The Devil's Metal by Karina Halle

did, I could not keep my eyes
off of Sage Knightly. I just couldn’t help myself. Seeing this man
on stage was like watching a lion prowl along the crest of his
kingdom. He commanded respect even when he was seated on his chair
with only an acoustic guitar at his fingers, and when he got up,
the Mexican textile strap straining against his neck, every eye in
the crowd followed his every stride. Normally Sage was a background
figure, quietly commandeering the direction of the show, but
tonight, with Robbie subdued, Sage became the star. Without a
doubt, you knew this was the man who made Hybrid what they
were.
    I watched as his long fingers expertly
picked along to complex and haunting solos. I watched the intensity
in his eyes as they stared off into the crowd, calling on his
talent from somewhere. I watched his tall frame, his large, rounded
shoulders muscling into the heavier chords. I watched his
flip-flopped feet tapping to some internal metronome.
    And I watched a faint shiver roll through
his body. His eyes snapped away from watching Robbie belt out “She
Could Have Loved Me” and his vision made a beeline to the front of
the stage. There, squished up along the barricade, was a strangely
familiar looking woman: long white hair, pale face, feverishly
gleaming eyes. As beautiful as she was, she gave off an immense
feeling of dread that gripped my bones. Sage watched her as if
hypnotized. The woman smiled up at him.
    And in that smile I saw fangs. Her face
transformed disturbingly with black holes for eyes, an elongated,
wrinkled face of yellow-white, a wide gaping hole for a mouth,
teeth protruding. A long tongue slid out, crawling with quivering
insects. It licked its absence of lips, curled delicately along
peeling skin. I heard noises deep inside my head: the buzzing of
bees, painful wails, horrific chants that built up to immeasurable
volumes. I felt horror, a terror so complete that I had one
thought: I was going to die there on the stage. I was going to lose
my soul.
    I was going to Hell.
    I was all fear and only fear, and that’s
what I would be for all my existence.
    Then it all stopped. The amphitheater
stopped spinning, the noises ceased and were replaced by an off-key
guitar chord. It was Sage, losing his rhythm for one brief moment.
His eyes had been too focused on the woman in the crowd, who was no
longer demonic, just white-haired and ecstatic. Just a fan. Just a
wannabe groupie.
    I felt Jacob’s hand on my shoulder and I
jumped a mile high.
    “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes dancing. He
nodded at my hands.
    I looked down. I was gripping the barricade
between us and the soundboard like I was hanging on for dear life.
My knuckles were dead white.
    I couldn’t speak. Jacob looked at me
thoughtfully, assessing me. I couldn’t get it together to ignore
what had just happened. I felt like I had just tripped on the
headiest of drugs. I kept looking back at the crowd, expecting that
demon face again, but didn’t see it. I watched Sage too and he was
behaving off-balance, shaken. Could he have seen it too? Seen the
impossible?
    “You’re overwhelmed,” Jacob assured me, his
eyes flitting between Sage and I. “It happens to the best of
us.”
    His hand on my shoulder squeezed firmly. I
nodded, slowly coming out of it. Yes, I fucking was
overwhelmed.
    “Set is almost over anyway, do you want to
head to the dressing rooms and get something to eat?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “No, I’ll stay. I’m
just…sorry, I don’t know what happened.”
    I put my hand to my clammy forehead and
looked back to Sage. He was back in stride, peeling off perfect
licks. The pale woman was still there, now talking to a shorter
girl that had the same perfect white sheet of hair cascading down
the sides of her face. Everything was fine. It was better than
fine. I was onstage with Hybrid.
    “You’re right,” I told Jacob with an
apologetic smile. My voice and body had stopped shaking. “I think I
was just caught up in