dorian knows it.

“Sure, man.”

I stride back along the street, sucking in the fresh air and shaking off the claustrophobia from the café. It only takes me a couple of minutes to return to the shop, carefully opening the door and closing it softly behind me.

It can’t have been more than five or ten minutes since we left the shop, but I can feel immediately that something has changed.

Sin is standing by the counter, looking kind of pale and staring down at the cellphone in her hand with a bemused expression. I clear my throat a few times and say her name, but it takes a couple of attempts before she responds.

She eventually looks up and gives me a stiff smile. “I’ll do it. I’ll come on tour with you.”