Their band, Byronics, had been touring Rome. They planned to release a new album inspired by Donna and this place.
Ricky owned to Theo that he thought their name sounded more like a condition than anything to do with romance.
Von laughed and explained she’d long given up trying to get Ricky to read any of the books she’d styled their name on.
Ricky certainly didn’t seem the type to be interested in nineteenth-century literature, the romantic era, or character archetypes. Judging by Von’s outfit and her effusions about the strange and unusual, she was clearly in charge of the band’s creative vision.
Theo felt as if he were having an out-of-body experience as the valuable hours of the night fell away. If he’d felt teased by the foliage, he felt positively tormented by these intruders delaying him from Donna.
Why is it my poor luck that a third-rate band has chosen the one real haunted house to squat in?
The wine that they plied him with was surprisingly good and nursed his frustration enough for him to feign interest.
Thank Lord Netherworld for wine.
‘We’re mostly folk guitar with dark-cinematic vocals and post-apocalyptic effects,’ Antony explained.
Theo didn’t have a clue what that meant, but one thing he could comment on was the dark vocals. ‘As a parapsychologist, I'm kind of an expert in the otherworldly and darker shades of life. When I heard Von’s voice I confirm to being transported elsewhere.’
Von’s cheeks flushed a lovely shade, complimenting her lips.
A black look loomed over Guitar One. Turned out Antony was head over heels for Von.
Within a few seconds, Theo felt the lay of the land. After all, whether alive or dead, Theo read people. He felt the wishes in each of them. His network of sluagh didn’t even need to reach out to see what was going on behind the eyes of each. They were too easy.
Ricky was the easiest, not exactly a complex being. His future stretched out ahead of him with the wish for money, fame, and pussy. He was naturally laid back. If any of his wishes were fulfilled, it would be luck that garnered them rather than any strong pursuit of them. He was here because he was up for anything, and preferred to let others make his decisions in life for him.
After a few glasses, Theo nicknamed him Richie Rich and was thick enough with him that when he complained for the umpteenth time that he hadn’t gotten laid despite being in a band, he quipped that he wasn’t offering. Richie snorted and told him he wasn’t good-looking enough.
The look on Von’s face suggested otherwise.
Antony found enough Dutch courage to retaliate against Theo for straying onto his turf. ‘So why the dead? Scared of the living?’
Theo smiled as only the truly self-assured could. He had the kind of arrogance parents paid tens of thousands a year to nurture. Pair that with his model good looks and he definitely had an unfair advantage over poor Antony.
But Theo couldn’t help it. It’s all he’d known. Enodians were raised above all else to be self-sufficient and independent. Generally, an older witch or mage accompanied them on tethering trips until they were sixteen. By that point, they were expected to have tethered enough sluagh to be able to open the Between and travel across the world alone. Theo had been doing so since the age of fourteen.
When Antony tried to belittle him, Theo only felt disgusted by his insecurity.
Unperturbed Theo explained, ‘Parapsychology is a broad spectrum of study: existential, phenomenological, sociocultural. It allows you to draw on qualitative methods in a world that has trivialised the human experience.’ Theo smiled at Von. ‘And I love playing Ouija board.’
She giggled.
He could see Antony’s spirit dwindling as he recognised that his rival was no idiot. Guitar One's brooding expression proclaimed that he sorely lacked any sense of humour too.
Theo felt like telling him to admit defeat. It didn’t look like he’d be getting the girl anytime soon.
Theo’s sluagh instinctively tasted the disappointment wafting from him. Their smoky tendrils were drawn to the strong emotions churning through him. Antony wasn’t just envious, he was scared. The musician’s thoughts muddied Theo’s…
I can go back to the UK. Take that accountancy course. My parents will be happy. Mad, to go off for this band nonsense.
As Theo’s sluagh disengaged, Antony’s melancholy lingered like a bitter aftertaste. He’d come here for Von. She’d wanted the band they’d formed while at uni to continue. Dreamt that it could really be something. Because she wanted it, he’d done it.
Theo stifled a smile as he realised the ridiculous velvet jacket that was causing him to sweat like a pig had been picked out by Von. Antony believed he could win her, with this and a dozen other stupid things he’d put up with. Not least of all the massiverisk he’d taken by going along with the band stuff. Now they’d come to a god-damned haunted house in the middle of nowhere for inspiration.
Theo chuckled inwardly at what this loser defined as “risk”. To think that he was facing down the Triodia by coming here, risking getting locked up in one of their pens for the sake of Donna.
He chuckled to himself at the thought. He did have something in common with Guitar One. They’d both come to Italy chasing tail.
Theo turned to Von, allured, ironically, by Antony’s inability to decipher her. Theo couldn’t resist reaching out to ascertain her true yearnings. Who was she? What was it about her that Antony found so difficult to fathom?
Theo’s glittering gaze fell on her again and his sluagh worked their way into her internalisations. Her dark gaze settled on him, her heavy-lidded eyes an insufficient barrier to him.
Is this fate that our paths have crossed in this strange place. I came here to explore different states of consciousness. On a true journey of self-discovery, and
