Free The Devil of Echo Lake by Douglas Wynne Page B

his hips and met at last in a long slow kiss around the part of him that was one. A fifth Kate was kissing his lips while the sixth embraced him from behind and sucked on the nape of his neck.
    The configuration continued to evolve in perfect speechless synchrony.
    When they had brought him to the brink for the third time and he was groaning between great heaving breaths, sweat stinging his eyes, pelvis vibrating with tremors of impending orgasm, they suddenly ceased their adorations as if in response to some silent cue.
    Billy cast about trying to set his eyes on Rail. A flame revealed the man’s face in the corner when he lit a cigarillo, holding it between the ring finger and pinky of his right hand and sucking the smoke through the tunnel of his fist, an effect that made his hand appear to be kindled from within.
    Rail spoke in smoke, his voice oily and resonant. “This token will be a reminder to you. The consummation of our contract.” He reached into the pocket of his slacks and withdrew a shining platinum ring. One of the Kates pried Billy’s clutching right hand from a pillow and held it out to Rail. Billy felt the metal mouth devour the knuckle of his ring finger.
    Rail said, “From this night forward, you are married to the music, Billy Moon. Serve the music first and all else is yours for the taking.” Billy closed his fist. The ring felt heavy and cold. Trevor Rail raised his voice in mockery of a priest orating a Latin mass and intoned, “In the name of the riches, bitches, and fame everlasting, amen.”
    The Kates resumed their rhythmic work as if they had never stopped, like a funk band kicking back in after a false ending.
    “Oh, God,” Billy said.
    “Not quite,” said Rail, pulling the silk rope that dangled over Billy's chest.
    Blood sprayed from the pinprick holes in the tin star lantern. The candle sizzled and sputtered out.
     

 
     
     
    Six
     
     
    “Looking back, I think I sold my soul.”
    “To the Devil,” Johnny said.
    Billy set his jaw and made a tic that was almost a nod.
    “That is one fucked-up tale, my friend. And your producer has probably taken you for a ride in more ways than one, but does he have to be the Devil incarnate?”
    “He showed up in my darkest hour and made me a star. Played every hole in my heart like a flute.”
    “And now you feel like payback time is nigh?”
    “I do.”
    “Okay, even if I accept the possibility of a Devil, you still didn’t make a deal for your soul as far as I can see based on what you’ve told me. Did that happen later?”
    “That’s what I can’t figure out. I think it was subtle, like I was supposed to recognize the moment and what it meant, but I didn’t. I didn’t see anything about a soul in the contract. Sometimes he seems to talk in symbolism. As a songwriter, I hate to admit I don’t always get it. But I never raised my left hand and made an oath. I never signed a piece of parchment in blood.” Billy chuckled nervously at how hokey that sounded. “Maybe just telling him I would do whatever it took... Maybe letting him put this ring on my finger.” Billy rotated the platinum band on his right hand with the thumb and forefinger of his left, a wheel turning on an axle.
    Johnny smiled. It was a kind smile, not condescending. He said, “Well I think you’re alright, bro. It doesn't sound like you made a pact. But you’re going up to that studio in a couple of days. Is that to work with this same producer? Satan himself?”
    “Yeah.”
    “If you want my advice, you should call it off. Just cancel and take some time to step away from all the head games.”
    “I can’t. I’m under contract. Last disc didn’t do so hot, and now they say they’ll drop me if I don’t play nice with the King Midas who produced my one hit.”
    “Well then, at least get some rest before you drive up. You look like shit.”
    “Thanks, Johnny. You always know how to make me feel better.”

 
     
     
     
    Part II
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