“Ever heard of a Neph called Anna? Daughter of Belial?”

“Huh?” he asks. “He’s Substance Abuse, right? I don’t think he has any kids.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Neither did I.”

“What’s going on, brah?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. Take care, mate.”

I know I roused his curiosity, but it can’t be helped. I have trust in Blake, a rarity among our kind, but I can’t say too much over the telephone.

The first knock comes from upstairs. My bandmates are spot on for our practice time. I hear the door open, and voices spill down the halls and stairs. Feet tromp down to my basement, where I sit at the drums, ready to go. Ready to clear my head. A group of girls comes down behind the guys, laughing and smelling of perfumes and hairspray. Raj and I bump fists, and Bennett slaps my palm before turning on the keyboard. There’s enough hair product between Michael, Raj, and Bennett to keep the gel companies in business forever.

I sometimes wear an earpiece at large gigs, but in my basement I have to wear headphones to keep the sounds from echoing. It’s a relief to put them on, do our sound checks, and get started.

We rock out for nearly two hours. I am refreshed and tired in the best way. The only thing I need to top off this feeling is a bit of soft skin against mine. I lock eyes with a redhead in a miniskirt who I hooked up with months ago. We haven’t had sex yet, though, and I plan to remedy that.

I give her a nod. Poof goes her aura, as red as my shirt. I’m so in. I jerk my head to the side and she gives me a smirk like only hot girls can do. She comes to stand between my legs, eyeing me sexily.

“Oh, so you’re going to give me the time of day now?” She tries for nonchalance in her voice, but her colors are screaming like a fireworks display.

“What are you on about, babe? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’ve been at, like, a ton of gigs since that night.”

I widen my eyes as if surprised, and lazily push the curls off her shoulders with the back of my hand, touching her bare skin. “You should have come backstage.”

“See ya, Kai,” Raj calls. I raise my chin to say bye to the guys as they leave with a bunch of girls. One chick stays behind, the redhead’s friend. She sits in an oversized chair, texting.

“They wouldn’t let me backstage! I tried and tried to catch your eye. And I’ve called you.”

“Ah, my stupid phone,” I say. I widen my knees and take her by the waist, pulling her closer. But before we get started, I scan the property with my hearing. The voices I catch in a car outside make me freeze.

“. . . want me to come with you?”

“It might be better if I talk to him alone.”

“That’s cool. There’s this instrument store . . .”

Anna is here. Jay’s brought her. She’s come for me. I somehow know this is the moment of truth where she will finally show her true self. I have to be ready, because there’s a huge part of me that will be disappointed if she’s an enemy. I steel myself against it and prepare myself for the worst.

I quickly stand and drop my hands from the redheaded girl, backing away. Her eyes flash with shock. Bugger. I do not have time to deal with angry girls.

“Er, look, I’m sorry, but I need to work on these songs a few more times by myself. I’ll give you a ring to hang out later. All right, then?”

“Are you serious?”

“I’ll let you show yourselves out.” Her friend is staring at me, mouth dangling open to show the chewing gum inside.

Yep. I’m a prick. Don’t care. They need to go. Now.

Redhead lets out an angry growling sound and proceeds to gather her belongings and stomp off. Her friend glares at me before they finally leave.

I put my headphones back on and force myself to relax. This Neph will not beat me. If the Dukes think they can send a tiny, beautiful actress to throw me off my game, they are mistaken.

I release my crazed anxieties on the drums but keep her in my peripheral vision when she enters the basement. She gently closes the door and looks around the room in awe before her stare lands on me. As she watches, a cloud of lust practically glows in red around her, and it makes me play harder.

Call me moody, but if I’m expecting a shag and it falls through because a possible enemy decides to show, it puts me on edge. Especially when this possible enemy is hot for me and I refuse to touch her. I’ve never had such ambiguous feelings for someone. I’m a paranoid, confused mess, and that irks the bejesus out of me.

Enough of this. The game ends now. I slam the final beats and then stand, throwing down my headphones.

“Well, if it isn’t little orphan Annie,” I say.

A hurt look crosses her face, and navy sadness slices through her aura. I refuse to feel bad. I get myself a drink and decide to call her out. Take this to the next level.

I take out my knife. Open it. Twirl it. All the while watching her fear and confusion. I want her to speak, but she doesn’t. So, I move closer. Get right in her face. Cage her in against the wall.

Now she’s the one feeling ambiguous—torn between lust and fear. I keep my knife steady in my hand, out at my side where she can see it. I am primed and ready for a fight, expecting her to reveal secret ninja skills at any moment, but she doesn’t. She merely melts back against the wall.

“What do you want?” I ask.

“I just want to talk. You don’t have to try to scare me.”